Back From Fantasy Island

I was a little miffed at myself at the end of yesterday's post. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but sleep, and a helpful note from Sylvia, made it clear. My little fantasy about how I would live without fear had a big flaw. I can't control others' reactions to me, only my own actions. So, everything I wrote there should be disregarded by the sane among us, which at the moment includes me, I think.

Still, I've been thinking a lot about this all day. Fear rules my life, as all of you have long realized. Jerica made a comment about being rolled over by her ex-wife, and I relate to that. Viewed from far away, it might be amusing. Mrs. Leslie complains that she doesn't want to live with a woman, that I'm no woman anyway, based on my behavior and attitudes. Yet, she emasculates me at every turn. Important decisions are agreed on, unless we disagree, in which case we do what she wants. That might be an exaggeration, but it's a small one. That is my reality. If I had stood my ground on anything critical over the decades, I firmly believe that we would have split long ago. The formula only works if I am a doormat. Frankly, the formula, when it works, only produces one happy partner. Hint: It's not me.

There is much to like in my marriage, but the bad things eat at me. We are very compatible on politics, child rearing, pop culture. Yet, there is no equity. I frequently feel subjugated. I would burn my bra if I didn't love it so much.

Grappling With More Questions

I got some really great questions from Tina and Auntee Sarah, and I want to tackle a few here. This whole introspection thing is fun! Me, me,me. How about some more about me?

Sarah asked, How and where do you find your greatest happiness?

Besides listening to my favorite music, which leaves me elated, my happiest times have been when presenting fully as Leslie. I have many happy experiences, like the births of my kids, but the joy I felt the first time I really saw Leslie in the mirror (January 18, 2008) is hard to match. Though my first time dressed in the company of others (March 2, 2008) is right up there. I think knowing the date from memory is an indicator of how life-changing it was. My anxieties ease when I am presenting female. I still have the same problems, but I feel differently about them. If I were able to present as Leslie whenever I desired to, I am certain the giddiness would greatly diminish, but there is a wholeness that I get nowhere else.

Tina asked, What would you do if you weren't afraid?

This is the visualization question, I suppose. If all barriers were removed, what choices would I make? Well, it's all speculative, but here goes. I see myself living alone, but with lots of close friends. I am living as female full-time. I still have my job, which I really like. People accept me as female, not just new acquaintances, but those that have known me for decades.

Now, my own question. How stupid does that sound? I am a realist, and I don't see any of that happening. I feel like an impostor just for having said it. It's not me, and it'll never be me. Yet, in my heart, that is where I want to be. I've spent a lifetime wishing that things were different than they are. I see that as time wasted, time that could've gone toward achieving some part of my dreams. I suppose I am much closer now than I was, much progress in the last two years.

Still, it's a hollow victory. I am acting out one role for my family and workplace, and another for my local and online friends. Who is Leslie? Who is Mr. Leslie? I'm finding both roles unsatisfying and incomplete. I want to be able to live ONE honest life, not these two false ones.

Well, I wasn't expecting this when I sat down to write, but I'm leaving it as is because I think there is relevance in there somewhere. I still have a lot of soul-searching to do. Thanks for your patience. I am a hot mess, no?

Tough Questions

In the comments to the previous entry, Renee posed some questions that I've left hanging. I am not required to answer these questions, but it seems like an important thing to address, especially now that the blog has become private. More than anything, Renee made me think about these things more directly and critically. A good exercise for anyone.

What am I anyway?

I've spent a lot of years hiding behind the crossdresser label, appropriately enough. I certainly do crossdress, if infrequently, but when I'm being honest with myself, I recognize that I am likely transsexual. It's hard to know for certain, especially with so little real life experience at it, but given my small sample size, I know that I am more at ease when presenting female, and more social, less anxious.

Do I intend to transition?

A harder question. As long as the marriage holds up, I think the possibility is near zero. Out of the marriage, hypothetically, I'd give it about a 10% chance of living as a female full-time. I don't seem to have the drive to go forward with this, and that's fine with me. Now, lesser steps are another matter. I want to lose the beard. I'd like to lose the testosterone. I want to be able to go out in public from time to time. I would like to be "out" to people outside the trans community.

