My Apartment – My Wife’s House August 19, 2007
Posted by Marybeth in acceptance, gender, separation, transgender, transsexual.trackback
Sunday, August 19, 2007 13:53
Hi everyone!
This has been an extremely difficult entry for me to write. With so many stressful things going on in my life I find it difficult to concentrate on any one topic long enough to write something coherent. That said, I have decided to treat this entry like I would when trying to unravel a jumbled length of rope – I will just start somewhere and hope for the best!
My wife has been away the past week so I took a few days off work to give myself a five day long weekend. I had intended to use the time to pack my things and move into my new apartment but ultimately it seems that I just managed to plan what I needed to buy for the apartment and send in the order – Ikea and on-line ordering are a wonderful combination!
I ended up getting side-tracked a bit because I couldn’t find a bookcase to my liking anywhere so I decided to design and build one myself (nothing fancy I assure you). I then decided I had to replace a step around my wife’s house (my apartment – my wife’s house – that concept may take some getting used to). Anyways, I went overboard with that job and ended up building what amounts to an addition to the front deck – a three day job instead of just the one-hour repair it should have been.
I knew when I decided that I needed to transition, that it would there would be many challenges and a great deal of changes. Transition is by definition life changing. It challenges all of your expectations and assumptions about your life and your relationships. I have quite a bit of sympathy for my wife, my family, my work, my friends, etc… After all, a pretty basic assumption of theirs about me has just been put in question. But, not to complain too much, the person who is transitioning is at the epicentre of everyone else’s feelings of betrayal and loss. That is quite a bit of guilt (and feelings of responsibility, shame, etc…) to focus on one person at any time, it is even worse when that person isn’t very happy about the whole situation either. For me it just adds to the intensity of my apprehension and lessens my resolve to do something that I ‘know’ is right for me. Trying to justify my decision to everyone all the time is really stressful.
Q: How do you know that you are a boy or a girl?
A: You just know.
I get the feeling these days that I am standing on the edge of a precipice, looking forward to either a glorious new fulfilling life or of a complete disaster (my wife assures me it will be a disaster…). The only thing that keeps me from turning back is the knowledge of the big black hole behind me. In my weaker moments I am sometimes tempted by the ‘comfort’ and familiarity of that pit. It may be a life built on a false premise but I am proud of what I built and I want to hold on to as much of it as I can. I am hesitant to give it all up for the promise of authenticity. What if authenticity is overrated?
One thing I know for sure is that I experience moments of great joy when I can express myself and be myself just the way I want to be whether it is wearing a dress and make-up or just jeans and a t-shirt – long hair or short hair. It is those feelings that propel me onward.
Add to that that my wife has said that after she recovers from her illness she would like to have a healthy sex life (we have none currently and haven’t for the entire duration of her illness – to save you the bother of reading past entries, that is about seven years – essentially our whole marriage). With all the spironolactone I have been taking I am essentially a eunuch – a happy eunuch but a eunuch just the same. At this point stopping the spironolactone is not an option – I don’t like the person I remember being (and neither does she come to think of it) so I doubt I would be able to be the sexual partner she anticipates needing – so it seems that the idea that I could easily go back to the ‘safety’ of my old life isn’t really valid.
Which brings me around to why I didn’t pack and move during this past week when I should have. After all, I have made my decision – my gamble – for a chance at authenticity, for the hope of maybe finally feeling comfortable with myself and my wife has made hers.
I didn’t pack because I am not quite ready to believe it is over.
My apartment.
Her house.
Separate lives.
I pray that this is the right thing to do.
Love,
Beth
Hi Beth,
What a lovely phrase, ‘…a jumbled length of rope-……start somewhere, and hope for the best.’ I think this is how we ALL live our lives, without being aware of it. Answers are always easy to come by when they don’t affect us, and I have about a dozen answers for each of your predicaments. I think while it is sad, that we are bent on not conforming to others’ certitude about who we are, what is sadder, is that we pay disproportionate importance to it, ourselves! If only there were a pill for all the pain we cause to others and to others. But then, how boring that would be! *hugs* Arundhati
Hi Beth
Although you did not get mov e3d out, you did make progress. As you said, there is nothing behind you but a black hole. I think you do have a promissing future ahead of you. Let me know if I can help in any way.
Geena
Hey Beth!
Sorry I have been absent. Lengthy work-related meeting kept me away from a computer for nearly a week. =|
Give me a moment… still digesting your post…
I think what I want to point out, what I want to remind you of, is really something you yourself stated:
“At this point stopping the spironolactone is not an option – I don’t like the person I remember being (and neither does she come to think of it)…”
This person, the new more woman than man, but somewhat ambiguous in presentation person -you- are reinventing yourself, your life, and your relationships with everyone around you. Remember who you were, and who you are now, then envision who you wish to become. Envisioning the future helps make it so.
On a more femmy side of the aisle, I totally commiserate. This next step, then the one after that, and likely each new next step thereafter for a -while- will be scary. Funny I just blogged about these baby steps this morning. I am Terrified. T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D. But not to paralysis, just to heart-beating-in-my-ears-drowning-out-the-music-and-car-horns-because-I-am-stopping-traffic as the adrenalin of pondering my next move is rushing, speeding through my veins.
Fear and the inability to go backwards make for an interesting intersection. I can’t say I like it none-to-much. I do like who I am becoming, and am for the first time making real and true friendships, rather than superficial acquaintances. It is my hope you will come to this same point.
Till then, can we hold hands as we cross the street? This way if one stops, the other can keep us safe?
*hugs*
Liz