Peeking Out of the Closet

I have decided to end my longest silence ever, and start a new silent streak tomorrow.  Hard to explain my absence, and though I know I don't have to explain, I want to.  Three months!  A lot has happened, and a lot hasn't happened.  Yet, it is my current emotional state that brings me back to the keyboard, so I will try to limit my tale to the relevant.

The last few months of the school year were very difficult, as we had to drag our graduating daughter through the last half year of her high school experience.  Sloth has proven to be her deadly sin of choice, and her commitment to it has carried over to the summer break.  She starts college in August, at great expense to us, and I fear that we are essentially setting fire to our finances.  She has made perfunctory passes at finding a job, but mostly chats and surfs on her new laptop.  At a time when she should be spreading her wings, she is settling into a rut.

We all went to the beach at the end of June, along with my wife's sister and mother.  It was very nice to get away, and the group dynamic was pretty pleasant throughout.  I settled into the change of routine pretty well, which is never a sure thing.  We had not been to the beach in about ten years, so it was essentially a new experience for the kids.  And it is likely the last time that we will do this, so no regrets.

While we were away, I took my Zoloft only sporadically.  Maybe a couple times during the week.  I was happy, and began thinking that I don't need it so much now.  The hit or miss approach continued until yesterday. 

I suddenly realized that I was starting to feel like I was losing myself.  I blew off my monthly meeting last Saturday, not wanting to be bothered with dressing and socializing.  That is unlike me.  I have been withdrawing from my femaleness, feeling more fear about how the world sees such things.  Honestly, I thought I was over this stuff.  I thought that I had become comfortable with my identity, whether hidden or explicit.  But here I am, feeling a bit lost, becoming inwardly sullen, though not betraying it outwardly yet.

So hard to put into words.  I don't know that I have done it justice.  Anyway, I am newly committed to taking my pills.  I hope to start communicating with you folks again also.  I have been hermit-like for months now.  I just don't know what to say in emails, or on this albatross of a blog.  I don't feel whole.  It doesn't help that my therapist, M, has started working toward a doctorate, and is selling her office.  I suppose I can start seeing our couples counselor for solo therapy too, but the rapport isn't the same.  I'll have to make a judgement call once the drugs stabilize me.

No promises, of course, but I anticipate writing here again before three more months have passed.  I miss y'all.

Love,
Leslie

A Night in the Big Closet

Very hard to get motivated to write at the moment.  I have two subjects to cover, both very positive, and I can't muster the will to write.  Grrrr!  Makes me feel like holding up this wall for a spell...

We had a great TransKentucky meeting on Saturday.  We had a guest presenter: one person, two diverse topics.  Rebecca, a speech pathologist, heads up the Gender Identity Voice and Communication Clinic at the university.  The GIV-CC is one of four such programs in the country, so we are very fortunate to have this here.  The program allows transfolk to work on their voices, mannerisms, movement, in order to blend into society more fluidly.  The program is entering its second year, and reviews are very positive.

So, Rebecca came to talk up the program, but after that discussion, she got out her giant cases of cosmetics and began a makeup tutorial.  She did a complete makeover for Joni, all the while teaching us little tricks and rules.  She has a very quick and dry humor, so I naturally just adore her. 

She then did some impromptu work on a transman who wants to have the look of a beard shadow.  She didn't have the tools she would normally use for that, but she tried something novel, and the results were excellent.  Even Rebecca was surprised, and Benjamin was thrilled.

Questions started in earnest, and a few short demos to illustrate.  Then I made my move.  I walked to the front of the room and asked for a critique on my makeup.  She was complimentary, but decided to talk about my eyes, and the issues with making deep set eyes pop.  It's like she read my mind.  She said I have beautiful green eyes (correct), and wondered about the blueish shadow I was wearing.  I explained that it was gray, but she pointed out that it wasn't gray anymore.  Makeup changes color over time, moves with gravity and secretions.  She cleaned off my shadow and started over.

She darkened my eyebrows just a little with brown shadow, helping to define them.  She thought they were shaped pretty nicely.  Then she used what appeared to be a metallic pink shadow on my lid, and a darker shade in my crease.  I'm unsure about the details (dammit), because I couldn't see my own face during this.  The results, though, said it all.  My eyes have never looked better.

