My Story

CHAPTER ONE

My first real memories regarding my gender issues occurred when I was maybe six or seven years old. I can remember lying in bed at night, in the enveloping darkness. I would often cry myself to sleep, hoping and praying that I’d wake up as a girl. I was so jealous of my younger sister. She got to wear pretty dresses and have long hair in ribbons, I was so jealous. I wanted to be the girl, and I prayed that I would wake up as one. Even when I slept, I used to dream I was a girl. These recurring dreams carried on into my early to mid teens. Whenever I had one of these dreams, I would wake up to great disappointment.

     When you’re a child, and you believe in things like Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy, changing sex while you sleep isn’t such a far-fetched thing. I generally believed that if I prayed enough and hoped enough, that it would happen. It was only as I got older that the realisation that I would have to stay as a boy began to kick in. Despite this realisation, the feelings of wanting to be a girl never went away.

     I guess that I thought that every little boy must feel this way. Who wouldn’t want to be a girl? As I grew up I began to realise that not all boys felt like this. This realisation only isolated me even more than I was, as the true differences between myself and other boys showed themselves to me.

     Being the middle youngest of four, I was never lonely in the physical sense. I shared a room with my big brother right up until I was eighteen, so was never allowed to be lonely I guess. I always felt like I was one on my own though, and was different. I felt that no one understood me and would never understand me. Despite being part of a large and secure family, I grew up feeling like I didn’t fit somehow.

     Having a little sister just two years my junior acted as a reminder of what I was missing by being a boy. Seeing her get to wear dresses and have long hair, play with dolls, be treated as a girl upset me to a degree. I realised that I was a boy and wasn’t allowed to be treated as a girl and so hid my jealousy and upset as best I could. It was learning to hide at an early age that helped when I began to explore my gender issues during my teens and early twenties. I began to play with my sisters Barbie and Sindy dolls with her whenever I could. It never felt wrong to me, but I knew that my parents and spouses frowned on it. Playing with the dolls helped me as it allowed me to express my femininity in not so obvious a way.

    

     My earliest memories concerning cross-dressing occurred when I was in my pre-teens. Most Saturdays we would be packed off to our grandparents for the day. It gave our parents some valuable time together and gave us a day in the countryside. While there, we would play the games kids play, such as hide and seek, sports, tag, etc. We also used to play dress-up. I can remember enjoying dressing up in heels and dresses. At the time it was just dress-up. It’s only as I’ve gotten older that the true meaning of these early dressing up episodes has revealed itself.

     During these early years before school, I was confused but I didn’t know what I was confused about. As I said, I thought that all boys must want to be girls. It wasn’t naivety; it was just childlike thinking by a child.

     I spent the majority of my school days as a victim of bullying. It was rarely physical, just name calling and taunts. Somehow I guess that that was worse though as it effected me psychologically. A lot of my weaknesses regarding my confidence and trust, I can put down to the years of schoolyard bullying.

     Over the years since I left school I have asked myself why I was targeted. I never really fitted in with a group. I didn’t fit in with the boys because I didn’t want to be a boy and I didn’t fit in with the girls because I was a boy. It was feeling like this that left me largely isolated throughout my school years.

     With school came the eventual onset of Puberty. This is an extremely confusing time for any teenager. Their body begins to change, often quite drastically, over a relatively short space of time. For myself, my body began to change in ways that I didn’t want. I began to turn into a man, which was the last thing I wanted. It was happening though and there was nothing I could do about it. What made things worse were that the girls in school were turning into young women. I was jealous as I watched them grow and mature. I guess that doing this kind of took my attention away from my own changing body.

     Over the years I have accepted things as they are, often at the expense of my own happiness. Being one of four I never really wanted for anything, but I learned to be happy with what I had. This attitude is what kept me going through puberty and beyond. Being content with my lot in life because that is the way it was. I was a boy and I was turning into a man and that was the way it was. There was nothing I could do about it, but I learned to live with that. I almost accepted it, but only almost. I still wanted to be a girl. I still felt out of place and different.

CHAPTER TW0

     It wasn’t until I left school that I finally got the opportunity to consciously dress as a girl. Growing up, my father became a househusband. This allowed my mother to complete her nurse training, but also meant that the house was never empty. This was good in the respect that we always had our meals on time and were well looked after and brought up, but it was bad in terms of satisfying my curiosity. It was only during study leave during my exams in the summer of 1998 that I finally got to be home alone.

     My mother got an invite to a garden party the queen was holding for NHS staff. It was a completely random draw who got the invites, but my mother was one of them so my parents decided to have a romantic break in London at the same time. My big sister was doing her nurse training in Newcastle, my big brother was at work and my little sister was at school. As I was on study leave, I got some valuable time on my own.

     I knew that I would get chance to satisfy my curiosity weeks in advance, so I planned everything to the finest detail. I knew that if I got caught, no one would understand. I didn’t really understand it myself and I knew it was wrong. I just had to do it.

     So the day arrived and after seeing my parents off I locked the front and back doors and drew all the curtains in the house. I even left the keys in the locks so the doors couldn’t be unlocked from the outside. I then proceeded into my younger sisters bedroom and began trying her clothes on. Even now it’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but it’s something I had to do.

     The strangest thing was how normal it felt. I knew it was wrong, but it felt so right and comfortable. I felt like I had been missing out. Me and my younger sister were only two years apart so we were a similar size, and her clothes fitted quite well. They felt good to wear and I felt safe. A lot of people within the TG community describe a feeling of being turned on when they first dressed. For me it was or has never been like that. For me it’s always been about feeling right and normal.

     For the next couple of years I dressed whenever I could, which wasn’t very often. I took my opportunities though whenever they presented themselves. With my dressing also came the need to discover myself. What did it all mean? I took to visiting the library and scouring the psychology text books. It was doing this that I first discovered the terms ‘Transvestite’ and ‘Transsexual’. I was 17 years old.

     It was at 17 that I broke. I couldn’t carry on with this burden on my own any longer, I had to tell someone. I decided that I would tell my younger sister, so I did. She did not take it well at all and the following few days were very hard. She refused to speak to me and when she did, she called me ‘Freak’ and ‘Tranny’. After a number of days she agreed that we needed to talk, so I sat her down and explained things to her. I explained things as far as I understood them myself anyway. The truth is that I understood very little. I was pretty selfish for burdening this onto my sister considering my own confusion on the matter.

     One good thing to come from this chat was that we struck a deal. I told her that I would carry on dressing as I needed to and that she could get me some clothes. I’d give her the money naturally, but she would do the shopping part. I reasoned that if I had my own clothes, it would stop me delving into her wardrobe. This arrangement worked for a while and I soon had a couple of skirts, a bit of underwear and a few tops. Not much, but it was a start.

     I stored my ‘clothes’ in the bottom of my chest of drawers. Sharing a room with my brother still meant that my dressing was pretty infrequent, but having my own clothes meant that I could dress more than I could before.

     It was while I was eighteen that I decided that I couldn’t carry on any more so decided to ‘run away’. I headed down to London and reasoned that away from my family and people who knew me, I could build a life for myself. A life where I could be what I wanted to be, a woman. I was easily talked back though and my great ‘run away’ lasted all of one night. Looking back on this part of my life, I believe that I suffered some kind of breakdown. It was caused by the overwhelming confusion that dressing for the first time had brought. Discovering what I was was just too much for me to handle.

