In Recovery

Turns out that I was included in Wednesday's counseling session.  We were both well-served by it, as well.

The communication boycott was over when I got out of bed at the crack of noon.  Just like a normal day.

In our session, we both aired our grievances. And we were both called to task by the therapist at different points.  The crux is that we have both been dealing with extraordinary stress, and the weak link was our bond.  All of our energy has gone to daughter and sister.  I promised to watch my tone, and to try harder to be supportive when she is venting.  She promised to take more of an active interest in my emotional state, and to try to respect my limits when I tell her I need a break from the listening.  A very good counselor, it turns out.

We are back on good terms.

Just like old times, three posts in four days.

Colder Indoors Than Out

I misspoke at the end of the last post.  We have gone from a cold war to a VERY cold war.

The silent treatment is a real rarity for my wife. It has happened in short spurts before, but always leading up to a big confrontation/accusation.  She quietly took herself to bed a moment ago, which surprised me.  We had set up a couples session for Wednesday, but I noticed earlier on our wall calendar that only her name is written for the appointment now.  I suppose this is a subtle message to me that she intends to go alone.  It would seem to be an excellent time for an impartial party to hear our grievances, but so be it.  Wish I still had my own counselor.  I could use a sounding board.

Divorce is the word that keeps running through my thoughts.  I don't really know how it could play out, but I would not oppose the idea.  I don't even feel all that threatened by the idea of having my secret life revealed malevolently.  Shame is not a big factor for me any longer.  Certainly not to the point that it would sway me.  Plus, I think she would remain intent on keeping that issue away from our son's view.

I sound really blase, don't I?  I don't mean to. 

I feel enormously stressed, preoccupied.  Being passive is second nature to me, and taking the reins here doesn't feel right.  Plus, you know that I am conflict-averse.  Why invite a fight when avoiding one is easier?  This feels like a winding down of our rocky journey.  We are both stubborn asses. 

Everything Old Is New Again

I think the primary theme of this (almost) six years of blog is deja vu.  History keeps repeating itself.  The names and situations shift a little, but the conflict follows predictable plot lines.

My previous entry was a breath of minty-fresh air.  If I had followed up quickly, I could've stretched it into a series of upbeat posts.  Couples counseling was uneventful after I did my reveal to my daughter, and I managed not to use the words "told you so" or "nanny-nanny-boo-boo" when describing my feelings about the success of the venture.

But all is not well.

My daughter has continued to have her college problems, combined with severe depression.  We finally got her to a psychiatrist last week.  We had been seeing a nurse practitioner for her meds previously, and were not satisfied with the results (or the difficulty getting an appointment, even when the meds weren't helping).  The shrink was terrific, took his time getting to know her and the problems, and let her decide the direction of treatment.  She is now on Zoloft, like her parents, and her mood is visibly better after just a few days.  She still won't do her school assignments, but one victory at a time, right?

Another major stressor here has been my wife's oldest sister.  You may recall her as the sister that knows my secret and is quite supportive.  Well, she has a lot of mental issues, primarily bipolar and ADHD, and she stopped paying her bills last March.  This includes a mortgage, extensive medical bills, and the taxman.  We finally learned of all this around September, and everyone has been scrambling since.  She tells me that she thinks constantly of suicide, but won't because of how traumatic it would be to her parents, nieces, and nephews.  Not a great reason to carry on, but it'll do.

My wife is deeply involved in this, and she tends to vent about it.  I have told her several times that I don't care to hear her critical remarks about her sister.  I've heard it repeatedly, and it is toxic.  I don't want to play anymore.  Last night, I barked at her on the phone.  A flurry of texts followed, calling me unsupportive and lacking in empathy.  No, I just disagree with the rudeness toward her sister, and I am allowed to disagree.  I will quote my favorite part of the convo:

She:  I am not trying to provoke you. I am telling you how it feels to have conditions & limitations put on me as to what I am permitted to talk about with my spouse.
Me:  Put those same words into my mouth please.  That is my life story. Get down off the cross.

We are barely speaking tonight, and I am fine with that.  She needs to understand that I have stress too, and I rarely get a chance to discuss or vent it.  I don't regret firing the first shot, though when it all blew up, my initial response was, "And the next day, he received the divorce papers."  No LOLs forthcoming.

So, the long Cold War is once again a hot war.

Great Leap Forward

So, my daughter attended my Transkentucky meeting with me last weekend.  Think there might be a story?  You betcha!

I've written in recent posts about my daughter's depression, and my (and my wife's!) readiness to share my special proclivities with her.  Just last week, though, the missus said that she wanted a counselor to be present when I did my reveal.  Not how I planned it in my head, and a major delaying factor.  That plan swiftly disappeared, though.

Our girl was in a royal funk last week.  Laying about all day, her laptop rarely away from her gaze.  Lots of sighing, and quiet crying.  Something had to be done.  My wife started out talking to her about procrastination.  A lot.  This was going nowhere, frankly.  I suggested that we change topic.

I began by saying how much we love her, and that her happiness is paramount.  That we see that she is suffering, and that it doesn't seem to be getting better. I said that it appeared that she had endured a trauma that she hadn't told us about.  We did some guessing, some quite serious, some just silly.  I could see the wheels turning, but she was unable to make herself say it.  I proposed that she write down what is bothering her.  Her first effort was "Pretty much everything."  I informed her that we are unable to change pretty much everything, and she needed to be more specific.

Her second effort was better.  She mentioned being in a spiral emotionally, and pressures about school and career. And, the big one, that she considers herself to be genderfluid, having girl feelings some days, boy feelings on others.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

My wife left the room after a short discussion, and soon I received a text from her asking if this was the right time to discuss my issues.  I responded that it seemed like the appropriate time.

Credit to Mrs. Leslie, who made a point of giving me the floor, and only offering the occasional comment while I explained the arc of my secret life.  I began by mentioning the alphabet soup of LGBTQAAwhatever, and that I am in there.  I am the T.  That I have envied females since I was six, that I started crossdressing at 12, that I hit bottom around Christmas of '07 and finally reached out for help.  I told her about my therapist and my support group.

Slowly, as I shared my story, her face visibly relaxed.  She had never suspected a thing about me, but it didn't disturb her at all.  She loves cosplay, frequently using wigs to emulate male anime characters, and this seemed very similar to her and not at all weird.  It really could not have gone better, and my instincts about her reaction proved correct.  We will be allies for one another.

She requested to attend my meeting, and I was fine with the idea.  I warned her that she would see things that she couldn't un-see.  She had no concerns about that.  I offered to show her my pics, so that she would not be surprised upon seeing Leslie the first time, and she happily looked at the collection.  She complimented my clothing choices, and we talked about wigs and shoes.  In fact, I combed out my wig as we spoke, as I had to prep for the next night.

She enjoyed the support group, and got a kick out of meeting my friends, and seeing her father in a very different light.  She especially liked my skirt.  I shared my regrets that she had not gotten to really know me until she was 18, but there was no other choice available. 

She has been much more upbeat since the meeting, participating at home and seeing some friends out and about.  I do hope that she has turned a corner on the depression, but changing her mindset and habits will take some practice.

The important thing for me is that we have truly common ground on which to bond at last, and that my wife will see that what proved earth-shattering to her may indeed be a lifeline for our daughter.