What is my motivation to stay in my marriage?

I love my wife and family, and don't wish to hurt them. I fear change, creating a new life and situation for myself. Finances are pretty grim, so a bankruptcy would be required to dissolve the marriage. I am naturally monogamous, and I don't think partnering up again would be easy, particularly in light of my "differentness". I like being intimate with my wife.

What is my motivation to leave the marriage?

The opportunity to explore my gender issues fully, and figure out the final answers to the first two questions. Learning to live without being co-dependent. Bringing order to my life, away from the chaos that reigns in my home, which would greatly ease my anxieties.

All these answers are subject to change, of course. These are based on current conditions and the relative emotional stability in my marriage. Mrs. Leslie seems greatly calmed knowing that my blog is truly private now. Accidentally outing myself is a huge fear for her. Now, if I share all this stuff with her, she might decide that living with me is intolerable, and I might wind up with the freedom I crave and fear. Be careful what you wish for, right?

Followup questions are expected and welcomed.

Brass Tacks

I need to share some things from my therapy session Thursday. Wednesday had been very rough for me, which I think was reflected in my previous post. M had read my blog when I got there, so I didn't have to waste too much time bringing her up to date.

It's time to make hard decisions. This will have to involve me airing my needs completely to see whether Mrs. Leslie wants to try any longer. I will have to put aside my fear of confrontation and conflict, and speak my mind. I find myself backpedalling constantly when we talk of Leslie matters, trying to take the edge off everything. I need to keep the edge, and add a healthy dose of openness.

I also need to change my conversation style. When we talk on these difficult matters, she does most of the talking. She throws things out there, and then I start thinking silently, editing my response internally, maybe giving a vague answer in the end. That won't cut it. I am going to start filling the silence with reflexive statements, repeating back what I thought I heard her say, thereby validating her communication. With any luck, responses will form as I do this. I'm sure she feels that I am stonewalling, when it's really me freezing up, deer in the headlights. I have to do better if we are to get over this.

At one point in the session, I asked what Mrs. L's motivation was to stay in the marriage. M said that I need to ask that question to Mrs. L, in exactly that way. It's the nexus of the whole maypole dance we're doing. She deserves a chance to address it.

It's starting to thunder, so I'm going to post this now.

Talking Points

Gawd, I'm glad to have therapy Thursday. Tonight was a downward spiral. Felt fine when work started, ready to cry the last couple of hours. Then the drive home, well, nuff said.

Mrs. Leslie wanted to talk today. So, we talked. Well, mostly she talked. About dishonesty, deceit, trust, therapist's ethical code. She feels stupid to have trusted me, and yes, I burned her in precisely the same manner as before. She felt that I understood that blogging was not to be public, that pictures of me were not to be posted, that Leslie would not venture outside the home or meeting site. It was in the contract, after all, that expired over a year ago. The expiration reasoning is the kind of excuse a teenager would use, she says. I knew what she wanted, and the contract was a formality.

I'm tired.

She thinks I just want to drop all my responsibilities and run away to wear dresses and makeup all the time. She thinks that if I'm not getting my needs met at home, that I will meet up with some online friend. I think this is why she wants my email password. Not...gonna...happen.

She wonders why I don't just write about skirts and jewelry, and stop compromising her privacy by writing about our marriage. I told her the point of the blog is to work out my emotional state, and she is a huge part of that. I do write about skirts and jewelry, but it's peripheral to the emotional baggage at the core. She agrees that journaling is a good way to figure things out, but why public? I'm kind of getting used to the private status, it's not the problem I'd thought it would be. People are starting to sign on, including people that I feared losing altogether.

I need to figure out if I want to continue with this farce of a marriage. I'm sure she loves me, or at least the idea of me, and I do love her. But this isn't enough, is it? I cannot continue to pretend to be the guy she married. I can pretend to be a guy, but a very different one than before.

