Thank you!

This is just a really quick post to say thank you!

I woke up to this notification this morning…

I started this blog in the hope that I could reach a few people and be here to support them, to show them they aren’t alone and that every day, however hard the fight, it will be worth it when together, we find our euphoria. 

While I can’t believe 50 people are actually reading my blog, and I’m in slight shock, I want to say thank you to each and every one of you for following and supporting me on my journey. 

This is just the start to bigger and better things. We’ve got this!



Today, I remember.

From the moment I stepped onto the plane yesterday at 7:02pm I knew it was a bad idea.  My stomach turned itself inside out, my head spun around and around. 

I was travelling 600 miles to go “home”, to the place I grew up, to the same town that I lived in for 17 years of my life. I’m going back to the same house I once lived in, with the open fire and the bare beams in the kitchen, the large oak table centre of attention.

The plane landed and I felt a certain heaviness, a strong responsibility. The skies were so small, so dark. Being back in my home country left me feeling confined and claustrophobic, like I was trapped back in a box with all that negativity that he caused. 

We travelled back down the pot hole ridden roads reminding me what traffic really was.

The “welcome to” sign shot past the window and my hands went cold, numb, my heart was visibly pounding. I did not want to be there. I shut my eyes and pleaded to take myself back to my new home, away from everyone that ever hurt me. Mum, sat next to me, with her silent tears streaming down her face; our feelings intertwined in the same powerful way-we both wanted to be back on that plane going to our new home. Seeing her so broken again reminded me, again, for her, I had to put a lid on my feelings so put my hand on hers and remained strong. I needed to be strong.

We pulled up on the overgrown shingle drive, I stepped out the car alone, Mum watching through the steamed car window. I pulled the keys from my pocket, put the key in the lock, and turned – my stomach did the same.

I pushed open the door and stepped in and it immediately hit me. 

Nostalgia entered my mind as I remembered this house; it was always so warm and cosy, freshly painted and homely. The memories all came back, those of the sweet smelling “clean cotton” candles that were Mum’s favourite danced through the cold air that entered when the front door opened, the fire crackled in the eyes of those of us around, as we sat with our hot chocolates (with cream and marshmallows of course!) on the frosty winter nights, snuggled under blankets, surrounded by love and laughter.

But when I walked through the door today, it wasn’t home anymore. Wind howled through the broken back door blowing all the good memories from my mind. Immediately I pictured is his face, sitting there, in that massive leather armchair worn to pieces. The empty alcove that his TV once sat, the ringing that was left in my ears from the Bargain Hunt he watched religiously but as I stepped a little further, today, I could hear nothing but silence, ear piercing silence. All I could feel was the ice cold air left inside this stagnant cigar smelling house, painted tobacco yellow from his smoke with a thick layer of dust on every surface, making my skin crawl. 

Walking through that door today, I remember, what he did. He ruined this house just like he ruined my family and left it, us, cold. Cold like his heart, when he tore his family apart, watching us crumble in front of his very eyes without a second thought as to what he had done.

Today I remember, he’s not my family anymore.

Today I remember, he’s left me, once again, to pick up the pieces of a broken family and the now broken house, I once called home. 

Today I remember, to “close the door on my way out, not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance but because it no longer leads anywhere”.

I’m not okay but, you don’t believe me do you?

Every time I ask for help, it gets declined. This is my broken down response to the “professional” I saw a few days ago, who again, decided that I just need a support network. Why cant he see? I’ve got a Support network and I’m grateful, but they can’t get rid of the monsters in my head. 

I don’t know how long this post will be up for but this is how I’m feeling. Sorry, I can’t be positive today. 

This is what you don’t see.
That moment when you’re finally left alone. There are always people around you but they don’t see. They don’t see the pain behind your eyes or the scars under your clothes. They don’t see you brokenness and it becomes just another secret. 

But when that time comes when you’re left alone long enough to fall apart. When the time comes where you can no longer keep up with the “I’m okay” front that you put on, when you can’t be strong and hold back the tears. In that moment your heart sinks into your stomach, you swallow, past the lump in your throat, the tears start flowing like a stream, flowing long enough to turn into a waterfall. 

