So it’s been a while since I spoke here hey?  I’ve been saving this one up in my mind, marinating over the possibilities as time has ticked by.  And here I am, 6 months on and my life has flipped and fumbled and begun (yet) again.

What a ride it is too, it’s hard to imagine how anyone could prepare for the process of medical transition.  The journey from one to another, and the middle limbo’d time in between where the new seems to have sharp edges and the old begins to blur against the mirror’s reflection.

I’ve been recording my process on video and posting them here.  I know that if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t see any physical changes!  The reality is really quite different, so I thought I would write a list…because I do like a good list:

A bear is born – a list

  • Kneecap fur, not something I ever considered.  Why don’t women need kneecap fur, why do men need kneecap fur…?
  • Armpits…wow!  I smell like a beast (and I LOVE it!)
  • My pee has begun to absorb the characteristics of a urinal
  • Did someone say Massive Cock?
  • My voice has changed significantly.  Barry White here I come!
  • Muscles muscles muscles!  My arms are getting really big! My back muscles are rippling(ish), my legs are solid as and my abs are outrageously…flabby!  I hate doing ab work and it’s seriously evident!
  • My hunger for both food and booty have increased by about 100%!  If I don’t eat I get super grumpy, I have to eat a heap more protein and I’m jerking off more than I thought was humanely possible! (hi mum!)
  • My jaw-line has squared, my forehead has become longer (weird!) and my hairline has done that cut away thing at my temples (forehead and hairline must have had a fight!)
  • I’m sure I can see some wispy bum fluff on (not IN, ON) my ears…dislike
  • My hands are bigger, my feet are bigger, my neck is bigger, my chest has shrunk but my pecs have begun to peep out!
  • Facial hair is underwhelming, my sideburns are an embarrassment and don’t even get me started on the luscious mustachio I’ve been cultivating…Boo. Hiss!
  • Oh yeah…my ass crack is the furriest part of my entire body!  I seriously have a pelt down there!  I’m willing the fur to send their offspring to my face…hmmm the thought in my head sounded mucccchhhh more hygienic! Ewwww….
  • Ummm….self obsessed about all things physical while simultaneously feeling *somewhat* patient…

Feelings however!

When other guys and (mostly ex) partners of guys spoke to me about the emotional experience of transition I was both worried and confident.  I felt that with my years and years of self-discovery and therapy, years of living a clean and sober life and my spiritual practice that I would breeze through the ups and downs of testosterone treatment…Um…I. Was. Wrong!  Nothing could have prepared me for either side of the intense emotional spectrum I find myself living!  I recognise that self-care is off upmost importance but the reality is that hormones can make you fucked up!  Imagine a grunting, angsty, horny 14 year old boy in the body of a 32 year old who apparently has the ability to clearly and concisely communicate?  War Zone!  Run for cover people!

You guessed it! Another list.


  • 8 weeks into transition I begun to speak about not feeling quite right, feeling troubled and a little off kilter.  I changed to the full dose of Sustanon (250) and up until this point I was breezing through life without a care in the world.  At 10 weeks I begun to behave in new and strange ways…sensitive much? Slightly irrational, a bit aggressive, impatient, wishing to be alone in a dark room.  12 weeks in, 3 months on T and my rollercoaster descended with such velocity it ran off it’s tracks, killed 20 people and exploded into flames!  Imagine PMS x 10000000~…oh the Shock and Awe of an angsty, horrible Teddy!  Hello people!  I hate you all!  Hello partner, love of my life, girl of my dreams…please stop breathing so loudly it’s making me want to cut you into pieces! Hello customers at my workplace, how may I be rude to you today! Hello employers, YOU SUCK! Hello stranger walking too slowly…I want to kick you in the back and glass you with a tequila bottle!  Hello Teddy on T…I HATE YOU!!
  • Ahem…Did I mention anxiety?  Oh yeah, that old one!  I’d never experienced anxiety before, and when I say ‘anxiety’ what I mean is a heavy, solid rock encrusted in spiky Kryptonite that plays death metal 24/7 lodged in my chest with the delightful additions of a boa constrictor around my neck and astro turf stuffed into my lungs.  Ouch.  Add some paranoia, social phobia, negativity and catastrophising anything and everything and  talk about a vision for you!!  Dream boat!  Oooh what a catch!  NOT!
  • Anyway, so a visit to my friendly Endocrinologist identifies that my T levels are out of whack…colour me surprised!  My cycle is adjusted from 14 days to 10 days with the hope that this will level me out…fail!  Add to points two and three a splash of arrogance, moodiness, increased irritability and overall horror and you’ve got yourself a mixed up bear!
  • Take 2 of visit to friendly Endocrinologist with trembling Teddy leaving with a script for wonder hormone Reandron (queue angelic harmonies!!)

