Tag: mental health awareness

It’s all up in your head (pt 2).

Okay, so here’s the second part now I’ve got the information I need.

As most of you know, I’m a song writer and my favourite part of creating a new piece of music is filling it with words and lyrics. I can put together the music for a song in a matter of minutes but the words I write sometimes take months or even years to perfect. I have a song called Rubidium, about my relationship with my dad and things he said to me when I was young and how the things he said to me have affected me later in life. t tells a story of home what he’ said to me has affected what interactions with people close to me and how something he said to me taught me how to trust people and let people in. I spent the best part of five years writing all the lyrics to that song and when I finally got it recorded it felt like the closing of chapter.

All of my songs are about something important to me, I don’t think I’ve ever written lyrics that aren’t about anything random. I have pieces about dreams I’ve had, sleep paralysis, people I have loved or people who have loved me, my dad, what happens in my mind or places I have been. As it turns out, some of my songs have completely different meanings to people who have listened to them, the song above included. Rubidium is such a personal song for me but someone I know has taken their own thing away from it, something which rings personal to them. Music is a powerful thing like that and it always amazes me that as humans we have the power to interpret something so differently from its original meaning.

Which leads me on to this: ‘In My Head’ by a band called Glass City Vice. Whenever I write a blog post, I always get this song stuck – no pun intended – in my head. As with part one of this post, I’m lucky enough to know the band personally and am luckier to call the singer, Josh, one of my best friends (sorry babes, you’re getting it in the neck with this one!). GCV haven’t been a band for some years but their music (this song in particular) rings through to me. Why this song get’s stuck in my head whenever I write a post is because of what I said earlier, I’ve taken something away from this song that is different from what Josh had originally written about.

When I have particularly dysphoric or anxious days, I have to remind myself that whatever is happening is only happening in my head and that nothing is ever as bad as it seems. I tell myself ‘its all up in your head,’ a quote which by coincidence is the lead lyric in the chorus of the GCV song mentioned above. Josh originally wrote this song about his grandad but I’ll never know what Josh was trying to say to him. But I do know that – although he doesn’t know it himself – Josh is telling me that all my dysphoria and my anxiety is in my head. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, and I need to be reminded of that sometimes.

Today has been a boy day. I slept badly last night and woke up feeling less than average today so I’m hiding at work in jeans and a hoodie and looking forward to getting home where I can have a hug and clear my head a bit. Until I can get home, I’ve enlisted music to help me to day, this song included. I’ve also relied on:

  • Tom Waits: Mule Variations (Come On Up To The House is a fucking masterpiece and if you disagree you can sit in the road and wait)
  • Nine Inch Nails: Still (beautiful ‘acoustic’ versions of some of NINs heavier songs)
  • Hans Zimmer: Interstellar OST (immersive, brooding soundscapes that pull at my heartstrings but also channel my thoughts back to reality – see the ‘Rage…’ post previously about finding light amongst the darkness)

Thanks to Josh and the rest of GCV for giving me something to remind me I’m okay. Everyone should have a song like this, something you can connect to and something you can use to bring you back to reality.

Nothing is ever as bad as it seems.

This two-part blog is named for the lyrics of ‘In My Head’ by Glass City Vice, which you can listen to here:


It’s all up in your head (pt 1).

With exception to the main story from where this blog originated from, this is (probably going to be) the first post I write that spans over night. I’m relying on a couple of people to get back to me about things I have asked them and I won’t be able to complete it without their input.

Firstly, from the last post: I’ve been shortlisted for the job I was interviewed for. More updates to come…

Anyway, there’s a couple of vague things I wanted to talk about in this, so I’ll try and break it down into two sections so they don’t get mixed together. I want to talk about my memory and also about things never being as bad as they seem.

I’ve only ever told one person this: My biggest fear is losing my memory. It’s my biggest fear because it’s already a reality. I have massive blank patches from significant chunks of my life and entire situations or events I have been a part of are totally absent from my mind. Nowadays, I usually only know I was there or was involved in something because of my scrapbook (or bloody Facebook memories, lol). Never thought I’d write about this because only about five or six people originally knew about my scrapbook, but as I’m proud of what I’ve collected I wanted to write about it.