I wish this photo was a better representation of her work.  Sylvia had the presence of mind to suggest a pic, but maybe we should have done one with my eyes closed.  Can't tell a thing here.

Soon after this, I had to wash it all off and change back to pumpkin mode.  Rebecca says that makeup is just dirt.  Colorful, expensive dirt. 

As I was putting my Leslie things away in my car trunk, young Benjamin spoke to me.  "I hope this doesn't offend you, but I think you make a beautiful woman."

"There isn't any situation I can think of where that wouldn't be the nicest thing you could say to me.  Thank you."

Before I left, I made a point of speaking again to Rebecca.  After giving her a hug, I said, "You are a beautiful person, inside and out.  You are doing a great service to this community."  We talked a little about my home situation, and she gave me some encouragement.  A really sweet, talented, caring woman.  We plan to have her back on a regular basis.  There's so much she can teach us.

Legs and Other Trifles

So much time since I said I'd be writing more frequently...good thing they don't hand out fines for mis-speaking in Blogistan.  Now to decide what needs reportage.

Let's start with my March support meeting.  I hadn't been Leslied up since the first weekend of December, and let me say that is too long.  I went in drab in January, and I had a soiree to attend with my wife in February.  Let me point out that this all occurred during my brief winter of hairless legs, so my efforts have all been for myself.  I finally got a chance to wear some clothes that I purchased at Kohl's during the Christmas season.  I had my final full epilation on Friday, ready to dress to the nines Saturday.

It was a terrific meeting.  At least half the twenty attendees were first timers and their supporters.  This made for a free-wheeling group conversation, all over the map.  Three of the newbies were FtM, too, which is a presence we have been missing for a good while.  After we broke to mingle, I had a long talk with six or seven ladies.  Engaging the newcomers gives me a warm feeling, that while I am not advancing in my own goals, I am pulling others up.  The group has given me so much, and this is when I get to lead and give back.  Plus, I get a lot of nice comments about my legs.

We had another couples therapy session a few weeks ago.  Suffice to say I was dressed differently than at left.  The bulk of the session was about finances, an area where our issues are relatively pedestrian.  We owe heaping piles of money, and have no good plan for changing that.  I came from a family that saves, she comes from a family that spends every cent that comes in (and then some).  Guess who has won that fight for thirty years?  I wound up having an anxiety attack for about four hours after the therapy, my usual reaction when we start delving into how bad it is.

So now I face the long spring/summer with hairy legs, which I can feel beginning to sprout already.  Tweezing hairs on my legs has become an obsessive time-waster in recent weeks, and I will now have to break that habit.  If the weather is cool in April (or even May!), I will work out an outfit with opaque tights, just to stretch my season a little.  I take much more joy from dressing when a hemline is involved.  I'll just have to play it by ear.

Airing It Out

Couples counseling yesterday, and none too soon.  We were both aggrieved about the confrontations on New Year's Day, and we had avoided any kind of followup.  The usual healthy approach to relationships that all my readers have come to expect.

The session came down to two major issues, and maybe one minor one.

First, we talked about the gift from Soma.  I shared that I found her "quid pro quo" comment deeply offensive and hurtful.  I told her how much I loved the necklace she gave me at Christmas, and that I wanted to do something unexpected that would express my gratitude and warm feelings.  She said that her first thought was that I was using the shopping opportunity to buy stuff for myself.  She believes that I did the same thing a few years ago when I bought her something at Victoria's Secret.  I do have a satin nightie from VS, but I told her that I did not buy it there.  I just checked back in the blog, and confirmed that I resisted the urge to make a Leslie purchase that day, and I will be sharing that with her.  Regardless, her first reflex was that her gift was a selfish act on my part, a chance to acquire more dainties for myself.  We have a long way to go, no?

Second discussion, about the boy's nausea that evening, and my outburst when I couldn't take her unsubtle suggestions any longer.  This boils down to her not trusting me to handle parenting, despite her frequent criticisms that I am too detached from my kids lives.  I told her that I regretted yelling at her, but that I stand by everything I said.  I was handling the situation in my own way, and the boy felt worse every time she woke and started trying to force her solutions on us.  The counselor largely agreed with me, that she can't have it both ways.  She either stops criticizing me for not taking the lead on parenting issues, or she lets me get used to being the primary parent when I am dealing adequately with things.  She has to trust me.  Even I will tire of banging my head against the wall.