I’m writing this epic tale, a week or so since my first shot of Reandron (it is a longer lasting, three monthly injection) and Hellllo Serenity!  The nerves have all but disappeared, I’m smiling again, laughing even!  Oh the joy of not needing to get up in the grill of some poor elderly lady who happened to dither into my tornado!  Hooray that my love didn’t run away screaming!  Celebrations that I found myself Doing Chores yesterday!

Here’s the thing!  I can’t find much online that talks about the emotional turmoil that is Transition.  Why is it that, as transmen, we find it so hard to talk about what is really going on inside our minds!!  I speak from my own experience only, however, whenever I share honestly about what is happening for me at least 20 other dudes come running at me to shake my hand!  This is important!  It’s easy for me to push my feelings down now that my emotional process has changed, shortened, dulled significantly but it’s toxic!  I am way more detached then ever before, I can’t cry, I observe life from a slightly different and distanced place and if I get too deeply into that space then I begin to deny and honour where I am at.  Hormones do create a personality change, they’ve certainly changed the way I respond to life and it’s time we started sharing this stuff.

Ask a guy about transition and he’ll tell you all about his muscles, his voice, his hair…but where is the depth, the between the ears, the bits that affect our walk in the world!?

I know I am generalising greatly, I recognise that there are tonnes of transmen who go through their transition without any emotional turbulence at all and I definitely do not speak for transmen as a whole, but what I wanna hear is more men talking about their truth because I need to find some dudes to model myself on!  I wanna be one of the good guys, the solid, honest, courageous men who appear to me to be a little thin on the ground.  I want to be active in dismantling this stupid patriarchy and I begin by actively not perpetuating the image of Man that hurts, hunts, pushes it down and demolishes anything with a feeling.

Not this little bear thanks!

What a rant that turned into!  If you’re still with me, let me say one more thing to finish.  I wouldn’t change any of this for quids!  I don’t regret my decision at all and I remain grateful to the Gods for allowing me to actively participate in the life I was always meant to live!

Blessings and stay tuned for the next installment of a Teddy…boy in the making! x


The stats helper monkeys at mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Fresher than ever.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 25 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 49 posts. There were 14 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 807kb. That’s about a picture per month.

The busiest day of the year was April 27th with 78 views. The most popular post that day was A cub is who?.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were,,,, and

Some visitors came searching, mostly for vikasa soudha, vidhana soudha, acroyoga varkala daniel, jai sriram words, and bangalore high court images.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


A cub is who? April 2010


To thine own self be true… September 2010


About a bear… September 2009
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A box and leaps of faith April 2010
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Light and learnings August 2010

It’s such an immensely fascinating ride of a life I’m on. Some time has passed since I last found the right words to honour this space but as I lay here in the midst of a sleepless night I sense their bubbling and tumbling…so thus it starts.

This time last year I was in the deserts of India. Flung into the wildest of places under the guise of a head shaved lady. I’d left a boy on a mission, stumbled and embraced myself into a someone in between and have arisen to dust myself off a man.

I’ve found myself anew at least a dozen times this lifetime and I’m sure there is plenty more to unravel.

This newest and most immediate chapter is the biggest yet, perhaps each new turn of the page has been the Biggest Yet though so I can’t help but wonder what will manifest once this bit has resolved itself.

When I say ‘resolved itself’ what I mean is when my transition is complete. My journey from She to He has been a long one and after such analysis and enquiry I finally started medical transition three months ago.

Testosterone….the new fire in my belly, heart on my sleeve, hard-on in my trouser, muscle, sinew, whisker…

I’m re-learning all the important stuff I learnt and felt so sure I had a grasp on, my emotional processing has changed frequency and I’m still unsure of where the dial is to adjust to Good and Acceptable…I’m a new 31 year old teenaged boy on fast forward but I reckon I’m doin’ alright.

So here is a list…I’m fond of these if you recall:

1. Testosterone changes my ability to respond to life in a healthy and appropriate way. This, however, does not license me to be an asshole, a pig or a prick.

2. Anger is a natural emotion that brings immediate understanding of what needs to change. It is an amazing discovery to realise that anger does not actually need to hurt myself or another.

3. Shaving is sexy. Wearing spectacles are also sexy. Shaving whilst Not wearing spectacles creates no sexiness…only pain and blood.

4. Pretty much everything is sexy (primarily my girlfriend though of course…hi Katy!)

5. Blaming Testosterone for volatility, angst, moodiness and general brooding is a cop out. Seeking therapy is excellent and helpful if I am to continue wanting positive interaction with anyone in the world.

6. Being called ‘Sir’ for the first time ever is thrilling. Being called ‘Sir’ by a manly tradie may produce a shrill whimper of joy…This was a definite manfail but was undetected by said manly tradie.

