A small English parish church in a wet late December is not the most comfortable of places. Our distant ancestors cared more for Godliness than they did for comfort, those pews are hard.
So there I was earlier today, joining my sister and her brood this morning for the Christmas service. Still here, seemingly never having moved anywhere or done anything.
I can't honestly say this last year has been the best of my life. The culmination of 18 months of bad stuff in my professional life, still missing Mrs. J, and finding myself blackballed by random parts of my previous social group. That's a lot of aftermath to deal with, people are shit sometimes.
But then again, from another angle things might be said to be coming together. Through my local maker community I've found a peer group, I've built a small start-up that's starting to look as though it might succeed, and HRT has turned out to be something of a blessing. Finally I might be able to cease needing antidepressants, which can only be a good thing.
It was something that was a worry, what might happen after HRT. What if it didn't work, what if it made things worse? When you have a lifetime of society telling you you're wrong about all this stuff you can't shake off a thought that it might not fix everything. This is irrational and as it turned out wrong, but when you've staked so much on it that's a big deal.
Early next year I go to see the endocrinologist, at which point I'll be given a heftier antiandrogen and a revised oestrogen dose. When I see my doctor to collect the resulting prescription I might just feel happier about asking him to refer me to the gender clinic again. This is working, and I want it to continue.