In my scrapbook I have every gig ticket, plane ticket, gig flier, doodle, random piece of gaffer tape from the bottom of my shoe, bit of newspaper, hype sticker from CDs and records I have bought, photograph and setlist that has been in my possession after an event. I’ve collected things since I was a child because even then I knew I’d want to remember whatever it was I’d come from. I used to have a sort of doodle scrapbook thing when I was toddler (which I still have) and I guess this has come from that.

The most recent entry is a flier from a band called All Ears Avow that advertises the release of their newest single, Breathe. I’m lucky enough to know the band personally and I talk to the bass player, Joe, relatively frequently on social media, a chap I always enjoy catching up with. He handed me the flier when I saw them perform last to which I said ‘I don’t need this, I already know you have a new single out!’ but then took it anyway, declaring it would go into my scrapbook and today I finally added it. I sent Joe a message telling him this and after I told him how old the book is and what his flier was sitting along side, his response was ‘literally mind blown’ and that’s when I decided I would write this post. I also figured then (because of his response) that I don’t actually know anyone else who had a scrapbook.

The book itself has only been in my possession for a few months after being given to me by my ex partner who helped me put it all together. Before the contents were catalogued, everything was just lose in a number of boxes and files across my room. It’s one of those art books you could buy from school, perfect for sticking multiple things into. It’s currently about three quarters full and I decided while talking to Joe that when it’s complete I’m going to photograph every page and make an online album, attempting to tag everyone and everything in it. Thanks Joe, you gave me a fucking brilliant idea!

So this ties into my memory in a strange and (probably) unique way. When I know I’m trying to remember something but can’t place whatever it is, my brain draws an empty cube inside my head. It’s like I an feel this box there, empty, in my fucking skull and I’m trying to get inside it. I get this sometimes ten or twenty time a day and it’s maddening. You know when you walk into a room and can’t remember why you’re there, and get pissed off? That’s me, 50% of my waking time. My scrapbook’s contents help me remember. If I can’t find in my head what I’m looking for, I pick up the book and just sift through it. What I’m looking for may not be in the book but nine times out of ten there is something that reminds me and that’s good enough as it leads to see feeling the box has been filled, made smaller, or just gone entirely.

Scrapbooking is fun and I recommend it to anyone who keeps gig tickets, physical photographs or bits of confetti you scoop up of the floor after a Biffy Clyro concert (yes, there is literally bits of confetti in there). You can look through it when you’re bored or want to surprise friends with random shit you have from a night out ten years ago, like the flier from a Crescent Shoreline show at Moles on July 23rd 2007 (if anyone get’s that reference, PLEASE let me know). I don’t really know what else to say about my memory and didn’t have much of a point with writing about my scrapbook, other than encouraging you to make one.

So I’m actually going to post this bit separately from the second part (lets call it ‘part one’ and ‘part two’ *goes and changes post title*) as I wrote a lot more than I thought I would and I’m still waiting for someone to get back to me! The second half, and why this blog is named why it is will come in the near future.

You can hear the song that is advertised on the flier that helped inspire this post here:

The 53

I bumped into a friend on the bus home from work the other day. This person is someone who I’ve known for a while (I used to work in a school they were a student in, that we have both now left) but never known personally until recently, someone who has got to know me quite well through reading my blog. They said to me on the bus that ‘all of my posts on social media are amazing and really helpful’ so I thought I would write another one that was aimed at what else we spoke about on the bus and touches on something I wrote about in my previous post: Confidence.

So, part of my (and everyone else’s) coming out process is building up the confidence to start dressing as your chosen gender in public. I feel like I managed to get this right for myself so I’m going to attempt to pass a few tips on to anyone ‘still in the closet.’

When I eventually knew that I was going to be coming out publicly as transgender, I started to buy clothes that I hoped I would feel comfortable wearing outside the house. I had a load of stuff I would wear in the privacy of my own home but none of it was stuff I would wear out, I guess you could say I started out as a ‘cross dresser’ (I fucking hate that term, by the way, literally makes it sound like guys can ONLY wear guys clothes or vice-versa and to dress like a girl/guy is a sexual fetish which is absolute BULLSHIT for 99% of transgender people).