CHAPTER THREE

     I was just a few weeks shy of my 21^st birthday when I left home. I got a transfer to a hotel (I’m a Chef) in Widnes so I had to move. Just before I moved I’d purged my female clothes. I’d decided to attempt to ‘cure’ myself by getting rid of the temptation. It didn’t really work. The yearning to express my feminine side was still there, there was just no way to satisfy it.

     I’d been living in Widnes for a few months before I got myself a laptop. I actually brought the laptop to help with my NVQ. I was doing Level 3 in Catering and Hospitality. Having the laptop allowed me to access the internet for the first time. This opened up a whole new world to me as I discovered more about what being transgender was all about. I would often spend hours just surfing the net, eager for knowledge about what I was. I joined a site called Roses Forum. It’s a site that I’m still a member of today, seven years on. It’s mainly just a transgender forum, but it helped me realise that I was not alone. That was the main thing that having the internet did for me, it made me feel a part of something. I now knew for sure that I was not the only one. Ok, not all boys wanted to be girls, but some did.

     It was at this time that I decided I needed a female name. I flirted between Lucy, Jennifer, Vicky, Sophie and Emma, before settling on Emma. I honestly couldn’t use any other name now as it wouldn’t seem right.

     The internet wasn’t only great for research; it allowed me to re-build my wardrobe of female clothes through male order. I got my first wig on eBay too, which helped me express my feminine side even more. I started sleeping in a nighty and shaving my legs. I even began trying make-up. I felt a bit like a young girl, discovering clothes and make-up for the first time.                       

     In the winter of 2004, just after Christmas, I decided to pursue a dream of working abroad. I got a job at an English restaurant in Southern Spain, and in April I jetted off. I secreted my female clothes and wig in my old bedroom at my parents before I went, despite nearly ‘purging’ again. Being in Spain meant that I couldn’t dress for a long time, but I coped. I think that the business of the summer months, kept my mind occupied to a certain extent.

     In early June, my grandfather died after a long illness. I flew home for the funeral, which gave me an opportunity I didn’t think I would get. I managed to retrieve my female things and take them back to Spain with me. It was quite lucky that I did, as not long after, my parents cleared my bedroom. They would surely have discovered my ‘secret’, if I hadn’t removed the evidence.

     Having my female things with me in Spain helped me through the winter months. I could dress, quite regularly, something I had never expected to be able to do.

I stayed in Spain until February of 2005 when I flew back to England.

     When I left Spain, I virtually had a job waiting for me. It was at The Rutland Arms Hotel in Bakewell. It was a live in position and at the end of February 2005, I moved in. For the first time I had a door with a lock on it! This was a big thing as far as my dressing was concerned as my privacy was virtually secured. I could build my wardrobe up to an extent that I never dreamed possible.

    

     A few months after moving in I decided to take a trip to London. I had a day off so worked out that if I went early enough, and came back late enough, I could have a nice day out. My main reason for the London trip was that I had heard about a TG shop down there called Transformation. I thought it would be nice to check it out and maybe get myself some new clothes, from a ‘safe’ environment. I still didn’t have the courage to shop on the high street.

     My visit to Transformation was a surreal experience. The shop assistants were female and were extremely helpful. They referred to me using female pronouns (even though I was in ‘bob’ mode) and helped me pick out some Knee High boots, a skirt and a top. It was my first experience of hands on shopping for female things. The fact it was in a ‘safe’ environment made it easier. I took two more trips to Transformation over the following two or three years.

     In 2006 I began shopping on the high-street for the first time. The first times were absolutely terrifying. I often had to have a couple of drinks before hand, to give me the confidence. Even now, if I’m in ‘bob’ mode, I still get nervous shopping for female things. By the same token though, if I’m in ‘fem’ mode I get nervous shopping for male things. I began to expand my female wardrobe until it eventually became larger than my male one. I even brought a couple of different wigs and began a jewellery collection.

     The three years I spent in Bakewell were huge in regards to my transgender journey. I learned about clothes, make-up and began to accept myself. These three years were the three years when I grew up. Another reason it was a big three years was because it gave me my first night out as Emma.

CHAPTER 4

     While in Bakewell I joined another site on the internet called Angels Forum. This site is similar to Roses, but it was through this one that I got my first night out as Emma. During the early part of 2008 I decided that I was ready to go out as my female self for the first time. I had been chatting to a few T-Girls via the use of chat rooms and got to hearing about a place called Pink Punters in Milton Keynes. They do a night called BNO, which is usually the last Friday of every month. It’s a big event on the TG scene and I decided that I would use this for my first ‘outing’. I arranged with another T-girl who was going and a date was set for the 14^th March.

     A few days before, I took another trip to London. I needed some breast forms for my night out, so I took a last trip to Transformation. They cost in the region of £300, but were and still are worth it.

     The morning of the 14^th arrived and I packed my bag. I packed five different outfits, all my make-up, three different wigs, I left nothing to chance. My bag weighed a ton as I made my way to Chesterfield Train Station and our meeting place. She was going to pick me up on her way to Milton Keynes from Derby. In the end she never showed, leaving me standing there like a lemon. I was devastated and angry at being let down. I hate being let down and see it as the ultimate rudeness.

     When I got back to my room I logged onto the Angels website and noticed that a group of T-Girls were getting together for a monthly meal in Manchester. It was a group calling themselves the Northern Angels, and I decided to ask if I could tag along. Over the next day or so emails passed between myself and the main organisers of the get-together, Lisa and Kay, and on Wednesday 19^th March I found myself on a train headed for Manchester Piccadilly.

     I had booked into a hotel just off Canal Street called The Britannia and had arranged for one of the other girls to get ready in my room. This helped the both of us as it gave her somewhere to get ready, and it gave me someone to help me out of the door. She was called Kay Denise and was in her fifties and was one of the main organisers of the Northern Angels meals. By around sevenish we were both ready and after she took my photo we proceeded out into the hotel corridor.

     Walking out through that hotel and down into the light of day was one of the longest walks of my life. It was a truly surreal experience that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. The feeling of the air on my legs, the breeze blowing through my hair, the click of my heels on the concrete, all things women take for granted and here I was, just turned twenty-six, experiencing them for the first time. The strangest thing was how normal it felt. Being with Kay helped a lot and without her guidance I probably wouldn’t have made it through the door.

     Throughout the night I met many T-Girls of many shapes and sizes. I also met one or two wives and partners. I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life. I felt like I was among people who understood me. I had one or two ‘minor’ disasters throughout the night. Firstly the breast form sticking pads I brought from Transformation didn’t work. They were designed to stick onto the back of the breast form and then onto the skin, holding the form in place. They just didn’t work resulting in my breast forms slipping, quite severely at one stage. Secondly, one of my false nails came off. I had made the mistake of not taking my nail glue with me. I learned from these mistakes, just as I’ve learned from this whole TG journey.

     Towards the end of the night we ended up in a place called Napoleons. It’s just off Canal Street and during the night I’d heard many stories about it. It was perfectly safe, but was quite a surreal place. It was only small, yet was packed with Transsexuals, Transvestites, Cross-Dressers and Drag-Queens of all different shapes and sizes. This was the TG Scene in full flow. One other thing about Napoleons was the lurkers. These were strange men who stood in the corners of the club staring. Thy really freaked me out and even now they represent the dark, seedy side of the scene to me.