And you’re just sitting there curled up in the corner of a darkened room, knowing that no matter how hard you cry nobody will come. No one will see your pain. 

You sit in that same position, with tears flowing for hours, the natural day light fades behind the curtains, it’s as dark outside as it is inside your mind. 

You cry until there’s no emotion left, you are just exhausted. Defeated by the uncontrollable overflow. Thoughts and emotions racing, do you know what it feels like to be scared of your own mind?

The emotion inside you dissolves into the air surrounding you but the pain is still left behind. The pain hasn’t been washed away by the waterfall of emotion. The pain still stands. 

You have now been in this vegetated state of an emotional outburst for 8 hours. Nobody heard your cry. Nobody saw your pain. Nobody will see your pain.

You know that as soon as you return, everything will be the same as it always is, always has been. 

You’ll put back on the “I’m okay” front, you’ll shower and turn up to classes on time, you’ll do everything you have to do, you’ll talk to people, smile, make eye contact where appropriate and nobody will believe you’re broken. 

If you look a little deeper, into my glassy eyes, you can see I’ve been crying. If you listen a little closer, as I walk past you can hear the million shards of glass inside me shatter and rattle, I’m breaking more and more every day. 

The truth?

I’m not okay but you don’t believe me do you?

Learning through confusion or trying to at least 

So this is it. This is how it feels to be officially “an adult”. 

I waited so long for that day to come, I was counting the days! My entire life was on hold until I turned 18 for after that, I would be a free man. My own person. My life. My wishes, dreams and of course, my referral to the gender clinic-the one thing I’ve been waiting for since the day I turned 12. That piece of paper that could send me on my way to my first Testosterone injection;the one single and literal pain in the arse I so desperately want, need even. 

But turning 18 hasn’t been what I expected it to be. 

I love the idea that I am a free person, that every decision made is now my own. I like knowing that my parents no longer hold any legal responsibility over me (meaning physically, they can’t stop my transition) every day up until my 18th, their way to control me, was by stating “you’re still a child, therefore you CAN NOT do anything without my permission”. A sentence I heard so frequently but that has now been lifted. 

Of course, I knew that was a load of crap, I didn’t need their permission but I sure as hell wanted it. 

Maybe it’s loyalty maybe it’s just me being passive and the “quiet child” not wanting to cause trouble, maybe it’s a mixture of the two. If this is the case some might say it’s a recipe for disaster, and while I don’t see it as a disaster as such, knowing that I am free to do what I want when I want (within reason obviously) has certainly left me feeling confused, unsure even.

My loyalty lies with my parents, always has. Loyalty is a big thing to them, and I understand that entirely- I believe loyalty is a normal human reaction to the people who brought me up, provided for me since the day I was born and in some way (albeit “funny”) always loved and cared for me

Which begs the question that has been running around my mind for days now: how loyal is too loyal?

Am I too loyal? Is that the problem?

My extreme loyalty to my parents and my sheer lack of assertiveness combined, overrides any loyalty I have for myself. 

I’ve known this is quite possibly the case for a while now but turning 18 has brought it all up. 
Turning 18 has made me want to believe and realise that I do matter and that I can still be loyal enough to others AND think about myself and be loyal to me at the same time

I am losing myself day by day, in a downward depressive spiral (not solely but partly) because I am still in my mind, held back by parents. They have held me back for so long, having this new “big” number above me now, it doesn’t just break everything that’s ever been. 

This is what I’m struggling with. 

I need to learn to trust myself, to not be so passive and to learn when being “too loyal” negatively impacts me. 

I need to start fighting for me and let go of my loyalty for my parents enough to do that, to be me no matter how hard it will be. 

18 is another number but one that opens doorways, paths I’m desperate to take if I just learn to go where the wind takes me. 

All that’s left is to take the step in the right direction for what I so desperately need in order to live my life comfortably- this is the journey to euphoria after all. 

There ain’t no Narnia in here!

Sorry for my failure in updating my blog, I’ve been being showered in assessments, assessments and guess what? More assessments! It’s been a pretty crazy few weeks and I do apologise for not updating this rather sad looking blog.

