Susan's Place Transgender Resources

Good morning all,

I am new here. My husband of 9 years was diagnosed with gender dysphoria in August. He came out to me mid September. This is still all so new to me. I dont even know how to begin to process this. I have so many emotions and am struggling with depression and anxiety.

I am hoping to connect with people who are going through this or have been through this. I dont want to feel so alone in this. What do I even do now? 

Welcome!

It must be a shock to receive that news.  No one can tell you how to react.  How you feel is how you feel.  I would recommend being supportive, if you can, though I know that is not always possible.

I would suggest talking to a counselor or therapist soon, to help you process this new reality.  And, of course, talk to your spouse.  Are the two of you willing to go forward as a same-sex couple?  Definitely something that you should talk about, as well as all the other details, such as whom to tell, when to tell them, how to tell them, etc.

Thank you so much for your reply. It is quite a shock for me for sure. Its something I would never of suspected. I am trying really hard to be supportive.

We both have said that we want to stay in our marriage. Im just not sure yet if I can be in a same sex marriage. I am keeping an open mind about it as I try to work through this.

Thank you again for your reply and your suggestions. I really appreciate it.

Hello Pugs4life,

I'm Lori Dee. Welcome to Susan's Place!

Thank you for that wonderful introduction. Just FYI, I will move this over into our Introductions Forum (https://www.susans.org/index.php?board=8.0), so our members know you are new and can welcome you. The link remains the same, so you can find it too. This is just a housekeeping thing.

I see that you found our Significant Others Forum (https://www.susans.org/index.php?board=26.0). That is wonderful, and that is the perfect place to find the stories of others who have been through what you are going through.

We strive to make this a safe space for you to find information and share your thoughts and comments. No matter who you are, you are always welcome at Susan's Place.

The advice to seek out a therapist is very good. A therapist with experience in gender dysphoria can help both of you as you explore this new aspect of your relationship. The fact that you are keeping an open mind, want to stay in the marriage, and are here seeking advice tells me you two can make this work. It won't always be easy, but a therapist can answer questions and help you both understand what each other is going through. Communication, love, and support are key. You already have that in place, just keep it going.

You said you don't know how you feel about being in a lesbian or same-sex marriage. This is where communication between you and your spouse will become essential. The two of you need to discuss what your needs are now and what you expect them to be if your spouse transitions. The gender transition path can take many forms; it does not necessarily require anything to be done. But gender dysphoria is real and can have dramatic effects on a person's health (mental and physical), so what and how much needs to be done will be up to your spouse. The two of you just need to keep communicating about how that affects you, what your boundaries are, and can you two find a way to work it all out.

We have many members here who transitioned while married and are still married. You can find their stories in the SO forums or in the Member Blogs.

When you click on the HOME button, you will see a page listing all of the various sub-forums by category and topic. Each sub-forum has a description of what that forum is about, as well as any guidelines for posting.

Please keep in mind when posting that this is an ALL-AGES  PUBLIC  Forum and the internet never forgets.
Do not post anything that you do not want to be made public.

I will add links below that are important for new and returning members.
Pay special attention to the links in RED.

If you have any questions about the Susan's Place site and the Forums, please feel free to contact me at LoriDee605@outlook.com.

Once again, welcome to Susan's Place!

~ Lori Dee
Forum Staff

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@Pugs4life
@Sarah B
@Northern Star Girl

Hi Pugs4life,

I flagged you as a significant other so that you and other significant others can find each other.

I am really glad you decided to reach out and share what is happening. You have come to a place where people understand what gender dysphoria is and how deeply it can affect not only the person coming out, but everyone close to them. What you are feeling right now – the shock, the grief, the confusion, the depression and anxiety – all of it is real, all of it matters, and all of it is completely understandable. News like this can change the shape of the future you thought you were headed toward, and it takes time to find your balance again.

It has also not been very long. Your spouse was diagnosed in August and came out to you in mid-September. That is a matter of weeks for something that touches every part of your life and identity. You absolutely do not need to know yet whether you can be in a same-sex marriage, or what you will want years from now. Right now, it is enough to focus on what you can cope with today, and maybe tomorrow. "I do not know if I can do this" and "I want to try" can both be honest answers at this stage.

There is something I want you to hear clearly: your feelings and your needs are just as important as your spouse's. When someone transitions, a lot of attention quite rightly goes to the person who is coming out, but it is very easy for the partner's emotional world to get pushed into the background. You have lost your footing too. You are allowed to feel hurt, scared, angry, sad, or numb, even while you are trying to be supportive. None of that makes you a bad partner or an unsupportive person.

Many partners find it helpful to think of this as two parallel journeys: your spouse's gender transition, and your own emotional transition. They have had years, often a lifetime, to wrestle with their feelings before speaking them aloud. You have had weeks. You can care very much about your spouse and still be unsure about what this means for your marriage. You can want to keep the relationship and still struggle with the idea of a same-sex marriage. Those truths can sit side by side. This is not about choosing sides; it is about finding something that is sustainable and healthy for both of you.

You also mentioned depression and anxiety, and I want to take that seriously. Those are not small things; they are signs that your system is under a lot of strain. If you can, I strongly encourage you to find a therapist or counselor for yourself, ideally someone who has experience with transgender issues and with partners of transgender people. Not couples counseling right now, but a space that is just for you. You need somewhere you can say the hard, messy, honest things you might not feel able to say to your spouse, family, or friends, without having to protect anyone else's feelings while you are still trying to understand your own.

The question of the marriage is a big one, and it is at the center of what you wrote: both of you have said you want to stay married, but you are not sure if you can be in a same-sex relationship. That is the heart of what many partners go through. You do not have to force an answer before you are ready. Over time, some people find that what they are attracted to is this particular person, regardless of gender; others discover that their sexual orientation and comfort level mean they cannot continue as romantic partners, even if they still care deeply about each other. Both paths can be honest and loving outcomes. Sometimes staying together is an act of love; sometimes changing the shape of the relationship, or separating, is also an act of love and respect, allowing both people to live more fully.

For now, it can help to focus on small, manageable steps instead of trying to solve the whole future at once. Talking with your spouse about pace, boundaries, and what you are and are not ready for yet can make things feel a little less overwhelming. It is okay to say, "I need to go slowly," or "I am trying, but this is hard for me." It is also okay to step back for a bit when everything feels like too much. You are allowed to protect your own emotional safety.

You said that you do not want to feel so alone in this and that you hope to connect with people who are going through it or have been through it. That is exactly what this section of the forum is for. There are partners here whose marriages continued, partners whose marriages changed form, and partners who decided to part ways, and many of them have stood in the place you are standing now. I hope you will keep posting as you feel able, and read some of their stories. Sometimes just knowing that other people have walked this road and survived it can make it feel a little less impossible.

Whatever happens, your well-being matters. Your spouse's transition is important, and so are your heart, your mental health, your sense of safety, and your ability to live a life that feels true to you.

You do not have to carry this alone. We are listening, and you are welcome here.
— Susan

Hi Lori Dee,

Thank you so much for your reply and being so welcoming to me.

I have reached out to a therapist and have an appointment next week. Thank you for this wonderful advice and all of your other words of wisdom. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

Hi Susan,

Thank you for your reply and absolutely beautiful words. You put so much into words that I wasn't able to yet. I find comfort in your words.

I have found a counselor and have an appointment next week. I am hopeful it will be of some help to me right now.

Thank you for this safe place to post and to connect with people who have walked this road before. This is an invaluable resource and one that I am very thankful for.

Hi and welcome 💛

It think it really shows your strength that you're choosing to work through this with your husband. That's not easy, and it says a lot about the love between you. I'm so glad you've got an appointment to speak to a therapist — that's such a good step. You don't need to feel alone in this. There are so many lovely people here who truly understand and will meet you with kindness. I've found support here too, in my own situation, and I hope you'll feel that soon, one gentle step at a time.

With love,

Mairen

Hi Mairen,

Thank you so much for your reply. I really appreciate it.
It is encouraging to know that you have found support here and that there are so many here that will understand.

Hi Pugs4life

My name is Sarah and I would also like to formally, Welcome you to Susan's Place!

I see that other members of Susan's have also welcomed you as well.

Susan and Lori have given you such invaluable advice and I agree with them in what they have said especially seeking a therapist help.  It's nice to hear that you are going to see one.

There are two significant other members that come to mind one is Susan_Rose wife of Jessica_Rose and Moonflower.  However, just checking around you have found Moonflower and I see that you have mentioned her in her blog space.  She has not been on the forums for nearly four months.  I will also mention her about you as well.

Your well-being matters. You are not alone, your heart, mental health and you are important as well as your ability to live a life that feels true to you.

Once you feel comfortable here, it would be appreciated if you add a little bit more about yourself in the other forums and threads.  I would appreciate it very much as, I'm always interested in learning something new about new members.

In addition members of Susan's will more than likely will discuss problems or issues that are similar to yours as most have experienced these issues as well.

Please keep in mind when posting that this is an ALL AGES PUBLIC Forum and the internet never forgets.  Do not post anything that you do not want to be made public.

Take care and all the best for the future.

Once again, Welcome to Susan's Place!

Best Wishes Always
Sarah B
Global Moderator
@Devlyn  @Jessica_Rose  @Mariah  @Northern Star Girl  @Lori Dee
@Pugs4life @Moonflower

Hi Sarah,

Thank you so much for your reply and for welcoming me here.

How do I find Susan_Rose?  I did find Moonflower and did reply to one of her posts. Thank you so much for mentioning me to her.

Thank you for your beautiful words. I appreciate it very much.

I will try to add more information about myself very soon.

Thank you again for your reply and encouragement.

Hi Pugs4life,

I am really glad my words brought you some comfort, and I am very glad you have that appointment set up for next week. That is a meaningful step to take for yourself.

I want to come back to something you said: "I'm just not sure yet if I can be in a same-sex marriage." I can hear how much weight that phrase carries for you, and it feels important to name that directly. For many partners, it is not only about the relationship itself. It is about the label, what it means to you personally, and how you worry others will see you.

That phrase "same-sex marriage" can bring up old messages from family, church, or community about what is "allowed" or "acceptable." If faith is part of your life, you may feel pulled between what you have been taught to believe and the love you have for your spouse. That tension is real, and there is nothing wrong with you for feeling it.

One way to move past the idea of a "same-sex" marriage is to look at it as two souls sharing one life — taking the good and the bad, learning from both, and finding a balanced middle ground together. When you look at your relationship that way, what comes into focus is not the label other people put on you, but the bond you and your spouse have built over nine years: the shared history, the ways you have already shown up for each other, the person who finally felt safe enough to be fully known by you.

I also learned a long time ago that other people's opinions only have the power you give them. If you do not respect the person saying it, you do not have to give their words any weight. You and your spouse get to define your relationship, not anyone else. That includes family, friends, and faith communities. They may have their reactions—and some of those reactions may hurt—but they do not get to decide what is sacred or right in your marriage. That is between you, your spouse, and, if you are a person of faith, the God you pray to.

Your counseling appointment is a good place to bring these specific questions: your religious or moral concerns, any fear of judgment, and the difference between what you truly believe and what you have been told you are "supposed" to feel. A good therapist will not push you toward a particular outcome. They will help you sort out what is actually yours.

Please keep coming back here when you need to.  You do not have to figure this all out on your own. 

We are here for both you and your partner, if they wanted to join as well.
— Susan

Hi Pugs4life

Thank you for your kind words.  Susan_Rose or any member can be found by clicking on the "member" button then selecting "member search" when you type in the members name you will see a list of names.  Then you click on the name you want then you will be taken to their profile page and then you can then select to see the posts that they have contributed to Susan's Place.

If you need any help just yell and we will come running!  Once again thank you for your words.

I hope you find what you are looking for, take care and all the best for the future.

Best Wishes Always
Sarah B
Global Moderator
@Jessica_Rose @Susan_Rose @Pugs4life

@Pugs4life
Dear Pugs4life:
I am so very glad that you felt led to register as a member. 
I am always so very happy see new members arrive here on the Susan's Place Forum.

I much enjoyed reading your Introduction.... you shared things that many of our members
have experienced, so please know that you are among like-minded members here.

I am wishing you a very WARM WELCOME...

As you feel the freedom to share and post more of your thoughts here, you will undoubtedly find
like-minded members here that may become your Forum friends.

This website is huge, with a lot of information from Real People who have lived through these things for decades.
There is much wisdom here. Feel free to browse, learn, and share your experiences too. We all learn from each other.

You will find the Forum to be a Safe, Friendly and Accepting place that you can share
whatever is on your mind... it is your SAFE REFUGE.... without any judgement from our members.

If you have any immediate questions regarding the Forum please feel free to contact me at
my Direct Email: alaskandanielle@yahoo.com

My Warmest Regards, and again WELCOME
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
The Forum Administrator

Hi Susan,

That phrase does carry so much weight for me. I am so confused right now. Its about my feelings about it, our relationship,the label, and how other people will view it. Plus, I wrestle with what Ive been taught is acceptable and right. There is so much judgement out there.

It does help to look at it as two souls building a life together. It helps me to focus on the bond that we built over the last 10 years and the strength of our relationship.

It also helps to hear that people's opinions only carry the weight that I give them. My spouse and I get to decide what our marriage looks like and no one else. There is freedom in reading those words that you wrote.

My spouse is already on here. He is the one who told me about Susan's Place and encouraged me to join. I am so glad that I did.

Hi Sarah,

Thank you so much for telling me how to find members and offering to help. I really appreciate it.

Hi Danielle,

Thank you for welcoming me here. Its a pleasure to meet you virtually.

I am encouraged to know that there are like minded members on here. I feel I can glean so much wisdom and encouragement from other people who have walked this road before or are walking this road.

I am also encouraged to know that this is a safe space to be able to share and ask questions.

Thank you again for your reply and for welcoming me here.

Hi Pugs4life,

I can really feel the weight in your words—the honesty, the confusion, and the courage it takes to put all of this into writing. It does take real strength to face something that shakes so many of the ideas and messages you've carried your whole life.

You are already doing something powerful: you're allowing yourself to sit with your feelings instead of running from them or forcing yourself to have answers you're not ready for yet. That's where real understanding starts. It is okay that this feels messy and uncertain—that is not failure, that is exactly what it looks like to adapt to something new and deeply personal.

I also hear how aware you are of the judgment that exists out there, and how hard it is to separate your own truth from the noise of what you've been taught is "acceptable" or "right." That tension is exhausting, and it is real. But I want you to notice something you wrote: you said there was freedom in reading that other people's opinions only carry the weight you give them. That moment—that shift—is you beginning to take your power back.

You are already showing grace and self-compassion in the middle of confusion by recognizing that you get to decide what carries weight in your life and what does not. That is not just brave; it is a rare kind of wisdom.

Please keep being gentle with yourself as you move through this. There is no deadline for clarity, and confusion does not mean you are doing it wrong. You are learning, questioning, and feeling—and that is exactly what this moment calls for.

— Susan

If it is any help, my wife struggled a bit with the same issues.  She is not a lesbian, and yet, through no choice of her own, she finds herself in a same-sex marriage. 

She dealt with it by realizing that her marriage vows to be to the person I am, rather than to a man specifically.  She didn't marry <deadname> or Kathy; she married the person inside those two presentations.  She uses humour when talking about it with others: she tells them that she is a "lesbian by marriage".

Hi Susan,

I feel so many things all at once. Its been really hard to even put it into words. I think part of me may be scared to put it in writing. I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down. I love my spouse and care deeply for him. I dont want to lose him and what we have. At the same time, Im just so unsure about a same sex marriage. I am keeping an open mind to it though. I just have so much I need to work through. So many questions. 

People's opinions and judgements can be so harsh at times. I used to be a Christian. I faithfully attended church every Sunday, participated in weekly Bible studies, women's groups, etc...then life happened and I started to receive very harsh judgements within the faith community. I have an autistic son and was told he was autistic because we didnt tithe. Then years later, my divorce to my first husband happened. There was serious judgment over that. After I met my current spouse and were attending church together, we were told that we were sinning because we used to hold hands before we got married. I became pregnant with our son (it was very unplanned) before we got married. Again, there was the judgement of sinning. We ended up leaving the church and haven't been back since. Its been 9 years. I still fear the opinions and judgements of others because of all of this. And now with my spouse coming out as transgender,  that fear seems to have grown. But I need to remind myself those opinions and judgements will only carry as much weight as I give them. I need to repeat this to myself.

Thank you for your words of comfort that its ok for this to all be messy and confusing. I sometimes feel like I should be reacting to this all better. I want to be there for my spouse and support him. Yet, I have my own feelings and emotions to work through. Thank you for saying Im not doing anything wrong by feeling what I am. I needed to hear that.

Hi KathyLauren,

Thank you for your post. I really appreciate it. It does help to know that your wife struggled some with the same issues that I am struggling with. It makes me feel not so alone in this.

I dont consider myself a lesbian either. But am going to end up in a same sex marriage. How did your wife begin to process everything? 

My spouse keeps telling me he's not changing the person that he is on the inside. You touched on that by saying your wife made vows to the person you are versus to a man specifically. I really appreciate you sharing that with me. It does help. Thank you, too, for telling me how your wife handles it with others.

It really is encouraging to know that they are couples out there that have made it through this process together.

@Pugs4life, even though I've found your thread extremely compelling from your very first post, I've resisted responding because I've felt like what you really want and need is to hear from another significant other, not another transwoman.

But now I can't resist any longer.

I just want to say how incredibly impressed I am by your open-heartedness and open-mindedness. You're aware of the conditioning you have (that we *all* have) about what is supposed to be "right" and "wrong" and you've seen the ways that those scripts haven't served you in the past. You're wrestling with the conflicts that you have inside of yourself, you've come here to share those feelings, and you're pursuing counseling. In my opinion, you are doing everything a person can possibly do to explore who they are - authentically - and what is important to them. And that's what all of us here are trying to do (and it sounds like your spouse is trying to do).

So, yes, it genuinely is messy and confusing. Anyone who says otherwise is either in denial or some ascended master. There is absolutely nothing "wrong" about feeling that and talking it through with others. All of us, at some time or another, are confronted with choices of following our own path of authenticity or conforming to societal expectations for approval. These can be very difficult choices.

People like you who are willing to put in the difficult work to suss out what's inside of themselves - you are the people who sustain my faith in humanity.

Hi Pugs4life

You said:

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 04, 2025, 01:30:13 PMMy spouse keeps telling me he's not changing the person that he is on the inside. You touched on that by saying your wife made vows to the person you are versus to a man specifically. I really appreciate you sharing that with me. It does help. Thank you, too, for telling me how your wife handles it with others.

When I changed my life around nearly 37 years ago. One of things I remember distinctly, not many times.  I was thinking about how I would conduct myself and worrying about what other people thought when they saw me (they never knew).  This was in the early phase of me being Sarah.  However one day while walking along George street, Sydney, I said to myself just be yourself, walk with confidence and if they knew then it did not matter as I would never see them again.

Which means that what your spouse said is absolutely right, my personality did not change I would continue swimming for instance and I would continue to study later on.  Yes, things changed but as one grows old things do change, but then that's just life and I was no different than any other person living their life.

Pema says this very well and also expresses my feeling and thoughts about you as well:

Quote from: Pema on November 04, 2025, 01:47:14 PMI just want to say how incredibly impressed I am by your open-heartedness and open-mindedness. You're aware of the conditioning you have (that we *all* have) about what is supposed to be "right" and "wrong" and you've seen the ways that those scripts haven't served you in the past. You're wrestling with the conflicts that you have inside of yourself, you've come here to share those feelings, and you're pursuing counseling. In my opinion, you are doing everything a person can possibly do to explore who they are - authentically - and what is important to them. And that's what all of us here are trying to do (and it sounds like your spouse is trying to do).

I'm sure you will survive whatever life throws at you, why?  Because your writings reflect this in their entirety.

Take care and all the best.

Best Wishes Always
Sarah B
Global Moderator
@Pugs4life @Pema

Hi Pema,

Thank you so much for your post. I am so glad you decided to make the post that you did. I absolutely want to hear from you and everyone. You all have so much wisdom and experience to share.

Thank you for your very kind words. I am humbled. Being in the midst of this, sometimes I cant see very clearly. And I dont  think Im handling things very well.

Thank you for the confirmation that this is indeed messy and confusing. It makes me feel less like Im wrong for feeling the way that I do. You are absolutely right when you say that we are all confronted with the choices to follow our authentic self or conform to societal expectations for approval. Those are truly difficult choices.

Do you have any advice on what my spouse needs from me right now?  I truly want to be there for him and support him in every way that I can.

Again, thank you for your post and your very kind words. It is so appreciated

Hi Sarah B,

Thank you for your post. I am so happy to hear from you.

