Here Comes the Flood

"Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry" --Peter Gabriel--

I kinda left things hanging here a week ago, and people are starting to write to me, wondering what has developed. Frankly, it is not going well, and I haven't had much stomach to write about it. But I will muddle through this, if only because it's easier than writing a dozen emails.

It's a measure of my current frame of mind that I am not fully decked out at this moment, despite the fact that I have the house to myself till 9am. I made myself try out an outfit for my meeting in a week, but my heart isn't really in it. No hair or makeup. Too much effort.

After the outright hostilities of last week, the watchword now is tension. There is no affection between us, though we're being civil. She said to me that she gets a lump in her throat when I hug or kiss her, like she's not really sure who's embracing her. So I have stopped doing that. I'm not going to add to her sense of being violated. My therapist and I agree that I'm being treated as if I had revealed an affair. I felt that I was creating a blank slate to start rebuilding our marriage. She saw it as admitting a massive betrayal, with all the attendant fallout.

I have learned that I have grossly underestimated the contempt she has for those who would dare impersonate or think of themselves as women. I know from experience that she can hold a grudge for a very long time if she is convinced that she has been wronged. These facts taken together give me little hope that this will work itself out. I have some small hope that when she starts therapy next week, that her counselor will help her see my side.

All this makes me want to dive back into the deep end of the pool and renew my efforts at feminization. If I'm going to be in the doghouse anyway, why not go for it? It's hopelessly passive aggressive, my usual way of dealing with difficult emotional issues. But I'm not at all certain that there's much left to fight for. I would not be shocked if I came home to find her gone one day. She has said she feels stuck in our relationship, so I'd be naive to think she wasn't trying to piece together a plan. I won't leave her, but I am starting to consider what I might have to do if we split.

And that is where we stand.

To Be or Not to Be

Thanks, girls. The comments helped. I see things a little more clearly now. I've spent twenty-four hours wondering how I might be able to back off my feminine quest. I've assured her that there is no SRS in my future, but she wants me to promise that I won't be springing any major changes on her. I could possibly do that, but she considers shaving my legs as a major change. We have very different ideas of major.

I've been made to feel that I should try to shove Leslie back into the box. I don't think she'll fit anymore, but that hasn't stopped me from considering it. I sure as hell won't purge, but I think I can limit myself to underdressing outside the house and support group meetings. I know if we get into couples counseling, I've got to be ready to give up some things. I need to know up front what I can offer without losing me.

I know that if I had had an affair, the trust issues would be the same, and the healing time would be just as lengthy. But I have waited so long to be where I am, the thought of retreat is weighing heavily. I need to figure some things out.

It Was the Worst of Times

It isn't going well. I opened Pandora's box two weeks ago, and the damage may be irreparable. My wife no longer trusts me. And perhaps her trust has been misplaced all along. I thought that if I put all my cards on the table at once, like ripping off a Band-aid, that it would ultimately be less painful than many small reveals over time. I thought that having no secrets would give us a better chance in couples counseling. I was, and remain, naive. I continue to underestimate the depth of her contempt for my "problem."

She was up when I came home from work last night, never a good sign. It took her awhile to get warmed up, but she brought her "A" game. As she sees it, my judgement is not to be trusted. The risk-taking behavior, which includes my recent femme outing with friends, is a grave danger to my family. She will always assume the worst now, if I go anywhere with my friends. She has read some of my friends' blog entries, and thinks that I am taking advice from deluded, self-absorbed, crazy people.

She wants to know why clothes are so important to us. Why can't we just be women in our heads, and dispense with the mincing around in our frilly things? Why the need to do this in public? Isn't dressing in your own home enough? Being a woman is so much more than dressing up and going out and having fun. In fact, she says, real women don't have time for that stuff. They're at home caring for their families, and working.

How do I explain my thoughts to a closed mind? I'm not confident that I can. I told her that if couples counseling is going to be one-sided, like this was, that there was no point in bothering. If everything I convey is just going to used against me, I'll remain silent. I will not be supplying the ammunition at my own execution. At least, no more than I already have.

When I came home from my trip, I had come to the realization that my wife was the most important thing in my world, that I really did love her. And within a month, I have managed to produce a train wreck out of that epiphany. Stupid, and naive.

A couple of good things: She is going to start getting her head shrunk, and heaven knows I've got enough material to get my money's worth in my own sessions for several weeks.

Big Sister Is Watching You

"I'm a loser, and I'm not what I appear to be" --The Beatles--

Be careful, friends. My wife has her eye on you. She spent yesterday evening trolling through all my friends' sites, plus those that left quick comments. Needless to say, she was appalled. She has stated that she would never make an online friend, it's just wrong. And, she gave me a list of the ones she was most offended by. I'll keep that to myself, no need to name names. You know whether you're offensive.