I guess amongst all of my assessments I’ve felt pretty uninspired. I want to be able to speak from the heart, to talk about what goes on in my crazy jungle of a mind but truth be told, I’m scared. I don’t know how the world will react to my story.
That being said, I want to share my story. I want to inspire others to tell theirs too. 
I’m going to start with this.
Everyone’s seen it haven’t they? Where the girl climbs into the wardrobe and finds a whole new world? Well, if you haven’t seen it I’ve told you everything you need to know to be able to understand this post, although, I still would definitely recommend watching it!
Unfortunately though, we can’t all be Lucy Pevensie (one of the main Narnia characters). Unfortunately, not all wardrobes are Narnia. There isn’t snow, and magical creatures and frost sparkling everywhere you step, it isn’t beautiful. It’s stuffy, musty smelling, dark, you can’t see anything in front of you, you can’t see what you look like and after all these years of being stuck in a confined, painful space, barely able to move, you forget what you look like, you begin to wonder if you’ve ever really known.
Then when the doors open and the air is fresh, the world is bright and beautiful, and you can see the rainbow outside the window stretched right across the bright blue sky. You know everything is about to change, you’re not quite sure how, all you know is it will be different from now on. You will be able to breathe.
This is me, opening the wardrobe doors….
My name is Alex, I’m 17 and I am proud to say I’m transgender.
I am a boy trapped in a girl’s body.
I am a regular guy, with regular interests, building myself a regular life.
The only difference is, I will have to fight a little bit harder for my life, for a body that I can call mine.
I will become a performing monkey jumping through the hoops of psychologists and doctors who will be able to, in a way, prescribe me the correct body, the body I should have been born with. I will have injections in my arse just to grow a beard, I will undergo surgery just so I can have a flat chest.
It is not a phase, decision, choice or option. I am not attention seeking. Do you think I’d go through all of this if it was?
I will fight, I will have to fight for my life.
I am trying to be me, the real, original version of me, the one that doesn’t have to hide any more. The real Alex.
I am free!
To anyone who ever said I can’t. I can and I will, watch me!
Disclaimer; this is just a label, I am not defined by it and I ask you not to define me by it either. Thank-you.

The F word. 

No, not the f word you’re thinking of, cheeky!

F. Future. 

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only teenager that find that’s word incredibly daunting. I’ve spent so many nights awake digging deep into the meaning of that word. 
How can one simple 6 letter word cause so many people so many sleepless nights, so much worry and fear?

When you reach adolescence along with everything else that’s going on around you and within you, you also start being asked the dreaded question; “what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

Me? I wanted to be so many things

A sports coach

An author

A space man

A paramedic

A pilot  

While the list could go on for decades, I think you get the point. 

I spent an uncountable amount of nights staring at the stars from my bedroom window, wondering what I could be. Who could I be? Why should I be that person? 
See, I am just one of millions of young people needing make decisions about our future. We’ve got the world at our feet. We have so many options, it’s not just mining like it once was. 

I was 14 before I made my decision. I stand here at age 17, knowing exactly where I’m heading and what I’m wanting. I’ve known for 3 years, I am one of the lucky ones. I know so many people who are in their 20’s and are still not sure what they want to be. 

I want to be a counselling psychologist. I want to work my way up to eventually owning and managing my own practice. 
But just because I KNOW what I want to be, it still isn’t simple. I still have to justify my reasons for choosing this.

To me, this is simple. I want to become a counselling psychologist because I want to help people. Yes, there will be truly awful stories that I’ll be exposed to but the story of my life isn’t quite sunshine and roses. Everyone has a dark side, secrets they may never tell. 

I want to be a counselling psychologist because I spent a long time not knowing who to turn to when I was totally beside myself because I didn’t think anyone cared about me, there have been times when I have been scared of my own thoughts. I want to be the person that is there to listen, to make a difference, to show my care. To prove to everyone who comes into my practice, my life that they are worth it, that someone does care, that they are important, loved and beautiful in their own way. I want to do this because I have longed for someone to say this to me.

So is that it?

I’ve made my decision with regards to my career choice, I’ve justified my reason for choosing this-is that enough? Is that what my future entails?

No. future is more than a career. 
Future to me means having a good, stable job, a home, marriage, a family. 

So what else is in my future?

