I don’t want this site to be solely about being transgender. From my experiences so far, it’s not even something I could write about every week – being in the closet is far more intense and frustrating and writeable. However, there are moments when things happen, unique to trans people. I’d like to share those moments with you, and let you into the mystery.
Gina's Trans Diary, 30.10.16: entry 12 The Danger of Being Incompetent
Last night I took a bus to Musselburgh to see old friends. It didn't take me there; it took me to Dalkeith and beyond. I thought I'd worked out the route online, I thought the '33' bus would take me there. When I got on, I asked the driver, 'Is this going to Musselburgh?' The driver mumbled something without looking at me, and processed my payment. It was nearly an hour later that I realized we were going somewhere else. I went to see the driver, asked him when we'd get there. 'I told you, this bus doesn't go to Musselburgh,' he said, this time his voice audible, but again refusing to meet my eyes. I got off at the next stop, in the middle of nowhere on a dark Saturday night, distressed, having sent an apologetic text to my Musselburgh friends. A kind woman who'd witnessed my situation got off the same time as me and told me of a taxi firm nearby.
The taxi would cost me £17 – this after several months of belt-tightening. This was my big night out to relax and enjoy company and forget about all the dark thoughts.
I want to blame the bus driver. He was a prick, in my opinion, but I should have worked out the route properly. My incompetence cost me £17, and made me late for my Saturday night special with friends I hadn't seen in months, and may not see for months again. A Saturday night that came along like a comet, once every thousand years. And I got on the wrong bus.
I had a good time when I finally got to my friends' house, so there is a happy ending. But before then, I wondered what I would do if fate would drop me off near a bridge across the Forth. Nothing fuels such thoughts as my own incompetence, that realization of just how fucking pathetic I am capable of being. That sinking feeling: 'Oh no.' 'Duuuh. Ginaaa.' All the voices of all the people who never respected you emerge in a glorious choir.To conclude: I would never, I think, honestly do something bad to myself, that bridge scenario, for example. But all it takes is a trigger point, some unexpected, unrelated fuck up on your part that comes out of nowhere, followed by that sinking feeling. Those are the lowest moments, at least the lowest one so far.