The missus is talking up counseling for herself, and as a couple. We did it long ago, but I couldn't talk freely because I had so many secrets. Maybe this time, with everything out on the table now, and me no longer ashamed of my quirks, it might do some good. My worry is that we'll wind up with someone with a bias against the transgendered, who will side completely with my wife. That could spell the end of us. One good thing about all this, she isn't afraid to bring up the topic anymore. She's spilling her guts whenever the mood strikes. I guess that's healthy. I've earned whatever enmity she has for me. So much deceit, so many lies. I do know that she wouldn't be crying about it if she didn't love me. I'll cling to that thought during the storm.

Worlds Collide

I may have made a grave tactical error. Saturday night I told my wife of the existence of my web page and my blog. Sunday night she plugged a few terms into Google, and quickly found my page. She read the entirety of my blog. My desire to share something with her turned into sharing everything with her. Tonight, we had a long talk.

Several people have recently asked me if I want to get caught. Judging from this, you'd have to think the answer is yes. I opened the door, when she hadn't even knocked. If she was disturbed before, now she feels she doesn't even know me. I was hiding so much from her. Mostly, she questions my judgement. She considers my local friends to be deluding themselves, and always refers to them as men. But at least they're flesh and blood. She assumes that my internet friends are deluded, and may well be fakes, malicious people preying on the naive middle-aged crossdresser.

She drew up a list of things that especially disturbed her, and we discussed them one by one. No raised voices, but a lot of crying, mostly her. I still find myself spinning things. I'm so accustomed to omitting uncomfortable facts with her. But I was honest for the most part, trying to explain my motivation for the risk-taking behavior. It's really hard to appreciate our world, when you take your gender for granted. It's very hard for the wives to visualize the emptiness we feel, the longing, the envy. She finds the love of heels to be ridiculous; no real woman loves heels. The piece I wrote about the joy I felt dancing by myself in a red minidress just made her question my taste in clothes, sounding like a drag queen to her.

Her basic message was that men stay in relationships because it's comfortable, and easier than leaving and living alone. Women stay in relationships because they feel stuck. And that's how she feels now. She is worried that anyone could find my site and connect it to the male me, because of all the personal stuff I have revealed. I'm putting my own gratification before the sanctity of my family. So my blog and lists are now set to friends of friends. And she really doesn't like the idea of me putting up a picture of myself.

She wasn't the only one to get a surprise. She told me that she discussed with her sister whether it was a violation of my privacy for her to read my blog. They decided that it was okay, since it was public, and I had sorta invited her anyway. I asked just how much she had shared with her sister. I mean, I was ready to out myself to her anyhow. Turns out she shared the crossdressing info with her sister twenty years ago, when I first revealed my secret. I never knew. That means when she complimented my ability to choose earrings for her long ago, she knew perfectly well why I had an eye for it. Now I have to look at all these memories through a new filter.

She seems resigned to staying with me, but that's because she doesn't have other options. I don't begrudge her these feelings. I've been trying to wiggle out of this bag of secrets for some time now. I knew how explosive the info could be, but I may have held that cherry bomb in my hand a little too long. She's not angry so much as disappointed and confused. I told her that the knowledge that I have to hurt her to get what I need just kills me. But I can't stop this train.

Just the Facts, Ma'am

"Who can be sure of anything, through the distance that keeps you from knowing the truth?" -- Feist--

Two sessions ago, my therapist challenged me to think about how I might categorize myself on the transgender spectrum. She had her own ideas, but wanted me to provide an unvarnished assessment. Given my recent successes, it's time to get into some deeper discussions.

It's been eleven months since this thing took hold and shook me, eight months since I started getting counseling. At first, I could think of nothing but how much I wanted to shed this male body and live a different life. It ate at me, literally, devouring over twenty pounds in four months. Then I got help. I had never met another transgendered person, to my knowledge. I had never spoken to a crossdresser. The internet asserted their presence out there, but I felt very alone.

Since starting therapy , I have gradually grown calmer, better able to see my situation and feelings objectively. I've come to realize that I am not transsexual, at least at present. I was convinced my bell had rung last October. My mission seemed clear. But now, I realize I haven't the fire in my belly to follow through. Transsexuals, in my experience, are an unstoppable force. They try to protect the feelings of others, but they don't let that get in the way. I'm far too concerned with the feelings of others to transform myself completely.

That's not to say that I've stopped moving in that direction. I want to be more feminine than I am. I want bare legs. I want the beard gone forever. I'd love to paint my toenails! Maybe with time, the incremental changes will prove to be insufficient. Maybe I'll baby step my way to womanhood. But the bulk of the transsexuals I know are driven to get to the goal line, but quick. And I just don't feel it. I don't feel the need to invert my genitals. It would seem very alien to me to have breasts all the time.

So for now, I'm going to keep my safe zone. I can be a male anytime, and I pass easily! Yeah, the arm hair is clipped short and bleached, and the fingernails are unusually long, and I wear stuff that's a lot brighter and more feminine than my male peers, and no one's any the wiser. Or, I'm fooling myself, and I will be outed tomorrow by some observant person.

On a related note, I'm feeling very ready to out myself to my brother, and my wife's sisters. This secrecy eats at me. I'd like to be able to be myself with the people I feel closest to. Not to present as Leslie with them, but to be able to drop the filter that I have to run everything through. Say it loud, I'm ambigendered and I'm proud.