The minor issue was about her birthday in general.  I did not make a cake, despite being led by the hand, recipes being left open on the table, still there even now.  I did not even mention her birthday on the date, though in my defense, I was extremely upset by the events of the previous evening.  Not our biggest problem, by the by.

Okay, enough already.  This is only my side here, and she has legitimate complaints with me as well.  I have felt fairly settled for the last year or so, and the lack of posts here have reflected that.  Tonight, I have that old feeling in my gut, that things are headed downhill.  Our attempts to make our long-standing incompatibilities disappear by ignoring them have bought us a bit of time, but I think the strategy has run its course.  My mood is quite dark right now.  Writing may play a bigger role in my everyday activities for awhile.

Steamed

Christmas was very positive, I thought.  The missus went above and beyond, getting me a rather feminine necklace from Pandora.  Kind of a charm necklace.  Very pretty, and decidedly girly to me.

But that's not why I feel compelled to write tonight.

We had a hard day today.  Lots of running around, prep for school that resumes tomorrow.  My daughter's Rose Parade appearance was not covered by television the way we would've liked.  Plus I was shopping for my wife's birthday.

My wife insists that the kids all come along for the shopping, and I see her point.  But our eldest has zero interest in that, and she can be very difficult to manage when agitated.  So I had to deal with that.

We took the kids out to eat.  We wanted the boy to know how much we have appreciated his help looking after his sister when we had to be out, and the middle girl was off in California.  Good meal, Italian.

Come bedtime shortly thereafter, and he has a bellyache.  Too much food, too much sugar earlier in the day, too much caffeine with the meal.  It doesn't matter.  He is nauseated, and can't get to bed, and all my wife wants to do is badger him to do this or that, and figure out the source of the problem.  Even as she is sleeping in the recliner, she is waking and asking for status reports.  And I am handling things in my way as the wakeful parent on duty.  Just the way she always says she wants it to be, except when she doesn't.

I keep biting my tongue and pushing forward with the matter, not wanting to cause any permanent damage.  Just take care of the boy.  Then I finally have a short explosion, telling her to back off, that she is upsetting the boy by badgering him to do things, that she has to control everything.  Not the prettiest soliloquy I ever composed, but basically true.

Oh, I forgot to mention... Earlier, I told her that I wanted to go ahead and give her a gift now.  I thought it was special, and a little private.  She was very leery, and said that she hoped there wasn't a quid pro quo attached to it.  No, I assured her, though I secretly thought the comment a tad insulting.  So I gave her the package from Soma, five pairs of panties and a pretty nightshirt. 

Yes, I went off the grid and got something she didn't ask for, not unlike her Christmas gift to me.  The panties were all cotton, no lace, as was the nightshirt.  She is very particular, I have learned over the last thirty years.  She said that the panties might  be okay.  She thought the nightshirt was a bit shorter than she'd like, and the medium I selected might be too confining for her to sleep in.  You're welcome, I thought.

So, my mind was there before the outburst as well.

I feel certain that she will be expecting an apology, and I am equally certain that one will not be forthcoming. 

And that's how my two week vacation ends.

Appreciating My Kids

A happier day: December meeting

Thursday night, in an email to a friend, I shared that I never wanted children.  I love them, they have enriched my life, but they were never my idea.  Even as I wrote it, as I hesitated to hit "send", I wondered whether that was something that should be shared.  Doubts persisted even as I committed to my message.

The universe took notice.

I sent my email at 3:30am.  I went to bed around 5am.  At 6:40, my middle child heard her sister fall, found my oldest lying unconscious on the living room floor.

My middle girl sprang into action, waking my wife and I.  My wife initially was in a bit of a dither, pondering whether to call her sister (a nurse), or to call an ambulance.  Middle girl came in with the phone, asking if we should call 911.  Of course, of course.  Wife was unsure if our girl was breathing, though the heavy rasp left no doubt.  A little labored, but breathing regularly.  Still unresponsive though.

The ambulance arrived within 10 minutes, and they could not rouse her either.  Putting her onto a very cold board to carry her out started to wake her.  My wife rode in the ambulance with her, and she was heartened when our girl said, "Watch TV."  Now, that's normal.