     The morning after was strange. I felt really sad that my first night out had been and gone. I guess that when you wait long enough for something it takes a bit to come down after it’s happened. The weather was depressing and I just wanted to be back as a woman. That’s what that first night had meant for me. It had been my first opportunity to be me. Dressing in private is nothing compared to being out in public dressed, portraying as a woman.

     Not long after that first night out, I got a job offer to go back to Spain. I’d left on bad terms with a few people, so felt that I had some unfinished business. It kind of made sense to go back, although it would mean putting my ‘journey’ on hold for a while. I signed up for a 4 month contract and at the beginning of May 2008; I jetted off back to Southern Spain. Before I went, I hid all of my female things in bin bags in my parents shed. I just didn’t want to purge again.

     Before I left for Spain, something else happened. I became close to a girl on Facebook. She wasn’t any girl, she was a child-hood friend called Nikki. We had lived on the same street as children and over the years had lost touch, before finding each other on Facebook. She was going through a really bad time. Her long-term boyfriend had left her and her dog had just died. She was pretty messed up, but I helped her and we grew really close.

     While in Spain, she came over for a weekend. It was her birthday so I paid for her flights. While she was over, we attempted to have sex, but I couldn’t really do it. It didn’t feel right. I liked her and I guess that I fancied her, but the act of sex just didn’t feel right at all.

     About a month after Nikki went back home, I called off the relationship. I decided that I didn’t want to go down the route of living a lie which so many TG folk go down. Even though the relationship was only in its infancy, I saw a future. I saw a future of marriage, children, summer holidays to Skegness, a normal future. It’s a future that I wanted, but not as the man, husband or father. I realised that these feelings and yearnings I had would never go away and that I had to change direction. I extended my contract in Spain and stayed until January 2009. I needed a few months to figure out what to do. During this time I would reach my lowest ebb yet.

     It was December 2^nd 2008 and the restaurant was closed for the day so me and two workmates decided to go out for lunch. We met up just before lunchtime and proceeded to the restaurant. We had a few drinks, a smashing lunch and a good chat. The afternoon wore on and soon turned to evening. We had been drinking on and off and eventually we went our separate ways. I found myself in a local bar with some other friends I’d met up with when suddenly I just felt so low. It hit me all of a sudden, no warning, like a tidal wave of emotion. I found myself in the toilet, sobbing uncontrollably, desperate to be a girl. I hated myself and decided that I couldn’t go on. Something had to give and it very nearly did.

     I can’t quite remember the exact moment I decided to end it all. I just know that I made a conscious decision to walk to a set of cliffs. I have no doubt in my mind that I fully intended to throw myself off. The cliffs in question were a favoured suicide spot. A path wound its way down the side to a small beach far below. Very high, they were a guaranteed death spot.

     The night was dark as I began the twenty minute walk to the cliffs. It was a chilly night, being December, but was still bearable. I must’ve walked for about five minutes before it began raining, drenching me through. The rain mixed with my tears, although I hardly noticed it. I couldn’t carry on the way I was, as a man. I’d been living a lie and I couldn’t do it any longer. I didn’t want to die, but at that moment it seemed like the more favourable option.

     I must’ve been walking for about ten minutes then suddenly I stopped. I’m not entirely sure why, something seemed to click in my mind, but I just stopped and leaned on a wall. I saw a vision of my family. They were happy and smiling and I decided that I couldn’t leave them. I kind of worked things through in my mind and saw things logically for a moment. I carried on walking, but at the next intersection I turned right and went home.

     On Boxing Day a similar thing happened, only this time I found myself on the balcony at my apartment. I was crying and just felt unbelievably low again. I wanted to end it all as I couldn’t carry on living this lie. That night I decided to come back to England and face my issues head on. I realised that I didn’t want to die and that the only other option was to confront things, and that’s what I did. The next day I handed my notice in and in early January 2009, I headed back to England.

CHAPTER FIVE

     2009 was to prove the single biggest year of my life so far. So much happened and I learned so much about myself and other people. Of course in January as I flew back to England, I didn’t realise just what 2009 would bring.

     I soon got a job, in a hotel in the Hope Valley and a car. I moved back in with my parents and soon recovered my female things from the shed. That first night when I dressed after my eight months in Spain made me cry. Just to be expressing myself as a woman again after so long, meant so much to me.

      It got to April and I decided that I needed to have my long over due second night out as Emma. I got back onto the Internet and onto the Angels website and noticed that the Northern Angels were having their monthly meal soon, so I put my name down. So on the 15^th April; thirteen months after my first night out, I headed back up to Manchester for my second night out.

     That second night out meant so much to me. During my time in Spain, the memories of that first night out began to fade until I thought I’d dreamt it. I honestly thought that I’d never get out again so for me that second night represented so much. I met some new friends and saw a few old faces I’d met on that first night all those months ago. The next morning I felt that a new chapter was starting on my journey.

CHAPTER SIX

     On the 24^th April 2009, I came out to my mother. This is the single moment that changed my life forever. It is the moment when I took responsibility for my own life. I knew that by coming out, there was a risk that I could loose everything, but I reached that point when the risk of remaining as I was, was a worse prospect. I’ll never forget how I felt that day. I woke up in the morning and I knew that I was going to tell my mother that night. I just knew that I had to, or I never would. I’ve had many moments over the past eleven years where I thought about revealing my secret. On two occasions I did, but nothing came of it. My sister thought it was a phase that went away and the night porter in Widnes put it down to loneliness I think. Besides, I never saw him again so it never affected me again. On each of those times I had different reasons for ‘coming out’, but this time was the big one. I felt ill for most of the day, with my stomach doing somersaults. I kept playing different scenarios out in my head, of how it could play out. I had chosen this particular day because my father was on night shift. That meant that he would go to work at around half past eight, leaving myself and my mother with a couple of hours to talk.

     Half past eight came and went and my dad went to work. I knew that it was now or never but I kept putting it off. I put it off right until the moment my mother made a move to go to bed, before I told her. At that moment the direction of my life and those around me changed. My secret was out and that was that. We talked for a little while before she went to bed.

     The next morning when I awoke, I felt relief. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, although at the time I didn’t realise that it had simply jumped onto my mothers. A week or so later and my mother had told the rest of my immediate family. My little sister was really upset as she remembered my telling her nine years previous. My brother sent me a supportive text and so did my big sister, although I don’t think any of them really understood. My father was really strange about it in those early days. He would ignore me some days, yet be right as rain on others. My mum found it really difficult I think, in those early days, although she didn’t show it a great deal. Nearly a year on, I think that they’ve each coped with it in different ways. Some positive, some not so, but it’s something you can’t expect everyone to be ok with. All I can hope is that they all learn to accept it in time.

     Over the following week after my brother and sisters were told, I took it upon myself to visit each of them separately. I needed them to understand, as much for myself as for them. I also thought (and I still believe this), that the more they understood the more they might be able to accept it.

     Firstly I visited my younger sister, Carly. I had made a personal promise to myself to be as honest as I could be, and I stuck to it. She didn’t ask me anything too impersonal and I think that she was as nervous about it as I was.