I expect I'll have much to write about after therapy.

Waiting Again

What a passionate bunch you are! Your comments came from the heart, evidenced by their length and depth of thought. Reading your input helped me through the last couple days. Thanks. I think the music blog is going to be a great way to keep you all up to date on my private postings, and I'm glad to see so many already following it.

Before I forget, you should check out Jessica Who's First Blogiversary post. Psshht! One year is nothin'! Try doing two years, then talk to me. Really, though, she does a great job keeping it fresh and thought provoking. Plus, it's public! (Yes, I'm trying to win a gift certificate. Is it that obvious?)

Back to me, where the attention should be. Mrs. Leslie had her head shrunk today. She seemed very distant when she got home. As I was getting ready for work, she asked if I have an appointment this week. I said yes, and she said that she wondered if we would ever have the time to talk before it.

Makes me wonder what they spoke of. Not gonna be good news for me, I'd bargain. So now I wait for the other shoe to drop. As a result, my dysphoria is peaking in a way that it hasn't for some time. Probably still only a five on the one-to-ten scale, but its presence is not welcome.

I hate being a sad sack about all this crap. I'll never be Little Miss Sunshine, but the Princess of Darkness isn't something I relish, either. Maybe this will all blow over soon (riiiight!), or maybe I'll start seriously looking into a divorce, as some of you are counseling. I take no offense to those comments. You are saying things I have mulled over many times. I need to hear it from others too, when it's an appropriate response (like this time). It's good to know so many folks have my back.

Starting From Scratch

First off, on the sage advice of Jenny, I have started a public blog on my earworms. It's called, surprisingly, Don't Be Like Me! I will relegate my musical notions to that forum, and I will also announce new postings here on the private blog. So, all you need to do is become a follower of the public blog, and you will know when to visit here. Brilliant! Thanks, Jenny.

Mrs. Leslie decided that today was the day to discuss marital matters, as she will be seeing her shrink on Monday. We went out to eat, and had words over pasta. We have deep, deep trust issues. I don't know what keeps me trying sometimes. She doesn't hear my viewpoint, or more accurately, doesn't respect it. Such contempt in her voice. She is the injured party. My pain is secondary, or so I would be led to believe.

Is it a mistake for me not to apologize in any fashion? I am sympathetic to her worries, and I understand how difficult it is to have a husband that fancies himself to be more than a mere man. Yet, despite the "understood" boundaries that I have crossed, I don't feel that I should apologize for doing what I felt I needed to do. She hasn't demanded an apology, but neither have I offered one.

She is very disturbed that I would receive packages at my therapist's office. She says there is no reason I can't have things sent to the house. She believes that a trusting couple should share their email passwords. She's asked for mine several times, and I haven't given it yet. It's not that she would read my mail, just that she would be able to believe that I wasn't hiding anything from her.

She doesn't want a divorce. She has said it several times now. She seems to think that a marriage where I burst her bubble every so often is better than the alternative. I told her about how my bubble was burst to learn that she hadn't felt connected all winter, that she had me completely fooled and feeling guilty for withholding information from her. She literally rolled her eyes at the notion that I was wronged in any way by that.

Mixed messages, again: She got quite heated in the car driving home. She thinks that if I want to be a woman, then I should act like a woman, putting everyone ahead of me, making sure my family has all their needs met before addressing my own. I behave like a man, eating when I need to, staying up till all hours, isolating myself from my family. She also had a good shout about wearing a bra. She wanted me to understand that the bra is an masculine invention designed to control a woman's sexuality. Real women want to never again wear a bra, and here I am wanting in on this societal wrong. Fortunately for me, my wife speaks for all women.

Then, to confuse me, after we got home, she changed into the short nightie I got her a year ago for Valentine's Day. She wanted to make love after all this horrid venting. My heart wasn't in it, at least to start, and she had a little cry when we were done.

Try as I might, I don't think I'll live long enough to figure out the way a woman thinks.