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Josie Pages

Field Notes In/On Transition

Time & Tide

I woke from a “swimming dream”… swimming in the middle of a big river, that moved not slowly or rapidly, but surely… I was swimming down the middle (which in real life you will never see I swim like rocks swim.) of this brownish body of water. Some kids were calling my name (Josie) from the shore, I turned to call back to them (interestingly in the dream I was not very femme, but rather heavy like I was maybe in the mid nineties) as I woke, voices echoing in my ears.

First time in memory where my dreams have called me “Josie”. I kind of live for small moments, and that was a good one.

Later that morning, I went to my Doctor (one of two tiny South Asian women who take care of my health) for an early morning appointment to see how my first month of Anti-Androgen has gone, blood-work results basically, and checking in with effects happening with my testosterone being lowered. Everything was very positive. 

My Testosterone is now “lower than the norm for genetic males”, but not yet down to lady levels, that will take the time it takes, but the Doctor was very hopeful with how the tests went, and said that the real upside is that I likely won’t have to take a lot of this particular med. Taking less pills of any kind is a worthy goal, in my opinion.

I told her about how my skin is softer, and I feel a definite breast thing happening (Ow...  kind of hurts a bit actually), as well as an emotional shift that I am really enjoying. 

There happened to be a Psych intern observing, who had “David Bowie” eyes, if you know what I’m saying. She was nice but didn’t say much. She did however admit to having learned a lot by sitting in on sessions with people in Transition. 

For all my little success though, lately. I’m still painfully aware that this is all going too slow and too fast at the same time. Of course the desire is to rush headlong into it all. Which as I know from many previous experiences is for me a way of avoiding the big picture. 

My Transition is most definitely in it’s infancy. And I hope that I’m not making it sound as though all I have are highs, even this early on. I have as many fears and doubts, still as I had before, I’m just trying now to get past them.  

I have had a few nice personal interactions in the past few days from friends who are concerned that they might be “Bro”ing, “Man”ing, or, “Bud”ing me too much. I reassured them. 

I sure as heck don’t expect to be called Josie all the time yet, nor will I ever be inflamed by pronoun difficulties. small potatoes. 

I do hate being called “Sir”. But that’s more of a class issue, than a gender one.


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photo of Gord from CBC

COURAGE {for andrew, gord, & hugh.}
lonelier than never                  within  my neck     my throat       choke words             hard             suicidally so.
I am weary bleary and toothless.
In every mirror          I see hopeless                soft fat breath.   
And wetness.
Then      somehow thick white blood re:routes                   an                   other path into my chest    and the shit melts in   closely shaved rhythms                     or smiles                     songs slither    as delicate     as though    I had swallowed a rose.
My breath is filled               with words and fear                              and                            …