     Secondly I visited my big sister, Clare. She had apparently been driving her then husband crazy with all the questions. The chat with her was pretty much like the one with Carly. Nothing too impersonal, but a lot of questions.

     Thirdly and lastly, I visited my big brother, Darren. I had been expecting a lot of questions from him. The general vibe I’d gotten from his texts had been that he was interested and wanted to know things. The actual chat didn’t go like that. He seemed only interested in whether I was gay or not. All in all he probably only asked me four questions and didn’t seem interested. I know that it’s been harder on my brother than on my sisters, but I still expected more from our chat.

     Having the talks with each of them separately wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but I needed to do it. Having spent twenty years of my life, keeping my gender issues private, to suddenly be talking about them to my siblings was strange. It took a lot out of me, but I’m glad I did it. Only I know how truly hard it was for me though.

     The couple of weeks during which I came out were kind of exciting. It was new to me having spent so long in the closet. It was kind of a honeymoon period that came to an end in early May. My mum wrote me a letter that really upset me. I can understand why she wrote it, but not why she gave it to me. I guess that at the time I got so wrapped up in my relief at being out that I didn’t think about how my family was dealing with it. To be honest I didn’t want to push it onto any of them more than I needed to. They needed to learn to deal with it in their own way, without my interference. Over time I think they have, but back in the early days, they all struggled.

     My parents felt like they were suffering bereavement. They felt that their son was gone, and in a way they were right. My brother felt that he’d never known me, and in a way he was right. My big sister was jut confused by it all I think, and struggled in these early days. My little sister felt bad because she thought that I’d never been able to confide in her as my dressing increased. In the letter that my mother wrote, she spoke of Emma as though she were an evil doer, taking their son. I can understand this in a way, but at the time it really upset me.

     With the ‘honeymoon period’ being over, it forced me to evaluate things. On more than one occasion I gave serious thought to running. I reasoned that if I went, then my family wouldn’t have to deal with whom and what I was. At times during this period, I got deeply depressed and I couldn’t see where my life was going.

     I needed a night out, just to get away from everything for a few hours, to be myself, so on the 13^th May I had my third night out as Emma. Once again I ventured out to Canal Street with the Northern Angels. The group was pretty much the same as in April, and I had another great night before coming back to reality the next morning. I needed these escapes from reality though, as they kept my sanity. In these trying times, they gave me something to look forward to and plan. I would spend weeks before hand planning my outfit and looking forward to visiting Canal Street again. This night I experienced something that was totally new to me. I experienced male attention. Having only been out in public as Emma twice previously, male attention was an unexpected thing. It was harmless enough, but I understood why it annoys some genetic females.

     The April night out had the effect of my deciding to ‘come out’. The effect of the May night out was to force me to take control. Since ‘coming out’, my life had started to swing out of control, even making me consider running away from it. I had to take back control and quickly. The first thing I decided to do was to leave my job. I wasn’t happy and needed a change, so I started to apply to agencies.

     At the beginning of June, I got another job. It was back at the hotel where I’d trained years previously. It represented a much needed change for me and allowed me a bit more freedom. Despite being out to my immediate family, the rest of the world was still in the dark over my double life, and I wanted to keep it that way. I was very careful at my previous job regarding issues such as hair removal. People would have questioned my hairy arms suddenly becoming smooth, but at a place where very little people knew me, I could take that risk before I started.

     Early June also saw me begin the process of getting counselling. Although I didn’t know it at the time, counselling would prove to be a vital part of getting me to my present point. I was quite sceptical as to how it would help me, and to a certain extent I was in denial regarding my need for it. I guess that I was looking for a referral to a gender clinic and if doing a couple of counselling sessions helped me get it, then I was game.

CHAPTER SEVEN

     On the 9^th July 2009, something terrible happened that would play a huge part in my journey. A co-worker I’d known on and off for nine years was murdered. As of writing, her husband recently got jailed for twenty five years for it. She had been walking to work at six in the morning, when she had been knocked down by a car. It turned out to be a pre-meditated murder in the planning for months. The day after it happened, I wrote a Blog post about it, using the victims’ name. Although I wouldn’t be made aware for another three months, if someone googled her name, my Blog would come up on the first page of listings. My ‘secret’ was on the verge of coming out, although I didn’t know it.

     It wasn’t until 17^th July that I had my first counselling session. It was at the Wheatbridge Sexual Health Clinic, in Chesterfield. We talked over many things, and I found myself talking about things that I’d long since forgotten. Afterwards, I found myself crying in the car park. The effects of my first counselling session had really got to me.

     After the session I needed cheering up a bit so I popped up the motorway to Meadowhall for a bit of retail therapy. Shopping in ‘bob’ mode for female things was never easy. I always felt out of my depth somehow. When you’re a guy surrounded by women in a female store, you’re bound to stand out a little. Shopping has always cheered me up though.

    

     That night I went out again. This time I was trying somewhere new, away from the familiarity of Canal Street. I had heard of a place in Sheffield called Club Xes. Every Friday was a TG night called Les Femmes. As Sheffield was closer than Manchester, I decided to try it out. I eventually found the place and was rather disappointed. It was a grotty little place and was very quiet. I met some interesting people but got some unwanted male attention so I didn’t stay long. Over the past year I have experienced a number of different levels of the ‘TG Scene’. I consider Club Xes to be on one of the lower more seedy levels.

     If Club Xes was the bottom level, on the 23^rd July, I experienced the top level of the TG Scene. I took a visit to Nottingham and the Nottingham Chameleons meet. They meet every last Thursday of the month and are one of the oldest TG meets in the country. I eventually found the place, which turned out to be a community centre. It was one of the regulars birthdays so it was a bit of a celebration. I had found out about the meet via an online friend called Lynn. She is one of the organisers and greeted me enthusiastically.

     For most of the evening I chatted with Lynn and another ‘girl’ called Sammi. It was really nice and a complete reversal to Club Xes. On the drive home I actually stopped and filled up with petrol, such was the height of my confidence.

     On the 29^th July it was my younger sisters’ birthday, so I took her and her young son Harry to Twycross zoo for the day. It was while driving home that I crashed into the back of another driver. In that moment my life fell apart and I was forced to ask some very deep questions of myself.

     Thankfully no one was seriously hurt in the accident. I had a burn from the airbag, but he mental scars went deep. I lost my car and spent the next few weeks asking serious questions about myself. Or a time I thought it was god punishing me for not being happy in the body he gave me. I’ve never really been a religious person, but certain events have a habit of making you rethink things.

     Before the crash my life had been going ok. I had found a way of dealing with my gender issues and I’d managed to get myself out more. The planned outings proved to be a big loss to me, even now. The freedom of having a car allowed me to get to Manchester, Sheffield and Nottingham. I have no doubt that had I still got a car, I would be getting out on the ‘scene’ a lot more than I do now.

    Of course the biggest thing about the crash was that I could have killed my little sister, her son and her unborn son. This still gets to me, but at the time it was a big weight on my mind. The day after the crash I updated my status on Facebook which says it all about how I was feeling at the time. ‘I realise that things could’ve been a lot worse, and is relieved that everyone is okay, although I kind of wish I’d been put out of my misery’

CHAPTER EIGHT

     The beginning of August was a bit of a blur really. The after effects of the crash were a struggle, but in mid August I managed to get back up to Manchester. It was with the Northern Angels again, although I couldn’t afford the meal. Instead I arranged to meet them afterwards and decided to venture out on my own for a few drinks first.