It is so reassuring to hear that your personality did not change at all. It struck such a chord with me when you said,
 "things changed but as one grows old things do change, but then that's just life and I was no different than any other person living their life.".  Thank you so much for those words. It made me realize that change happens no matter what and that didnt make you any different than anyone else.

Thank you for your very kind words. They mean alot to me. And thank you for your confidence in my ability to handle whatever life throws at me.

Wishing you all the best always.

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 04, 2025, 01:19:53 PMAt the same time, Im just so unsure about a same sex marriage. I am keeping an open mind to it though. I just have so much I need to work through. So many questions.

I understand your wrestling with the term "same-sex marriage", especially growing up in a Church environment. Set aside the biases of others. As you realized, their opinions don't matter. What matters is how you feel about the relationship without the labels.

Society is big on labels, so I will give you another to consider. Have you heard of a Boston Marriage?

If I may quote the All-Knowing Professor Google:

A "Boston marriage" was a long-term, committed relationship between two middle or upper-class women in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, characterized by them living together in a household. These relationships were common in New England, particularly among college-educated women who sought independence from traditional marriage, and could range from close friendships and professional partnerships to romantic or sexual partnerships.
 
Motivation: Women who entered "Boston marriages" often wanted to maintain their financial independence and careers, which was difficult for women who married men at the time.

Social context: Victorian society was less accepting of homosexuality, and these relationships were sometimes seen as simple close friendships or spinster partnerships rather than what a modern person might view as a lesbian relationship.

Romantic and sexual relationships: The term encompasses relationships that were romantic and/or sexual, but not all "Boston marriages" were sexual. They were a social and economic partnership, often romantic, that provided an alternative to heterosexual marriage for women.

Examples: Notable examples include the relationships between writer Annie Fields and author Sarah Orne Jewett, or poet Katharine Lee Bates and economist Katharine Ellis Coman.

Origin: The term is believed to have originated from Henry James's 1886 novel The Bostonians, which depicted the relationship between two women.

My point is that from the inside, your relationship is your relationship, and it is nobody's business. If someone rudely accuses you of being in a lesbian marriage, you can easily correct them by telling them it is a Boston Marriage. They probably won't know what that means and will shut up. If they do, or if they look it up, they will find that from a societal viewpoint, it is perfectly acceptable.

What label you use is totally up to you two. It is your relationship and no one else's. Don't let others dictate your terms to you. You get to make that decision, not them.

Life can be a struggle at times to figure what to do, what society thinks, and how some new situation can throw you off. . .

It sounds as if you are hearing from many members here and that is good.  Counseling is something that seems to be worthwhile to try to sort things out and to gain clarity.

I wish you the best!


Chrissy

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 04, 2025, 05:04:49 PMDo you have any advice on what my spouse needs from me right now?  I truly want to be there for him and support him in every way that I can.

I'm definitely not someone who feels qualified to give advice, but even more so on behalf of a third party. My suggestion would be to ask them yourself and to say exactly what you said to me. I'm willing to bet that hearing those words from you would mean the world to your mate.

Something else you might consider as a way of dipping your toe in the water is asking what pronouns they'd prefer and then experiment with using them. I know it's awkward at first, but it's equally awkward to continue using pronouns that don't match someone's identity. It will take time and practice, but I think the intention and the effort would demonstrate to your spouse that you want to be part of the transition.

On the question of personality change, I'd like to share my own experience. Now, my wife has been fully supportive from the beginning - which was only February of this year - but I still felt concern that I might be becoming a different person and that maybe she wouldn't care for that person as she had for "who I was before." So I asked her: "How different do I seem to you?" Her answer was: "You aren't really a different person. You're just more you. It's as if you were a garden that had a fence around it, and now that fence has been removed. Suddenly, the sunlight is reaching it, and it's flourishing; and now I can see it and appreciate it for everything that it is." It was one of the most beautiful things anyone had ever said about me.

I strongly encourage open dialogue between the two of you. There are many aspects of this path that are challenging, but it can also be incredibly rewarding. Having each other and knowing that you're there for one another... That makes it all so much smoother. Neither of you wants to hide parts of yourself from the other, and there's so much to learn and share. It's a process that we continue to practice for as long as we live, so don't be afraid to stretch yourself - patiently and lovingly.

Again, I applaud your commitment not only to your spouse but to being a multi-dimensional human being yourself.

Lori Dee,

Your words of "What matters is how you feel about the relationship without the labels" really has me thinking about my relationship with my spouse without the labels. I never thought to look at that way.

That is really interesting information on the Boston Marriage. I had never heard of that before. Thank you so much for sharing that information with me. I can definitely use that to correct people that accuse me of being in a lesbian marriage. 

Thank you,too, for pointing out that our relationship is between the two of us and nobody else's business. I will try really hard not to let others put a label on our relationship.

ChrissyRyan,

Thank you for your post. I am hearing from quite a few members and am overwhelmed by the love, support, and encouragement I am finding here.

How you choose to handle the situations that arise is up to you. At first, I was very defensive and spent a lot of time (and wasted energy) trying to educate the ignorant. That has changed now.

The opposition mostly came from my father (and still does). At first, I tried to explain things so he could understand. Since that time (about five years later), he continues to make comments that make it clear that he has learned nothing and is stuck in his perception of me. The last time I saw him, after he made such a comment, I looked him in the eye and said, "I am not going to get upset with you because I know that you are not trying to be malicious." I left it at that.

I am just throwing out suggestions here. You will know better what suits your personality. There is no right or wrong way. Sometimes, you need to fight. Sometimes, it is easier to just walk away.

What I am saying is that if you feel compelled to defend yourself, by all means do so. However, just understand that "haters gonna hate" and you are the bigger person by not pointing out how ignorant they are. This will depend on your personality and what you are comfortable with. Do not feel that you must say anything in response. Sometimes, my comment is just, "That's personal," to indicate they have crossed a line without being aggressive.

Pema,

I will definitely make sure my spouse knows that I want to support him fully and be there for him. I will ask him what I can do to support him through this transition.

I will also have the conversation about what pronouns I should be using and try them out. You are right...it will probably be awkward at first but its equally awkward to continue to use pronouns that do not match his identity. I definitely want to be part of his transition.

Thank you so much for sharing your story with me. That is just so beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes.

I will make sure to keep an open dialog with my spouse. I want us to get through this together.

Thank you for your wonderful advice and words of wisdom. I really appreciate it.

Lori Dee,

I am not even sure yet how I will respond to these situations as they come up. I really appreciate all of your suggestions.

That was a really good respnse that you said to your father. I am sorry to hear that you receive such opposition from him.

Thank you for your wonderful advice and suggestions on things I could say in response to the opposition I know we are going to receive. It really helps so much.

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 04, 2025, 09:45:19 PMThat was a really good respnse that you said to your father. I am sorry to hear that you receive such opposition from him.

My mom tries to defend me, so I am sure that he got an earful when I left.

😄

Hi Pugs4life,

What you just described—the judgments you received from your faith community—those were not small wounds. They were cruel, harmful messages delivered at some of your most vulnerable moments.

Being told your son's autism was caused by not tithing is not theology—it is spiritual abuse. Being judged for holding hands, for an unplanned pregnancy, for a divorce—these are human experiences, and the response you received was not grace or compassion. It was judgment masquerading as righteousness, and it hurt you. It makes complete sense that you carry that fear now, that you brace yourself for more of the same.

I understand that fear more than you might realize. I was religious until I went through a crisis of faith and stopped attending church. Three or four months later, an envelope arrived from the church. I got excited—I thought they were worried about me, that they wanted to make sure I was okay. It turned out to be a tithing envelope. I haven't been back to church since.

But that does not mean I gave up my faith. I decided I did not need anyone between myself and the divine. You do not need that either.

The Bible itself says, "Ye shall know them by their fruits" (Matthew 7:16). The fruits you received from that church were cruelty, condemnation, and spiritual harm. That tells you everything you need to know about them—and nothing true about you or your worth.

While it is considered apocryphal, the Gospel of Thomas has a verse I have always loved. I first discovered it in the movie Stigmata: "I am the light that is over all things. I am all: from me all came forth, and to me all attained. Split a piece of wood; I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there" (Gospel of Thomas, 77). The divine is in you and part of you. You do not need a church or a pastor to talk to your God for you. You have a direct line.

You wrote something important: "those opinions and judgments will only carry as much weight as I give them." Please do keep reminding yourself of that. The people who said those things to you were wrong—not just unkind, but factually and spiritually wrong. Their cruelty says everything about their own limitations and nothing true about you, your son, your choices, or your worth.

Fear of judgment is not irrational when you have been judged harshly and repeatedly. Your fear makes sense. But you are no longer in that church, and you do not owe those voices your future. You get to decide whose opinions matter, and you get to build a life based on love, not fear of condemnation.

You also said something I want to reflect back to you: "I want to be there for my spouse and support him. Yet, I have my own feelings and emotions to work through." This is not a contradiction. Both of those things are true and both are allowed to exist at the same time. You are not failing your spouse by having your own process. Supporting someone does not mean you stop having feelings, needs, or questions. It means you show up honestly, and you are doing that.

This is messy and confusing, and you are handling it exactly as well as anyone could. There is no "better" way to react. You are being honest, vulnerable, and willing to stay present even when it is hard. That is everything.

We see you and what you are going through, and we are right there walking this road with you without judgment, only neighborly love and companionship.
— Susan

Lori Dee,

That is awesome that your Mom tries to defend you. I am so glad to hear that you her support! 

Hi Susan,

It is comforting to know that you can understand my fear of judgement. I am sorry that you had to go through your own faith crisis. That had to hurt when the church sent you a tithe envelope instead of it being a letter checking on you to make sure you were ok.

I am encouraged to know that you didnt give up your faith but rather realized you didnt need anyone between you and the divine. Thank you for helping me to see that too.

Thank you so much for sharing that verse from the Gospel of Thomas. I love it!  I will try to remember that I have a direct line to my God and dont need a church or a pastor to talk to him for me. That is really eye opening for me.

I will try to remember to keep telling myself that the opinions of others only have as much weight as I give them. It can be so hard when people are so judgemental. I really like how you said that I do not owe those voices my future.

Thank you for giving me permission to feel what Im feeling while also trying to support my spouse. It helps so much to know that both of those things can be true at the same time and can sit next to each other. I want to continue to show up honestly to continue being vulnerable. 

I find your words so comforting that everyone here sees me and are right there walking this road with me without judgment, only love and companionship. That means the world to me right now. Thank you so very much! 

Hello all,

I just wanted to share a little more information about myself and my family.

As I said in my initial post, my spouse and I have been together 10 years and married for 9 years. I am currently a stay-at-home Mom to our 9 year old son. This is a second marriage for both myself and my spouse. We each have children from our previous marriages. I have a 23 year old son, a 21 year old son, and a 20 year old daughter from my first marriage. My spouse has a 16 year old son from his first marriage.

I am 52 and my spouse is 50, so my spouse is transitioning later in life. My husband first came out to me as transgender mid September so this is all still so new to me and I have a million emotions I am feeling and so many thoughts whirling through my mind. Its sometimes hard to even put into words still.

We live in Upstate NY. There are not many (if any) transgender people in our area. The resources and support for the LGBTQ community are very sparse here. Thats why I am so happy that I found Susan's Place and all of you wonderful people on here! 

Thank you for sharing. The good news is you are here and have a safe space to vent if you need to, or to record your milestones. We will celebrate your victories with you and lend an ear when you need one.

And we give out FREE HUGS!

Hugs!

Lori Dee,

Thank you for the hugs. I really needed that.

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 04, 2025, 01:30:13 PMHow did your wife begin to process everything? 

My wife is a very liberal-minded person, and has always been an ally of LGBTQ+ people.  In theory, at least: I was worried that she might have difficulty when it hit close to home.  However, when I did finally come out to her, after worrying for six months about doing so, the first thing she said was, "Whatever you decide to do, I will support you."  You can imagine my relief.

I know she had some challenges dealing with my transition, and she did see a therapist / counselor about it.  I didn't pry about those sessions, since I feel very strongly about the confidentiality of client-therapist communications.  She chose not to share the details with me.

However, she did follow through with her promise of support.  She took me shopping for clothes, and gave me fashion advice on what would be flattering and age-appropriate.  (I was 62 when I transitioned, so your "later in life" comment made me smile.)  Our relationship has changed a bit, but not as much as you might expect.  I am just as annoying as I ever was, and just as much fun.  She is the same.

Here's another hug for you, @Pugs4life.

Odds are that there are transgender people in your area, but because of the lack of resources and support, they aren't visible. That may change with time.

These things just are hard to put into words. I literally wrote that in an email to an old friend today, trying to describe very generally what I've gone through to get to the point where I am. The thing is that we're all told from the day we're born that "things are this way," and nobody ever questions it. So, after decades of internalizing those messages, when we discover that that's not how things are, we simply don't possess the mental framework or the vocabulary to articulate our actual experience. That's true both for you and your spouse.

KathyLauren,

Thank you so much for sharing more of your experience with me. I really appreciate it.

I am sure you felt quite relieved to hear your wife say she would support you in whatever decision you made.

Thank you, too, for sharing that your wife sought out counseling. I am beginning counseling next week. So its good to know that other people needed to do that too. Ive received much confirmation that that is a good step to take.

It is really good to hear that your relationship didnt change that much and that you are both still the same people. I really appreciate you sharing with me. It really does help.

Pema,

Thank you for the hug.

You are right...there are probably transgender people in our area but they aren't visible right now. I am hoping that changes with time.

Thank you for confirming that these things are hard to put into words. Things are just all jumbled up in my head right now and cant find the words to express it.

Hi Pugs4life,

I've been reading through your exchanges with other members here, and I want to tell you something important: you are doing beautifully. I know it might not feel that way from the inside, but watching you engage with this community, ask thoughtful questions, share vulnerably, and absorb what people are offering you—it's clear that you are someone who shows up with intention and heart.

I'm particularly glad to see you connecting with people like KathyLauren and Pema, and that you're finding comfort in hearing from others who have walked similar paths. That's exactly what this space is for—so you don't have to figure everything out alone in upstate New York without local resources.

You have a community here now, and we're not going anywhere.

You mentioned that things are still jumbled in your head and you can't find the words to express it all. That's completely normal at this stage. You've had less than two months to process something that touches every part of your life and future. Your spouse has likely been sitting with these feelings for years, maybe decades. You don't need to have clarity yet. You don't need perfect words. What you're doing—showing up, asking questions, being honest about your confusion—that is exactly what this moment calls for.

I'm really glad your counseling appointment is next week. That will give you a dedicated space just for you, where you can sort through all those jumbled thoughts without worrying about anyone else's feelings. Please don't hesitate to keep coming back here between now and then, or after. This thread is yours, and you can use it however you need—to vent, to ask questions, to celebrate small victories, or just to be heard.

One more thing: you shared more about your family situation—your blended family, your 9-year-old son, your adult children, your spouse's teenager. That's a lot of people whose lives will be touched by this transition in different ways. It's okay to think about what that means for each of them while also focusing on what it means for you. You're allowed to hold space for all of it.

Keep being gentle with yourself. The fact that you can't put everything into words yet doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. It means you're human, and you're in the middle of something big.

We're here.
— Susan

Quote from: Susan on November 05, 2025, 09:07:43 PMI want to tell you something important: you are doing beautifully.

@Pugs4life , I wanted to say the same thing.  I am impressed by your openness to sharing your challenges and seeking input, and your committment to finding a way forward when faced with a major life challenge.  You have the "right stuff"; you will be fine.

Dear Susan,

Thank you for your very kind and encouraging words. You're right...I dont feel like I am doing beautifully from the inside. I am still in turmoil. I am experiencing confusion, concern, and even shock. I wonder if I will be able to handle the challenges the future holds.  I also worry if the two of us as a couple will hold up under the pressure.  Your words mean so much to me right now. I cant thank you enough.

KathyLauren and Pema have been so very kind to me and offered such wonderful words of wisdom. Everyone on here has been so supportive, welcoming, and kind. I am learning much on here. I am so grateful to you for this space you have created so that I don't have to walk this alone without any resources. Again, thank you just isn't enough.

Thank you for the words that I am allowed to hold space for it all. I am so worried about how the children are going to take the news about their Dad/Step Dad. My spouse's transition is going to touch so many lives and that concerns me.

I feel so many things right now as I try to adjust to new realities. This is something big and its messy. But I am trying and will continue to try. Thank you for being there Susan.

KathyLauren,

Thank you so much for your very kind words. It means alot to hear them. I appreciate you so much!

I want to find a way forward in the midst of this big life challenge. I am truly committed to that. It definitely helps to hear from people like yourself who have walked this road before. I couldn't do it without all of you! 

Thank you again for your kind words and encouragement that I will be just fine. It means more than you know.

Hi Pugs4life,

Your spouse reached out privately to thank me for the support you've been receiving here, and to let me know that she is deliberately staying out of your thread so that you have a space that is fully yours. I told her that giving you that space is an act of real love and respect.

I also shared, in very general terms, that you are carrying more than just the news of her transition: that old wounds and fears around judgment are being stirred up by all of this, that you are often very hard on yourself and worry that your feelings make you "unsupportive," and that this has felt lonely and isolating at times. None of that is something she has to "fix," but understanding it can help both of you offer each other more grace as you move through this together. I ended by reminding her to take care of you, and also to take care of herself.

Reading your latest post, what stands out to me most is not the turmoil you feel, but the fact that *in the middle* of that turmoil, you are still showing up. You are scared, confused, worried about the future of your marriage, worried about your children, and yet you keep reaching out, reflecting, and trying to respond with love. From the inside it feels like "barely holding it together." From the outside, it looks a lot like courage.

You asked whether you will be able to handle the challenges ahead and whether the two of you as a couple will hold up under the pressure. Those are enormous questions, and it makes sense that they sit heavy on your heart. No one in your position could answer them right now. What you *are* doing is what matters most at this stage: you are talking with your spouse, you have reached out for a therapist, you are asking hard questions, you are listening to others who have walked this road, and you are refusing to shut down even when it would be easier to turn away. That is what handling it looks like in real time, even if it does not feel "beautiful" from the inside.

I also want to say this clearly: you do not owe any of us "thank you just isn't enough." The fact that you are here, trusting us with your fears and your hopes, is more than enough. Susan's Place exists so that people in exactly your situation would have somewhere to go when there are no local resources, no obvious road map, and no one else in their circle who really understands. You belong here just as much as anyone else.

Your Family and the Ripple Effects

You are absolutely right that your spouse's transition will touch many lives, and of course your thoughts go straight to the children. That tells me a lot about the kind of mother and stepmother you are. You are not only thinking about your own pain; you are already trying to cushion theirs.

The good news is that children often take their cues from the adults around them. They pay as much attention to *how* something is talked about as to *what* is said. If the underlying message they receive is, "You are safe, you are loved, and you still have two parents who are here for you," that foundation matters more than having perfect words. There may still be big reactions, questions, and feelings — especially from teenagers — but those unfold over time, and you do not have to solve everything in the first conversation.

It can help to break this big, overwhelming "How will the kids take it?" worry into smaller, more manageable pieces. One small step is for you and your spouse to talk privately, maybe with your therapist's help, about a few basics before you tell them: what you want each child to hear first, what you both feel ready to say now, and what you are *not* ready to answer yet. It is completely okay to tell a child, "We do not have all the answers right now, but you can ask us anything, and we will figure things out together as we go." That is an honest, loving answer.

Talking with Your Children

Because your kids are at very different ages, it may also help to think of separate "versions" of the same truth rather than one big announcement you have to get exactly right.

For your nine-year-old, you might lean on simple, concrete ideas: that their parent has something important to share about who they are inside, that this is about being more honest and happier in themselves, and that none of this changes how much they are loved or that their parent will still be there for bedtime, school, and the everyday things that matter. Younger children often absorb "my parent is still my parent, and I am still loved" more than any detailed vocabulary about gender. If it feels helpful, a picture book like It Feels Good to Be Yourself (https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250302953/itfeelsgoodtobeyourself) can give you gentle, child-friendly language to lean on. For kids whose parent is transitioning, there is also She's My Dad! (https://www.amazon.com/dp/1785926311), which follows a child whose dad transitions and can make the idea less abstract and more reassuring.

For your spouse's sixteen-year-old, the conversation can be more direct and more collaborative. Teenagers often have strong opinions and big feelings, and they also tend to appreciate being treated as someone whose perspective matters. There may be questions about what this means socially, at school, or with extended family. It is okay if some of those questions do not have immediate answers. What will matter most is that they can see the two of you are being honest with them and that their own feelings are allowed in the room.

For older teens and your adult children, a resource like My Trans Parent (https://heatherbryantauthor.com/my-trans-parent/) can help them see that they are not the only ones navigating a parent's transition and give them language and stories of their own.

