Katie, you asked if my wife knows yet. Yes, she does. I first talked to her about it a-year-and-a-half ago. We've been working through it together. Our first approach, at her request, was to have me try some things to overcome it. That sounds worse than it was. I'm not sure that I have a textbook case of gender dysphoria at all. It's actually the internal confusion I have about what's going on that got me to buy in on the whole "let's try harder" plan to begin with. But now 18 months later, we've had no movement, and I'm very frustrated with myself that I've let things go so long.
A couple nights ago she asked what I was reading on my iPad, and I showed her this thread. She broke down crying because reading what you all wrote suddenly made it very real for her.
She said, "What's the point of asking them if marriages survive? I've already told you that I can't live with you if you become a girl."
We had a pretty big fight. I don't know. We're both just so hurt. We love each other so much. But she can't be with a woman, and I can't not be one. Maybe. I don't know. I can't explore it at all, because she views any and all experimenting as me crossing the line.
The whole thing left me feeling really crappy. I felt like she was casting me as the villain in her story, and I have a very hard time with that. Thoughts is suicide crossed my mind. So I told her (or maybe she told me) to make an emergency appointment with my therapist, and I was able to get in over my lunch hour.
"Ryan," said my therapist, "you can't do what you can't do. You're looking for the perfect solution, but there just isn't one. You have to face up to that."
So yesterday my wife and I agreed to get temporarily separated so that I can sort this out. We both cried a lot yesterday.
She said, "I'm just thinking about the day you came to see me to ask to court me, and you didn't tell me why you were coming, and when you got there you gave me a dozen roses." And we both started weeping. I think we're both in mourning. She said to me, "You can't be who I need you to be, and I can't be who you need me to be."
So while you all are bickering about statistics -- it's fine, really; it's all so new for me and I enjoy reading what you all have to say -- but I'm in the middle of living out a statistic, and it's tearing me apart. I at least have the hope that I'll finally get to explore my gender identity and try to be myself. But she gets... what? Nothing. She is losing a husband. And I'm causing her loss.
"You're not causing it, Ryan. The situation is," said my therapist yesterday. "You can't control this." No, I guess not. But that doesn't make it any easier.
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