Hi all, I'm back from my weeklong hiatus.
First off, things in my life right now are okay. I dare say they're even good (or as least as much as can be expected). I'm back to sleeping in my own bed, next to my wife, who is kissing me again, which is a huge relief and something I will never take for granted.
I wish I could say we're out of the woods, but we're not. There's still a lot of uncertainty buzzing through the ether. At the very least, though, we're on the same team now as we search for answers.
I spent the weekend (Thursday through Monday) on a 72-hour psychiatric hold, otherwise known as a 5150, for self-harm. I know I promised in my last post that I would not hurt myself, but I'm afraid I failed at keeping that promise. I'm truly sorry.
I need to be clear, though, before I get into the nitty-gritty: everything I did, I take full responsibility for. My wife has been hurting and confused every bit as much as me, and I don't want anything below to be interpreted in a way that villainizes her. She's a wonderful person who occasionally has toxic coping strategies. These can be unlearned, and she's willing to try. For that, I am so incredibly grateful. There are no villains or victims below, just two people handling pain and confusion, sometimes in unintentionally destructive ways.
So here's what went down:
On Thursday, my wife and I sat down to dinner, and the conversation quickly turned to our situation (how could it not?). It was discussion, but not especially constructive in nature. She ended up stuck on the broken record of the circumstances under which we would be through (if I turned out to be anything but male). My wife has a tendency to speak in loops and be repetitive when she's stressed, and hearing that horrible possibility over and over again wore at me and quickly eroded my composure.
After about twenty minutes of hearing this scenario played over and over for me ad nauseum (she wasn't trying to badger me, but rather to digest what was coming out of her own mouth), I found myself sobbing. Then before I knew it I was punching myself in the face as hard as I could. I still had my wedding ring on, so I ended up opening a gash on my temple, which started bleeding rather profusely.
Background on this behavior: I haven't punched myself in years. That behavior began in my twenties after the time that my brother and I got into it on the driveway during one of his drunken benders. He eventually got me on the ground, pinned down by his knees (he's always been stronger than me). He proceeded to punch me repeatedly in the face as hard as he could, slamming my head into the concrete of the driveway at the same time. His friends eventually pulled him off me, but only after giving him some time to do some damage. As they pulled him away, he kept screaming, "Who's this ->-bleeped-<-?! Who invited this guy?!" Yeah, my own brother was so drunk he didn't even recognize me. For some reason, when I went back in the house, I took one look at my swollen eye and continued the task my brother had started, hitting myself as hard as I could. I didn't stop until my eye was completely swollen shut, and the white of my eye was red with blood from broken blood vessels. The following morning, my family didn't comment on my injury and my brother didn't apologize. In fact, he was miffed that I didn't say a word to him for the next two months. For a while after that, hitting myself became my response to overwhelming stress.
Yes, I know- God, I'm screwed up.
Anyway, when I started bleeding, my wife dragged me upstairs to clean out my cut. Although I was sober, I started babbling through my tears about how I'd never be able to prove myself to her, never be the right weight, have the right hair, never use the right mannerisms- I'd never be able to erase her doubts.
Then- kids, don't try this at home- I told her that I already had a bridge picked out from which to jump. I don't know why I said it, besides being incredibly upset. That's when she called 911.
There's not much to say about my hospital stay. My eye got stitched up and will likely leave no mark. I got some rest. I made a young friend there who helped the time pass easier; I was very straightforward about why I was there, and she was supportive, which was nice.
I spoke on the phone with my wife a lot. We spoke much about our love for each other. She'd seen a therapist on Friday morning to help her cope with our situation. She brought along a printout of my massive Susan's intro. The therapist offered no certain answers, but commented that there was clearly a lot of pain and a lot of trauma in my past, things that clearly still hurt me now, and that they would need to be worked out in order to help me have a clear head about my life. This meeting helped my wife begin to really see that I'm confused and in pain, and that any witholding of information was done out of fear, not malice. K began looking at our situation differently.
She's been trying ever since to understand that nothing is definite; I truly am questioning, and the lack of answers hurts me as much as her. By the time she got to visit me on Saturday, we were passionately kissing and she was telling me she wanted me back in bed with her.
I came home Sunday night, and saw my therapist Monday morning. It's a process and there's a lot to iron out, even outside of gender questions. I am remarkably stable if you meet me in most circumstances, but under the surface I'm action-packed with issues, and it's time to stop hiding that fact. I have another appointment set up soon. I've decided not to push the gender issue too hard- the therapist knows why I'm there- and concentrate on the big picture of healing.
On Monday night, we had a low. My wife, stressed from the news that no immediate resolution came of my appointment, overdid it with the wine. I saw the signs, and to avoid trouble, I went to visit our best friends for awhile. I hadn't spoken to them in person since before I'd been outed to them a week previous. They were very serious about how I should never scare them like I did (regarding what led me to my hospital stay), but then they hugged me and assured me that they loved me no matter what gender I turn out to be. They also made it clear that they weren't picking sides; I assured them that I never would have asked that of them, anyway. It was a nice visit, and we even found cause to laugh a bit. It was clear to me that very little will change between us, no matter what direction life takes me. A few hours later I returned home and went to sleep in my own bed, where my wife as already out like a light.
The following day, K was very remorseful about her reaction the previous night. I told her I wasn't angry, but that we should talk about it. So we did; we talked further about our issues, specifically about her stress responses, how they were affecting us, and what would need to be done to positively address them. She was incredibly receptive; she had seen over the past week just how badly our old ways of dealing with issues were bringing our relationship down.
Then we decided to stop talking about such things and spend the day doing something together, something normal. We went mini-golfing, then had dinner and rented a movie. It was nice.
And that's how it's been ever since. We're taking it a day at a time. She's purchased a number of books, and only one of them is actually about transgender issues; most are about stress management and healthy anger/frustration expression. She tells me she joined some sort of support group, and will be having coffee with a member come Sunday morning. She's working hard to take each day as it comes, and to accept that we are going to be living in a gray area for awhile, when it comes to the future. This is very difficult for her, and I appreciate her efforts so incredibly much.
I feel I have the freedom now to fully explore the questions of my life without having to hide; I recognize what a luxury that is for me, and I plan to take this opportunity seriously. I have a lot of past trauma that I sometimes talk about almost matter-of-factly, but which clearly affect me and my relationship with myself.
I'm in therapy for healing; a healthy emotional state and mind are the ultimate goals, not anything more specific. I think that by tackling these issues, my next steps in life will become much more clear. In other words, I intend to use my sessions to peel away these layers of pain and trauma, dealing with them once and for all. Just like peeling an onion, there's sure to be many tears. In removing the layers, though, I hope to figure out who or what is the true person underneath it all. So, emotional issues first, and gender issues after.
So here I am, taking it a day at a time and trying to retain a sense of normalcy in my day as I search for healing and answers. It's been a roller coaster, for sure, but hopefully the deepest valleys are behind us.
Time will tell, but I choose to focus on hope.
I anticipate a good weekend. We're going to spend it together. We'll probably catch a movie, cuddle on the couch, and visit our local annual street fair- the Lemon Festival (last year their petting zoo had a baby kangaroo! Jealous much?). Early next week, we're going to try our hand at getting rush tickets for Book of Mormon (fingers crossed!). Just a day at a time, moment to moment.
Good night, folks. I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.
Sincerely,
Tegan