Helpful Resources for You and Your Spouse

For you and your spouse as adults, organizations like PFLAG have free guides for families of transgender people. One that many partners and relatives find helpful is Our Trans Loved Ones (https://pflag.org/resource/our-trans-loved-ones/), which is written specifically for people who have a trans or gender-expansive person in their family. You can read it on your own, share sections with your spouse, or offer it to your older kids or other relatives if and when that feels right. None of these are obligations; they are simply tools you can pick up when you are ready.

All of that is just to say: you are not expected to invent every word yourself or to carry all of this without support. You have a therapist coming into the picture, you have your spouse, and you now have a community here that understands the particular mix of love, fear, grief, and hope you are trying to hold at the same time. And please know that you are always free to share anything from this thread with your counselor if you think it might help. Sometimes simply putting these conversations in front of a professional can open doors for insight, healing, or even help someone else down the road.

Moving Forward, One Step at a Time

You wrote: "This is something big and it's messy. But I am trying and will continue to try." That is the heart of it. There is no clean, tidy way through something that reshapes a whole life and family. Messy does not mean you are failing. It means you are human, in the middle of a very real, very complex story — and instead of shutting down, you are staying present.

When everything feels too big, it can help to gently shrink the frame. Instead of asking yourself, "How will I handle all of this?" you might ask, "What is one small thing I can do today that will help me feel a little more grounded?" Big changes — like your spouse's transition, your own emotional adjustment, and preparing your children — can feel impossible when you look at them all at once. But when you break everything down and organize it into a few broad topics, with small, practical steps under each one, it becomes much more manageable and less overwhelming. Every one of those small steps is real progress. And you do not have to rush; you are allowed to move at the pace your heart can handle.

Here is one way you might start to break it down:

Taking Care of Yourself	Communicating with Your Spouse
Attend your counseling session and write down any insights afterward.  Make time each day, even a few minutes, for something that helps you breathe or rest.  Remind yourself that your emotions are valid and do not make you unsupportive.	Have small, calm conversations about what feels manageable for each of you.  Agree on what to share with others and when.  Give each other permission to step back if emotions run high, then return to the topic when you both feel ready.

Preparing to Talk with the Children[/b]	Building a Support System
Discuss with your spouse, or with your therapist, what each child most needs to hear first.  Choose simple, age-appropriate language for your youngest child.  Plan a more open, question-based talk for your teenagers and adult children.  Allow space for their reactions and reassure them that they can ask anything, any time.	Use your therapist, your spouse, and this community as sources of understanding.  Reach out to local or online groups such as PFLAG when you are ready.  Remember that seeking help is strength, not weakness.

Breaking things into smaller pieces allows your mind and heart to catch up to each other. Each step you take — no matter how small — brings a bit more clarity, a bit more steadiness, and a sense that things are slowly coming together. You do not have to have the full picture yet; you just need to keep moving gently forward, one piece at a time.

Please keep using this thread for whatever you need: sorting out your thoughts before you talk to the kids, practicing what you might want to say, sharing how that first counseling session goes, or just coming here on a hard day to say, "This is a lot," and letting us sit with you in it.

You are not alone in this. We are right here beside you, for as long as you need us.
— Susan

Hi Susan,

I had mentioned to my spouse how much support I was getting on here. We are both overwhelmed by the outpouring of support I receive here. I am happy to hear that she reached out to you to thank you.  We are both so grateful for this space that you provide.  I have also told my spouse that I would stay off of her thread as well  This is her safe space too.

 Thank you for filling my spouse in on how I carry the old wounds of past judgements that are coming into play in this.  I appreciate you doing that. I think another past wound is also getting stirred up for me.  This may sound so silly but I feel like I am losing my spouse to another woman (the woman she is going to become).  You see, my first husband was unfaithful to me.  He met another woman online and left me for her. We were married for 16 years when he left us. I am so scared of losing the spouse I have known for the past 10 years to a woman the way I lost my first husband to a woman.  Its hard for me to put that into writing.

Thank you for seeing the courage in me that I cant see right now.  You are so right...from the inside it feels like I am barely holding it together.  I am determined to keep showing up though and keep being present. 

It is a relief to hear you say that the enormous questions I have couldn't be answered by anyone in my shoes right now.  Thank you for helping me to see all the things that I am doing right now. 

I like how you said that it can help to break the worry of how the kids will take it into smaller, more manageable pieces.  I will definitely talk that step of talking with my spouse privately about a few of the basics before we tell the children.  It helps to know, too, that we don't have to have all the answers in the first conversation. 

I also really like the idea of coming up with separate versions of the same truth for the different ages of kids we have.  Thank you so much for the links to the two children books.  I think they will be very helpful. 

Thank you so much for the tips on how to talk to the 16 year old and my adult children  Thank you for the resource for them.  I really appreciate it. 

We will definitely check out PFLAG.  Thank you for the link that you gave me from them.  I really appreciate all the tools that you are sharing with me. 

Asking myself "what is one small thing I can do today that will help me feel a little more grounded" is a great idea  Its all so big when I look at everything all at once.  Breaking it down into smaller, more manageable pieces will definitely help me.  I also like that you said I can move at my own pace; to move at the pace my heart can handle.

Thank you that you are all right there beside me for as long as I need you.  I really appreciate that.  I don't know what I would do without you all right now. 

   

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 06, 2025, 06:57:59 PMI think another past wound is also getting stirred up for me.  This may sound so silly but I feel like I am losing my spouse to another woman (the woman she is going to become).  You see, my first husband was unfaithful to me.  He met another woman online and left me for her. We were married for 16 years when he left us. I am so scared of losing the spouse I have known for the past 10 years to a woman the way I lost my first husband to a woman.  Its hard for me to put that into writing.

I understand this pain well. I have been married three times. Two were cheaters, and one passed away (alcoholism). What you need to do is to see your spouse as the person inside. Ignore the packaging. The body is just a temporary vessel to house the spirit. See the spirit within. You will notice it in small things like the way she laughs or gives you that certain smile. That is the person you love. That is the person you married. Everything else is just packaging. Whether we change clothes, hairstyle, or our body, it does not change the spirit within.

I think you two should read Jessica_Rose's stories. She tells about what they went through and how they survived, remarried each other, and have been together for decades.
You can find her stories here:
https://www.susans.org/index.php/topic,233104.0.html

@Pugs4life, I'm just repeating myself, but I do want to say again that you are amazing. I understand that it feels "out of control" to you - because, well, it is - but you're facing it head-on and acknowledging what's inside of you and where it comes from, all of it. Truly, that's more than a majority of people would do. So many would just shut down or run away. You are growing by leaps and bounds by allowing yourself to feel all of this.

I also *love* that you and your spouse want each other to have your own spaces to work through these things. That really demonstrates the love and commitment you have to each other's well-being.

I sincerely feel very moved and inspired by what you both are doing. I consider it an amazing gift that you have shared it with me.

Hi Pugs4life,

You said it feels like you're losing your spouse to another woman, and I want you to know that what you're feeling makes complete sense. You've lived through that kind of loss before — your first husband's betrayal was real, deliberate, and devastating. So when something new in your life echoes those emotions, of course your heart recognizes the pattern and braces for pain. It's your mind and body trying to protect you with the only map they have.

But this time, what's happening is very different. Your spouse hasn't turned away from you; she's turned toward you, with honesty. She's not leaving to build a new life with someone else — she's trying to live more truthfully as herself, while still wanting to share that life with you. I know it may feel the same, but it isn't the same story.

When we come out as transgender, people often think they're meeting someone new — but the truth is that who we are doesn't change. What changes is that we finally stop hiding. In my own coming-out letter, I wrote: "I want to make it clear to everyone that I am the exact same person today as I was yesterday before you were introduced to the real me. I am simply able to be more open and honest with you all."

That remains true. The heart, mind, and soul you fell in love with are still there. The same humor, kindness, caring, and connection that built your marriage haven't disappeared — they're simply coming from a place where she no longer wants to wear a mask with you. Your spouse isn't becoming another woman; she's letting you finally see her authentic self — the woman she has always been underneath the pressure to pretend.

I also want to acknowledge something that often goes unsaid: both of you are grieving right now, just in different ways. You may be mourning the loss of how things used to feel, the familiarity of the roles you each played, and the certainty you once had about your future. She may be grieving parts of her old life too — the comfort of fitting into what others expected, the safety of not being questioned, even the small pieces of privilege or simplicity that come with living unseen. Transition, even when it brings relief, also brings loss.

That shared grief doesn't mean your marriage is over; it means you're both human. It means you are each standing at the edge of change, learning how to hold on to what matters most while letting go of what can't stay the same. And it may help to ask yourself gently: would you truly want her to live her entire life only snatching small moments of happiness while spending most of her days in quiet misery — hiding from you, from herself, and never letting you fully know the amazing person you actually married?

This might be something to talk about with your counselor — that the fear of "losing her to another woman" isn't really about another person at all, but about the echoes of past hurt and the pain of change itself. A good therapist can help you untangle those threads so you don't have to carry both stories on your shoulders at once.

If you ever want to see what it can look like when a couple faces this kind of change together, you might find comfort in reading Jessica's Rose Garden (http://[https://www.susans.org/index.php?action=printpage;topic=233104.0). It's a long-running thread written by JessicaRose and her wife, SusanRose — two people who walked through transition together, with all its doubts, grief, and love. Their story isn't a fairytale, but it shows that honesty doesn't have to end a marriage; sometimes, it rebuilds it on stronger, truer ground.

Please keep writing here as you need to. You're doing the hard work — feeling, questioning, showing up, and allowing space for both fear and love to coexist. That's how healing begins.

You are not losing your spouse. You are being invited to see her more clearly than ever before — and that's something both of you can grow through, together.
— Susan

Hello @Pugs4life . I should have chimed in earlier, but lately it's been difficult for me to concentrate and provide meaningful, thoughtful responses. Although I have not read through all of the posts here, it's long past time that I speak up.

There have been several married couples on Susan's, but not all of them stay together. While some separate immediately, others decide to see how it goes. If you can look past sexuality and becoming 'lesbian by marriage', then there is hope.

@Susan_Rose and I have been married for over 41 years. It hasn't always been easy, and the most difficult thing I ever did was to come out to her. She didn't take it well. We slept in separate bedrooms for months. There were many days I was certain that she would leave. Eventually, she realized that I was becoming a better version of the person she married so long ago. On several occasions, I asked her why she stayed after everything I put her through. Her answer was always 'because I love you'.

Susan is a bit shy. Although she does keep up with a lot of the activity on Susan's Place, she doesn't post often. Please feel free to send her a PM (personal message), and I'll tickle her foot until she responds!

I think the best advice I can provide is to give it time. Your spouse should go slowly, at a pace that allows both of you to adjust. It's tempting to move quickly, to make up for lost time, but there is no rush. Both of you will be pushed or pulled way out of your comfort zones, and taking time to adjust will help the process move along smoothly. Neither of you should feel guilty.

It's tremendously difficult to overcome the societal pressure to conform, to be the person others expect you to be. Breaking out of that prison is usually an act of desperation. It's literally life-changing, and takes time to adjust.

Love always -- Jessica Rose

My wife and I had been married for 9 years and had 5 kids and number 6 on the way when I came out and started transitioning.

The good news is, our story continues. The not so good news is that there were very hard times along the way. We separated for two years before reconciling. Those were the hardest two years of my life and I think my wife would say the same.

Its not an easy road to travel, for either partner. And ultimately, it is a matter of whether or not both of you are committed to each other, come what may. We ended up reconciling because each of us had become better versions of ourselves in those two years. And in spite of looking very different, my wife found the changes in me to be very good and she was able to adapt to the new look.

There's hope, but there's also a lot of hard work and keeping going when everything in you wants to give up.

Lori Dee,

I am so sorry to hear that you know my pain so well  I am sorry for what you have been through. 

I will try really hard to see my spouse as the person she is on the inside and ignore the packaging.  Thank you so much for that advice.  It really does help. 

Thank you very much for the link to read Jessica_Rose's stories.  I will definitely read her stories. 

Pema,

Thank you for your very kind and encouraging words.  Things do feel out of control right now for me.  But I am here trying.  I am committed to my spouse and love her very much.  I want to continue to face things head on and work through what I am feeling. 

Thank you being there as I walk this journey with my spouse. I am very grateful for you. 

Dear Susan,

Thank you for reminding me that this is a very different story than from my past.  My spouse is actually reaching towards me and not away from me. And she is being very honest with me. I am very grateful to her that she is wanting to share a life with me while living more truthfully herself.  I don't want my spouse to have to hide who she truly is anymore.  I am honored that she was able to come out to me and felt safe enough to do so.

I am comforted by the fact that when transgender people come out, that who they are doesn't change.  The thing that changes is that they stop hiding.  And that is what I want for my spouse; to not have to hide anymore  I am glad that I am getting the opportunity to see her authentic self.  I just have so much to work through. 

Thank you for acknowledging the grieving.  I am grieving right now.  But I never thought about my spouse also going through grief right now.  Thank you for pointing that out.  I did ask myself the question if I would truly want my spouse to live her life only getting small moments of happiness while spending most of her days in misery.  The answer is no; I don't want my spouse hiding from me, from herself, and never letting me see the amazing person I married.  I am just wrestling so much with what I am feeling right now.

I will bring this up to my counselor about the fear of losing her to another woman.  You are absolutely right that it is about the echoes of past hurts and the pain of change itself.  I really hate change and so much is going to change for us. 

I will definitely read Jessica's Rose Garden  Thank you so much for that link. 

Thank you for your support and words of wisdom  They mean so much to me. 

Hi Pugs4life,

Reading this last message, I'm struck again by how much heart you bring to all of this. You are standing in the middle of fear, grief, and uncertainty, and at the same time you are very clearly rooting for your spouse to be able to live honestly as herself. That is not something everyone can do. It says a lot about who you are.

I also want to gently point something out that you may not have noticed from the inside: you've started using "she" and "her" for your spouse when you write to me. You didn't make an announcement about it or turn it into a big moment — you just quietly shifted your language as you worked things through. That is a huge, loving step. It shows that even while you are hurting and afraid, a part of you is already making room for who she is. You may not feel brave right now, but that is what courage looks like in real life.

It makes me happy that you can see the difference between what happened with your first husband and what is happening now. In the past, someone you loved turned away from you and chose secrecy and betrayal. This time, someone you love turned toward you and chose honesty, even knowing it might shake your world. The memories of that old wound are very real, and of course they color how this feels. Your nervous system only knows, "Last time something like this happened, I got left." No wonder it panics. But as you yourself said so beautifully, this is not the same story. You are not being abandoned for another woman; you are being invited to know the same person more truthfully as a woman.

I am glad it comforts you to remember that who we are does not change when we come out — we just stop hiding. That is exactly how it felt for me. The humor, the way I think, the way I care, the things I value — all of that stayed the same. What changed was that I was no longer spending half my energy pretending. Your spouse isn't trading you in for a different wife; she's trying to bring her authentic self fully into your life, so that she never again has to hide a part of herself from you. That's true love.

You also named something very important: you are grieving. Of course you are. You are grieving the picture you had of your future, the roles you thought you would always play, even the ease of being seen as a "normal" straight couple in the eyes of the world. All of that is real loss. I'm glad my words helped you see that your spouse is grieving too — grieving the years spent hiding, the version of herself that fit other people's expectations, the illusion of safety that came from pretending. Two people can be on the same side and still be grieving different things at the same time.

I'm really glad you plan to bring the "losing her to another woman" fear into counseling. That fear isn't silly and it isn't something you just have to "get over." It's tied to real trauma from your first marriage and to your understandable dread of change. A good counselor can help you tease apart what belongs to the past and what belongs to the present, so this transition doesn't have to carry the full weight of that old betrayal on its back.

And for what it's worth, I don't hear someone who "hates change" and therefore can't handle this. I hear someone who hates being hurt, hates being blindsided, and hates having the ground pulled out from under her family — which is completely reasonable. You keep showing up anyway. You keep talking, asking, reading, and reaching for understanding. That is how people who "hate change" still manage to grow: not by liking it, but by walking through it one honest step at a time.

Please keep giving yourself permission to move at the pace your heart can handle. You don't need to solve the whole marriage, the kids' reactions, and your faith and identity all at once. You're allowed to say, "Today I am just going to focus on this one piece — reading a few pages, having one conversation, or letting myself feel sad without judging it." Every time you do that, you're building a future for yourself and your spouse, even if it doesn't feel like progress in the moment.

And if at any point my long replies start wearing you out, you have my full permission to say, "Susan, I love you, but I need the short version today." I promise I won't be offended.

We're all still right here with you, for as long as you need us.
— Susan

Hi Jessica_Rose,

Thank you so much for your post.  I really appreciate it.  Right now I am stuck on being with an woman versus the man I married and becoming a "lesbian by marriage".  I am learning from everyone on here, though, that the body is just the vessel that carries the real person.  I am very hopeful in this.  I want my marriage to survive this transistion journey that my spouse and I are on. 

Wow, you guys have been married a long time.  Congratulations on that!  Thank you for your honesty in sharing with me that it hasn't always been easy and for sharing your experience with coming out to your wife.  I love my spouse very much and don't see that changing at all. 

Thank you for saying that it is ok to private message your wife.  I am sure she has invaluable advice to offer since she has walked this road I am on now. 

Thank you so much for your advice to give it time. I know I certainly need to time to adjust and going slow would allow me time to adjust to my new reality. 

Thank you again for your post and for reaching out to me.

Hi BlueJaye,

Thank you very much for sharing your experience with me.  I really appreciate it. 

I have so many questions.  When and how did you guys tell your children?  How did they take it?

I am so glad to hear your story continues despite the very hard times along the way.  Did you guys separate right after you came out or was it during the transistion period?  I say that I am very committed to my spouse.  I am just starting this journey though and wrestle so much with the feelings that I have right now.  I like how you say you each became better versions of yourselves.  That confirms for me that you didn't change the person you were on the inside.  Just became a better version of that same person.  Do you know how she was able to adapt to your new look? 

Thank you for sharing that there is hope but also a lot of hard work keeping going when everything in me wants to give up.

Hi Susan,

Thank you for your encouragement.  I feel so conflicted because I do feel fear, grief, and uncertainty and at the same time want my spouse to be able to live authentically and be happy with who she is.  Can those two things exist side by side? 

I didn't notice the shift to "she" and "her" that I have begun using for my spouse.  Someone on here had suggested that I ask my spouse what pronouns they prefer to be called by (I think it may have been Pema).  Pema said it could be awkward to keep using pronouns that no longer fit my spouse's identity  That made sense to me.  I did ask my spouse what pronouns she wanted to use and she was honest about wanting to use she/her even though she hasn't transistioned yet.  I wanted to be respectful of her wishes.  I don't know when the shift happened for me to start using the correct pronouns so thank you for noticing that and pointing that out. 

Thank you again for sharing that you stayed the same person after you came out.  That really helps me.  It really helps me to hear that your humor, the way you think, the way you care, the things you value all stayed the same.  That is very encouraging to hear.  I really like how you said that my spouse is trying to to bring her authentic self fully into my life and that's true love. I didn't think of it like that. 

Change is very hard for me Susan. I have never liked change.  And I suppose that is because I hate being hurt, hate being blindsided, and hates having the rug pulled out from under my family. Thank you for recognizing that and for the confirmation that it is reasonable to feel that way.  I want so bad to keep showing up and keep walking through this change one step at a time. 

Thank you for the wonderful reminder that I don't have to solve everything all at once.  One small step at a time.  I definitely feel like I need to take things slow right now.  Thank you for the permission to just say, "today I am just going to focus on this one piece".  That helps so much. 

Thank you for being there and your continued loving, encouraging, supportive responses.  I am learning so much from you and am very grateful for you. 

Hi Pugs4life,

Thank you for such an open and heartfelt reply. I can feel the depth of what you're holding — love, fear, grief, and a fierce wish for your spouse's happiness — all living side by side. And yes, those feelings absolutely can exist together. In fact, that coexistence is one of the clearest signs of how deep your love really is.

In family therapy, there's a term for this kind of experience: Ambiguous Loss. It's used for situations where someone you love is still physically present, but the shape of the relationship, and the future you pictured, is changing in profound ways. It is not wrong or contradictory to grieve the familiar while also wanting to celebrate her becoming. Both emotions come from the same tender, caring heart.

That tension you feel — wanting her to be authentic and happy, while feeling scared and unsure yourself — is not a flaw. It is the difficult, honest proof of your love. You are not losing your ability to love; you are stretching it to embrace a new, more truthful version of the life you share.

