Change.

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.

Everyone says it but I’m not sure that everyone understands it. Change is inevitable. You cannot stop change. Ten years ago your life was completely different and in ten years time your life will be completely different. Everything has changed and will continue to change. Our feelings change, our opinions change, our understanding changes, our outlook changes, our dreams change, even our looks change. Something you thought was inexcusable last year you could be doing now. You could be married to someone you once hated. You could never speak to someone you once loved. You could wake up one day and realise that you no longer want what once made you happy. Getting annoyed or sad about change is like getting annoyed or sad about the weather (which I know some people do). You can try to ignore it or control it all you want but you can’t stop it.

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Friends-Interaction Three

Introspection is a series in which my current nineteen-year-old self has imaginary interactions with my fifteen-year-old self. For more information, click here.

I pour the last drop from a pot of peppermint tea into my mug, taking a long sip. On the table sits my sunglasses, my notebook, the novel I’m currently reading and my phone. They all sit untouched, I’m too distracted to write, read or check social media.

I’m in the lobby of a hotel in Kilmuckridge, the village where I attended school. It’s so strange to sit here again, in the place where I used to often meet my friends, none of whom I’ve spoken to in a very long time.

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Getting Acquainted-Interaction One.

Introspection is a series in which my current nineteen-year-old self has imaginary interactions with my fifteen-year-old self. For more information, click here.

I take a seat on the low stone wall, looking out at the sea. I rarely make it out to Dun Laoghaire these days, even though it’s one of my favourite places.

I spent a lot of time here as a child and always loved doing so. My family only lived down the road, making Dun Laoghaire our local town. I have such fond memories of ice-cream and beach visits and shopping with my relations at a time when days out of the house were so significant to me.

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One more week in the life (Part 2).

Read Part 1 here.

Thursday. We awake early to catch our train back to Dublin. I’m somewhat sad to be leaving Sligo but I’m also looking forward to getting back home and taking it easy for a while. Sarah’s Mam drives us to the train station and gives us brown bags with sandwiches and sweets. I thank the stars for this glorious woman and her hospitality. We seat ourselves on the train, eating our sandwiches, drinking cups of coffee and playing card games. The journey back seeme a lot quicker than the journey there did. Before I know it, I’m stepping off the train and saying goodbye to the others. Lugging my large bags, (I don’t know the meaning of travelling light) I hop on a Luas followed by a bus. When I arrive home, I sit and have a cup of coffee with my roommates before retreating to my room. Every ounce of my person wants to crawl under my duvet and never come out, but instead I unpack and repack my bag. I get another two buses to the hospital and collapse in a large chair beside my Gran’s bed. Gran takes one look at me and makes a sassy comment about having no sympathy for my exhaustion because I decided to go to the races. She smiles at me, making it clear that she’s joking but I’m delighted to see her sassing me again. There’s a definite spark returned and it’s so nice to see. Mam and I watch TV with her for a while before she falls asleep and we head off for the night. Both exhausted, we go straight to our temporary rooms in my Gran’s house and I am so glad to be in a warm cosy bed that I fall asleep almost immediately.

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Another Week in The Life (Part 2).

Read Part 1 here.

Thursday. I awake early and run down to get the bus. As I travel through rush hour traffic, I jot things down in my notebook. I’m feeling particularly inspired today. When I arrive into my radio class, I’m horrified to discover that we’re learning how to edit audio files; the thing that kept me up for hours on Tuesday night. Eventually, I just have to laugh it off and sit as the lecturer explains exactly what I spent ages teaching myself. After college Sophie and I go for lunch together before we head to the shops. I buy myself a new book and give her some hints for my birthday present. I pretend not to see as she buys me a book that I’ve wanted for ages. I arrive at the hospital to see my sister Emma has travelled up from Kerry and is conversing with my Gran. She drives me to Dundrum and we have dinner in Wagamamas.

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A Week in the Life (Part 2).

Read part 1 here.

Thursday. My friends and I awake earlyish. There is an extremely inconvenient bus strike on, which means that we have to get a taxi into town. We order one after eating some leftover nachos (Because we’re classy). After doing four hours of French lectures, I get the train out to the hospital. I read my Granny excerpts from my book, which is devoted to her. She seems touched at the chapter that I have written about her. I am so grateful to be able to show it to her after she almost died just three weeks before. I leave a proof copy in her room with her. That night, I stay over in my Gran’s house alone. This doesn’t really bother me, although it does feel a little weird being there without her.

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A week in the life (Part 1).

From the 12th of September until the 2nd of October I had what were probably three of the busiest weeks of my life. Because I’ve never been one to suffer in silence, I decided to document it and share it with all of you. During this period my Grandmother was very sick so I had to travel in and out of the hospital amongst many other things. I completely recognise that this was my personal choice and I in no way wish to make out that this was a burden for me. But acting like it wasn’t difficult would be a lie. My life isn’t usually this busy but I’m proud of how I handled myself throughout this time.

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Knowledge

I’m up at 5 in the morning. I sit with my curtains open, looking at the street below. I take out my journal and write the following entry:

21-12-15

One thing that I’ve come to understand is that we can never understand anything. Is this a good thing? Perhaps not. But can I find beauty in this fact? I must, for if it’s not beautiful, it’s not worth knowing.

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