Y

is the twenty fifth and penultimate character in the modern English language. There are arguments over whether it’s a consonant or vowel. It acts as both and has been called a semivowel. You can learn more about it on Wikipedia, or something, if you’re that interested?

‘Y’ is the name applied to the chromosome that determines ‘maleness’ in the human body. It is also the abbreviation used on many social media platforms, as the way to convey the question ‘why?’; which brings me to the point of this article.

Those of you that have computers, and like to explore their abilities, will probably have come across something called a screensaver. If you have messed about with the settings, you will have found that you can type a word or short phrase and have it displayed in different colours and make it do a variety of gyrations upon your screen. If you don’t have a computer, you won’t have a clue what I’m on about. (If you don’t have a computer, you probably won’t be reading this blog either).  Doh!

Suffice to say, when my computer is switched on and is idle for some time the screen goes dark and a word in shiny colours dances about on it.

The word on my screen is ‘Why?’

This dancing, three letter word, followed by it’s question mark, just like a Remora fish or Wrasse to a shark, begs the question itself.

Why do I have the word ‘why’ dancing about upon my computer screen?

Well; being transgender, one of the questions I was always asking myself was ‘why’.

Why do I feel the way that I do?

Why can’t I have been an ordinary guy interested in football and cars and beer and other activities that require very few brain cells?

Why isn’t my brain in my crotch like most guys?

Why would I want go from being a reasonably handsome guy (if I say so myself), to being something of a female moose?

One day, I thought to myself, “enough!”.

I decided that I should stop torturing my self with the question and get on with my life, and ‘be’ and ‘do’ anything and everything that I have ever wanted to; within ‘The Law’ of course. (Honest Guv’nor). I decided to let my computer mull over the question and so the question flies around on the screen. The computer will never answer the question on its own though, just like I will never find the answer. Unlike me, the computer will not get depressed or angry about it, or suffer any other human affliction.

I have freed myself of the burden, the anxiety, the frustration of a question that, at this time, cannot be answered. I expect that, one day, scientists will come up with a finite reason why some of us are different and put an end to all the speculation and conjecture.

‘Nature or nurture?’ I think is the expression. I know in my heart that it isn’t ‘nurture’; at least not for me.

Releasing myself from the burden of that question, and others, I am happier and more contented with my ‘lot’. Things are not perfect, and I may always have some mental ‘issues’ but then, most people have something that troubles them. The longer I live as the person that I want to be, the easier it seems to become.

If you are struggling with questions that wear you down and have no hope of being answered to your satisfaction, kick them out of your mind.

Someone once said,

“If we were meant to look backwards, our eyes would have been in the back of our heads!”

I don’t look backwards, it’s gone (except for the music). True, I would like to be a little younger again, but I live for the ‘now’.

What will be, will be and the past was somebody else.

X

Mick Jagger and his merry men called them ‘Mothers little helpers’. Sadly, I am not a mother.

Antidepressants I’m referring to. I have been popping these for years now. I guess they do help. When I’m sat on the loo in the small hours of the morning, I do my business and leave. I used to sit there and dwell and let my mind fall towards a blackness that would overwhelm me; a screaming panic, a tightening of my insides as if my very giblets were being pulled from within me. At on time, this primeval fear started to encroach upon me during normal waking hours as well; paralysis would follow. I would remain like this for what seemed like ages before, somehow, I would snap out of it and function again. I would be left with a tightness in my chest which gradually faded, a bit like the fade of an attack of muscle cramp.

The downside of the pills is that existence becomes rather flat. The low points have been filled in at the expense of the high points. I don’t get excited about the prospect of future events, holidays and such like. I have no enthusiasm for anything; there is no motivation, no drive within me.

“Ya can’t have everything”.

If you add on the Covid thing, the three months of almost complete isolation, then I wonder if I am still alive. The cycle of the clock has no relevance to me. Without the interaction of the outside world, my body clock is not being regulated and so I am waking and sleeping at all sorts of peculiar times. I don’t watch live TV. British television programmes these days are just so much crap, interspersed with depressing news dominated by Covid ‘this’ and Covid ‘that’. Therefore, I don’t have the power of ‘the box’, the ‘haunted fish tank’, to help regulate my waking moments.

I don’t know where I was going with this post now. It’s just become another whinge. Repeat after me, “I must think positive! Life is fun!”

Aitch hey pee pee why,

I am aitch hey pee pee why,

I know I am,

I’m sure I am,

I’m aitch hey pee pee why!