I also want to say how meaningful it is that you asked your spouse what pronouns she preferred and chose to honor her answer. That is a profound act of respect and love. The fact that the shift to "she" and "her" happened so naturally that you didn't even notice tells me your heart already knew who she was. You're seeing the same person you fell in love with — just through a clearer, truer lens.

Change is hard, especially when you've been hurt before and know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under your family. It makes complete sense that you would brace for impact. But you're not shutting down or running away from this; you're learning to walk through it gently. The strength is not in liking the change. The strength is in facing it honestly, one small step at a time.

Hold on to this: you don't have to solve everything all at once. You only need to ask, "What is the next small, kind thing I can do — for her, yourself, or others — today?" That is exactly how you build a life that can hold both the ache and the joy.

I have a little system I try to follow in my own life: "Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty." You do not have to follow a script; you can be as unpredictable as you like, and take it from me — it's actually a bit fun, and it is certainly rewarding.

I am truly proud of the way you're meeting this moment, even in the middle of the confusion. You're showing up, speaking with compassion, and listening with an open heart. That is the kind of quiet courage that changes everything.

With love and respect,
— Susan

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 07, 2025, 12:32:34 PMI didn't notice the shift to "she" and "her" that I have begun using for my spouse.  Someone on here had suggested that I ask my spouse what pronouns they prefer to be called by (I think it may have been Pema).  Pema said it could be awkward to keep using pronouns that no longer fit my spouse's identity  That made sense to me.  I did ask my spouse what pronouns she wanted to use and she was honest about wanting to use she/her even though she hasn't transistioned yet.  I wanted to be respectful of her wishes.  I don't know when the shift happened for me to start using the correct pronouns so thank you for noticing that and pointing that out.

YES! I noticed it the very first time you used "she" and "her," and I'd hoped this was exactly what happened. You confirming it also confirms - yet again - that you are a person of integrity who loves her spouse. You are already adapting and growing. In time, these things will begin to feel "normal" and "routine" for you, and you'll probably eventually find it odd when other people can't understand it. But it all illustrates how powerful our conditioning is and also how adaptable we actually are.

You're doing it! Small steps are the way to go for both of you so that you can all move forward together, as a family.

I just want to say that this whole thread brings tears of joy to my eyes.  It is beautiful! 

Quote from: KathyLauren on November 07, 2025, 05:55:44 PMI just want to say that this whole thread brings tears of joy to my eyes.  It is beautiful! 

I'm right there with you, Kathy.

Dear Pugs4life,

Kudos to you for being willing to understand their situation better. (I'm referring to your husband as "they/them" because some folks are deeply affected by gendered pronouns. The correct one can bring on a euphoric feeling (like a new mother being referred to by other as "momma.") and the wrong one can sting (dysphoria)).

EDIT: wow, I just read the post above regarding your use of "she/her" pronouns. That's a wonderful gesture.

As a lifelong troubleshooter and fixer of things, I tend to try to get ahead of problems before they occur. I'd like to share a bit of my story and a few thoughts...

Simply put, I always thought that being a girl would be better than being a man. I was born in the 60s, so I really had no idea what to do with these feelings. The first time I saw a trans person, I was riveted. It was thrilling. I didn't understand why. With no public-facing outlet for these feelings, they morphed into something akin to a fetish. The thought of transforming into a woman gave me a thrill that caused a physical response.

Guilt ensued. Guilt, and the strong feeling that I was a pervert, a fake, an *impostor.* Impostor Syndrome happens to athletes, musicians, scientists, and so on. I just assumed I wasn't a "real" trans person; I was just a guy who wanted to be a woman...like I thought about it every day for 30+ years. Funny thing is, I figured most guys felt the same way at one time or another. Any explanation made more sense to me than the idea that I wasn't really the man I thought myself to be.

When my "egg cracked," the realization of what I really was (a trans woman) came pouring out of me. I'd been with my partner for almost 10 years and I shared my feelings with her. She reacted with kindness and understanding but I knew that she felt betrayed. She figured I should have told her, that it was unfair to her. She put a chunk of her life into our relationship and I'd pulled the rug out from under her.

How did we survive? I went slow. I'm still moving very slowly. We're in our 50s and it takes time to adjust. We're still partners (got married *after* I came out to her) but our relationship is less traditional than some. Sure, I still fix the cars and take care of the house, but she knows I'm not longer a man; I'm something else. I have an "X" gender marker on my driver's license and passport.

Anyway, my point is that I got lucky. I'm lucky that I paired up with someone intelligent and reasonable enough to be able to work through these feelings without wanting to burn it all down. I'm lucky that my transition is moving slowly.

Others here haven't fared as well. One (trans) woman I know started hormones, dressing (presenting) in public as a woman and had surgeries in very short order, and the strain was more than her wife could take. But she moved quickly because, like so many, it was necessary for her mental health. Transitioning saves lives in many cases. Several others I know were met with hostility from a wife who felt she been tricked and betrayed. That feeling is understandable.

Your spouse is likely bursting at the seams. The realization of who/what we are can be like a burst dam. They might be *aching* to experience so many things they denied themself. I started hormone therapy a few short weeks after coming out to my partner. My body started changing immediately. It all seemed very fast, but then again, I wanted to take my girlfriend's birth control pills when I was 20 years old. The outward-facing parts of this seemed sudden and impulsive, but the feelings had been simmering for many, many years.

My hope for you is that they're able to go as slow as you need them to, giving you time to process all of this, and that you continue to work to understand what they need and who they are, and to give them permission to experience things long denied. Most of all, you must understand that they never meant to hurt or betray you. It's likely that they just failed to understand what they were going through.

The fact that you're here with us speaks volumes about your love for them, your fundamental goodness, your emotional maturity and your desire to do the right thing. I'm filled with hope for both of you.

Hi Susan,

I am so glad to hear that everything I am feeling can sit side by side with one another. It can feel so contradictory at times. 

I have never heard of Ambiguous Loss before.  Thank you for mentioning that to me and explaining what it means. I can definitely relate to that kind of loss.  I am relieved to hear you say that it isn't wrong to grieve the familiar while also wanting to celebrate my spouse's becoming.  I am also comforted by you saying that the tension I feel isn't a flaw. At times, it can feel as though it is a flaw.

I am so glad that Pema suggested that I ask my spouse what pronouns she prefers to use.  I would have never thought to ask her that question.  I get so stuck in my own head that sometimes I can't see clearly.  I am trying really hard to see the same person I fell in love with. 

Change is so hard Susan.  I am trying my best to learn to walk through this one step at a time.  I will definitely hold on to the fact that I don't have to solve everything all at once.  I will keep asking myself the question of, "what is the next small, kind thing I can do today?".  That is something that I can keep repeating to myself. 

I love the system you try to follow in your own life.  That is so beautiful Susan. It just speaks to the wonderful person you are. 

It means the world to me to hear you say that you are proud of me.  I am trying so hard in this moment even with my own confusion. I want to keep an open heart and open mind throughout this journey. 

Dear Pema,

I can't thank you enough for the suggestion to ask my spouse which pronouns she prefers using.  I would never have thought to ask that question.  I get so caught up in my own feelings that I forget about what my spouse is feeling and needs. 

Thank you for your very kind words.  You also confirm for me to take things slow like so many others have said on here.  I want so much for all of us to move forward as a family. 

Thank you again for your posts and being so kind and welcoming to me on here.  It means so much to me. 

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 07, 2025, 09:55:52 PM"what is the next small, kind thing I can do today?".  That is something that I can keep repeating to myself. 

What if you two girlfriends were to go shopping together? It can be a great bonding experience and help you two learn a little more about preferences. Maybe she could use your advice on what clothing styles might look good on her. She would see that as supportive and accepting. If you are into the "Ugly Christmas Sweaters", why not get matching ones?

If you are not quite ready for clothing shopping yet, just go to lunch together. See a movie, go for a walk. It is a chance to "change the scenery" but still provide some private moments for conversation. Every little thing you do together reinforces the message "I'm still here with you."

Hi Courtney G,

Thank you so much for your post and sharing some of your story with me.  I really appreciate you doing that. 

You confirm a couple of things for me.  One is to go slow.  Many others have suggested that on here.  The second is that it that it takes time to adjust.  I am also encouraged to hear that you and your spouse are still partners and made it through your journey together. 

You are very lucky indeed. It is wonderful that your partner was able to work through her feelings and you both were able to move forward together. 

My spouse does seem like she is bursting at the seams.  She has mentioned feeling such a sense of relief that she doesn't have to hide anymore.  I know she is aching to experience so many things that she has denied herself her entire lie.  My spouse has an appointment in mid November to begin hormone therapy.  It will be just about two months after she came out to me.  My spouse has said the same thing you said; that "on the outside it seemed sudden and impulsive, but the feelings had been simmering for many, many years".  She has mentioned feeling like this her entire life and now finally gets to live the dream she has had for so many years. 

Thank you again for sharing some of your story with me and for your very kind words.  I appreciate it so much. 

Hi Lori Dee,

Oh I love the idea of going shopping together!  It could be a great bonding experience for sure and I could learn more about her preferences. 

I love how you say that everything we do together reinforces the message that "I'm still here with you".  I love that.  Thank you so much for your wonderful suggestions. 

Hi Pugs4Life,

You're doing so much better than you think. The way you're leaning into this — asking questions, learning, and keeping your heart open even when it hurts — that's what real love looks like. Most people faced with this kind of change turn away or shut down, but you're walking toward it. That takes incredible courage.

You're right that change is hard. It can shake the ground beneath you, especially when it reaches into the heart of your marriage and the image of the life you've built together. It's completely natural to grieve what's familiar, even while you're trying to celebrate who your spouse is becoming. That's not a flaw; it's part of the process. You're holding both loss and love at once, and that's a remarkable kind of strength.

I know it can feel like you're walking through fog right now, trying to see the same person you fell in love with. But she is still there — the same laughter, the same soul, the same heart that chose you. Transition doesn't erase her; it lets the truest parts of her finally come forward. The love you built together is still the foundation she stands on.

The fact that you're willing to ask what pronouns she prefers, to keep reaching for understanding instead of retreating — that speaks volumes about the kind of partner you are. Every time you choose patience, every time you listen instead of shutting down, every time you let yourself feel instead of fight it — that's another act of love. Those small, kind moments are what healing is made of.

And I meant it when I said I'm proud of you. There's nothing easy about this, but you're showing such grace and compassion through the confusion. Keep holding on to that. One day, you'll look back and see not just the hardship, but the way you both grew through it — stronger, closer, and more honest than before.

With warmth and admiration,
— Susan

Dear Susan,

Thank you so much for your post.  It came at exactly the right time.  Today has been hard.  I needed to hear that I am doing ok with this all. I feel like my job right now is to accept the reality that my spouse is transgender and figure out to respond.  On days like today, I don't feel like I am doing a very good job responding to it.  I am wrestling again with how to make that leap from a "traditional" marriage to a same sex marriage.  I think this is where I need to remind myself that it is just the packaging changing, not the person. I am also struggling with how to learn to be intimate with a woman versus a man.  My heart and mind remain open to everything. 

There is so much that is going to change on this journey.  And that scares me.  I do feel like it has shaken the ground beneath me and I have lost my footing.  I am grieving the familiar while at the same time trying to celebrate who my spouse is becoming.  Thank you for pointing out that that is part of the process and not a flaw. 

Oh Susan, it does feel like I am walking through a fog right now.  I am trying desperately to see that same person I fell in love with.  I really like how you said, "transistion doesn't erase her".  That really helps me to know that the same person is still there. 

It means so much to me that you are proud of me.  Thank you for that.  This isn't easy at all and there is so much confusion. And I am feeling so anxious about my spouse's upcoming appointment to start her hormone therapy.  That step alone will bring so much change.  Its encouraging to hear you say that we will both grow through this. "Stronger, closer, and more honest than before".  I am going to hold onto that.   

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 09, 2025, 09:39:37 PMAnd I am feeling so anxious about my spouse's upcoming appointment to start her hormone therapy.  That step alone will bring so much change. 

The thing to remember, and this advice applies to all transgender people, is that this will take a very long time. There is no rush. Changes do not start the moment you pop your first pill. The body takes time to adjust. It takes months of the proper doses for the body to start making physical changes. We tell everyone that this is a marathon, not a sprint. It happens slowly, sometimes painfully slow.

So, don't panic yet. I think the first thing that you will notice within the first week or couple of weeks is that her mood will change. I think you will find that she is happier, calmer, more relaxed, and maybe a bit emotional. That is normal. I think that may be the point where you will really start to see the person you married shine through.

You have time before any physical changes start happening, so now is the time to start talking about them. You have an open mind about all of this, and that is wonderful. Yes, your bedroom activities may change from what you are used to, but different is not necessarily bad. It might even turn out to be fantastic.

Keep your open mind and watch for the good to come from all of this. It could become the greatest adventure the two of you have ever had.

Hugs!

@Pugs4life
Dear Pugs4life
I have been following your postings and progress ever since your registered as
a member here on the Susan's Place Forum.

It is clear to me from reading what you are sharing that you feel comfortable and
safe here ... this is exactly what we wish to have happen here on the Forum as I
stated in my November 3rd message to you right after you posted your Introduction
on this thread. 
  As I had stated: 

QuoteYou will find the Forum to be a Safe, Friendly and Accepting place
that you can share whatever is on your mind... it is your SAFE REFUGE....
...without any judgement from our members.

I am so very glad to read that you are exploring your options and choices as you continue
with your life and relationship decisions.

When you share as you have been doing, you are opening up the discussion with our members that
are offering you their thoughts and comments that may be of help to you.

    THANK YOU for your presence here, you are blessing us as much
                      as we are hopefully blessing you.
                ❤️
Many HUGS and my best wishes to you as you continue on in your journey.
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
  The Forum Administrator  Direct Email: alaskandanielle@yahoo.com

Hi Lori Dee,

Thank you for your post explaining about the hormone therapy.  It helps to hear how things will go once my spouse starts on the hormones.  I had no idea it is such a slow process and that the changes will happen over time. I like how you said that this is a marathon and not a sprint. 

I will try really hard not to panic.  Thank you so much for explaining the first thing that we will notice when my spouse starts on the hormones.  While I am scared about this first step, I am excited for my spouse.  I want her to be happier, calmer, and more relaxed. Part of me is excited to see the person I married really be able to shine through.  The other part of me is scared that I am losing the person I have known for the past 10 years.  I have such conflicting feelings.  I am struggling so much this morning with everything.  I find myself wrestling with the wanting her to grow back her beard and cut her hair short again.  Another part of me wants this first step to happen for her so badly.  She has waited a lifetime for this dream to become a reality. 

What are some of the physical changes that could start to happen? This is something I will also ask my spouse about.  I don't know if she knows yet what physical changes the hormones will bring about.  Thank you for pointing out that our bedroom activities may change but different doesn't necessarily mean bad. 

I will continue to have an open mind about this and will watch for the good to come from it. 

Hugs to you too!

Hi Northern Star Girl,

I feel very comfortable and safe here. This has been an invaluable resource for me.  Everyone on here has been so kind and accepting of me.  I am so thankful for that.

You all are a blessing to me!  Thank you for having me. 

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 10, 2025, 10:25:45 AMWhat are some of the physical changes that could start to happen? This is something I will also ask my spouse about.  I don't know if she knows yet what physical changes the hormones will bring about. 

Folx Health has an article that explains what changes happen and approximately when. Keep in mind that this is determined by her genetics (how her body reacts) as well as the dosage and method of taking the medicine. So these are just guidelines, not hard and fast rules.

https://www.folxhealth.com/library/what-physical-changes-to-expect-on-estrogen-hormone-replacement-therapy-explained-by-folx

Hello Everyone,

I just wanted to take a moment and introduce myself to you all again and let you know my name.  My name is Amy. It is such a pleasure to meet all of you on here and to have become part of this extraordinary family.  I am truly honored to be able to be part of this community.  Thank you for having me and for all the love and support that I receive here as I navigate this major life change that I am going through with my spouse.

Love,
Amy

Hi, Amy! It's wonderful to have a name to call you by.

You are not only welcome here, but you are already a fantastic member of our community/family. Thank you for sharing yourself so openly here. It literally improves people's lives.

With love,
Pema

Hi Amy,

Thank you for reintroducing yourself by name — it is wonderful to be able to call you that. You have already become such an important part of this family, and it is lovely to see you stepping forward and letting people see a bit more of who you are.

I want to go back to what you wrote in your last response to me, because there is so much heart in it. You said you are trying to make that leap from what you think of as a "traditional" marriage to what you called a same-sex marriage. But the truth is, this is not about labels at all — it is about the vows the two of you made and the love that has always been at the center of them. You could even make a gentle joke that it is not a same-sex marriage so much as it is a same-soul marriage. The soul you fell in love with has not changed; it is simply living more openly and honestly now.

The person you married trusted you enough to come out — to lay bare the most vulnerable truth about herself. That kind of honesty deserves respect, compassion, and support, and you have given her all three, even while you are still coming to terms with what this means for your life together. That says an incredible amount about your strength and your heart.

I want you to know that you are not walking through this fog alone. Cynthia, the rest of the community supporting you here, and I are all standing together on the other side of the swamp, holding up lights to help guide you safely through. We cannot walk the path for you, but we will keep those lights steady so you always know which way leads out.

It is completely normal to feel shaken by change this deep. You are grieving the familiar while learning to see your spouse more clearly than ever before, and you are doing it with grace, courage, and honesty. Every word you write shows a woman who is still reaching toward love even through uncertainty. That is something to be proud of.

And I am going to remind you every time you get into this kind of mood that you do not have to have every answer right now. This is a process — one that unfolds over time and deepens as you both grow into this new chapter. Keep giving yourself permission to feel everything: the fear, the confusion, the gratitude, and the love. All of it belongs.

I am so proud of how you are handling this, Amy. You have shown empathy, thoughtfulness, and a genuine willingness to understand, even when it hurts and even when you are scared. You are standing beside Cynthia with compassion and integrity, and the two of you are walking together into a future that is completely new for both of you — but it does not have to be one you face alone.

With warmth and respect,
Susan 💜

Hi Pema,

Thank you for your kind words.  I am truly honored to be a part of this community/family.  I feel safe and welcome here.  This has been a life line for me.  People like you make it so lovely here. 

With love and thanks,
Amy

Hi Susan,

Thank you for helping me see the truth that this isn't about labels at all.  It is about our vows and our love.  I meant every word of my vows to Cynthia.  And I love her so much.  I need to try to remember that the soul I fell in love with hasn't changed but is simply living more openly and honestly now.

I am truly honored that she trusted me enough to come out to me.  That wasn't an easy thing for her to do I am sure.  You are so right...that kind of honesty deserves respect, compassion, and support.  And I strive to give her all three of those things even while I am still trying to wrap my head around all of this and what this means for our life together. There is so much that I am feeling right now Susan. 

Thank you so much for letting me know that I am not walking through this fog alone.  I needed to hear that.  I am so grateful to Cynthia, this community, and you for being there, standing with me holding up lights so I can see to find my way through the fog to the other side.  I am truly grateful for all the support and encouragement I have right now.

It helps to know that it is normal to feel shaken by change this big.  Everything feels so hard right now Susan.  I feel so many things at the same time.  And, yes, I am grieving.  Grieving the familiar while at the same time trying to learn to see my spouse more clearly. Things are so uncertain right now.

Thank you for reminding me again that I do not have to have every answer right now.  That this is a process that will unfold over time.  My anxiety wants to solve everything all at once.  I need to remember to take small, gentle steps. I feel so much all at the same time right now.  Thank you for the reminder that it all belongs and to let myself feel it all. 

It means the world to me to say you are proud of the way that I am handling this.  I am trying really hard.  I am trying to learn and understand everything that I can.  I have done research, am reading books, and trying to ask the right questions right now.  I want to stand with Cynthia throughout her journey.  I want us to walk together into the future that is completely new for both us.  It is so comforting to know that it isn't something that we have to face alone.  That means alot.  Thank you for this community/family.  I would truly be lost without it. 

With love and respect,
Amy

Hi Amy,

I want to take a moment to reflect with you, because reading everything you've written since your first post has been extraordinary. The woman who arrived here unsure, frightened, and overwhelmed has already started transforming — not by rushing for answers, but by daring to stay present through the hardest parts. That takes more strength than most people ever realize they have.

When you first wrote, you were trying to understand what all this meant for your marriage — afraid that you might be losing your husband to something you couldn't quite see. What you've done since then is quietly, beautifully remarkable: you've learned that what you're *really* doing is growing alongside your spouse, not apart from her. You've gone from asking, *"What if I lose her?"* to saying, *"I want to walk with her into our new future."* That's real progress, Amy — the kind that changes everything.