     I got ready and at around eight o’clock, I ventured out. Soon I found a bar and sat down with a large glass of wine. As the evening wore on, I got talking to a couple of real girls. It was great talking to them and was my first real time interacting as a female with females.

     At around eleven I ventured off to meet up with the Northern Angels girls. We rounded off the night in Napoleons until around five in the morning, before I headed back to my hotel. Little did I realise but this was my last visit to Canal Street as of writing.

     On my visit to Canal Street with the Northern Angels way back in April, one of the girls called Lisa got talking to me. She was the organiser of these monthly meets and a really nice person. She said to me that I wouldn’t restrict myself to Canal Street for long and that I’d soon be venturing out into the ‘real world’. At the time I was very dismissive of this suggestion. I just didn’t think that I had it in me to leave the relative safety of the scene. Towards the end of August I started thinking about and planning my first shopping trip as Emma.

     I got talking to a ‘girl’ online called Lilith. She was from Sheffield so was local. We decided to head to Meadowhall together and set about organising it. We set a date of 16^th September, which was a Wednesday. This meant that it wouldn’t be too busy and too overwhelming for my first ‘real world’ trip. This was due to be the next big event in my life, but I was wrong as something I did back in July came back to haunt me.

     On Sunday 6^th September my head chef, Joey, took me out the back of the kitchen. In my experience when a head chef requests a chat outside it’s normally not good. I followed him outside and he stood their and said ‘I just wanted to talk about the secret life of Emma’. I just felt my world cave away at that moment. I couldn’t think how he’d found out, but the fact that he had was like a thunderbolt. I asked if we could go somewhere a bit private so we went and sat in his car.

     For the next ten minutes we talked. He said that my Blog had come up in a Google search and that he’d read it. He was fantastic about it and had even said that when I’d asked for days off, he’d had an inkling why. He said that the only reason he’d actually approached me about it was that the breakfast chef had noticed a patch of foundation I’d not wiped off! And I always thought I was so careful!

     The next morning was when the full implication of my head chef knowing hit me. This was the beginning of my ‘coming out’ to the world, and even then I guess I knew it. Knowing that someone out side the family knew was a pretty big deal after spending so long in the closet. Strangely the fact that if my head chef could find my Blog then so could anyone didn’t enter my mind.

    

     The 15^th September marked a huge event in my TG life. Well my life as a whole I guess. I had planned to catch a bus home, get my post and catch the bus back to my brothers where I'm house-sitting for the week. I was going to do all of this as Emma. It was the perfect warm up to my trip to Meadowhall the following day and marked yet another first in my life. I've been to Canal Street a few times and to Club Xes in Sheffield, but they aren't what I classed as Real World Venues. They are safe havens for the Transgender community and in little worlds of there own. Today I was going to venture out into the Real World and interact with the public.

     I got up at about half-past nine and had a shave. When I go out I have to shave 3 times. Which is a pain, but needs must. I went for quite natural make-up and had decided on casual clothes. Socks, Jeans, a dark blue vest top, long black cardie and my knee-high boots. I topped this off with my hoop clip-on earrings, silver bracelet and a crucifix pendant. I had done my nails last night in a nice pale pink colour.

     At 11:00 I began the slow walk to the bus in Bolsover Market place. Normally it would have taken me 10 minutes but today I allowed for 20 as I was in heels. I got to the bus stop with a couple of minutes to spare and just stood there waiting. It was a nice day, and there were 1 or 2 people milling about. No one gave me a second glance either. The bus arrived and I got on. It was 3 minutes later when I realised that I'd gotten on the wrong bus. I had gotten on the Chesterfield bus. This would mean that I would have to walk through my hometown as Emma to get a connecting bus to Pleasley (home). This is not what I had planned. In the end I decided to just do it. I thought that as mean as I was out dressed, I may as well do things properly.

     The bus pulled into Chesterfield and I got off. I was kind of surprised at how at ease I felt. To be walking through my hometown as the person I was quickly realising I should have been born as was liberating. I was also surprised at how little people took notice of me. No one gave me a second glance. My best moment came when I got on the connecting bus from Chesterfield to Pleasley. I showed the driver my Mega-Rider and he said ' thank you darlin'. Just to be referred to in a female way was an amazing feeling.

     The journey home was largely un-eventful and after popping home, I was soon on the bus back to Bolsover (this time direct). All the time I had been out I hadn't received one funny look, one double-take, one remark. It was a perfect day, and it really whetted the appetite for the following day and my shopping trip to Meadowhall.

    

     I got up at 8:30 and proceeded to get ready. I'd done my toenails and fingernails the night before in red, so they matched. Today I went for jeans, a grey vest top and my long black cardie. I opted for some black sandal style heels and by 10:50 I was set to go. I opened the front door and noticed the neighbour talking to the post man. This didn't deter me and so after quickly locking the door I was walking down the road. I got to the end and looked up towards the bus stop. My bus was early so I ran. Or at least I tried to run. I could almost hear the music from chariots of fire.

     After a relatively uneventful bus journey and train journey to Sheffield I arrived at Sheffield Station. I had arranged to meet Lilith and I spotted her pretty much straight away. Soon we were on the train to Meadowhall. Now I love Meadowhall. It's where most of my clothes come from. But this time it was different. I was going there to shop, portraying as a woman, and ultimately as my preferred gender. The strange thing is, that this trip out had been in the planning stage for close to a month and I had built it up as this huge thing. Yet I was more at ease than I had been for a long time.

     We soon arrived at Meadowhall, and proceeded to browse the shops. It was while we were in House of Fraser that we got accosted by a sales rep for a make-up company. They were testing brands out on customers at the make-up counter. For some reason, maybe instinct, I don't know, I said yes. So while Lilith continued to browse the clothes, I followed the sales rep to the make-up counter. She introduced herself as Holly and asked me my name, which I quickly told her, was Emma. She sat me down on one of the stools and set about testing 4 different products on me. She was really nice and chatted to me. I’m pretty sure that she knew that I was TG, but not once did she show it. She spoke to me as if I was a woman, and that made me feel fantastic. It was a fantastic experience for me, it really was. In the end I brought some Cheek and Lip stain, which I kind of felt obliged to buy. I certainly didn't begrudge the purchase, I just felt that I owed it her with the way she had treated me.

     Me and Lilith continued to browse the shops, stopping for a coffee and then lunch. The thing I was beginning to notice was how natural this felt. I felt normal, and like a woman. I was interacting with people as Emma, and things felt like they should.

     I’d come a long way in 5 months, from being scared waiting behind a hotel room door before venturing onto the cobbles of Canal Street to this, walking around Meadowhall Shopping Centre as Emma. What a journey that had lead me to this point.

     In the end my shopping mounted to a couple of cardigans, some jewellery, some shoes, and the make-up. I didn't spend as much as I thought I may, and I'd had a great day.

    It was towards the end of September that I began to think about how my future was going to pan out. The counselling I was taking fortnightly was helping me to decide what I needed to do and I was beginning to see my future as a woman. It was around his time that I first realised that far from being a dream, full-time was a very real possibility. I began thinking about little things such as getting my ears pierced and then bigger things such as Laser on my beard area.