We spent 10 hours in the ER, and our girl got gradually better.  A couple of barfs, a CAT scan of her head, an EEG.  Around 5:00, they decided that she had suffered a seizure.  Take her home, watch her.  It was her first seizure, and we hope her last.

Midday, we started hearing the news coverage coming out of Connecticut.  That a young man had shot and killed twenty children for no apparent reason.  Not that any reason would've warranted it.  A massive tragedy, and another reminder that my family has value to me.

Middle girl was the hero of the morning.  She thought more clearly in the pinch than her parents.  Before I left to follow the ambulance, I found her crying and tried to comfort her.  She had passed her driving test the day before and gotten her license.  Now she would have to drive herself to school.  After school, we had her running some errands for us in parts of town she doesn't know.  She got lost several times, and wound up in tears again.  She had a really tough day.

Her brother, who was out of school, was left to his own devices at home, and he managed to stay out of trouble.  So, another good kid.  We took the two of them out to eat in the evening, wanting to reward them for their fortitude during a crisis.

They both exceeded our expectations, revealing an untapped reservoir of responsibility.

I was bedraggled as the day ended.  We had gone to the hospital after I had slept for a little over an hour.  At 10pm, after dinner with the kids, I laid down in bed, and didn't rise again for 12 hours.

Lesson learned.  Appreciate the blessings in your life.

Reconstruction of the Fables

A lot has gone down since I left all fifteen of you hanging.  The sad thing is that I'm reaching an age where putting a longish story back together after a few weeks is nigh impossible.  Luckily, I had a lengthy chat near the critical period, so I will try to reconstruct from that convo.  Wish me luck.

You will recall that I was very unhappy when last we spoke.  A chat with the above friend helped me gain some perspective, and two days later, I followed up on these with my therapist.  The gist was that I was finally prepared to walk away if things weren't going to improve.  I was out of excuses for carrying on with the charade, other than the financial excuse.  And I was ready to tackle that one on the fly.  My therapist did suggest that I might want to try couples counseling before dropping the hammer.

The missus had an appointment with her counselor two days later.  As it got closer I began to lose my resolve to  ask to be included.  The morning of, I made my play, fearing that explanations would be sought or fur would fly.  Quite the opposite.  "I was thinking I might join you in your appointment with J."  Matter of factly she responded, "So you're tired of this too?"  No tears, no raised voices.  We talked calmly for about twenty minutes, and decided that working on the marriage was worth the effort.

J was surprised to see me two years after my earlier visit.  She thought I should have returned before this.  I said that I hadn't been invited.  Anyway, we sat down and started to hash it out.  I no longer felt that I had anything to lose, so I didn't mince words.  I said that I had reached a point where I would prefer to be alone by myself instead of alone together.  That depression over the current arrangement prompted me to come.  That status quo was untenable.

J did a fantastic job keeping us on task, pulling us away from petty bickering that popped up a few times.  We both stayed calm throughout, outside of a brief bit of temper from me when hairless legs came up.  I barked something about an adult being capable of making grooming decisions for themselves, and the subject was quickly changed.

Anyway, I got to say a lot of things on my mind. Julie said that there was worry that I might be planning to transition. I told them that I think about it, and when I'm stressed and depressed I tend to think about getting as far from my present situation as I can. Nothing much further than changing genders, huh?

We talked about my passive nature, and that it wasn't likely to change.  i pointed out that I haven't been out in public in three years, the blog has been private more than two years, that I am not pushing the envelope out of respect for her.  And that I am seeing diminishing returns for my effort. 

We talked about the lack of intimacy.  I explained that intimacy does not have to lead to intercourse.  I have no such expectations.  I have made myself available, and still she goes to the recliner and the television.  

I'm sure there was much more, but that is the meat of it.  We both felt much better for having unburdened ourselves.  It was agreed that we would have a couples session once a month, while continuing our individual therapy as well.

Reaching the end of my rope finally allowed me to speak my mind without tempering things.  I won't be in that mental corner at the next session (presumably), so I hope I can sustain my bluntness.  Things have been much warmer at home the last two weeks, and the affection feels genuine now.  Good times.