You've also done something else very few people manage when they're hurting: you've stayed open. Instead of closing off or building walls, you've chosen to listen, learn, and keep your heart engaged. You've read, researched, asked questions, and reflected deeply. You've shown empathy even when your own emotions were tangled and raw. That willingness to keep your heart soft in the middle of uncertainty is pure courage.

You've learned that grief and love can coexist — that it's possible to miss the familiar while still reaching for the truth of who Cynthia is. You've begun to separate fear from fact, and to see that what's happening isn't a loss of love, but a deepening of it. Every time you talk about your vows, you remind both yourself and Cynthia that this marriage was built on something more enduring than appearance or expectation — it was built on *soul*.

And look at where you are now: you're aware of your anxiety, naming it, and learning how to slow yourself down. You've recognized that you don't need every answer right now. That's such an important shift — from trying to control every variable to allowing life to unfold at its own pace. That's the work of healing and acceptance, and you're doing it, Amy.

As you move forward, the focus will start to shift from survival to connection. The next steps are gentler ones — rediscovering joy together, finding small moments of laughter again, rebuilding a sense of *us* within this new landscape. Those moments won't erase the hard days, but they'll start to balance them.

You're already walking through the fog, and every time you write, it feels a little thinner. You see more light now, even if it flickers some days. You've done the hardest part: you started walking instead of standing still. The rest of us are still here — Cynthia, me, and this community — keeping our lights steady so you never have to lose your way.

You're doing just fine, Amy. Truly — especially in just a single week!

If you're willing, I'd love to hear how *your* appointment goes when the time comes — only what you feel comfortable sharing, of course. Whatever you choose, know that we're all holding you close in thought and wishing you calm and clarity as you take this next step forward.

With pride, admiration, and care,
— Susan 💜

I've been thinking about this thread, as so many of us have, and I figured I might share some nuts-and-bolts stuff about transitioning. Please keep in mind that Cynthia's journey is hers alone, as everyone's is, and the perspectives and possibilities I share here might not apply to her. Well, something probably will...

Physical transition/public presentation

As you may have already read, there will be physical changes. What they don't tell us is exactly how much we'll change. But the fact is, no one knows how much they're change until they go through it. Some folks lose weight, some gain it, some get curvy while some don't. They'll tell you that breast growth is very limited for transfeminine people, more so as they get older, but I'm in my late 50s and have been an exception to that rule, so anything goes. But yeah, most AMAB (assigned male at birth) people experience a level of changes that is easy enough to hide, for a surprisingly long time! And like cisgender puberty, it doesn't happen very quickly, taking 4 or 5 years or more to finish. So there will be opportunities to process changes and figure out when to stop hiding, if that's the goal.

Speaking of hiding, not everyone wants to, needs to or is able to achieve a public-facing transition. I'm coming up on 4 years of HRT and spend about 98% of my time in public as a "male." That works for me. It's easier and safer for now and it is better for my relationship with my wife. I'm fortunate in that I don't suffer as a result. Others wish to paint their nails, wear makeup and female-gendered clothing immediately. Many experience a strong need to do these things, and the healthy thing is to yield to the need. The only person who really knows what's feels right to do is the person who is transitioning. Most of us figure this out for ourselves (with the help of a therapist), then try to work out an understanding with our partner, if we have one. For some it's part time, for others it's occasionally, and for some there's no looking back.

Skin does indeed get softer. Body hair thins, muscles weaken. For most of us, this is the stuff we've dreamed about. Others choose to work out and maintain a harder body. Estrogen changes the calculus, of course.

Hair transplant technology has come a long way. For me, estradiol grew back a lot of hair, but transplant surgery did the heavy lifting. But there are excellent wigs out there and many wear wigs full-time when out and about. But I've encountered others who don't feel the need to deal with their hairline, which is great. Certainly, that doesn't determine someone's gender.

We do all of this stuff because it feels right. It feels good. Euphoric even. The thrill of it all can cause a confusing reaction for many, as body parts respond to the rush of excitement. Some feel very dysphoric about original equipment "parts" and seek gender confirmation surgery, while others are OK with all of it.

Facial feminization surgery is a bit of a process and it can be expensive, but many states require insurance to cover procedures under the "gender affirming care" umbrella. This can be a big deal for some, as the years of testosterone creates contours that are difficult to cover with makeup.

The reason for thinking about/doing a lot of this stuff is twofold:
1. Feeling good about yourself and wanting to see "her" in the mirror
2. Wanting to "pass" as female, to be seen as a woman by others

#2 is often the case because it's easier and safer in some locales to just blend in. And it sure feels good. Some folx are out and proud and refuse to comply with cisnormative standards for appearance, dress and behavior and don't worry too much about passing, but that's not for everyone.

Going out in public the first few times can be terrifying. Don't be surprised if she gets all dolled up, then backs out right as she's putting her foot out the door. In my opinion/experience, pushing her and telling her not to worry doesn't help. The best thing you can do is to let her lead.

Emotions/moods

As I understand it, estradiol doesn't make people emotional or bring on mood swings, but swings in hormone levels do, as bodies that were previously wired to run on testosterone are no exception when Mother E knocks on our door. Along with some of my friends, I've had to check myself when feeling extra weepy or fatalistic and remember "oh yeah, today is the day I'm supposed to change my estradiol patches." Conversely, I've had days in which I felt cheerful and calm and realized "this is that time in my medication cycle in which I think my levels are just right." This might be something you'll both need to be mindful of. As a cis woman, you're probably much more prepared to deal with it than Cynthia is at this point.

Intimacy

I won't say much about this, except to point out that Cynthia may experience waves of new feelings about herself that manifest in fears, desires or even apathy. Love and communication will surely help. Please understand that time is your ally. Giving her time to adjust and possibly figure out what she wants and needs, and how she's wired might be required. There will be changes, but living as one's true self usually connects one to their bodies in new and exciting ways.

-----------------

The most important thing to remember is that, as others have said, this does happen pretty slowly. Neither of you need to figure this all out right away. Give yourselves (and each other) the time and space needed to process what's happening. If you're fortunate, you'll be able to be present at a time when new and exciting changes are occurring. There will be rough days, but there are always rough days in life. The good days make it all worthwhile.

I had this on my mind and just spewed it out here, so it may or may not be stuff you're interested in, so please disregard if I'm being pedantic or irrelevant.

Good information, Courtney! Thank you.

I will mention that on breast growth, I was always told to expect to become one cup size smaller than my closest female relative. I was like, "YAHOO!" because they are all large-busted. My grandmothers on both sides, my mother and her sisters, even my aunts and cousins.

Alas, that is not the case. The truth is, genetics does play a major role, but genetics also skips generations. Most of my family, since my grandparents (both sides) are short and stocky. But my great-grandfather was tall and thin. My dad is tall and thin, and his older sister is tall and thin. So I am tall and thin, as is my daughter. But my son is short and stocky.

So, as Courtney pointed out, you won't know until you get there. And your puberty doesn't start until your hormone levels are at the proper level that your body needs to signal the changes.

Dear Susan,

I am still finding that I scared, grieving, and confused.  The fog still seems to be there, just not as thick as it was. I definitely feel better now that when I first arrived here.  Everyone has been so helpful and has given me nuggets of wisdom to hold onto when the doubt and anxiety creep in. I am trying to learn and grow through this. 

I am so thankful that you have helped me to see that I am not loosing my spouse but rather growing alongside of her; not apart from her.  I want to grab her hand and hold on for dear life throughout this journey we are now on.  I find I am still quite apprehensive about the upcoming changes. I am used to how my spouse looks now and how she sounds.  I know the person she really is is on the inside and that is not going to change.  The physical is going to change so much though.  And change is so hard for me to begin with.  I have never handled change very well.

It is my desire to continue to remain open on this journey.  That is the only way I will be able to learn and keep my heart engaged.  It is important to me that I stay open and not close off or build walls.  My spouse needs me to be there for her throughout this and needs me to have an open mind and heart.  I truly want to be there for her through everything. 

I have learned that grief and love and can both exist at the same time.  That was very freeing for me to realize that.  That it is ok to miss the familiar while at the same time reaching for the truth of who Cynthia really is.  I like how you say that this isn't a loss of love, but a deepening of it.  At times, I feel closer to Cynthia more than I ever have been before. 

My anxiety likes to try to take over as I move through this.  I am trying to recognize it and remember to slow it down.  I need to keep reminding myself that I don't need all the answers right now.  Small, gentle steps right now.  I don't want to control every variable but allow life to unfold at its own pace.  I just need to remain present and open. 

It is so encouraging to hear you say that as I move forward, the focus will shift from survival mode to connection.  It is also encouraging to know that the next steps will be gentler ones. 

The fog does feel a little thinner than it did.  I do see more light than I did.  I know its there and I can actually see it now.  It helps to know that I have started to walk instead of standing still.  I guess that is the first step in processing all of this.  I had no clue what to do to begin to process everything.  I am so happy to hear that you are all there still keeping your lights steady so I don't lose my way.  I can't tell how much that means to me.  There are moments I think I am lost again, but I just need to look up and see those lights you all are holding up for me to see clearly. 

I would love to share how my appointment goes.  It is tommorrow morning at 9:30.  I am so thankful that you are all holding me close in thought and wishing me calm and clarity and I take this next step forward.  Thank you so much for that Susan. 

With much love and admiration,
Amy

Hi Courtney G,

Thank you so much for your post!  There is so much wonderful information there that is very helpful to me.  I appreciate you taking the time to post all of that information. 

Thank you for confirming that this is a slow process and that neither of us has to figure this all out right now.  I definitely need the time and space to process what is happening.  This is all so new for me.  I know this is not new to my spouse though. She has felt this way for years.  The transistion process is still new to her though.  I am sure she has alot to process too. 

I am so glad that you shared what was on your mind with me.  It is so helpful.  Thank you so mcuh!

Hi Lori Dee,

Thank you for that information on breast growth.  That is very helpful to know...to expect to become one cup smaller than your closest female relative. Thank you, too, for explaining how genetics does play a role but also skips generations.  I know Cynthia is hoping to be large breasted.  I think most of the woman relatives of hers are large breasted too.

It helps to know that puberty doesn't start until the hormone levels are at the proper levels.  I don't know much about this next step at all.  I appreciate the information very much. 

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 11, 2025, 11:27:43 AMIt helps to know that puberty doesn't start until the hormone levels are at the proper levels.  I don't know much about this next step at all.  I appreciate the information very much. 

This is from my own experience. For four years, I was frustrated with very little breast growth. Of course, I was expecting to be almost as big as my relatives. My aunt and my daughter do not have large breasts; we are the tall and thin ones.

I had several endocrinologists over the years, and they had a difficult time keeping my estrogen levels high enough, even after we got testosterone levels under control. I blamed my lack of growth on the low hormone levels. My Primary doctor suggested that I may be a "fast metabolizer". That means that my body processes some medications very quickly and eliminates them before they can do any work.

The solution was to stop the pills and patches and start injecting my estradiol into fatty tissue. That allowed my levels to increase into the normal range, where they belong. And what happened? My breasts started growing (after four years of taking hormones). I will never have large breasts like my relatives, but I also do not have the weight problems that they have either. Our bodies are built differently.

I hope this clarifies what I said before. It is good that you are continuing to learn. I have always said that you cannot have too much information.

Hugs!

Amy, even in your fog and confusion, you continue to share your own beautiful insights demonstrating rare wisdom and growth. Your awareness that your anxiety doesn't need to dominate your sense of self is huge. There are a lot of people who unable to see that in themselves or do but still can't seem to make different choices. Within all of this, your clarity about your love and commitment to sharing the journey with Cynthia absolutely shines through.

I feel so blessed and so honored to be a witness to your process. I suspect you don't realize the magnitude of this gift you're giving. I'm not prone to hyperbole, but you are truly elevating us all.

Amy, it's wonderful to engage with you here. The truth is, I think we're all moved by your dedication to understanding what Cynthia is going through and to figure out your role in all of this. It's way more productive that dwelling in anger, fear or denial.

Regarding losing your husband, the fears and the physical changes:

The strongest thing that always pops into my head when I think about this is "I'm still me! I'm still that person! If anything, I'm more of who I really am now than ever before." <deadname> doesn't get replaced by another person, they just get recalibrated to be more in line with their true sense of self. But no one goes away; we become more present.

We all have to deal with some internalized transphobia. I don't like the term, because it sounds like we're all "afraid of trans people." It's a simple word that's used to describe a complex situation. "Cisnormativity" suggests that there should only be two genders and that our gender must remain fixed from the moment some doctor looks at our anatomy and declares "It's a boy(girl)!" Study human history and you'll find that's not at all correct. But our culture is good at being intolerant of anyone who wants to rock the boat.

And the fact is, this is inconvenient. People can be unkind, or downright cruel. Who wants to deal with that, either first or second hand? No one really signs up for this.

To me, transphobia can be as simple as being uncomfortable with someone formerly known as a man changes their presentation. After all, that's usually reserved for sitcoms and horror movies. There's a long history of making a mockery of those who step outside of the gender they were assigned at birth, and most of us have learned from a very young age that it's bad/wrong/funny/embarrassing/weird, etc. There are some great books on this subject if/when you're interested. Feminist trans author Julia Serano posits that one reason people are uncomfortable is because they can't understand why a so-called man would choose to give up their male privilege. Society considers that a downgrade.

What I'm trying to say is (a) that your partner isn't going away and (b) your discomfort with the whole thing is a pretty common response. I'm very sure it's not for a lack of kindness and love, but you're swimming against a current that has been going in one direction for our entire lives. You're doing just fine.

Also: in her excellent book "She's Not There: A Life in Two Genders" by Jennifer Finney Boylan, the author describes her wife's despair over the fact that everyone is constantly checking to make sure she's supporting her former husband's transition properly, but no one is considering the fact that SHE also needs support, that she's the one who lost her husband (or something like that; I can't recall). So a little self care and a lot of support for yourself is something you must take the time to find.

Hi Lori Dee,

Thank you so much for sharing more of your experience with me regarding the hormone therapy and breast growth. I really appreciate it.  You are absolutely right...I can never have too much information.  :) 

Thank you again for sharing your experience with me. 

Good information can be helpful, for sure. 

Chrissy

Dear Pema,

Thank you so much for your very kind words.  They really mean alot to hear.

My anxiety is so high right now.  I struggled with anxiety before my spouse came out to me but this all has just sent it off the rails.  I am trying to recognize it and stop it before it spirals out of control.  Some days it is hard. 

I am very committed to sharing this journey with Cynthia.  I do truly love her and walk to with her through this journey that we are on. 

Pema, you are so very kind.  Your words touch my heart.  I don't realize what gift I am giving.  I feel like I am the one that is receiving a gift by having people like you on here to support and encourage me. You are all truly lighting my way right now. 

Much love,
Amy

Hi Amy,

Reading your message tonight, I can feel how much thought and heart you're putting into every part of this. You're doing exactly what I hoped you would when we last talked — slowing the frame, breaking things down, and taking things one step at a time instead of trying to carry the whole mountain at once. That's what real progress looks like.

What you shared about feeling like you might be "losing your spouse to another woman" is not silly at all. It's a deeply human response that comes from an old wound — one that left a mark, and now this new experience brushes against it. It makes perfect sense that those memories would come up. What's different now is that this isn't a betrayal or an abandonment; it's your spouse trying to live truthfully with you still in her heart. The woman she's becoming isn't *replacing* the person you love — she *is* that person, finally becoming whole in a way that lets her love you even more fully.

You're already doing something beautiful: you're staying present, even when it hurts. You're showing courage by naming your fears out loud and letting the people who care about you hold some of that weight. That's how healing begins. Writing about them can help you understand them better. It does not matter if you share them here or not — you can keep them private in a journal.

And if you ever decide to write more about what you're feeling, don't worry about form or perfection — just let the words come. Writing can be like breathing room for your thoughts. Some people find it helps to start by describing a single moment: what triggered a strong emotion, what they noticed in their body, what memory it stirred. Others write letters they never send — to their spouse, to the person they used to be, even to the fear itself. It is not about the outcome, but the release that happens when you put the unsaid into words.

Sometimes, the act of naming an emotion on paper takes away a bit of its power. It lets you see that fear and grief are not endless shadows — they have shape, meaning, and limits. Over time, that practice can help you recognize patterns and moments of healing that might otherwise slip by unnoticed.

You've already shown that you have the insight and courage to look inward. Let your writing be a quiet space where no one else's expectations matter — just your voice, steady and true.

And when you feel like you are "too much on your mind" right now, that makes sense too. You have been carrying so many emotions, thoughts, and memories all at once. When something this big shifts your life, it is normal for your mind to feel crowded and loud. If it helps, let just *one* thought at a time have your attention — maybe by writing a few lines, or simply by taking a breath and saying, "This is what I'm feeling in this moment." There is no "too much" here. You are processing something enormous, and you deserve patience and gentleness from yourself while you do it.

Keep holding onto those small, grounding steps we talked about in my last message — focusing on what helps you feel safe and steady each day, and remembering that both love and fear can exist at the same time without cancelling each other out. One doesn't mean the other isn't real.

You're not losing her, Amy. You're both learning to love each other in a new light — one that's more honest, more vulnerable, and, in time, more peaceful than before. You don't have to have it all figured out yet. You're already doing the hardest, most important part: staying open when it would be easier to close off.

With warmth and care,
Susan 💜

Hi Courtney,

It is really wonderful to engage with you on here as well.  I really appreciate you reaching out to me with your posts.  I am trying really hard to learn what Cynthia is going through and trying to figure out my role in it all.

Thank you so much for the confirmation that Cynthia is still her and the same person she has always been.  She was just trying to reassure me of that this afternoon.  I really like how you explain that <deadname> doesn't get replaced by another person but rather just recalibrated.  That is so comforting to hear that no one goes away.  That you become more present.  Thank you for those words.  They really help me. 

You are so right, Courtney...people can be so unkind and just absolutely cruel. 

I guess I am guilty of some form of transphobia.  I had not heard that word before.  I do get uncomfortable with my spouse who was formerly known as a male when she changes her presentation.  She has presented twice now as female.  And both times it was very uncomfortable and weird for me.  I don't mean to feel that way at all.  Its just the feelings that came out when she presented as female.  I suppose it is because we learn from a very early age that its bad/wrong/embarassing/weird etc... for someone to step outside of the gender they were assigned at birth.  Thank you for pointing all of this out.  I love to read and am very interested in any books that would help right now. Thank you for your author/book suggestions.  I really appreciate it. 

Thank you for confirming for me that my spouse is not going away and my discomfort with the whole thing is a common response.  I feel bad for feeling that discomfort as I love Cynthia so very much and want to show her my support in any way that I can. I will remember to do a little self care for myself.  I do find that I need alot of support right now. Everyone on here has been so wonderful.  Everyone is helping me to see so that I can find my way out of this fog (a metaphor Susan uses). 

Thank you again for your post.  I really appreciate it Courtney. 

Warmly,
Amy 

Hi Susan,

I am trying to focus on one thing at a time and take one step at a time as you had suggested.  It is much easier than trying to figure out all the answers all at once. Right now the next step in front of me is my spouse's appointment on the 17th to start hormone therapy.  I have received wonderful information from other members regarding hormone therapy.  It has helped so much to receive all of that good information.  I am feeling a little anxious about it still.  Cynthia is excited about this step in her transition journey (which she should be-this is a dream she has had for lifetime) but I feel like I am left to figure out how to process this all still. I feel bad for feeling this way. I think this is where I need to remind myself to slow the frame and only focus on this next step in front of me. 

Thank you for affirming the way I feel about losing my spouse to another woman.  This new experience did stir up those memories from the past.  But as you so beautifully said, this is not the same story.  Cynthia is not leaving me or abandoning me.  I love how you said it is her living truthfully with me still in her heart.  I didn't think of it like that. 

I really like the idea of writing about my fears in a journal.  I think that would help alot.  Thank you for that suggestion.  I definitely think that writing more about what I am feeling would be a good idea.  I think it would help to get it all out of my head and onto paper. 

So much of the time I feel like too much is on my mind.  Things seem all jumbled up in my head and I can't find the words to say or write.  My mind does feel crowded and loud right now. It does help to let just one thought at a time have my attention.

I will keep holding onto the small, grounding steps.  I will try to focus on what helps me feel safe and steady each day. While also remembering that both love and fear can exist at the same time. 

Thank you for the reminder that I am not losing her. I love how you say that we are both "learning to love each other in a new light".  I need to remember that I don't have to have it all figured out yet.  I need to take small, gentle steps forward.  Thank you for being there as I process this all and take those steps forward.  Thank you for being you. 

Much love and respect,
Amy

Good morning all,

So, I had my counseling appointment this morning. Overall, I think it went well.  It definitely helped to have someone to talk to about everything going on; to have a space all my own to let everything out. 

