I'm tempted to say something like "ten years, down the drain." But... this has been a learning experience. The kind I need like another hole in my head.
When I proposed to my wife, the decision was significantly influenced by a fight that we had recently had. It was a difficult conversation, but we both put the work in, and I was impressed by her commitment to the relationship. With that attitude, we're sure to overcome any obstacle. Right? Only if we both continue to come to the table, it seems.
I didn't really notice at first. When she complained about a behavior of mine, for the most part, I did my best to listen attentively and avoid the problem in the future. Occasionally, we'd get stuck on something where I felt that her expectations were unreasonable (making demands in situations where mutual agreement was more appropriate, for example) and it would turn into a bigger fight, but we slowly worked through those.
If I complained about a behavior of hers, though... watch out. I kept coming to the table, acting in good faith and trying to reach an accord. She acted like I was attacking her. I'd tell her that a behavior of hers was hurting me, and she'd go on the defensive and complain that I was attacking her, trying to punish her, trying to change who she is as a person. But I wasn't really thinking about myself -- I had compassion for her, and my goal was harmony in the relationship. So, I took her complaints to heart, and every time I had something to say, I aimed to avoid the pitfalls of the last fight.
Our biggest issue, by far, is space in conversation. She's a chatterbox. Lots of my friend are chatterboxes. That isn't a problem. Everybody else I know is able to parse body language, and give others a chance to speak. She out-chatterboxes all of the other talkative people I know. When we hang out in a group situation, she will have a conversation with the group -- she responds loudly and quickly to everything that everybody says, and she frequently rambles from topic to topic. I've grown to recognize this as a form of social anxiety, and after about two hours she calms down enough for others to get a word in edgewise. What my friends don't see is that she does the same thing to me in private. But... over the years, I've made friends and started to get included in group events, and everybody wants to meet my wife... and after they do, I stop getting invited. This has happened in nearly every social circle that I've joined. My sole comfort in this is that I'm not the only one noticing.
Okay, so she's annoying and socially awkward. I can handle that. I'm annoying and socially awkward, too. But she hurts me with it. She demands care and attention when she's upset, but, for example, after my dad died I found it impossible to talk about my feelings without getting interrupted at length and shut out of the "conversation." I've spoken to her about this, dozens of times now. And she's proud of this part of her character. It's a crucial part of her.
When I came out to her as transgender, it was huge. She'd flip her lid almost every time I cross-dressed; no great surprised, she'd spoken negatively about cross-dressers and (even before I was even interested) insisted that I must never cross-dress. But, that's all water under the bridge now. I'm out, I'm myself, she's good about my name and pronouns. She's one-in-a-million... she's actually sticking it out despite it all. She even thinks I'm pretty, and says that she likes that about me.
But... we never got over our communication issues. I feel like I've grown a lot over the course of our relationship. She's pointed out my faults, and for the most part, I've worked on them. For sure, everything has taken work and I don't claim to have achieved perfection on any issue; most issues have required several incidents before I really learn the lesson. Ever so slowly, I learn. She hasn't. She continues to hurt me on a regular basis, and if I complain about anything, she frequently acts like it's the end of the world, makes the conversation all about her, and we end up going around in tiny little circles.
We've been seeing a couples counselor. The counselor opened my eyes to the notion that we might just be wrong for each other -- she truly is the way that she is, and she needs to be that way. I spent a couple of weeks in a funk, because it seemed like the end was in sight. At the end of that, I stayed a night with a friend, who gave me a bit of a kick in the pants; "If you're still in the relationship, be in the relationship and stop thinking about its end!" We went in to our counseling session the next day, and I brought a renewed sense of commitment. I can put the work in, we can make it work out!
But it takes two. In our latest counseling session, she flew off the handle again. Don't people usually bring their best behavior? I think she was. We've been seeing this counselor weekly for the last three months. She's not making progress. She's consumed by fear and uncertainty and anxiety and dread, she feels like she's being punished and judged, and she's only willing to talk about those things, and not about the pain that she causes me. There's a time and place for each of us to talk about our feelings, and I certainly give her space for hers... but there's still no space for me.
Last night, our counselor remarked that it sounded like she'd given up on me. That was in a response to a statement that she has been making for nearly ten years now. I don't want to give up. But this relationship is doing us both more harm than good. I've really given it my best shot. I feel like we might finally be to the point where she's ready to put the work in... but I've felt like that so many times, I can only conclude that I'm deluding myself.
How many straight-identified women would put up with their husband going through transition? How can I even consider leaving? But apparently, the relationship was dead in the water, long before I even knew I was transgender.
