I want my husband back. But he's not coming back. If all goes as he wishes, he will eventually be "she."
It's been three days now since he told me about himself. I've been running the gamut of emotions, feeling everything from sadness and despair to relief. This morning I woke up feeling good--for about 10 seconds, and then I realized things were not as usual again. My husband was already gone, as he goes to the gym early some days of the week, but I looked at his pillow and thought about how gone he really was, and started crying again. I've been doing a lot of that these past three days.
It's not as if we'd been getting along well prior to three days ago; we weren't. We've been under tremendous stress these past few years, mainly financial, struggling to pay for a house we can no longer truly afford. We were taking care of my elderly mom in our home for a few years. We each had our own personal demons, his being anger, mind being anxiety. We had gotten into a very bad cycle where we would get along well for a couple of weeks but then get into huge arguments that would leave us drained and dazed for as long as a few days sometimes. We had been on the verge of separation several times. In fact, prior to three days ago, we had pretty much settled into a "business arrangement" whereby we would stay in our home, fix it up and try to sell it, and then separate.
However, over Christmas we had a huge blowup, and then made up, with him telling me how much he loved me, that he didn't want to do without me, how important I was to him, etc., etc., and we had a very happy couple of weeks after that. I felt I had the husband I knew years ago back again, and it was wonderful; I was so thrilled. Then in mid-January things began to change, this time in a darker way than before. He became more remote than usual and very quick to respond in anger to any small aggravation. I began avoiding him, as he had started taking everything I said the wrong way, and I wasn't up for another round of arguing. I didn't see how we could continue this way, and I just couldn't take the stress anymore. We pretty much agreed to separate when we could resolve our housing issue.
Then last Saturday evening, when he returned from a day of swimming and sunning, we were in the course of another escalating argument when I confessed some problems I had had with anxiety in the past that he was not aware of, and he then confided in me what he had always known, but now was sure of, that he was a woman in a man's body, that he was transsexual, and this was the source of the great pain and frustration behind his anger.
I was not surprised at him telling me this; I had always liked the fact that he was "in touch" with his feminine side. I liked the fact that I could always talk to him as one does a girlfriend. I didn't mind that he liked fashion magazines and enjoyed watching makeover shows. I didn't mind that he didn't like watching football with me. I didn't mind the "girl shorts" he wore, as they fit him so much better than the ridiculously unflattering baggy shorts most men seemed to be wearing. My sister and I, whose husband is also transsexual and has been "out" for the past 10 years, had discussed this and we had both suspected this about my husband.
I took his news well at first; again, I was not really surprised. But I was unprepared for the flood of emotions I would experience the next day, when the totality and finality of the situation began to sink in. I cried, became very anxious, talked endlessly with my sister and brother-in-law, trying to come to terms with the fact that the husband I had always known was gone and was not coming back. I woke up my husband at 3 a.m., holding him and crying, already grieving for what I'd never have again. He wanted us to stay together, but I didn't know if I could walk this new road with him. And I know now that I can't as his wife, but I can as his friend.
I have learned, in these past quick few days, about other families who have made it work when the husband transitioned from male to female. But in these cases, invariably the husband and wife were getting along very well and had a loving, devoted relationship that they wished to continue. My husband and I were not getting along well and were planning to separate anyway; though I felt terrible for the torment he was going through, and compassion for him on his difficult path, it would not be enough to bind us together again as we had been years ago. And I know I would not be satisfied to function in what would essentially be a lesbian relationship from here on out; I want to be married to a man.
At this point, I have convinced him that he must start transition counseling (I hope I am applying these terms correctly; they are new to me), to at least find out if this is the path he wants to pursue. If he finds it isn't, then we must attend marriage counseling if we have any hope of staying together, and this is where we left it last night. He's scared, so am I, but it's okay to be scared. We'll get through it.
What I am dealing with today is again the sadness and extreme sense of loss. I love my husband; he has been the great love of my life. When we were dating, we sat one rainy afternoon on my bed and talked about the kind of life we wanted for ourselves one day, that we wanted a home that was a haven from the outside world, and a simple, happy life, enjoying fine food, good music and, above all, peace. But my husband's gone, and he in particular has no peace. In a couple of weeks we will have known each other for 18 years; in August we will have been married for 17 years.
I know it's very tough for transsexuals who are torn and want strongly to transition. But it's tough for their families, too. We are not all ogres who reject our transsexual loved ones and revile them; we are grappling with trying to be supportive, but enduring our own tough issues as well. I wrote this today because I'm hoping to write some of sadness out of my system, so I can get through my day. Our lives will never be the same, and I'm so very unhappy.