I was reminded how this is a process and I am not going to figure everything out right away (even though my anxiety wants to have all the answers right now and have everything figured out right away).  That was so confirming as Susan has said that to me many times now.  Small steps are the way to go. I am reminded of that old question I have been asked many times; "how would you eat an elephant?".  One bite at a time...

I was also given some calming techniques to use for when I am in that "flight or fight" mode as she described it. She described the "episodes" that I am having as fighting back against this huge change.  That was surprising to me since I didn't really think to describe it as "fighting back" against this.  I have been working so hard to accept this change and take steps forward to process everything.  Has anyone else experienced "fighting back" against change or the news that your spouse is transgender? I would love you hear your experiences.   

She said to definitely try journaling as that can be very helpful.  I just have trouble sometimes getting the words out of my head onto paper.  Everything is just so jumbled up in my head that I can't sort through it all. I need to unravel that big ball of yarn in my mind. I am going to try to do what Susan said and give only one thought at a time my attention. Sometimes it is even hard to describe what I am feeling though.  The counselor let me know that that is ok too. This is something big. 

We also talked about change and how I don't like change at all. It is hard for me to even see my spouse without the beard.  She asked me a question that I couldn't answer - "what have you done in the past to handle change?".  I can't recall at all what I have done in the past to handle change. I am drawing a complete blank.  How do you all handle change?

The counselor also explained how life saving this is for my spouse.  And confirmed for me that the person she is isn't changing; just the "packaging". It was more confirmation of everything that I am hearing from you all.

The counselor said something that I found to be very encouraging; she said that she is hopeful that I will someday see this as a positive thing and that my spouse and I will grow stronger throughout all of this.  I know I have heard more than one person say on here say that we will grow stronger together throughout this journey.  Again, I received  confirmation of what I have been hearing from you all. 

I did tell her about Susan's Place and how I have found such wonderful support and encouragement here.  She thought everything that you all have been saying is spot on and is very glad to hear that I found this community.  I can't thank you all enough for the sound advice that I receive on here.  It is appreciated more than you know. The support and love that I receive here is overwhelming and I am so blessed by you all.  I truly am.  Thank you just isn't enough. 

Thank you for listening.

Love to you all,
Amy
 

Hi Amy,

Reading your updates together, I can see how intentionally you're doing this — one step, one breath, one clear piece of ground at a time. That's exactly the kind of progress that lasts. You've stopped trying to carry the whole mountain and instead you're choosing the next solid foothold and standing there until it feels steady. I'm proud of you for that.

The appointment on the 17th is a major milestone for both of you. It makes perfect sense to feel anxious even while Cynthia is excited — two true feelings can sit side by side. She's waited a lifetime for this, and her joy is beautiful. Your experience matters just as much. Loving her doesn't cancel the ache of change; it simply gives you a reason to keep walking through it with care.

I'm grateful you keep reminding yourself this is not the same story as the one your heart remembers. You're not being abandoned; you're being invited into a new chapter with the same person you love. When you wrote that you're "learning to love each other in a new light," you named the work exactly. Love isn't disappearing — it's adapting and finding new language.

I smiled repeatedly as I read about your counseling experience because I'd quietly predicted you would hear many of the same coping mechanisms and progressive steps there that we've talked about here. That tells me you're moving in a healthy direction, building a strong foundation that's being reinforced from every side. I'm really glad you have a therapist who gets it — and I want you to know that you're absolutely free to share any of my posts with her if it helps. In fact, it might be worth letting her read what you've written here yourself. It will help her see not only your fears, but also the progress you're making.

Your counselor affirmed something we've practiced: small steps are the way through. One bite at a time is how overwhelming things become survivable. What she described as "fight or flight" makes complete sense. Even when our minds understand that a change is good, our nervous systems can react as if the familiar has been pulled away. That doesn't mean you're resisting Cynthia; it means you're feeling the loss of what was familiar. Naming that reaction is the first step to soothing it.

About journaling — lean into it gently. You don't need perfect sentences or tidy paragraphs. Start anywhere and let it be honest: "I love..." or "I hate..." and then work through those thoughts. I love her courage. I hate feeling lost. I love how her smile is freer. I hate that my stomach knots when I see change. Let it come out as a jumble if that's what it is. Writing isn't about making sense first; it's about letting the noise leave your head long enough for meaning to start forming on the page. Processing happens through the words, not before them. If writing jams up, record a 30-second voice note and let yourself speak without editing. One clear thought captured can quiet the rest long enough for your system to settle.

When your mind feels crowded and loud, keep practicing what already helps: give just one thought your full attention, and let the next one wait its turn. Presence isn't silencing the noise; it's choosing which voice to listen to right now.

You also shared how hard it is to see Cynthia without the beard. That's honest and human; it doesn't make you unsupportive. One gentle way to meet that discomfort is to anchor every new change to something that hasn't moved: her laugh is still her laugh; we still make coffee together every morning; she still squeezes my hand three times. Those ordinary constants become handholds while the rest of the landscape shifts. Pair them with small grounding rituals — the same mug, the familiar walk, the playlist that lets you breathe. Safety often starts in the body before it reaches the mind.

Your counselor was right that this is life-saving for Cynthia. What's changing isn't who she is — it's that the outside is finally catching up to the inside you've known all along. That alignment doesn't erase your work; it gives your work purpose. And hearing that your counselor validated the support you've found here means a great deal to me. You sought out connection, shared honestly, and let others lift you when the weight was heavy. In doing so, you've become part of the support system that helps others, too.

You asked how people handle change. Everyone has a different language for it, but many of us do best when we pair each new, tender thing with one steady thing: a routine we can keep, a truth we can name, a relationship habit that remains. We let ourselves grieve what's shifting, and we celebrate what's enduring. We take the next right step, even without a perfect map.

As the 17th approaches, hold on to this: you are not losing her. You are both learning, patiently and imperfectly, to love each other in a new light. The woman she is becoming is the truest version of the person you already love. Through every anxious moment, every tear, and every quiet victory, you are not walking alone. I'm here, and this community is here, for the crowded-mind days and the peaceful ones that follow.

Keep grounding yourself in the small, steady things. Keep writing, even when it's messy. Keep giving yourself permission not to have it all figured out yet. Love doesn't break under change — it bends, reshapes, and, in time, becomes stronger.

With love, pride, and deep respect,
— Susan 💜

Hi Amy,

Glad to hear your appointment went well. One of the benefits of Susan's Place is the hundreds, or even thousands, of people who come here and share their stories. If you consider how many of us have spent years in therapy handling these types of situations, you can understand why professionals agree with what we say. It is just things we learned from other professionals over decades (in total) of therapy.

The reason journaling is so helpful is that you must think about what to write before you can write it. Your mind focuses on the thought and begins to organize your thoughts so that you can write a sentence about it. Focusing on one thought at a time helps keep you focused and prevents other thoughts from interfering and getting you sidetracked. Try writing the thought at the top of the page so you can keep looking at it and stay with that topic. If a new topic pops up, put that on a different page. Go back to it later.

Don't worry about being resistant to change. All humans resist change. We like our "comfort zone" and don't like being pushed out of it. This is normal human behavior. When I am forced to change something (I recently moved out of state), I think about what it is about that that bothers me. Most of the time, it is Fear of the Unknown. We don't know what will happen, and we fear the worst. We play "What If..." games in our minds, and it can drive us crazy! To combat Fear of the Unknown, do exactly what you are doing now: Learn. The more you know about something, the less fear you will have.

As a kid growing up in the California desert, I was scared to death of snakes. I had nightmares almost every night. One day on a class field trip, we visited the Desert Research Station, and they had every kind of snake local to the area. I was terrified. The Ranger asked me about my fear, and he told me the reason I was afraid was that I didn't know the difference between a poisonous snake and a non-poisonous snake. So he taught me. I never had that fear again, and even volunteered at the station where I was handling snakes of all kinds.

The problem here is that we cannot know all there is to know about the future. So the Fear of the Unknown will always rear its head. This is where faith plays its role. Faith in yourself that you will get through this. Faith in your spouse that they want you at their side throughout the process. And faith that you are not alone in this, because many people have walked this path and are cheering you on.

My dad says that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. So don't waste time worrying.

Something that I learned long ago: If you look back on your life, you have faced some really hard times. And yet, not one of them has beaten you! You are still here. I submit that you will never face any challenge that you cannot beat, as long as you don't give up.

Thanks for sharing about your appointment. It means a lot to us, too.

Amy, you continue to amaze me. I can honestly say that I don't think I've ever seen anybody handle such a huge life change with so much openness, integrity, and grace. Keep in mind that very few people experience something like this often in a lifetime, so nobody really gets the opportunity to "get good" at it. If and when it does happen, we have to deal with our own enormous discomfort at the same time as we try to navigate the situation that brought it about. Who is good at that? And yet here you are, showing up and working through it in exactly the way you need to. I'm humbled by your strength.

Susan has already made some phenomenal observations and recommendations. In particular, I think this is perfectly stated:

Quote from: Susan on November 12, 2025, 11:26:21 AMYou're not being abandoned; you're being invited into a new chapter with the same person you love.

The clarity of that truth cannot be overstated. When Cynthia came out to you, she wrote this:

Quote from: CynthiaR on September 29, 2025, 06:38:24 AMI cannot express in words what an absolute angel that woman is. I can only hope that her support continues as she begins to see the woman revealed.

And later she added this:

Quote from: CynthiaR on September 29, 2025, 02:32:31 PMYes, I have found a therapist. I've been working with her the past few weeks and will continue to work with her. Honestly, it was her just confirming that what I was experiencing was gender dysphoria, that gave me the courage to finally admit who I am, to the most important person in my life, my wife. I must admit, after some of our recent conversations, I've never felt closer to her. I certainly do want her involved and my intention is to have her attend upcoming sessions as my therapist and her see to be beneficial.

There is no question that she wants you right there with her. So it sounds like you two want the same thing; it's just a matter of adapting to a new way to be herself fully.

You mentioned that you don't feel like you've been "fighting back." I wonder if those words evoke too specific a meaning and that "resistance" wouldn't be a simpler way to think of it. It's pretty natural for us to encounter a situation that isn't what we expected or wanted and find ourselves in resistance to it. "No, I don't want this." "This isn't what was supposed to happen." "I wasn't ready for this." But reality is whatever it is, and sometimes that is really different from our expectations. Resisting reality just makes the experience that much harder for us and potentially for others. There comes a point when surrendering and accepting is a more effective approach, maybe the only option.

I say this from direct experience. At the beginning of this year, I got hit with a life-shaking bombshell. I didn't sleep for 3 days and felt unsure what to do about anything. My wife recommended that I read Eckhart Tolle's "Stillness Speaks" - something she'd asked me to do years earlier, but I, well... I had resisted. I read it very slowly, making sure I absorbed every sentence, and I quickly began to get it. I was too much in my mind, living my life from a template of how I thought I'm supposed to be, how other people should be, how life ought to be. And none of those things were exactly as my mind conceived them, so I was always in some way or another resisting what is actually true. The solution is very simply (though not simply does not mean easily) to shed that nonsense about shoulds, surrender to what is, and accept that what is actually happening is what life actually is. I realized that what that meant for me in practice was living my life from my heart instead of from my head. As crazy as it may sound, it was when I began doing that that it became crystal clear to me that I am a woman. I can tell you that I've never been happier than I am now, but that's not what I think is the important part. It's that I am at peace in a way that I never knew was possible. I accept that the world is the way that it is, and I find this entire experience of life as a human to be utterly miraculous - even when my best-laid plans go completely sideways.

That's a long way of saying that "fighting back" can take many forms, but I think they all come from a place of resisting what is. Seeing that and learning to let it go is a huge challenge that far too many people never confront in their lives.

I also second Susan's suggestions about journaling. You don't need to do it for anyone but yourself, so it can be as messy as it needs to be. I know I have times when I'll have a clear thought or feeling and then later can't remember or recreate it. If I'd just had a couple of words written down, I'd have been able to look at and maybe pick up where I left off. Sometimes when I read things I wrote even yesterday, I'll think, "What did I mean by that?" Then I'll explore it a bit more inside myself and come up with one more detail or example that helps flesh it out a bit more. Digging around inside yourself to observe how your heart works, how your mind works, and how they work together or against each other is challenging, but it's so worth it. All too often, we find that we've been operating for decades on "instincts" that were developed in response to stimuli during our early lives, and they're not only no longer necessary but they're actually impeding our growth and success.

So, Amy, again I say: You are doing this so beautifully. Please be gentle with yourself. Show yourself the same love and patience that you do to Cynthia and to your children. You deserve that.

Thank you again.

Pema

Hi Susan,

I am intentionally reminding myself to take one step, one breath at a time.  When my anxiety wants to know all the answers and figure everything out now, I have to stop it and remind myself to shrink that frame back down and focus on one thing at a time. I really like how you say that "one bite at a time it how overwhelming things become survivable".  Things definitely become more manageable when they are broken down into smaller pieces.  It means so much to me that you are proud of me.  Thank you for that. 

Thank you for reminding me that two true feelings can sit side by side; that I can feel anxious even while Cynthia is excited. Her joy is beautiful to see and I don't want to take any of that joy from her.  She has waited so long for this to happen and I am truly happy for her and also have the ache of change within me. 

I find myself needing to remind myself frequently that this is not the same story that my heart remembers.  I am truly honored to be invited into a new chapter with Cynthia.  I am grateful she trusts me enough to have me along this journey with her. 

It is really good to hear you say that I am moving in the right direction and building a foundation that is being reinforced on all sides.  It is because of all of you on here that I am able to move through the fog and see the light.  I am hopeful that this counselor will be helpful to me.  Thank you for your permission to share your posts with my counselor.  I think it would be a great idea to also have her read my posts on here.   

I think that is how my nervous system is reacting-as if the familiar has been pulled away from me.  I am resisting losing what I know and not resisting Cynthia.  Thank you for pointing that out.

I will begin to journal gently.  I really like starting with the thoughts of "I love" or "I hate".  That gives me a starting point to get my thoughts out of my head and down on paper.  I also like the idea of recording a voice note if I cannot write.  I think that would really help me. I will try to give just one thought my attention at a time. 

Yeah, it is really hard for me to see my spouse without the beard and also to see her growing out her hair.  I will try to meet this discomfort by anchoring these new changes to something that hasn't moved.  That really helps to do that.  I will also do the small grounding rituals that you mentioned. 

Cynthia was just explaining to me today how it felt like she had been in a prison and not finally feels like she is being set free. I know she has struggled for so long in such a dark place and how life saving this transition really is for her.  I never thought to look at it as the outside is finally catching up to the inside that I have known all along.  It definitely helps to see it that way. 

I have found beautiful support here and am so happy that the counselor saw that and validated that.  I truly don't know what I would do without all of you.  I hope to one day being able to offer others the same support I have and do receive. 

Thank you for that beautiful explanation on how to handle change.  I love how you say to pair each new thing with one steady thing.  And to let myself grieve what is shifting and celebrate what is enduring.  I also need to remember to take the next step even though I don't have a perfect map. 

As Cynthia's appointment approaches, I will hold onto the truth that I am not losing her.  I will try to remember that we are learning to love each other in a new light. Thank you as well for reminding me that I am not walking alone. You and this beautiful community are here.  That means the world to me.  Thank you Susan.

With love and gratitude,
Amy

Hi Lori Dee,

I am so grateful for all you on here and for sharing your experiences with me and words of wisdom and encouragement.  I know so many here have walked this journey before me and I am so thankful for this space where they can come and share that experience with others.  I have already learned so much. 

Thank you for sharing with me why journaling is so helpful.  I am hopeful that journaling will slow my thoughts down enough to get them on paper.  I really like the idea of writing the thought at the top of the page.  I am definitely going to try that. 

I find that I am so resistant to change.  I do like my comfort zone and don't like being pushed out of it.  Thank you for affirming that it is normal behavior.  Fear of the Unknown is huge.  I play the "what if" games in my head constantly right now Lori.  Thank you for telling me how to combat that fear of the unknown.  I will continue to learn as much as I can.  Thank you for your example of your fear with the snakes.  I appreciate it. 

You are so right...there is no way to know all there is to know about the future.  That fear of the unknown will always be there.  I will remember that this is where faith comes in. I really like what your Dad says: "90% of the things we worry about never happen. So don't waste time worrying".  Those are very wise words to live by.

Thank you for sharing with me what you learned: that when you look back on your life, you have faced some really hard times but no one of them has beaten you!  I will remember that and try to remember that I will never face any challenge that I cannot beat as long as I don't give up.  Thank you for those words and your support.  It means so much to me. 

With warmth and thanks,
Amy

Hi Pema,

Thank you once again for your beautiful words and your faith in me.  It means more than you know.  That is really something good to keep in my mind-that very few people experience something like this in their lives so no one really gets the opportunity to get good at it.  I am dealing with my discomfort at the same time trying to navigate my spouse's transition.  I don't feel very strong right now Pema.

I really like how Susan said that too; that I am not being abandoned but that I am being invited into a new chapter with Cynthia.  I am so humbled by the words Cynthia wrote when she came out to me.  I don't know what I did to deserve such wonderful words.  I want to be right there with her throughout her transition journey. 

Resistance is a simpler way to think of it versus fighting back.  I have thought all of those thoughts that you listed.  My new reality is very different from my expectations.  You are right;  I am going to have to stop resisting my new reality and surrender and accept it.  Thank you so much for sharing your most recent experience with me Pema.  I really appreciate you doing that.  I find that I am now too much in my mind right now. I really like how you said that for you in practice meant living your life from the heart instead of the head.  That is really beautiful.  Thank you for the name of the book your read and the author's name.  It sounds like a really
good book to read. I am so happy for you that you have never been happier and are at peace in a way that you never knew was possible.  That makes my heart happy to hear that. 

I think you are absolutely right.  Fighting back comes from a place of resisting what is. That is the challenge for me right now.  I need to confront that. 

Thank you for your confirmation that journaling is a good idea.  Thank you too for sharing your experience with journaling with me.  It helps to hear all of that. 

Thank you so much Pema for your very kind words and your vote of confidence in me  Some days I am not sure I am handling this very well at all.  Your words mean so much to me. 

With love,
Amy

Quote from: Pema on November 12, 2025, 01:26:48 PMI was too much in my mind, living my life from a template of how I thought I'm supposed to be, how other people should be, how life ought to be. And none of those things were exactly as my mind conceived them, so I was always in some way or another resisting what is actually true. The solution is very simply (though not simply does not mean easily) to shed that nonsense about shoulds, surrender to what is, and accept that what is actually happening is what life actually is. I realized that what that meant for me in practice was living my life from my heart instead of from my head. As crazy as it may sound, it was when I began doing that that it became crystal clear to me that I am a woman. I can tell you that I've never been happier than I am now, but that's not what I think is the important part. It's that I am at peace in a way that I never knew was possible. I accept that the world is the way that it is, and I find this entire experience of life as a human to be utterly miraculous - even when my best-laid plans go completely sideways. 

That's a long way of saying that "fighting back" can take many forms, but I think they all come from a place of resisting what is. Seeing that and learning to let it go is a huge challenge that far too many people never confront in their lives.

Hi Pema,

After reading through your post again, I have a question.  How do I surrender to what is and accept that what is actually happening is what life actually is?  How do I accept my new reality and not resist it?  How do I let go of resisting what is?  You mentioned that you what that meant for you in practice was to live life from your heart instead of from your head. How do you live life from the heart instead of from the head? 

Thank you for any advice/input you have.  My apologies if you already answered these questions in your last post and I overlooked your answers. 

With love,
Amy

Quote from: Mairen on November 03, 2025, 12:39:34 PMHi and welcome 💛

It think it really shows your strength that you're choosing to work through this with your husband. That's not easy, and it says a lot about the love between you. I'm so glad you've got an appointment to speak to a therapist — that's such a good step. You don't need to feel alone in this. There are so many lovely people here who truly understand and will meet you with kindness. I've found support here too, in my own situation, and I hope you'll feel that soon, one gentle step at a time.

With love,

Mairen

Hi Mairen, 

I apoligize that I didn't respond sooner to your post. I just saw it.  I feel so bad for not responding sooner. 

Thank you so much for your post welcoming me and your kind words.  I remain committed to working through this with my spouse. Thank you for the confirmation that speaking with therapist is a good step to take.  I agree that it was a very important step to take.   I have been met with such kindness and love on here.  Everyone has been so great.  It has been a life line for me.  I am so very glad to hear that you have support here too in your own situation.  I look forward to engaging with you on here. 

Thank you again for your post.

Warmly,
Amy

Hi, Amy.

How to do those things... That's the real challenge, isn't it? I can't do justice to what Eckhart Tolle says in "Stillness Speaks," so I definitely encourage you to read it and really try to feel and practice what he describes in it.

Meanwhile, here's what I took away from it and what really opened things up for me.