I started to replace my mens jeans with girly skinny jeans (took me a little while to actually start working out my size but I soon learned that no two clothes shops size things the same and I can be anything from an 8 to a 14) and began wearing them out straight away. No one really noticed except for my partner at the time (who knew I wanted to come out anyway) and my friend Lily who told me she liked my new jeans. I started wearing girls underwear at the same time simply as no one would ever know I wasn’t wearing boxers. This was the most liberating thing EVER and I would encourage anyone who’s considering coming out to try this because you are literally the only person who would know and it is a huge confidence booster and anxiety killer after doing it for the first time.

After a couple of months of this I started swapping the skinny jeans for plain black leggings. I’d team this up with a long t-shirt so at a quick glance they would just look like black jeans. No one really noticed again but if anyone did, they didn’t say anything to me. After that it was tights under jeans or leggings to get used to them, then a pair of boots with small heels on, then I started replacing my jackets with girly ones. I stopped cutting my hair and shaved my beard clean off, later wearing foundation and concealer to cover up the shadow. I started adding a pencil skirt or bodycon dress under the t-shirts when wearing leggings and it was around this time that I came out as gender fluid and announced I’d changed my name. Ditching the leggings for tights in the latter outfit by this point was easy, as I’d taken super small steps with my outfits each time I left the house.

The clue is in the title when transitioning between genders. It’s normal for a transition to take time and trans people – for all our battles – have the luxury of choosing this time frame. Making minor changes to your wardrobe will also make it less obvious for outsiders if/when you do come out, as you’ve kind of already started to transition long before announcing it. I was dressing ‘differently’ for almost a year before I publicly came out and my dress sense is now more or less unchanged unless I’m going out for drinks and want to look and feel extra femme.

Which brings me on to the next point – actually going out dressed differently. This for me was simple. I had a small group of friends who I’d told that I was going to come out as trans sometime in the future. They were supportive (obviously, all your friends will be even if they don’t fully understand at first – be patient with them as they will be with you but be prepared to answer some questions) and decided that these friends would be a good group of people to start dressing differently around, knowing they would ‘have my back’ if we were at the pub and a stranger wanted to try and have a pop at me. This has never actually happened (and I live in a small market town full of narrow-minded people) but it was infinitely helpful knowing I had a small group of friends around me that would stick up for me if things went sour. Safety in numbers and all that.

As my hair grew out I started to wear it in space buns or tied back under a bandana. This was immeasurably liberating being able to do, as well as something you can easily cover with a hood or take down altogether if you step out and decide you’re not ready for a femme hair style in public. To be honest, hair tied back under a bandana is really practical for anyone with long hair and after a while I ended up doing this to work all the time long before I came out publicly. I always used to wear a hat so no one seemed to even notice.

Nowadays, a year on from coming out fully, I don’t bat an eyelid about dressing like a girl unless I’m having a particularly dysphoric day (see previous There’s No Need To Panic post) which is a testament to taking your time with transitioning and making small changes at a time. Both of these things make the whole process less of a shock to the people around you which will in turn help with your process altogether.


I know I’d said I’d post regularly but sometimes I just don’t have anything to write about! Sorry about that. Here’s a few random little bits of writing to fill an otherwise impending gap…

Firstly, some identification spiel: Some gender fluid/gender neutral people don’t identify as transgender, some of them do. Some people who don’t identify as transgender but are GF/GN might be having medical treatment to help them achieve a physical goal. Some people do identify as transgender and GF but are not receiving any treatment. I identify as trans and GF and will (hopefully, provided I beat the NHS funding cuts) be receiving medical treatment to help me achieve a physical goal that matches what’s in my head.

I’ve read stuff/heard people say they’re confused by this, assuming that because I’m trans I want to have a full sex change. I do not. I am happy in a male body, although I don’t like identifying as one. The HRT I am waiting for will help with my physicality and allow me to identify more as a woman than a guy. I will still identify as GN because I’ll still have some days where I’m happy to just be a bloke but I’ll have more flexibility to be a woman too.

That kind of leads on this. I’m going to three Pride gatherings this month, the first in Bristol and the first time I’m strongly considering going out in full femme. I have been wearing (some) female clothes in public; heels, pencil skirts and leggings mostly as well as makeup (and my hair is nice and long now) but nothing particularly ‘risky’ or that reeeally identifies me as a girl, boobs and a bra for example. A friend of mine said to me the other day ‘you could just wear a really padded bra if you wanted to’ and while I know this, I haven’t had the guts to do it in public yet. I guess this weekend is gonna be a big step, Pride seems like the best place to bite bullet and go for it….!