7. Being in the ladies toilet when a woman walks in, looks quite shocked upon gazing upon me, checks her surrounds, stares again and then continues to her cubicle is AWESOME!!! Interrogating her about whether she read me as a boy and then punching the air with hooray upon her confirmation of this fact is probably not very manly…right?

8. The Coogee Ladies Pool will no longer be available to me next summer. This is a great sadness but one I celebrate as a marker of my transition. This is a safe space for women identified folk and I am definitely no lady.

That’s enough of a list for now!

I stare into the mirror and am struck by the physical changes. My face has squared, my jawline juts, my voice has begun it’s husky and hilarious descent and my chest and tummy now itches; moments away from fur. My whiskers are blond and not so whiskery yet I’ve got hope for a shock of moustache in time for next Movember. My biceps burst from my shirt sleeves and widen the eyes of friends as I show them off, my shoulders broaden to bear the weight of this new world.

The growing pains as my body creaks itself anew wreak havoc; my neck, my wrists, my thighs, my back are all crying out under the strain of a changing body. Note to self: Take it easy bear or you shall break yourself!

And then there are the boys. A community of those who choose to chisel a round peg into a square hole, a band of gents who stand together like we did when we were kids showing off new muscles, new hair, new anything and everything. I’m grateful to you all and would be lost without you.

So to the rest who would judge me harshly; I earned my place on this ride and there is so much more to explore. I’m new at this but I’m learning so be patient whilst I grow into the guy I’m meant to be…

Until next time…be well.

Maybe I’m just not that brave.

This middle ground of gender has proved exhausting and I can’t keep up anymore. This process of wax and wane has thrilled, empowered and dismantled me. My spirit may not require a gender but my form kinda seems to.

And so it begins. A tender hardening, a bristle and a whisker, a movement, a deepening and a boy will emerge in time. It has begun already which surprised me! Suddenly I’m taut with an energy I can’t even begin to define…ok perhaps I’ll try: it’s a coiled snake in the pit of my gut, a crawling stillness that pierces the day, a shadow that seems to lighten my load…oh it’s so hard to define. Shall I be a touch course? I feel different, I need new boundaries and I’m ridiculously on heat!

I thank the Gods and Goddesses for you, my beloved, my accomplice, my lightning, my heart. You hold my hand and whisper your love and I’m grateful for all you bring to my table. This only slightly well constructed roller-coaster is just about to hit a hurricane so hold on tight precious.

My tribe…please be kind yet honest. I’m landing.

My blood, my half, my sister. I’m lost without you. Thank you for your fierce love and honour. Thank you for your honesty and for holding me in my battle.

Thus begins a new level of self obsession…Oh My God is my voice deeper? Have my hips changed? Is that some fur I can feel on my face? Wow are my arms looking different!!? Oh dear I want to watch football!! Quick get this on YouTube!!

God help us all!! A cub is on T!

It’s been a week of learning. I’ve finally realised that I’m a garden variety human, perfectly broken yet whole in every way, what a dichotomy! It’s taken a long long time but I’m finally finding comfort in the skin I’m in right now, it’s a fluid process though and I’m grateful that every question I’ve ever asked myself can be answered again and again without ever being wrong.

I learn things the hardest way possible generally. If I’m on my knees, a knife of shame gutting into my belly, a bloodied corpse of a soul slinking into the shadows, ego battered into the dust…that is the moment I become open to trying something different. How annoying!

Whether it be my constantly evolving gender identity, my spiritual path, my physical connection to my body (particularly bits that are in pain), my mental and emotional state, my behaviour, my ego, my anything and everything I need to uncover, always comes when the pain of keeping my head in the sand becomes greater than the process of shaking myself clear of the desert I’ve wandered into.

What I’ve learnt this week is simple; relationships that end badly hurt like hell. My experience has taught me this; two people who try their hardest at making it work, who’ve given it their best shot, who earnestly wanted it yet are simply not made for a coupling will ultimately bring out the worst in eachother. That two people in a constant state of trigger will behave poorly and I’m no exception. I may claim self awareness in my sobriety but the reality is that I plunder and stomp and hurt myself and others all the time! I make mistakes and have regrets, I can have sharp edges and sometimes I’m a downright prick…all of this and more because I’m a flawed human. Furthermore…it’s all ok because I’m not alone, I can own my shit, take responsibility for my part in the horror and do what I can to make it better…which is sometimes to do nothing at all! How brilliant that as a human I have the capacity to learn how not to keep making the same mistakes over and over expecting a different result (did someone say insanity?). How sad that this capacity can only shine when my self esteem is in direct proportion to the way those who love me see me, not the way I can see myself sometimes.

What I’m discovering right now is that relationships don’t have to be that hard. That despite my (and your) bad bits we can make it work because we are on the same team. I’m inspired by the possibility, overwhelmed by the potential to just be whatever version of myself I wake up to be…and for that to be ok.