• When you experience that familiar anxiety, become aware of it and observe it closely - as if you're an impartial observer watching someone else. Notice what you feel in your body and where.
• Try not to judge it as "bad." Just allow it to be, but bring it forward from your reactive subconscious to your very present-in-the-moment conscious. "Oh, there it is. Look at what I'm doing."
• Also ask yourself: Am I fully here in the present moment, or am I allowing my mind to carry me into the past or the future? (Neither the past nor the future actually exist. All we ever have is this moment.) If you are in your mind at some other time, you are essentially not engaging in what is actually occurring right now but are instead fantasizing about something that isn't happening.
• Now ask yourself: Is my doing this serving me? Is it serving anyone else?
• Finally, ask yourself: Can I just stop engaging in it? Can I let it go and be fully present in this moment (where there really is no actual "problem")?
• Then just practice letting it go and being present with what is right there in front of you instead of engaging with the stories your mind wants you to worry about.

The specifics of my circumstances were different from yours, but the process was the same. I got to watch myself "do what I always do" and decided that I didn't want to do it anymore. It doesn't come naturally, because most of us are sleepwalking, living our lives through the stories that we were told about who we were and that we internalized and continued to tell ourselves. The truth is that we have the opportunity to respond to every moment from our heart with integrity, but we can't do that if we're lost in our heads imagining a reality that doesn't exist.

It takes practice. Except for a small handful of people, nobody just flips a switch and does this from that point forward. First you have to see yourself doing your routine and realize that you are getting in your own way. In time, I would start to see the very early signs of my emotional reactions, and I would just stop what I was doing and cry - partly because I recognized how rigid and automated I had been and the ways that that had harmed my relationships with people who loved me, and partly because a doorway was now wide-open in front of me, and all I had to do was walk through it and be who I really am. And who I really am is a wide-awake, fully present person, not someone living in a fantasy of supposed-to-bes.

So there is no shortcut. You just have to observe yourself, ask whether you want to keep doing what you're doing to yourself, and stop doing what isn't working for you.

When I started shedding what didn't serve me, it left an enormous void in my sense of who I was. For 61 years, I'd lived my life seeing myself as "this way," and suddenly a big chunk of that was just gone. Without my doing anything about it, I felt as if out of nowhere, unconditional love rushed in to fill that space. What I learned was that I had been actively shutting out this amazing experience of joy by clinging to a false story about myself and my life. I don't ever want to do that again, but I will if I allow myself to go back to sleep. It's all about being here, now, present with what is.

But again, Eckhart spells much more clearly than I can.

I wish you the very best on this path to knowing yourself and allowing yourself to grow beyond the bounds of conditioning that your life has imposed on you. I have absolutely no doubt that you are up to the task. We are cheering for you.

Love,
Pema

Hi Pema,

It is certainly a challenge to do those things.  I will get the book "Stillness Speaks".  Thank you for the recommendation.

Thank you so much for sharing with me what you took away from the book and what really opened things up for you.  Those are some great techniques to use and I really look forward to reading the book. 

I love the idea of responding to each moment from the heart and not our head. It is definitely going to take some practice on my part.  I get so lost in my head sometimes that I can't see clearly.  That is the fog that Susan refers to. I find myself living in the "supposed-to-bes" alot.

I really like how you said that you shed what didn't serve you.  Thank you so much for sharing that process with me.  It is truly heart warming and encouraging to me.  I also like how you said that it is about being present with what is.  I can see that my mind does go back to the past and tries to predict the future.   

Thank you so much for sharing everything that you did with me. I wish I had the words to give a more meaningful response to such a beautiful reply from you.   

Thank you for your very kind words.  I do want to know myself and allow myself to grow. Thank you for being there and for cheering me on.  It means so much to me.

With love,
Amy

Hi Amy,

I'm sorry for the delay in responding — the last few days have been exhausting after everything that's happened, but I wanted to make sure I answered you with my full attention instead of rushing.

With that out of the way, let's go back to your last reply to me.

Stop. Read what you just wrote to me again. I need you to see something.

You wrote: "I am resisting losing what I know and not resisting Cynthia."

Amy, do you understand what you just did? You separated two things that most people never separate. You didn't say "I can't handle this" or "this is too hard" or "I don't know if I can do this." You identified exactly what's happening: Your nervous system is fighting the loss of the familiar, not fighting the person you love.

That distinction - that clarity - is everything. It's the difference between "I'm rejecting my spouse" and "I'm grieving what feels like safety." One of those things you can work with. The other just creates guilt and shame that makes everything harder.

And then you wrote this: "Her joy is beautiful to see and I don't want to take any of that joy from her. She has waited so long for this to happen and I am truly happy for her and also have the ache of change within me."

You're holding two truths at once. Her joy and your ache. Both real. Both valid. Both allowed to exist in the same space. That's not just mature - that's love. Real love. The kind that doesn't require you to pretend you're not hurting in order to support someone else. The kind that says "I can celebrate you and grieve for myself at the same time."

But here's what I'm hearing underneath all of this: You're doing all the right things cognitively. You're breaking things down. You're shrinking the frame. You're being present. You're supporting Cynthia. But your body hasn't caught up yet. Your nervous system is still sending alarm signals every time you look at Cynthia without the beard, every time you see her hair growing longer. Those alarm bells aren't ringing because something is wrong - they're ringing because something is different, and your brain interprets "different" as "dangerous" when it comes to the people we depend on.

Let me explain what's actually happening in your nervous system, because understanding this will help you work with it instead of against it:

For nine years, your brain has built a detailed map of "safe person" that includes specific visual markers - beard, short hair, masculine presentation. Those markers weren't just cosmetic to your nervous system. They were part of how your brain recognized "this is my partner, this is safe, this is home." Now those markers are changing, and your primitive brain - the part that just wants to keep you alive and safe - is sending distress signals: "Warning! The familiar pattern is disappearing! We might be losing our safe person!"

This isn't about whether you consciously accept Cynthia's transition. This is about your nervous system needing time to build a new map of "safe person" that includes the new markers. That takes time. It takes repetition. It takes your brain seeing Cynthia without the beard over and over and over again while nothing bad happens, until eventually the new appearance becomes the familiar one.

You can't think your way out of this. You can't logic yourself into not feeling that jolt when you look at her. But you can give your nervous system the tools it needs to recalibrate faster.

For the visual changes that trigger your nervous system:

You said you'll try to anchor new changes to something that hasn't moved. Let's make that more specific and deliberate. When you look at Cynthia and feel that jolt of "this is wrong/different/scary," immediately - and I mean immediately - do this:

Find her eyes. The eyes don't change. Look into them and find the person you know. The same person who's been looking at you for nine years. Let your brain register: "Same eyes. Same person. Still safe."

Listen to her voice. Yes, HRT may change it eventually, but right now it's still the voice that's said "I love you" a thousand times. Let your nervous system hear: "Same voice. Same person. Still home."

Notice the small mannerisms. The way she laughs. The way she tilts her head when she's thinking. The way she moves her hands when she's excited. These tiny gestures are often the most stable parts of someone's identity. Your brain can anchor to these.

If you're close enough, notice her smell. Scent is one of the most primitive and powerful anchors we have. Unless she's dramatically changing all her products, her basic scent is still there. Let your nervous system register: "Same smell. Same person. Still mine."

The beard is gone. That's a real loss for you, and you're allowed to grieve it privately. But in the moment when that loss hits, train yourself to immediately find what hasn't moved. You're teaching your nervous system: "Yes, some things changed. But look - all these other things are still here. We're still safe."

This isn't about pretending the changes don't matter. It's about giving your brain enough stable reference points that it can stop sending panic signals.

For holding your grief without crushing her joy:

You said you don't want to take any joy from Cynthia. I love that impulse, but you need a place to put the ache that isn't just "suck it up and smile." That's not sustainable, and eventually it will come out sideways.

Here's a practice for exactly this situation: When you feel the grief rising while Cynthia is in a moment of joy, try this four-step process:

• Acknowledge it internally: "There's the ache. I see you. You're real and you matter."
• Tell it you'll come back: "This isn't the time to process you. I'll give you my full attention later."
• Set an actual appointment: "Tonight at 9pm, I'm journaling about this" or "Tomorrow morning, I'm posting on Susan's Place about this feeling." Be specific. Your nervous system needs to know the grief will be heard, just not right this second.
• Release it for now: Let it go, trusting that you've made a commitment to come back to it, and return your attention to the present moment with Cynthia.

This isn't suppression. This is triage. You're not ignoring the grief - you're giving it a designated time and place so it doesn't have to crash into every beautiful moment. This is how you protect her joy while honoring your ache. Both get space. Neither gets erased.

About the journaling - why it actually works:

When I suggested starting with "I love" or "I hate," here's what that's really for:

Right now, your head is like a washing machine on spin cycle. Everything is tumbling together - anxiety, grief, love, fear, resentment, hope, guilt, tenderness - all of it swirling into one massive, undifferentiated ball of FEELING. That's what creates the fog you keep talking about. Your nervous system can't process a tangled ball of emotion. It just knows "OVERWHELM" and sends more panic signals.

The journaling prompts are about separating the tangled mass into individual threads you can actually see and work with.

When you write "I hate that the beard is gone," that's one discrete thing.
When you write "I love how Cynthia's eyes light up when she talks about her future," that's a different discrete thing.
When you write "I'm afraid I won't be attracted to women," that's another discrete thing.
When you write "I love that she trusts me enough to share this journey," that's yet another.

You're not trying to make these things fit together logically. You're not trying to reconcile them or resolve them. You're just pulling them out of the spin cycle and laying them out where you can see them as separate entities.

Each time you name something - "I'm afraid of..." "I'm angry about..." "I love..." "I hate..." - you're taking it out of your body and putting it somewhere external. That creates space inside you. Space to breathe. Space to think clearly. Space to feel the next thing without everything crashing together.

It's also permission to feel things you might judge yourself for feeling. When you write "I hate that I have to figure out if I'm attracted to women" or "I'm angry that my life plan got derailed" in private, you're not a bad person. You're being honest. And that honesty is what allows the feeling to move through you instead of getting stuck. Stuck feelings just get heavier and denser. Acknowledged feelings eventually shift and transform.

The voice notes serve the same function when writing feels impossible - when your hands are shaking or you're crying too hard to hold a pen, but you can still speak. Get it out however you can. The medium doesn't matter. The externalization does.

For the anxiety that wants all the answers right now:

You're already doing the right thing by shrinking the frame. Let's add one more specific tool. When your mind starts spinning into "what if" territory about the future, use this exact sequence:

First, ask: "What is actually happening right now, in this present moment?"

Not what might happen at the appointment. Not what could happen in six months. Not what you're afraid of. What is actually, physically happening right now?

Usually the answer is something like: "Right now I'm sitting on the couch. Right now I'm safe. Right now my body is fed and warm. Right now Cynthia and I are still here together. Right now nothing is on fire."

The catastrophe isn't happening in the present moment. It's only happening in your imagination of the future. And your imagination, when it's running on anxiety, is a terrible fortune teller.

Then ask: "What is the one thing I need to do next?"

Not the seventeen things. Not the whole plan. Just one concrete action. Maybe it's: make dinner. Maybe it's: text the counselor back. Maybe it's: take a shower. Maybe it's: drink a glass of water.

When you give your brain one specific, achievable task, it stops spinning. It has something to do instead of something to fear.

For Cynthia's upcoming appointment:

You said you'll try to remember you're not losing her. Let me give you something stronger than "try." Let me give you a reframe that might actually stick:

Cynthia is not being created at that appointment. Cynthia is being revealed.

The person who's been in prison, as she described it? That's who's been hidden. The person you've loved for nine years? You've been loving the real Cynthia all along, even when she was behind walls she couldn't name or couldn't tear down yet.

This appointment isn't taking someone away from you. It's removing the barriers between you and the fullness of who she's always been. The outside is finally catching up to the inside you've known all along - you said that yourself, and it's exactly right.

Think about it this way: When you met her, when you fell in love with her, when you married her - you were responding to who she was, not just what she looked like. Her humor. Her kindness. Her way of seeing the world. Her quirks. Her values. The way she made you feel. That person hasn't changed. That person is finally getting to show up fully instead of partially.

I know that doesn't make the changes easy. But it might help you hold onto the truth that the person you love isn't going anywhere. The presentation is changing. The package is different. But the soul you married - that hasn't moved an inch.

About that "prison" metaphor:

When Cynthia said she feels like she's being set free, I want you to understand something really important about timing:

You can feel joy for her freedom and grief for yourself at the same time. Her liberation doesn't require your immediate celebration if you're still processing what that freedom costs you. You're allowed to take your time catching up emotionally.

Here's why: Cynthia has probably been living with this knowledge for years. Maybe decades. Maybe her whole life. She's had time - even if it was painful, secret, shame-filled time - to sit with this truth about herself. You've had weeks. She's been in a years-long process. You're at the very beginning of yours.

Of course you're not in the same place emotionally. Of course she's ready to run out of the prison while you're still adjusting to the fact that the prison existed at all. That's not a failure on your part. That's just the reality of being on completely different timelines.

She gets to celebrate her freedom. You get to grieve the loss of the familiar. Both of those things are true and valid and necessary. Neither one cancels out the other. You don't have to speed up your grief to match her joy, and she shouldn't have to slow down her joy to match your grief. You're both exactly where you need to be.

The grounding rituals:

You said you'll do the small grounding rituals I mentioned. I want to emphasize how important those are, especially as the appointment gets closer and your anxiety ramps up. These aren't just nice ideas - they're tools for regulating your nervous system when it starts to spiral.

When you feel overwhelmed:

• Put your hand on your heart and feel it beating. Steady. Still here. Still alive.
• Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. This pulls you out of your head and into your body, into the present.
• Text someone in this community. You're not alone in this, and your nervous system needs to be reminded of that when the fog gets thick.

One last thing:

You said you hope to one day be able to offer others the same support you've received. Amy, you're already doing it. Every single time you post honestly about what you're feeling - the hard stuff, the ugly stuff, the "I don't know if I can do this" stuff - you're giving someone else permission to feel it too. Every time you show up here and say "I'm struggling with this specific thing," you're teaching someone else that struggling doesn't mean failing.

You think you're just receiving right now. But you're already giving. Your honesty is a gift. Your vulnerability is teaching other partners that they're not alone, that ambivalence is normal, that love and grief can coexist.

You're not just surviving this. You're learning to build something new while honoring what was. That's sacred work.

Keep doing exactly what you're doing. Keep shrinking the frame when anxiety hits. Keep anchoring to what hasn't moved. Keep giving your grief a designated time and place. Keep finding Cynthia's eyes when the changes feel like too much. Keep showing up here with your honest heart.

You're not walking alone. We're here. And you're doing better than you think you are.

With love,
Susan

Dear Susan,

Don't be sorry at all.  I can't imagine the weight of what you have been carrying.  I am just so grateful that you are able to reply to me as you are able to.

I didn't realize the significance of what I had written to you.  That I am resisting losing what I know and not resisting Cynthia. I did not understand what I had done so thank you for pointing that out to me.  I am definitely grieving the loss of the familiar.  I am so relieved to hear that my nervous system is fighting that and not my spouse. 

I am also relieved to hear that I can hold Cynthia's joy and my ache of change at the same time and that that is ok. This change is so hard for me to process and at the same time I want to celebrate Cynthia and the journey she is on.  I am glad I don't have to pretend that I am not hurting to be able to support my spouse. 

Thank you for explaining about my body not catching up yet.  I really wondered why I was having such a hard time every time I see Cynthia without the beard or every time I see her hair growing longer; feeling that jolt whenever I look at her.  These are very different from what I am used to seeing.  It helps to have the insight that my brain interprets different as dangerous when it comes to the people we depend on.  Thank you, too, for explaining what my nervous system is doing so I can recognize that and work with it instead of against it. 

Oh Susan, I definitely feel like I am losing my safe person. The familiar also feels like it is disappearing.  Thank you for explaining to me why this is.  Thank you for explaining too that this isn't about me consciously accepting Cynthia's transition but rather my nervous system needing time to build a new map of "safe person".  That makes so much sense to  me.  Will this process keep happening over and over as Cynthia keeps changing her appearance throughout her transition?

Thank you so much for all the wonderful tools you gave me to help my nervous system recalibrate faster.  I will make sure I do all of those things as soon as I feel that jolt of this is wrong/different/scary. As soon as I feel the loss of the beard or the loss of the short hair, I will find what hasn't moved. 

Thank you so much for the four step process that I can use when I feel grief coming up when Cynthia is in a moment of joy.  I really don't want to take any of her joy away from her. She has waited so long for this and is excited about taking the first steps in her transition journey.   

I really need to start journaling.  The prompts you gave me are so helpful to me.  I need a place to start from to unravel that big ball of yarn in my head.  I now understand that the prompts will help me to separate that tangled mess into individual threads that I can actually see and work with.  I need to get it out of my head and onto paper.

One of the journal prompt examples you used really struck a chord with me Susan. Its the one that says "I am afraid I won't be attracted to women".  I have wrestled all day today with the question of how I learn to be with a women versus a man. I don't know how to make that leap from liking men to liking women.  I am afraid that I won't be attracted to a woman. I am keeping an open mind about all of this.  I just don't know how to learn to be with a woman. 

I do judge myself for feeling the way that I am. I can see how writing my feelings out will help.  Being honest in my writings will help that feeling move through me instead of getting stuck.  I really like the idea of voice notes when I can't write. 

Thank you so much for the sequence to use when the "what ifs" start and for the anxiety that wants all of the answers right now.   This will be so helpful to me. I get lost in the 'what ifs" and "should bes" sometimes. 

Thank you so much for that "reframe" that I can use for Cynthia's upcoming appointment.  That will actually stick!  I am going to write that down on an index card so that I can have it in front of me to keep saying. 

Thank you for the reassurance that the person Cynthia is isn't changing or going away.  I needed to hear that.  I have been having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that she isn't changing. What she looks like is changing but not the soul. It does help me to hold onto to the truth that the person I love isn't going anywhere. Its the packaging that is going to change not the person on the inside. 

I am relieved to hear that I can feel joy for Cynthia's freedom and still grieve for myself at the same time.  I am definitely still trying to process what her freedom costs me.  I feel bad for feeling that way right now but that's where I am at right now.  It is going to take me time to catch up to her emotionally since this is something new to me.  I never thought about us being in different places emotionally right now.  Thank you for the reminder that both truths are valid-Cynthia can celebrate her freedom and I can grieve the loss of the familiar. 

Thank you for the grounding rituals that I can use when my nervous system starts to spiral.  I can feel the anxiety ramp up as Cynthia's appointment gets closer. 

Thank you for your very kind words  I do feel like I am just receiving right now.  I will keep on doing what I am doing and start doing everything you suggested in your post.  I appreciate everything that you shared with me Susan. 

Thank you for being you and for this beautiful community/family.  It helps so much to know that I am not walking alone. 

Much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Watching the speed of your growth since Cynthia's coming out is breathtaking and, to put it bluntly, more than a little awe-inspiring. The way you are integrating these concepts — not just hearing them, but actively working with them to reshape your understanding — shows a depth of emotional courage that takes some people years to develop. You are doing this in weeks.

What you just articulated — that you are resisting the loss of the familiar, not resisting Cynthia herself — is one of the most important realizations anyone in your position can reach. Your nervous system is not fighting your spouse. It is fighting disruption to the internal map of "home" your brain built around her. That is why the beard, the hair, the small visual shifts hit so hard. They are not threats, even though they feel like it. They are simply different, and your body has not updated its map yet. You are already working with that reality instead of fighting it, which is exactly how healing begins.

You asked if this recalibration happens repeatedly as Cynthia continues to change. Yes, sweetheart, it does — but not in a way you need to fear. Early on, your nervous system treats each new change as another unknown. But each time you soothe it, each time you reconnect with something that has not moved, each time you ground yourself in the truth that the person you love is still right there, the alarm dims. Recovery happens faster. The jolts soften.

Think of it like this: the first time, your nervous system is learning that change can be safe. The second time, it is reinforcing that learning. By the third or fourth time, your nervous system starts to expect change and does not sound the alarm as loudly. The jolts become smaller. The recovery time shortens. You are building a new skill: the ability to hold "different" without it meaning "dangerous."

And then one day, without fanfare, your mind simply catches up. The "new" face stops feeling new. The updated map becomes the familiar one. It is the moment partners often describe as: "There you are. I know you." Not as she used to be, but as who she is. The person you see becomes simply Cynthia — not despite the changes, but including them.

Now, I want to speak directly to the fear you shared about attraction — the part of you that wonders how you "learn to be with a woman" or whether you can be attracted to one. Amy, that fear is so normal. It is spoken quietly in the hearts of so many partners, and it deserves space, not shame.