     I also began to think about pushing my way out of the closet for good. I was out to my family and my Head Chef that I knew of, but being out to everyone was becoming a very real possibility. I guess that at this point, I was constantly looking for the next challenge, constantly trying to push myself to the next level.

     Although I was edging closer to burning the closet down for good, I had another night out planned. For my very first night out way back in March 2008 I had planned to go to BNO in Milton Keynes. Unfortunately I had been let down then, although I ended up having a great night in Manchester instead. Finally eighteen months later, I was going to BNO.

     Back in July a night out had begun to be organised via Angels Forum. It was to BNO and a lot of ‘girls’ had put their names down. Some of my friends from Manchester were going and it was looking like it was going to b a great night. In order to pay for the Hotel room, I had booked a twin room and advertised the spare room on Roses Forum. Pretty soon I had got a reply from an older T-Girl called Alison and I was ready for BNO.

     I had a train due at 3:39 pm and was at Chesterfield Train Station with plenty of time to spare. The journey was largely uneventful, and after changes at Leicester and Bedford I arrived at Fenny Stratford in Milton Keynes at 6:15 pm. This is where I got my directions to the hotel mixed up and on leaving the station; I went in the wrong direction. After I had walked for 2 miles, I realised that I had obviously gone wrong somewhere, so I began to retrace my steps back to the station. Eventually I passed a bus driver, having a quick cigarette, so I decided to ask him for directions. He told me so I began walking. 2 minutes down the road and the bus stopped next to me and gave me a lift, for free. I eventually arrived at the Campanile Hotel at 7:00 pm, 40 minutes later than I had planned.

     I checked in and shortly after, my room-mate for the night arrived. To be fair, I was very quick getting ready. I guess that I had my routine down to a tee now. I'm pretty safe with the make-up and don't tend to drift away from my routine much.

* First I shave in the 3 stroke method. This is that I apply foam, and then shave with the grain. Apply foam, and then shave against the grain. Apply moisturiser then shave with the grain.

*Then I apply my foundation and setting powder.

*Then I apply bronzing powder to my forehead and nose.

*Then blusher onto my cheeks.

*Then I do the eye-shadow and mascara

*Then the lipstick and lip liner.

*Finally I finish off with a quick line of lip gloss over the lipstick.

And that’s the routine I followed tonight. Clothes wise I was going to wear a dress for the first time on a night out. It was knee length, strapless and black, quite a classy dress to be honest. I teamed it with black tights, strappy black heels and a little cream cardi. Jewellery wise I went for some gold hoop earrings, gold pendant, gold heart bracelet and some rings.

     Alice took quite a long time to get ready bless her, but by 10:00pm we were in the hotel bar. Alice brought the drinks (I started as I meant to carry on, by enjoying a large glass of house white) and we sat down with a couple. They were Karen (TG) and Hazel (RG). I always love seeing TG's out with their accepting partners. And I love chatting with them too. Seeing Women out mixing it up with TG's brings that bit of normality to what is a crazy scene.

     At 11:00pm we decided to head over to Pink Punters. I was going to be meeting some of my friends from Manchester there. On our way to the door though, I spotted the familiar face of Emma W and her wife sat near the door. They weren’t alone though and Mandy, Tina, Diane, Marlene were all there too. We strolled over to Pink Punters and I had a bit of a catch up with Marlene who I hadn't seen since May.

     Pink Punters is a bit of an experience for the uninitiated. Made up 3 floors it is really big. And tonight it was a tranny haven. T-Girls of all shapes, sizes and styles filled the club, top to bottom. Drink wise, I stayed on the wine, which in hind-sight, probably wasn't the best idea. I had more chats with some of the girls and eventually a rather drunk Gayna showed up. She had really organised the group of us going to BNO. I didn't realise it, but it was her first night out as Gayna! Later on, she managed to get me on the dance floor, so I must have been drunk. A girl I have met in Manchester before was there, although I can't for the life of me remember her name.

     After a while, the wine started going to my head. Coupled with the excitement, empty stomach and general exhaustion, I started to deteriorate pretty quickly. When I started nodding off in Pink Punters, I knew it was time to go. So I said my goodbyes and left.

     How I managed to make it back across the road to the hotel in one piece I'll never know. I didn't fall over once, which is a wonder considering the heels I was wearing. I managed to get myself changed and make-up free too before throwing up. After that I can't remember much. I woke up when Alice got in, and was on the bed upside down lol. Normally I end up sleeping on the floor after getting drunk, so I was impressed that I made it to my bed.

     I got up the next morning with a bad hangover. Alice had stayed in the club until the death (5 am).  I quickly removed the red nail-varnish and headed for my train at around midday. On the way to check out I bumped into the Manchester Girl in Bob mode. We chatted for a second about the previous night and went our separate ways. It amazes me really, the transformation we go through. You wouldn't think that this guy, standing in front of me was just last night wearing make-up and a flowery dress.

     I caught the 1:05 pm train from Fenny Stratford and as the train pulled away from the platform I switched the IPod on. With the strains of Wet Wet Wet's Somewhere Somehow playing, I reflected on a great night out. Every night I seem to have sets a bench mark for the next to follow. I thought at the time that this would be my last night out of 2009 and I was touched with a bit of sadness at the thought. With the festive period coming up, I was going to have to seriously watch the pennies. Considering that this time in April I was still yet to have my 2nd trip out as Emma, I think that I'd done quite well. My original aim after my April Night Out was to get out once a month. The fact that I'd made double figures by October is quite impressive I think.

CHAPTER NINE

     On Friday the 16^th October, I announced on Face book that I was Transgender with the following Status report.

‘Paul Jewkes has something to say. For 20 years he's been hiding away and denying who he is. Living a life which he has not really been happy living. This state of mind has caused him to think seriously about suicide on a number of occasions. Things came to a head after a recent car accident in which Paul wished he had perished due to the complexities and general unhappiness inherent in his everyday life. You see Paul is in fact Transgendered and has been all of his life. He is very open about it when asked, and understands that people will all have their own opinions. All he asks for is the respect that he has earned after 20 odd years of fear, confusion and self loathing.

P.S. Told you to watch this space lol.’

     For a few days before hand I’d hinted on my status report that I had some big news. I guess that the time was right to finally reveal my true self. I knew that I was going to come out that night, and I’d spoken to my hotel manager of my gender issues earlier in the day. I wanted to tell her in person before the gossip started the next day. I was also conscious that the Work Staff Party was coming up and I had decided to attend as Emma.

     This marked a huge event in my life. For twenty-one years I had been hiding my gender issues while trying to come to terms with them. Now I was fully out of the closet and a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It hadn’t been easy, but I had done it. I must’ve spent an hour sat staring at my computer screen with my curser over the share button. At one point I was in tears as I realised that my future lay in the click of a button. The instant I did it I felt the weight lift off my shoulders. It was a true leap of faith that I needed to do.

     The following few days I received a few messages of support on face book and found out that one or two of my workmates had found my Blog at a similar time to my Head Chef. It was a bit of a blur really as my Gender issues became public knowledge.   