Next, onto the why this post is named Matilda. I went away for a few days to London recently, my first trip away since I went public about being trans/GF last year. To most, this doesn’t sound like much of an ordeal – I was only going to London for three nights – but I packed twice as many clothes as a ‘normal’ person would because I can never predict what mood I’m going to be in(girl day/boy day), leading to never knowing what I want to wear. I also had to consider a girl outfit that would be suitable for throwing myself around on stage, the first time I’d have dressed like a girl particularly visibly (I ended up just wearing black leggings and a Gender Is Over top, ha). Anyway, all the guitars I own have names; Sadie, Bellatrix and Bronwyn but the guitar I took with me to use at the gig I was playing is called Matilda. The gig and the trip was another milestone for me, being able to dress comfortably and confidently in a town/place I don’t know and performing to a crowd on a girl day. Both of these things were successful, I even managed a girly shopping spree on Oxford Street. i didn’t use Matilda in the end but she was involved in this important weekend and I had to the call the blog something. Tom Traubert’s Blues by Tom Waits has also been on constant rotation recently, a song often mistakenly called Matilda.

A couple of weeks after this trip we had a heat wave and I started getting my legs out (without tights) in public. Thanks for the compliments. Without being bigheaded – I know my legs are fucking awesome and I flaunt them because I don’t have any boobs to show off and I’m a strong believer in working with what you’ve got, so legs and bum it is. But it seems that wearing a skirt and a bit of makeup to work doesn’t quite cover up the fact I’m a guy, combined with the un-education of older generations and the fact I have a fucking beard shadow that I would kill to get rid off (electrolysis can’t come soon enough) I still get addressed in ways I find plain offensive. ‘Alright geez’ from the same bloke on a number of occasions makes me want to punch someone. Yesterday I had a chap say ‘I was hoping to speak to the young lady I spoke to the other day about *insert product here* but you’re not a young lady are you’ despite being as close to femme as I can comfortably be. Doesn’t take a genius to see that a guy a dressed as a girl clearly doesn’t want to be a guy, surely…

So I end on a question. I work in retail, do I (and how should I if I did) correct these people in my place of work? I have the company I work for’s exquisite reputation to uphold but also my own integrity to maintain. Note – if this was in public, I’d correct them immediately, not caring if it started an argument or discussion, but that’s not something I’d be comfortable doing in my shop.

As always, thanks for reading. If you see me at Pride (Bristol, Bath and TransPride in Brighton) then say hello. I’ll be looking fucking FABULOUS, legs n all.

UPDATE: I never made it to Pride. Too many bullshit obstacles in my way. Better luck next time, I guess. 


You can get Gender Is Over merch here: genderisover.com


Long Live The Stag and Hounds. 

This week is Mental Health Awareness Week and I couldn’t let that go by without posting something, so here’s a post.
I had a gig last night with my band, Ghost Of The Avalanche, and it was a bitter sweet show because it was the last ever gig we will play at a venue in Bristol called The Stag and Hounds, as its closing down at the end of the month. We pulled out all the stops, got some friends on stage with us and did everything we could to give the place a proper send off in true Ghost Of The Avalanche fashion and needless to say (I think it was) it was a success.

Live music for me (and loads of people I know) is a way of escaping battles in your head. It is a safe place, a place of acceptance, a place you can let go, enjoy yourself and know you won’t be judged. I’ve met dozens of people at shows who’ve said they’ve struggled all week because of whatever is going on upstairs but the couple of hours they have watched bands playing at whatever gig I’m talking to them at has totally erased all those thoughts from their head. I know that feeling well myself, and getting home after a show knowing you’ve had a few hours of ‘down time’ is a feeling like no other.

The Stag and Hounds closing down is a fucking phenomenal blow to the UK underground music scene. The bands were ALWAYS good, the beer and food is decent and cheap, the staff, sound engineers and infamous promoters are all legendary and every punter in there (at least when I’ve been there) is there for the same reason, a love of live music. Seeing it close is hard, knowing it’s one less place that people like me have to go to as a place of safety, acceptance and escape.

Last night we played a song called ‘The Park’ which is about me dealing with anxiety. I introduced it with a speech; telling everyone in the crowd to look after themselves, be open with each other, talk to your friends about your battles, that it is okay to not be okay and to look after themselves and one another.

