Now that I’ve made my ebook “Who Cares? Life for an Irish Transgender Teen” free to the public (you can download the full thing here), I’ve decided to publish the chapters here on my website. Below is a chapter from this book which was published in April 2016.
I think that it’s so important to embrace and recognise your wild side as a part of you. I love the idea of a spontaneous life and try to put it into practice as much as I can. I genuinely think that I’ve managed pretty well so far. Wildness really only became important to me in the Winter of 2014, the time that I seem to have referred to many times throughout the course of this book. Up until this time I think I had been pretty wild. I’ve spoken about the numerous parties that I used to attend and the times that my friends and I would drink in fields, on the beach and in our local pub but after my heart was broken, I had a sudden desire to go completely wild. Thankfully I kept this desire somewhat under control because it had the potential to become really dangerous. Using alcohol to mask pain is no laughing matter and I understand that a lot more now than I did then.
But being spontaneous is not at all dangerous. Do things that you don’t usually do. Tell your crush that you like them. Go out with some people that you’re not that friendly with. Arrive at your best friend’s doorstep at ten o’clock with a big bag of crisps and a bottle of white wine. Take yourself to lunch on a day that you planned to do nothing but stay at home and work. I try to do this all of the time. I tell my friends that I won’t go out with them and then change my mind at the last second. I ring people that I haven’t spoken to in a long time just to catch up. I go out for drinks knowing that I have tons of work to do and that I need to be up early in the morning. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re young and irresponsible. But just because you’re no longer young, obviously doesn’t mean that you should always be responsible either. Just be fun, have a fun life, do fun things, make boring things fun, surround yourself with fun people.
Stop telling yourself that you can’t do things. I remember a day when I was extremely bored at the beginning of last Summer. I had just treated myself to a massive shopping spree in which I bought new clothes, books, magazines and face creams and I sat in Costa (my regular haunt) staring out the window. I felt a sudden desire to go up to Dublin. I had the apartment at this stage but I’d never even stayed a night there. I kept telling myself that I had no money to go to the apartment and lots of other reasons that I couldn’t go. Suddenly I had this realisation. There was literally no need for me to keep telling myself that I couldn’t go. So I thought of reasons that I should go instead. Everything then fell into place and I found myself sleeping in my new apartment that night.
I once mixed tiny amounts of all the liquor that I could find in my Mam’s house into a disgusting cocktail and brought it out to drink with my friends. I pretended that I enjoyed it while actually choking on the taste. My mam found out a few weeks later and was less than impressed.
We were once at a party with quite a few people. Everyone there was smoking weed and I had never done it, so myself and a few others sat in the kitchen drinking our WKDs and vodka and cokes while a large group sat in the conservatory that had been “hot-boxed.” They would get annoyed if we opened the door and let out any of their precious fumes and would only bless us with their mellow, boring, stoned company when they needed to roll their next joint. Their biggest failure was leaving the weed on a plate in the kitchen. My friends were giving out about how annoying they were acting while I had stood up to pour myself another drink. I was quite drunk at that stage so I looked at them, smirked, picked up a large chunk of it and ate it. It tasted weird but I don’t think that I felt anything afterwards other than drunk. They never found out what I had done to their precious marijuana.
At my debs I drank plenty of champagne and wine before dancing the night away, running behind the stage area, getting up on the stage numerous times and opening an emergency door to puke on a balcony. It is safe to say that I was cautioned by security many times that night.
There was another night where my friends and I went to the local pub for the night and returned with road signs that we had pulled off a wall. I’m sure my friend’s Mam didn’t know what to make of the fact that I returned to her house with a large sign before vomiting in their bath and briskly falling asleep.
When a festival took place in the town that I lived in last Summer I had two consecutive days of drinking, dancing, running around at night and going on carnival rides that had appeared for the duration of the festival. If you’ve never been on the waltzers after drinking tons of sex on the beach, I suggest that you try it. It’s a lot more magical and a lot less nauseating than you’d think.
The point of these stories is not for me to brag like a juvenile teenager (although I am quite embarrassingly proud of each of those stories), but to emphasise the point that life is a lot more fun when you do silly things and don’t take yourself so seriously. The best stories are the one’s in which you release your inhibitions and just go with it. Respect yourself enough to go completely crazy as often as you need to. Surround yourself with people who allow you to do this and make sure you don’t get into too much trouble. My greatest hope is that I lead a colourful life in which my wild side leads me into many more stories worth telling.
Read the introduction to my newest book Stay Wild here.
Watch my naked shoot below: