And the clock ticks on...

It is near midnight, September 8th, 1968. A woman goes into contractions and is rushed to hospital. Almost 7-hours later a child appeared.

Me.

This is year 57 for this body, although the components are actually billions of years old and have undergone continual transformation from starting out as Hydrogen atoms from the explosion of a sun. In this journey I am a miracle of sorts. A very ancient adaptation hard to comprehend in its enormity.

Getting to birth was, upon reflection, the easy part even if it was the most complex and longest part. Its the bit after that, the next 57 years, where things were toughest.

It has been an introspective evening, full of emotions and feelings from the years, burdens still carried, burdens I will always carry. Years that felt wasted, a life not lived because I was trapped in another life. It took almost 50 years to break out of that life, to set myself free, to escape what had become a massive destructive cycle I had spent my whole life repeating.

And the real me was finally able to step forward. To emerge from the big bang my whole life had become. From the components formed a new me. Its hard to explain what that is like, and yet it was a big bang that started it all. My whole fake life collapsed in on itself, and then a burst of energy that took a couple of years to reach a point where the components started forming the person I am now.

Its true that when you break down components to the simplest form that you can reassemble them into something completely new. Its a bit like LEGO, and yet not. Because there is another part that is beyond explanation, it is actually about acceptance. Because the bit in my head, in my soul knew that my pieces had ben assembled wrong. Nobody else could see it or understand it, just me.

I can't explain why, why is beyond my comprehension. When is easier. When was the forming of my body in my mothers womb. Why is really irrelevant at this point. And I am sure that knowing why would not help.

So I am really 7, in a dog years kind oy way. Maybe a Dashound way, or maybe a cat way. Which seems funny when I identify as a McCaw parrot, the red variety. And yet maybe thats just the spirit of my components. After all, the components are old like a parrot can get.

I find my birthday difficult, and getting more difficult. I want to celebrate and party with friends, and party hard dancing the night away, with good food and conversations. To have somebody special to share it with. And yet another part wants it to be alone, isolated, numb. It is this later one that has more weight every year. My few friends are old and act their age now. Sensible. 

Me? Well I want to live the life I never had, the life I suppressed, the life I was denied. Because that is how I feel. I am a young spirit now trapped in an aging body with sensible aging friends. I have gone from a prison of the wrong body to a prison of an aging body. I can accept the physical imperfections, the age one is hard because I am trying to catch up on the life I missed. 

The hormonal change really has effects hard to describe. I won't even try to beyond saying puberty 2.0 less the acne.

I don't want to grow old gracefully. There is simply to much life to be lived. People my age are getting sensible, and I want rebellion. Maybe a sensible rebellion, I don't need hangovers and reckless driving. And yet its rebellion.

And I don't want to do it alone. Tired of it. Imagine being 57 with the heart and soul still around 20, because thats how I feel. I want to let all the energy out and express it in a healthy and fun way. I am choking on it. I have clothes I want to wear for these occasions, and they sit unused, a bit like my life.

Tonight I hope that a couple of people turn up, and we quietly BBQ into them departing early for work or whatever. 

Inside I will feel another year wasted.

Being trans coming out late is harder than it looks for some of us.

And yet if there is some redemption of my life it is finding out that I have had a major influence on 3 people who I have inspired and energized to find their creative spirit through all my own creativity. That they have given me such feedback is a treasured reward.

My head is a complex place to be. So is my heart. To old to rock n roll, to young to be sensible,