I’m writing this to echo what I said last night. This is me talking: I am sad that my favourite venue is closing. I am scared I won’t find the exact escape I get in those walls anywhere else but I am thankful I got to spend so much time there and now it is closing, I will hold memories in that place for as long as I have the capacity to remember them. I’ve met a fuck-ton of amazing people in that place too, some of whom have become jam-mates (if you read this, waddup Matt from DC, that was fucking good fun last night!) and best friends. I love you mad people!

If you supported my bands as I played there in any way, thank you.

Long fucking live The Stag and Hounds. 

Footage of the show can be found here: https://youtu.be/R1lELlJ8sIw

Photo credit: Simon Holiday

Bad Blood.

Today I had my first appointment at a gender identity clinic. A few people knew this and they all wanted to know how it went, so this post is is simply so I don’t have to repeat myself as well as explain a bit of what I want out of gender treatment.

So, today was like a prelim appointment before I see a specialist. I met with a volunteer at the clinic – an ex patient (lets call them J to maintain confidentiality) – and the session was a couple of hours long. It was for me ask questions and get direct answers (the internet is a dangerous place and everything I have learned from it was corrected in todays meeting) and also to give J the opportunity to explain exactly what the clinic can offer me and how everything works. These meetings essentially speed up the process when I see a doctor or a therapist as I (theoretically) will have already have had my questions and queries answered. My apologies about the excessive use of brackets, someone give me a grammar lesson!

So sometime towards the end of Summer my name will be ‘top of the list’ and I’ll be the next person to be assessed for gender dysphoria at that particular clinic (they do about two assessments a week i think). This will be done by a specialist doctor and a gender identity therapist who will hopefully officially diagnose me with the condition (although my GP has already informally diagnosed me, but then it’s pretty obvious I don’t want to solely be a guy any more, right?) and ‘suffers from gender dysphoria’ will go onto my medical record in some sort of medical record-esque way.

After this diagnosis I’ll basically then be offered a smorgasbord of treatments for me to pick and choose from with an end goal of (hopefully) my body matching what is going on in my head. I can have full surgical procedures to have bits added on or taken off (I’m not interested in surgery), HRT, laser treatment (to remove unwanted hair that HRT doesn’t take care of) and a number of other treatments. HRT and laser are my current wants; upping my production of oestrogen in an attempt to suppress production of testosterone is the normal ‘first treatment’ and will continue for the rest of my life. After that I can have anti-androgens to cease production of testosterone altogether which will render my reproductive organs more or less sexually useless as well as promoting the development of breast tissue and minimising other male characteristics like body hair, body odour and fat stores around my body.

Simply put, when I’m presented with these options, I’ll be jumping at having my beard tamed by laser treatment (it’s almost impossible to have it removed altogether) as well as taking the oestrogen boosters to minimise the ‘male drive’ in my system. If I start growing boobs while taking them then that’s a bonus in my eyes. I’ve wanted my own boobs for as long as I’ve been dressing as a girl.

That about sums up today and hopefully explains a bit more about what is happening in my head to anyone who is still trying to understand it. I have a ‘Gender Is Over’ pin badge which was on my jacket today and got masses of attention so I’ve added a picture of it along with a couple of other favourites of mine. A Google search of the slogan will direct you to their site (top result) where you can find out what it means, why it’s important and where you can buy one if you want one for yourself.

Timeline: I went to my GP saying I wanted a gender clinic referral in November 2015 and he put me in for blood tests immediately as you can’t be referred to a specialist without them. The initial test came back with a ‘prolactin spike’ (stress hormone in men and an indicator of thyroid or diabetes issues) so I was tested for all of these which took me to May 2016. I found out then I don’t have ‘bad blood’ (as my GP put it) and he processed my referral. This was accepted in June 2016 and I have been waiting since, until today (today was a volunteer meet and NOT something I had to have, I still have about four months to wait). You can do the maths; if you’re in the UK, want to see a gender clinic and your initial bloods come back okay you can expect to wait about 16 months, although this is expected to increase. I’m not getting into NHS politics.