     So the night arrived, possibly the biggest night of my life, the 1^st November 2009. I got ready without too much trouble. I had decided on black tights, strappy heels, short black skirt, black vest top, red cardi. For jewellery I had decided on silver dangly earrings, silver heart pendant, heart bracelet, silver rings and a silver leaf clasp bracelet on the other wrist. I had also decided on my long lighter brown wig, with the usual natural make-up.

     At 6:05 pm I set off down the road towards the bus stop. With horror I saw the bus go past and so set off on a sprint, but I was too late and so the bus drove away. I wasn’t happy. This would mean that I would have to wait for an hour for the next one, thus making me an hour late for the party. So I headed back home and called a taxi. This gave me time to touch up my make-up and nails and also meant that I arrived at the hotel early.

     I got the driver to drop me off at the bus stop outside the hotel. This was mainly because I needed air, but also because I kind of needed the walk down the drive to the front entrance. It was the longest walk of my life. I can remember on my very first night out back in 2008. I got a kind of Spidey Sense. I got it again on my second night out in April. Basically I suddenly became aware of everything around me to a degree I don't experience in normal life. I was just absolutely terrified. I wanted to turn back, but each step was taking me further to the point of no return. Finally I reached the front steps and headed into the entrance hall. John (the assistant manager) was there with Julie (his wife) working behind reception. John and Julie have always treated me well and we go back 10 years. I was greeted warmly by them and was treated normally, which was a very strange feeling.

     I was one of the first to arrive, although people kept turning up in dribs and drabs over the course of the next hour. It was a fancy dress party, although not many were in fancy dress. People were great with me and called me Emma, which made me feel, well words can't express. It felt really surreal but completely normal in equal measure.

     Throughout the course of the night I spoke to a few different people and I soon realised that most had known for a while. My head chef had found out through reading my Blog after it came up in a Google search. That is the same way that nearly everyone had found out. I guess that having them read my Blog helped them to understand me more. The worst thing about all of this though, was that I've spent ages worrying what people would think, or how they'd react. When it came to, my worries were completely unfounded.

     At one point in the night I was just taking a bit of a time-out, sat at a table on my own. One of the waiters and waitress came over and sat with me. They didn't like to see me on my own, and we chatted. I spoke openly about things with them and they were great, listening and asking questions. The waitress even suggested that I go to work as Emma. I can remember thinking about how I would love to do that.

     The time soon reached 11:30 pm and the end of the party, or so I thought. A few of us headed up the hill into Brimington. Now Brimington is a district of Chesterfield. Filled with pubs, it is an experience while dressed normally, never mind as a woman. How I managed to walk up that hill in my heels I will never know. I think that I earned alot of respect for that feat of resilience.

     We went to a place called the Corner House which was open till 2 am. It was great to be in a proper pub, portraying as Emma. I didn't really get any funny looks, and I think I passed quite well. If you'd told me 6 months ago that I'd have gone out to a proper Pub as Emma with workmates, I wouldn't have believed it for a second. But here I was. My confidence was now through the roof and I felt so good about everything.

    It had been my first night out as Emma with people who knew the male me and it had gone brilliantly. Everyone was just so respectful and good about me being there as Emma. Everyone called me Emma and respected the fact that I was being me. The trouble is that as a member of sites such as Angels Forum and Roses Forum, I have been fed a diet of bad stories. I have read of people losing family, jobs and friends just because they are Transgendered. Maybe that put me off coming out for so long. In my world, I needn't have worried half as much as I did.

     The excitement of the staff party stayed with me for a few days afterwards and thoughts of going full-time quickly re-entered my mind. I even set a date of 1^st November 2010. I figured out that a year would be ample enough time for me to prepare for life as a woman. Towards the end of November I received a bit of bad news though. I had been discussing my plans with my therapist and she had done a bit of research regarding waiting times. She told me that the GIC in Sheffield had a waiting time of about two years. This knocked me a bit as I just wanted to start living my life. Having to wait a further two years to do so would not be a good thing.

     On 4^th December 2009 I attended my therapy session as Emma for the first time. This was a big thing really and it meant that I had to walk through Chesterfield on a busy lunchtime. Since then, I attended all of my therapy sessions as Emma.

     Two weeks later on the 18^th December, I attended another therapy session as Emma. As this was the last Friday before Christmas I went into Chesterfield a couple of hours earlier and did my Christmas shopping. It was an experience, but definitely a good one. My previous trips through Chesterfield as Emma had only bee fleeting ones, but this time it was a prolonged shopping trip. It felt strange shopping and interacting as Emma without being scared about being recognised. Now I was out of the closet, fully out, being recognised and ‘outed’ was no longer a risk.

     Christmas came and went before the celebrations of New Year began. For New Years Eve I had arranged to go out after work with some workmates. I didn’t feel ready enough to venture out into Chesterfield on a night out as Emma yet, so I went as Paul. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake, as being out as Paul just didn’t feel right. I wanted desperately to be out as a woman, not this man I was supposed to be. I had one or two chances of ‘pulling’ women who showed interest, but I didn’t want that. Had I gone home with them, I would have been lying to myself. A couple of years ago I would have probably taken up the chance of a bit of sex with the opposite gender. It would have been my way of trying to prove my manliness, that these feelings of wanting to be female were curable. Now, having come to terms with whom and what I was, I felt no need to want to prove my ‘manliness’. I also didn’t want to lie any more.

     That New Years Eve night out proved many things to me, the main one being that I couldn’t handle being Paul much longer. Being out having to be a ‘man’ just wasn’t me. The fact that I’d started getting ‘real world’ experience probably had bearing on my growing feelings.

     In very early January 2010 my mum had a bit of a chat with me. I had been planning on moving out in preparation for going full-time. I just didn’t think that my dad would be able to handle it. Also I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable. I thought that the easiest thing for everyone would be if I moved out and got myself a little flat. My mum had other ideas. She’d had a word with my dad and told me that she wanted me to stay living at home, at least while I transitioned. This was quite a good idea for so many reasons, so I agreed to stay.

     In January I began to think of full-time and I began to wonder whether I could begin it sooner than the planned November date. My philosophy on this was why wait, if I could do it sooner, then why not. January was also the month when I got referred to Nottingham GIC. Before Christmas I had visited my GP with a view to getting a referral. In the end he said he’d do it, after he got a letter from my councillor recommending me for referral. I had been told that I could be waiting six months before I got my appointment for initial assessment, so on the 7^th January when I was told that I’d been referred it was a great feeling. I felt like I was one step closer.

CHAPTER TEN

     A workmate was soon to be celebrating his birthday. He was turning thirty and had arranged a night out around Chesterfield. I had been invited and he’d said that I could go as Emma if I wanted, so I did.

      Finally the night arrived. It was a night that just 4 months previously, had been a distant fantasy. I was going to have a night out as Emma in my local town. You might say that it was the last thing on my checklist. The last great first.
    