Every person will hurt others, everyone brings pain, offers mistakes and the potential for savagery. The beauty and bliss is found in the relationships that are worth every ounce of darkness for the multitudes of light that follow.

It’s the smallest things that do it, a combined number of tiny gestures, words and offerings that almost hurt as my heart pushes beyond it’s tired, barbed walls. Yes, this is a love story although the English language regularly let’s me down in this regard as words can’t quite express…I shall give it a burl though.

We met on a beach, in India. Actually, we met on a steaming sweaty night amidst a big group of stoned yogis eating Italian. I challenged her on permaculture, she hid in her pasta and that was that. Then she got sick, super Indian dysentry sick and her travelling partner dissappeared so I did what any gentleman would do and visited her sickly, abandoned self just to make sure she was alright. I’d been sick in India alone and it sucked. It was the least I could do.

‘I was just thinking about you this morning’ she said as I perched, suddenly nervous, on the end of her bed, ‘I wondered if you’d left with the others’. It was then that I realised we were meant to be together. Little did I realise that she felt the same way and two days later we were in love.

Less than two weeks of a togethering I’d never dreamed possible my visa expired and I was suddenly on a plane landing back in Sydney, leaving my sweetheart behind to experience the filth and beauty of India alone.

Two months later she ran into my arms at Sydney Airport. Love letters acres long, hours of Skype, stolen moments on the phone and sneaky text messages were simply not enough and as we held eachother I felt complete again. Now wait just a moment…complete again? You’re kidding??? I scoff at the ‘You complete me’ bullshit, I mean; I’m a complete, human all on my own thanks very much and I don’t want or need anyone else in order to feel whole…right? Yeah that is right, but she completes me anyway so there!

I spent two months pining. Gross! I’d sworn of women after my last failed attempt. I’d had my heart smashed and my self esteem beaten and I wasn’t prepared to put my trust in anyone else long enough for them to hurt me! Then a curly haired git from Leeds reached out her hand, told me I was pretty, laughed when I told her I was actually, um, in fact a boy and somewhere between then and now completely stole my heart.

I wake to kisses and cups of tea.

We ride our bikes to parties and she crochets me presents. We get tattoo’d together and laugh hysterically at silly jokes. We kiss in public. I am proud of who she is and she gets me like no other has. It’s nice to be just a perfectly broken human for a change. My family and friends adore her and she is the girl of my dreams. She writes me notes and I try to make her take her vitamins! She’s daddy’s girl…and I’m all hers!

I’ll marry her one day and you’re all invited to celebrate with us!

Love, it’s nice. Try it.

So I turn my thoughts to discover where I am right this very moment. Now. I’ve been blinkered, unable to sit and settle into this space for fear I will sprout roots and be unable to leave again. That something unseen will kidnap me in the night and hold me hostage. Of course it has already, this unseen beast of a thing is called Fear. Icy tentacles have pillaged my motivation and left me stranded on the couch. But not anymore. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m living out of a box at the moment, actually it’s more like half a box. To be honest I’m not even sure what is at the bottom of said box because the thought of unpacking it gives me a mild panic attack. I’m back in this middle ground, the waiting space. I exist as a blurred edge, a pixellated figment of your imagination, a not from here nor from there, a ghost floating in the static of the daily grind. Read the rest of this entry »,com_events/Itemid,185/costid,31/task,view_cost/.

In these moments I figure that I either write or start swinging, today I choose the former. To be fair I’ve never actually chosen the latter but the thought is dramatic enough for me to be propelled into action.

I’m angry. It’s a muted, raw, over the brink beast of a thing that is flipping and flicking me like a child’s toy until i’m exhausted and sleepless. I want what I can’t have, I’m being pushed, pulled and fucked over and all I desire is to bunch myself up into a tight ball and roll far far away to the dales.

I’m humbled on a daily basis, emptied and filled up again. I’m a tormented tornado lost in the plains, desperate to touch something that is just beyond my grasp and it stings like a barb. My boots scuttle me along pavement in an aimless walk that is meditation and trouble.

I catch myself running blindly through the streets, shouting into the skies as burning overdue tears scorch my screwed up face. The words leave me in a hysteria but my soul bellows on my behalf…Get me the fuck outta here!!

I’m back in the throng and it’s overwhelming. The erotic energy of these quiet ghetto backstreets is leaving a bruise upon me yet I have nothing to give. I’m elsewhere even as I land.

Easy does it I’m told. Assured that if I could just chill out for a moment that I’d feel better yet I’m stuck in a frenzy locked behind a calmness that is startling me.

This ‘bit’ is hard, the settling of bones and finding of feet is unravelling me. I’m not used to the out of control yet I embrace an unknown freely. I’m nursing a fracture I can’t even find.

a teddy

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