Music: today included about 6 hours of traveling (I don’t drive so buses, trains and one of my best mates cars, Celine, were the rides of the day) so I listened to loads of music. For anyone who cares:

  • Russian Circles – Empros
  • Mastodon – Crack The Skye
  • The Dillinger Escape Plan – Dissociation
  • Every Time I Die – Low Teens
  • Baroness – Blue
  • MUTation – The Frankenstein Effect
  • Andrew Bird – Are You Serious

I also spent waaayy to much money in Topshop and New Look while I was waiting for a connection but I got a fucking stunning dress and some other little bits so I really don’t care.

Until next time 🙂


Body Positivity.

I haven’t written anything on here for a while because I genuinely haven’t had anything to talk about, but sitting on my bed this morning deciding what to wear (today is a girl day and I went for crushed velvet leggings and one of me Gender is Over tops) I realised that there is bit of my story that I didn’t mention (I’m referencing blog three, by the way). It’s also something I’m glad I forgot to originally include because it’s given me the opportunity to expand on it.

During my late teens/early twenties when I was really starting to discover that I wanted to identify as gender fluid I was also part of a scene, just like anyone else alternative at that age. I’ve always been into heavy music and have always ‘worn the uniform’ of skinny jeans and black band t-shirts and there became a phase when MySpace was at its highest point of taking selfies for your MySpace profile, and they had to be taken at arms length or in the mirror with your emo-fringe hair-sprayed across your face and as much of a pout as possible to show of your lip piercings if you had any. I fell right into this and took millions of photos just like everyone else to put on my own MySpace profile.

Now, this wasn’t exactly a thing I really enjoyed about my scene  – I did it because it was the fashion and I wanted to fit in, just like every one else – because I wasn’t ever happy with my appearance. This was when I started to buy girls clothes and creating a female wardrobe (the one I mentioned in blog three and never told anyone about) and I also used to take these MySpace-photos again when I was dressed as a girl but obviously never uploading them. It was something I never understood why I enjoyed doing but I did it none the less. When the selfie-taking phase died off and Facebook became a thing, I also stopped taking selfies and embraced the next social media trend along with everyone else. I didn’t however stop doing this when I was in ‘girl mode’ because it was a way I really felt I got to be myself.

Nowadays, I have a selfie stick and my Instagram feed has become more peppered with photos of me when I’m feeling particularly confident on a girl day, along with photos of guitars and other crap I enjoy. Although I have come out as GN/GF I still don’t totally dress how I would like to, certainly not publicly anyway.

I’m not trying to fool anyone when I’m dressed as a girl, I know I’m still biologically male – and I’m okay with that – and I’m not really bothered about being identified as one even though I’m dressed as a girl, although it is funny when friends of mine apologise for calling me ‘dude’ or something similar (seriously, I don’t care. Call me what you want!). Anyway, I’m still not totally happy with my appearance and the reason I am waiting for HRT is simply so I can attempt to get rid of my fucking facial hair without having to layer on make up, something which I hate doing, to help me pass as a girl when I want to, which is my ultimate goal.

When I get to this point I will ‘ramp up’ how I dress in public as I still don’t feel comfortable wearing some of the things I want to while my face is still unmistakably male. Although having just taken a break and made a cup of tea and read back that last sentence I feel like now I’ve just admitted to wanting to dress even more feminine that I might actually have the guts to do it, haha. See attached photo of me feeling particularly feminine a couple of weeks ago and yes, this is pretty much the ootd when I’m at home by myself…!

I’ll leave it at that for now, I’ll be posting again in a few days as I have my first appointment at a gender identity clinic very soon and I’m looking forward to writing about what happens there. It may be useful for anyone who’s thinking about getting help for similar issues to my own but doesn’t know how the system works in the UK.

If you are struggling with anything in your head I urge you to speak to your GP and ask for help. If they won’t help you, don’t take no for any answer and make another appointment. Chase up any referrals you get offered. I wouldn’t be going to the gender identity clinic myself if I hadn’t gone to my GP originally and the other people I know who are receiving help for various mental health issues wouldn’t be getting that help without seeing their own GPs either. I know it’s scary, but the help is there and it can only be accessed if YOU make the first step. So please, if you’re struggling, open your mouth.

Questions on this post – or any previous ones – are welcome and encouraged.

To the bloke who I was talking to in the pub last night about referencing your daughter in my third blog – if you read this, it was good to see you and I hope your hangover isn’t as bad as mine!IMG_2586