     I got changed and had decided on black leggings, a long purple and black floral top, boots and long black cardie. It gave me a sexy chick kind of look without being too over the top.  I caught the bus with minimal fuss until it came to get off. The creepy guy who had been sat opposite woke up. As I stood up he said hello to which I politely replied, hello. I got off the bus and he asked if I was going clubbing. I told him I was meeting friends and sped off as quickly as my heels would take me. He was a creepy guy, but his apparent interest boosted my confidence no end. Pretty soon I was sat in Pacific Bar nursing a coke waiting for my friend. The Facebook invite had said 7:45pm but it was half an hour later before people began to show up. I knew a few through work and I recognised more through face book. I got chatting to a group of girls that'd come over from Wales who complimented my jewellery (a combination of peacocks and primark). I really enjoy chatting to real girls when out as Emma. It makes me feel like one of them, which boosts the confidence and mood. We stayed in Pacific until around 10ish by which time more people had arrived. We took a wander to a bar called Nikels. It was absolutely dead, but we stayed there until around midnight before venturing off to the nightclub, Escapade.

     Escapade is Chesterfield’s premier nightclub. It is huge and is the place to go in Chesterfields early hours, and here I was going in as Emma.
It was quite busy and after ordering a drink, I soon found myself on the dance floor. I can't dance at all, but some girls from work gave me a bit of a hand. I actually got checked out a couple of times. Alas though certain gender characteristics mean that there are certain girl things I can't do. A normal relationship is something that is high on my needs, but I have to face facts that by going through with transition, I have possibly sacrificed any hope of that.
    

     Using the ladies loos felt so normal and right. They are much cleaner and smell nicer than the men’s. I was stood in there chatting away with 2 girls from work at one point which was kind of surreal. In a good way though. We stayed in Escapade until 3ish. A few of us went onto a place called Back To The Nineties, which stayed open until 6. I stayed there for half an hour before booking a taxi. After a long night it was time for home. I said my goodbyes and went to wait outside. It was raining a little bit but pretty soon my taxi arrived. Overall it was a good night. It was normal. I didn't get any problems and I was treated like one of the girls. I had often thought that a night out in Chesterfield would be the ultimate test. The last great mountain to conquer. I'm pretty sure I didn't pass completely, in truth I never expect to. I do the best with what I've got, and my best is pretty good. The thing I appreciate most is being treated like a woman. At the end of the day that is what I am, a 27 year old girl. This last great mountain was conquered in style.

     On Tuesday 9^th February I finally got my ears pierced. Before I came out, getting my ears pierced had been a distant dream. I had always thought about getting them done, but fears about my sexuality being questioned had prevented this. Now I was ‘out and proud’ there was no reason not to get them done.I got them pierced at a little place in Chesterfield called ‘Clippers’. My older sister, Clare, had recommended them. It was pretty cheap, but also quite painful. Worth it though. At work that night, one or two people commented on them, but I didn’t get one negative remark.

     A couple of days later I went out for a workmates birthday. She was someone who had been really supportive over the whole Trans thing and so I wanted to show my face. I went after work, as Paul, despite my bad New Years Eve experience. My experience this night was no better.

     I met the group in a club called Elements. It was 10 pounds to get in and all drinks were free. Being in the club only made things worse in my head. At first I was stood with the birthday girl and 2 other work mates and I felt like one of the girls. Then I realised that I was a guy, and it depressed me. So I drank more, which only depressed me more. The worst moments came when I had to use the toilets. I would glance at the ladies forlornly, before entering the men’s, the smelly, wee stained men’s. I was absolutely miserable at times, lost in my own self-loathing. The company was excellent, and I felt extremely lucky to have a group of friends like mine. Being Trans can be truly hellish at times though, and you can very easily get sucked into your own 'hell on earth'. It doesn't matter who you are with, your own world takes over. You feel trapped, alone, emotional, utterly miserable, and nothing else matters. Not your job, your friends, your family, nothing. Personally, I curse god allot during these times. I curse him for giving me a wasted life. I should have been born a girl, but I wasn't. I should have grown up a girl, but I didn't. I should have experienced the things teenage girls’ experience, but I didn't. Everyone has regrets over things they didn't do. The difference is that most of mine are over things I couldn't control.
    

     I left at around 2:45 am, and contemplated a night out that never quiet felt right. The company was excellent, the venue was good, the alcohol flowed, the music was decent, I didn't feel normal though. I wouldn't have missed the night out for the world; I only wished I'd have been 'one of the girls', as opposed to a man.

     After the depression of the night out I needed something to cheer me up. I got it on Friday 19^th February when I received a letter from the Nottingham GIC. It informed me that I had a date for my first appointment for initial assessment. The date was the 3^rd March 2010. It cheered me up no end, although I was shocked at my quick appointment.

     The 3^rd of March soon arrived and I was soon on my way into Nottingham for my appointment at the GIC. I had decided on a casual look of denim skirt, dark blue top and a grey cardie, with my knee high boots. II had phoned up the day before to change the name on file from Paul to Emma. It felt right considering I would be attending the appointment as Emma.

     I arrived at the small building a bit late as I couldn’t find the place, but I apologised and was soon sat in the waiting room. The doctor came down and called my name, Emma, and showed me to a small room. For the next hour or so we chatted about my life and journey. I had been really nervous in the days leading up to the appointment, mainly as I wasn’t sure what to expect. The doctor made me feel so at ease though, that it went a lot easier than I expected.

     Towards the end of March I came to a very important decision regarding my future. I decided on a set date for going full-time as Emma. The date I decided on is 5^th July 2010, and it’s final. Why have I chosen that date in particular? I’m not entirely sure to be honest. I think that it’s near to the date when I first dressed. It’s also the day after Independence Day and by going full-time, I’ll be gaining my independence. It’s also a Monday. Whatever reason I have for choosing that particular day, after this year it’ll gain a greater significance as the day I began living.

CONCLUSION

When I was young, I never thought in a million years that I would be where I am today. Going through the sex-change process was something that other people did. It was something that would often be reported in the daily press with ridicule, and be portrayed on television as a freakish thing. That wasn’t me, I wasn’t a freak. I knew that I wanted to be a girl and I knew that something wasn’t right, but that’s how it was. I thought the feelings were just part of growing up, I was wrong. By thinking that the feelings would go away with age, I was only kidding myself.

     I now realise that if I’m to have a life that I want, then I have to transition. In my mind I’m female and I desire the body to match that. Since I’ve ‘come out’ I’ve had so many messages of support for my bravery, but I don’t see what I’m doing as brave. For it to be brave, it would indicate that I have a choice, but I don’t. Living as a woman is something I have to do, simple. Writing this mini autobiography has only gone to strengthen my belief in what I’m doing. Revisiting ones previous experiences has a way of putting things into perspective and that has been particularly true in my case. Writing this has helped me to see the bigger picture and to realise that my journey began when I was very young. Every choice I have made has led me to this point and that’s incredibly encouraging.

     As of writing, I’m just ten weeks away from going full-time as Emma. I’m filled out the deed poll forms and sealed them in the pre-paid envelope. I’ve decided on Miss Emma Victoria Jewkes, keeping my present second name. I’ve begun Laser on my beard area and have also been growing my hair since October. I’ve informed my bosses at work and my family, and also wrote extensively about it on my online Blog.      

     My Blog has been a huge help over the past year or so since I started writing it. It’s acted as a form of therapy during some very tough times. It’s also been valuable to other people, especially those who know me. It’s given them a window of understanding into me. It’s always been a need of mine to be understood and I hope that through my Blog, I gain that.

     The 5^th July represents a huge event in my life. It’s the beginning of my finally living and it can’t come soon enough.