I want to know how you are...

I had a long conversation with my mum again this weekend.  It's something that I had been putting off, as I just did not want to upset her.  She is a long way away, we can't get to Scotland just yet and doing all these talks over the phone can be quite difficult...

She sent me an SMS asking how we were, I waited until the evening and then called back.  I told her that I've not been OK for a few weeks, but that I am climbing out of it now.  And that I didn't say anything as I didn't want to upset her.

Her response was that she doesn't ask how I am to hear that I am fine, she asks because she wants to know how I am doing, and to try and support me the best she can from Scotland.

We talked about all the things that have been on my mind recently, including the suicidal thoughts from my teenage years to now (but not the last few weeks - progress) and the information evening from the VU.

She said that she was not surprised at the suicide - that she understood why those thoughts would go through my mind.

In all in all I think that we were on the phone for more than an hour, we had some laughs along the way, I had more than a few tears.  I explained to her that as much as I thought I had accepted my TG'ness years ago, I guess I am realising that I had not.  I'd acknowledged it, but obviously not accepted it.  That was a milestone in realisation.

One thing that made her laugh was me doing mascara.  I'm imfamous for having hand tremours.  When I tried to join the RAF as a pilot my mum made the joke that she would know which plane was mine as it would go side to side.

Now imagine having shaking hands.  Then trying to do your eyes.  She thought I meant black marks over my face.  I meant occasional 'OW!' moments as the brush suddenly meets eyeball.  She burst out laughing.  She also asked an interesting question.  I hid the fact that I was TG for many years, with the asscociated stress that comes with it.  She was wondering whether, once I am in a good place gender identity wise, would my hand tremous stop (or at any rate reduce a little) as there would be an amount of stress that would be gone.

I talked to my dad about my Spit - since we had a walk and talk just after his Birthday before Mrs Stace and I left them to come back to Holland we have not really talked about it.  He supports me through my mum - giving me advise whilst on the phone ot mum, but hasn't really spoken to anyone about it - including me.  I don't know whether he is bottleing everything up, or whether he is fine...  Mum thinks the former from what I can tell.

But...  The Spit is moving closer to the start line.  The garage is nearly built, almost has power and in a few weeks the Spit should be under cover for the first time in 1/2 a decade ready for a full body off restoration.  My dad and I can talk cars for hours - something that hasn't changed since I told them I'm pleased to say.  In the end mum made him end the conversation as she is terrified about my phone bill.  I have to say at present that is the least of my worries :)

Finally...

I have a new found respect for Nick Clegg.  I saw an interview on Dutch TV last night where they started in English (I think - sometimes I don't notice when people switch between English and Dutch) and he answered them in... Dutch!  He speaks it better than I do!  I know that he has Dutch linage but still, thinking and answering in Dutch when you don't have to - I was very impressed.  As Mrs Stace pointed out - imagine what was going on in the minds of his supporters.  There he was being interviewed, on TV and probably the only people who could understand him were the TV crew from NOS.