I want a wife, a home, a family. 
I have always said I will foster or adopt. There are so many kids out there that want and need someone to love and care about them, they need a home, they need to belong. Just like the rest of us. 

I want to live in a big house (who doesn’t?😉) and I’d like it to be a group care home, a little like an orphanage but much nicer, warmer and homely. Kids of all ages growing up, and becoming wonderful young adults. 

Of course, this is by no stretch of the imagination going to be easy but definitely worthwhile. I am Determined to make a difference and I will not quit. 

Stubborn is my middle name. 

So I guess this post begs the question; what do you want to be when you grow up? How do you imagine your future? Has it always been the same? 

The future is scary, what you want might change but what will remain, is you. You, flaws and all. Make your future your own and be sure, whatever it is, will make you happy. Don’t lose yourself in making a decision, there’s nothing wrong with winging it 😉 smile through the confusion and learn to fly. 

Soldiers, soldier on!


Soldiers fight in an army, a war even. I’m a soldier. Not your regular military soldier though, a mental health soldier. Or at least that’s how I like to think of it anyway.


People like me with mental health issues, we fight our never ending thoughts, we battle against our minds that are spinning out of control, every single minute, of every single day and night too. We are fighting a war inside our minds that nobody can see. While I can’t speak for everyone, there are times when even if I’m still amongst that peer group or if I’m present at a family reunion, I’ll go quiet, not because I’m shy or “socially awkward” but because the war inside my mind is taking over, because I’m having to use every single ounce of my strength to fight this mental battle.


My mental health issues are a secret to pretty much everyone.


My family, oblivious.

My friends, not a clue.


It is my secret, one of many, all locked in a safe inside me, the pass-code is lost, a long with the key. Maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll get a lock smith to break the locks allowing me to reveal the many secrets inside me but right now, they are safe. I’m not sure I could deal with the world, or rather, my world knowing my deepest darkest secrets. It’s about control.


I need to know I have that control and right now and for the past few years or so, with regards to others knowing about my mental health, I have always had control.


You guys reading this are probably thinking I’m some kind of head case, control freak, which FYI, I can guarantee I’m not, but having control nevertheless is important to me. Why? I have no control over my mental health. I cant control the war inside my mind, I can’t control the way it spins like a hurricane quickly raging out of control. I can try to control the storm of anxiety leading up to the hurricane but at the end of the day, we have no control over the weather.

This post is focusing on anxiety, or rather my anxiety.


I have constant anxiety about everything, every single little thing causes me anxiety. People, places, stairs! Oh my gosh, stairs. It’s crazy, mad, ridiculous but out of my control.


It’s like there’s this huge messy ball inside me, it bounces about all over the place all the time, you’re always aware of it and sometimes the ball gets hyper, it bounces about a hundred times faster, with speed now, power. It bounces into places it doesn’t usually get into, i.e. under my rib cage. This ball is far too big to be inside my rib cage but now its stuck, it cant get out, it’s extremely agitated and that’s when the storm (the non hyper ball) turns into a hurricane (the hyper ball). This hurricane is locked inside my chest, trying to break my rib cage from the inside, out, pressing so hard on my stomach, it’s making me feel sick, it’s turning my lungs into pancakes, unable to breathe, my heart beginning to panic and race like Lewis Hamilton in a formula one race (apologies! I’m no expert in cars or racing), my vision turns into a TV screen with no signal, blurring more and more, all I can hear is ringing in my ears, I can’t focus on the sound or what/if anyone is talking to me, by this point I’m shaking more than jelly on a plate, all I can focus on is the fact I feel like I’m going to die. 

Then the white light people talk about appears and everything I was feeling suddenly lessens, my vision is returning to normal, the ringing turns into lots of sound and I can hear what you’re saying to me now, the nausea fades, my lungs are still playing catch up but I’m back in the world of living. The giant, agitated ball that was stuck inside my chest has freed itself, its not so aggressive now. The hurricane has returned to a storm, bouncing about calmly once more.


This is the day in a life of an anxious person.


I don’t know about you, but I think this makes anyone else experiencing similar not only deserving of the soldier title but a bloody good one too!


So here’s to the soldiers fighting a mental illness.


Join my army, we need to END mental health discrimination!


I will return every follow I receive.


Keep soldiering on!