But here is what I need you to understand: it is far too early to know the answer to that question. Your nervous system is still treating Cynthia's changes as threats. Your brain is still firing "different equals dangerous" alarms. Of course attraction feels complicated right now — your entire system is in emergency mode. You cannot assess genuine attraction while your nervous system is screaming. It would be like trying to taste a fine meal while running from a fire. The fear response drowns out everything else.

So here is what I am asking you to do instead: do not prejudge any outcome.

Not "I will never be attracted to a woman."
Not "I should be fine with this."
Not "This means our marriage is over."
Not "I have to make this work."

None of these conclusions are guarantees of where you will end up in all this, and one thing you need to be careful of is making these predictions become self-fulfilling prophecies. When we declare an outcome before we have actually lived through it, we risk creating that reality through our own expectations rather than discovering what is genuinely true.

You are not being asked to suddenly figure out how to be with "a woman" in the abstract. You are learning how to be with Cynthia — the person whose soul you already know, the person whose laugh, presence, and kindness are familiar to you in a way no category ever could be. Many partners discover that their attraction was always to this specific person, and that person is still right there. But they cannot access that truth until the alarm bells stop ringing.

What you need right now is time — time for your nervous system to settle, time for the recalibration process to happen, time for the acute grief to soften, time for Cynthia's authentic self to become the familiar version your brain recognizes as home. That process takes months, sometimes longer. And you cannot rush it or force it or decide it with your mind.

Right now, your only job is to notice what is true in the present without judgment. When you look at Cynthia, what rises in your chest? What pulls you forward? What makes you flinch? What feels confusing? What feels tender? None of it is wrong. All of it is information.

Write it in your journal: "Today when I looked at Cynthia, I felt..." Just observe. Track the evolution without predicting what it means for the future. Your feelings will shift and change as Cynthia's transition progresses and as your nervous system recalibrates. The you of six months from now may feel very differently than the you of today.

Your journaling is going to be such a powerful tool here. When you write "I am afraid I will not be attracted to women," you are not locking that fear into place — you are letting it move. You are making room for what comes next. You are giving yourself the honesty and compassion this process requires. Let the fear speak. Let the grief speak. Let the confusion speak. Let even the small sparks of hope or curiosity speak. They all deserve space. And when writing is not possible, those voice notes will help you stay connected instead of staying stuck.

Give yourself the gift of time. Give your nervous system the space to recalibrate. Give your relationship room to find its new shape. Do not close any doors yet. Do not make any declarations. Just notice, breathe, and let time do what time does.

You are also holding one of the hardest dual truths with such care: that Cynthia's joy is real and deserves celebration, and that your grief is real and deserves compassion. Her freedom does cost you something — the familiar rhythms, the expected future, the version of partnership your nervous system built its sense of home around. Naming that does not diminish your love for her; it honors your humanity.

You said, "I feel bad for feeling that way right now but that's where I am at right now." Amy, please hear me: you do not have to feel bad for being where you are. The loss you are experiencing is real. Acknowledging it does not make you unsupportive. It makes you honest.

You and Cynthia are in different emotional places right now. She is stepping into long-awaited freedom. You are stepping into unanticipated change. Both are valid. Both are true. And both can coexist without either one canceling the other out. You can grieve your losses while celebrating her gains. You can feel the weight of change while helping her move forward. You can be uncertain about the future while showing up fully in the present.

The tools you are using — grounding, reframing, slowing the frame, challenging the "what ifs," breaking emotion into pieces you can hold — are already serving you. That index card with the reframe for her appointment is brilliant. Keep it where you will see it often. Keep using the four-step process when grief rises during Cynthia's moments of joy. Keep doing the grounding practices when your nervous system starts to spiral. Keep going. None of this is easy, but you are not standing still. You are moving forward with intention, honesty, and courage.

Amy, you are not just receiving. You are doing the work. You are metabolizing new understanding. You are exploring your fears with openness. You are holding space for Cynthia's joy without abandoning your own needs. And you are staying connected instead of running from the hard parts.

You are walking a path that can feel lonely, but you are not walking it alone. We are here. I am here. And you are doing far better than you give yourself credit for.

With love, respect, and a truly grateful heart,
Susan

Dear Susan,

I am humbled by your words of praise for how much growth you see in me since Cynthia came out to me.  It is hard to see that in myself some days.  Like today; today has been hard.  The fog is thick today and my anxiety is at an all time high and I am trying to tease out why that is.  Today is the closest that I have ever come to having a panic attack.  I find myself thinking thoughts such as "I don't know if I can do this".  Maybe even thoughts of "I don't want to have to do this". 

It does help me to remember that I am resisting the loss of what is familiar and not resisting Cynthia.  The explanation that my nervous system is fighting disruption to the internal map of "home" helps my understanding of what is going on in my nervous and system and brain.  It has been really eye opening to understand why the visual changes have hit so hard. 

Thank you for explaining that the recalibration does happen repeatedly as Cynthia continues to change and explaining that the alarm dims as I use soothe my nervous system.  I will keep reconnecting with something that has not moved and ground myself in the truth that the person I love is still right here.  I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the person is not changing, just the packaging.  That is hard for me to understand right now. 

I will continue to build that new skill of the ability to see "different" without it meaning "dangerous".  Thank you so much for showing me how to do that.  I look forward to the moment that I am able to say, "there you are.  I know you". 

Thank you for speaking to that fear of "how do I learn to be with another woman" and whether or not I will be attracted to one or not.  I am relieved to hear that that fear is normal. I have felt such shame in having those thoughts and fears.  It helps to know that it is really too early in the process to know the answers to my fears/questions.  I can write those questions down and know that I will come back to them later once my nervous system stops treating Cynthia's changes as threats and stops being in emergency mode. It also helps to look at it as I am learning how to be with my spouse.   

I will be careful to not prejudge any outcome.  I will stop making predictions like the ones that you described as I do not want them to become self-fulfilling prophecies.  I want to discover what is genuinely true and not just create a reality through my expectations.   

It really helps to know that this process takes time and that it isn't something that can be rushed, forced, or decided on with my mind.  It is just going to take time.  I will try to notice what is true in the present without judgement.  I will ponder on all of those questions you listed and journal about them.  It will be really interesting to track the evolution of "Today when I looked at Cynthia, I felt...".  I do feel that journaling is going to be a powerful tool for me.  I love how you say to let the fear, the grief, and the confusion speak.  Let it all speak.  That is really helpful for me. 

I will be sure to give this process time.  I need time to recalibrate my nervous system; time for our relationship to find its new shape.  I will continue to keep an open mind and heart and not close any doors yet. I won't make any declarations. 

It is hard for me to realize that my spouse's freedom does cost me something-the familiar, the picture of what I thought the future would look like, and the version of my spouse that my nervous system built its sense of home around.  I find myself embarrassed to name that.  It is good to hear that it does not diminish my love for Cynthia. 

I want to thank you for acknowledging that my loss is real.  I needed to have that validated. 

I need to remind myself that Cynthia and I are in different places emotionally right now and that both places are valid.  It is a relief to hear that both can coexist without one canceling out the other. 

The tools you have given me to use are going to be so helpful for me Susan.  I will keep doing all the stuff I am doing and I will keep going.  It sure isn't easy at all.  This is hard stuff.  But I want to keep moving forward toward those lights I can see. 

This road I am on can feel lonely sometimes but I will try to remember that I am not walking it alone.  I am so very grateful for that. Thank you, Susan, and thank you everyone. 

With much love and respect,
Amy

I have been off the site for a while but would like to chime in.

I came out to my wife of 35 years several years ago. I told her what I had been going through. The struggle of fighting who I am. The battle 24/7 resisting the desire to be female. I had put on a tough guy image to hide my real emotions. Then when alone I would embrace the desire only to feel guilty afterward. This life made me a grumpy miserable man. We married had a son and a productive life. I worked many hours to keep my feelings suppressed.

The day I told her, I had come to the end of my rope. It was come out fully and transition or die! I said I wished we could stay together but if not I would understand. She agreed to stick it out for a while and if it was to weird, would leave. We had the, "Well I'm not a lesbian! You lied to me all these years! How could you! Have you ever wore my clothes?" conversations and many more. I agreed to sleep in a different room if she wanted, but agreed to share the same bed just not be intimate.

I am not a different person just another version of the same one. I find my anger issues have went away and am more compassionate. I still do the chores I did before and enjoy the same hobbies. I have had bottom surgery and some face surgery, name change, retired, sold our home and moved together. It has been hard for her but I am amazed at her strength. I have had a lifetime to sort this out but her, not as much time.

I hope you and Cynthia the best. My only suggestion is take it slow. I needed my bottom surgery as quick as I could get it. I know this is was a point of no return and stressful for her. Understand much of what you are going through is the same as grieving the loss of a loved one and the steps the same. Good luck to both of you.

Hi Gina,

Thank you so much for your post and for sharing your story with me.  It helps so much to hear from people who have walked this road before me. 

So much of what you share parallels to what my spouse has said to me. When my spouse came out to me, she was also at the end of her rope.  She has also expressed wanting to stay together but would understand if I did not want to stay.  I knew right from the start that I did not want to leave but wanted to stick it out.  It has been hard for me.  This is all relatively new to me still. Like you said, my spouse has had a lifetime to sort this out, but not so much me. 

Thank you so much for sharing that you are not a different person but just another version of the same one.  It helps to hear that confirmation that you are not a different person. It is reassuring to me to hear that you do the same chores you did before and enjoy the same hobbies.  I have been struggling so much with how much my spouse is going to change and trying to wrap my head around the fact that the person she is isn't changing. 

I am so glad to hear that you and your wife are still together.  You mentioned that it has been hard for your wife but she has shown such strength.  I admire that in her.  Do you know if she would have any advice for someone just starting out on this journey?

Thank you for your suggestion to take it slow  Others have mentioned to take it slow too so that is confirming to hear. I appreciate you saying that much of what I am going through is the same as grieving the loss of a loved one and that the steps are the same.  Is that the 7 stages of grief that I have heard about? 

Thank you again for your post and for reaching out to me.  I wish you and your spouse well. 

Warmly,
Amy

Amy,

I want to pause on something you wrote, because it shows exactly where you are right now — holding two truths that feel like they contradict each other even though they don't.

You said: "I am struggling so much with how much my spouse is going to change and trying to wrap my head around the fact that the person she is isn't changing."

You named both truths in a single breath. You didn't say, "I can't accept this," or "This makes no sense." You said, "I'm struggling and I'm trying to understand." That isn't confusion. That's you doing the work. The struggle is the work.

Grief Doesn't Move in a Straight Line

Gina's story hit you as hard as it did because it lines up with the shape of what you're living. The end-of-the-rope moment. The fear of losing everything.

The hope that staying together is still possible. And her message — "I am not a different person, just another version" — speaks directly to the tension you're wrestling with now.

The Stages of Grief

You asked about the seven stages of grief. The model exists, but grief during a spouse's transition doesn't flow in order. It's not denial on Monday, anger on Tuesday, bargaining on Wednesday. Instead, you might feel several stages at once or cycle through them depending on the day, or revisit one when the next change happens.

That isn't failure. It's how grief works when the loss is not singular, but unfolding.

What you're experiencing is grief — grief for the familiar form of your husband, grief for the plans you pictured, grief for the comfort of being seen as a "normal" couple, grief for the visual cues that used to signal "home" to your nervous system.

Your grief is real. It doesn't make you unsupportive. It makes you human.

When Your Nervous System Remembers

There's another part of this that matters. You carry the memory of what happened when your first husband left. When someone you trusted chose to walk away. When the foundation shifted and you were left behind.

Your nervous system remembers what betrayal and abandonment felt like, even though Cynthia hasn't done either of those things and isn't going to.

Visual changes can activate that old alarm — not because you're thinking wrong, but because your body learned to look for signs that someone might leave. That's your system trying to protect you from something that hurt you once before.

The changes hit hard partly because they brush against that old wound. Your mind sees change and whispers, "This feels familiar." But this situation is not the same.

Cynthia isn't leaving. She isn't choosing someone else. She's choosing to live as herself, and she wants you beside her while she does. That is fundamentally different from abandonment, even though the intensity of change can echo past pain.

You Are Handling This

You also said you've never handled change well. Amy, for weeks now you've been handling monumental change. You've asked questions, shown up to therapy, learned, been honest about your fears, and stayed engaged when shutting down would have been easier. That is handling change.

It only feels chaotic from the inside because you don't yet see the progress you've already made.

You've come further than you think.

On Attraction and Time

You also don't need to know today whether you'll be attracted to Cynthia as her appearance changes. Attraction isn't a choice you make in your mind. It's connected to your nervous system, and right now your nervous system is interpreting the visual shifts as potential danger.

That's why desire can get quiet during adjustment. It doesn't mean it's gone forever. It means your body is prioritizing safety until it learns that the changes aren't a threat.

Some partners find attraction returns as fear eases. Others find it shifts in form. Some reconnect once the changes feel familiar instead of alarming. Your body will take the time it needs, and that is okay.

Cynthia understands this. She isn't expecting instant certainty — she's asking for honesty and presence, not performance.

The Appointment Today

The appointment is today, and whether it's already happened, is happening now, or is still ahead of you, it makes sense that your anxiety is high. When the "what ifs" start spinning, here's something simple to ground yourself:

Take out an index card or a piece of paper. At the top, write: "Cynthia is not being created today. Cynthia is being revealed."
Underneath it, write three things you know haven't changed:

1. The way she looks at you when you walk into a room.
2. The sound of her voice when she says your name.
3. The way your hand fits in hers.

That's your anchor point. Not to solve attraction. Not to figure out the future. Just to hold those three truths and breathe. Keep the card where you can see it - on your nightstand, in your pocket, wherever you need it.

Those are the parts of Cynthia that live beneath the surface, the parts that remain steady while the packaging changes.

If the appointment hasn't happened yet, this card is what you hold onto while you wait. If it's happening now, this is what you come back to when the anxiety spikes. If it's already over, this is how you reconnect with what's still true after this milestone.

Recalibrating Your Sense of Home

Today may bring mixed emotions — fear, pride, grief, relief, hope. All of them can coexist. There isn't a right way to feel. This is what it looks like when love and change arrive at the same time.

When Cynthia says she isn't a different person, she isn't dismissing your grief. She's offering something steady: "I'm still me. I haven't left.

The person you know is still right here. The outside is changing, but the core hasn't moved." You don't need to believe that perfectly right now.

Your nervous system needs time — time to see familiar patterns expressed in a new form, time to build new associations between "different appearance" and "same person."

That recalibration doesn't come from forcing belief. It comes from repeated experience that teaches your alarm system: This isn't danger. This person is still home.

Gina also mentioned that her wife became a better version of who she'd always been. More present. Less guarded. More at ease. You may see similar shifts in Cynthia as the dysphoria quiets.

That doesn't erase grief, but it can help you recognize that not everything about change is loss. Some things are being uncovered rather than altered.

Two Realities, One Relationship

You and Cynthia are starting from different emotional places. She is stepping into long-awaited freedom. You are stepping into unexpected change. Both are real. Both matter. And both can coexist without invalidating each other.

You can hold your grief while witnessing her joy. You can feel the weight of change while supporting her. You can be uncertain about the future while staying present today.

Showing Up

Amy, you are doing this. One breath. One step. One truth at a time. Tomorrow, whether you feel ready or not, you'll show up again. Because that's what you've been doing all along.

Write tomorrow if you need to. Don't if you don't. Either way, we're here.

With deep respect and steady support,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

Thank you for pointing out that I am holding two truths at once by me saying I am struggling but I'm trying to understand.  I really am trying to understand how Cynthia is going to change so much and yet the person she is isn't going to change at all.  Gina mentioning that she wasn't a different person, just another version does speak to the tension I am wrestling with. 

Gina's story did resonate with me and thank you for explaining why that is.  It lines up with the shape of what I am living now.  I certainly do have that  fear of losing everything.  I also hold onto to the hope that staying together is more than possible. 

Thank you for explaining how the 7 stages of grief work when grieving during a spouse's transition.  It helps to know that the stages of grief will not move in order and that I might feel several stages at once.  I need to remember that the loss isn't singular, but unfolding.  Thank you for helping me put into words what I am grieving.

I do still carry the memory of what happened when my first husband left.  That was a very hard time for me.  I was diagnosed with PTSD at the time that I was going through my divorce.  Thank you for explaining how my nervous system remembers what betrayal and abandonment feel like.  It really helps me to understand that the visual changes can activate that old alarm.  The changes do hit hard.  And now I can see why that it is-my mind is seeing that change as something that feels familiar to that old wound.  That I am losing my husband.  I have to try hard to remember the truth that Cynthia isn't leaving.  That she is choosing to live as herself and wants me beside her on this journey. 

Thank you for pointing out that I have been handling changes for weeks now.  It does feel chaotic inside right now. 

It is a relief to hear that I do not have to figure out today whether or not I will be attracted to Cynthia as she changes her appearance.  I can put that question down in my journal and know that I will come back to it once my nervous system settles and stops interpreting the visual changes as danger.  It is also good to know that my body will take the time it needs and that is ok. I am so glad to hear that Cynthia is understanding of this.  I have been wanting to provide her with an answer so badly.  I can be honest and present. 

I did exactly what you said with the index card for yesterday's appointment.  Thank you so much for that suggestion.  I did a very lousy job though of not squashing Cynthia's joy after yesterday's appointment.  She was approved for the blockers and HRT.  The realization that things are moving forward was very hard for me.  I let the fear and grief take over in that moment of joy for Cynthia.  The tears flowed.  That fear of losing everything came rushing in.  I feel really badly for how I reacted yesterday Susan.  I am still struggling today with everything.

I am thankful that Cynthia keeps me reminding me that she is still her and she hasn't left.  It is something steady for me to hold onto when I feel like my feet are dangling.  I will try to remember that the core hasn't moved even though the outside has changed and is going to change so much.  Thank you for the permission that I don't need to believe that perfectly right now.  I do need time; my nervous system needs time.  I really like how you say that not everything about change is loss-some things are being uncovered rather than altered.  That does help to hear that. 

I keep forgetting that Cynthia and I are in different places emotionally.  I need to keep reminding myself of this.  And that both are ok and can both exist without either one being invalidated.  I just need to learn how to put grief aside in those moments when Cynthia is feeling joyful.  That has been a hard process for me and I do feel bad about that.  Yesterday's appointment went exactly how Cynthia had hoped it would go.  She has waited a lifetime to be able to do this and I was a "downer".  I am still trying to process it all today.  I feel like I am going to lose my husband little by little as the changes begin to happen now that she is starting on HRT. 

Thank you for listening and for being there.  It means so much to me Susan. 

With love and respect,
Amy

Dear Amy,

First, I want you to hear this without question: you did nothing wrong yesterday. What you experienced was a trauma response during a milestone moment, and that is not a moral failing. It is your nervous system doing exactly what nervous systems do when something feels overwhelming.

You didn't "squash" Cynthia's joy. You had feelings larger than your capacity to hold in that moment, and they spilled over. That's being human, not being a bad partner.

The Guilt Is Part of the PTSD

I want to be very direct about something you may not have named yet: the guilt you're carrying right now is part of the PTSD response. Your mind is taking yesterday's emotional overwhelm and trying to convert it into a story about how you failed.

PTSD frames it that way because it's trying to offer you a sense of control — if it's your "fault," then maybe you can prevent the abandonment your nervous system still fears.

But that isn't what happened.

Cynthia received medical approval for something she has waited her entire life to begin. That moment was joyful for her. At the same time, your nervous system registered that the hypothetical future has become real — the changes are starting, the timeline is active, and the future is arriving whether you feel ready or not.

PTSD doesn't care that Cynthia isn't leaving you. It only recognizes that a major shift is happening, and the last time your life changed this dramatically, you lost everything. So it sounded every alarm it has.

The emotional surge you felt was a nervous system reaction, not a moral one. You cannot reason your way out of trauma activation, and you cannot shame yourself into calm. What you can do is name the reaction accurately and remind yourself of what is true rather than what the alarm system is telling you.

Here is what is true: Cynthia is beginning HRT. That is happening. Also true: she is not your first husband. She did not betray you. She is not abandoning you. She is asking you to walk with her into the life she has always needed to live. Those truths coexist. Your fear is real. The threat your fear describes is not.

The Parallel Processing Model

Holding grief and joy at the same time is extraordinarily difficult, especially when trauma is activated. You do not need to put grief aside in order to support Cynthia's joy. That expectation is impossible. Trying to meet it will only convince you that you're failing at something no one could do.

Instead, let both exist without allowing either to cancel the other. Think of them as two parallel emotional tracks — separate weather systems that can move through the same space without destroying each other.

You can say things like: "I can see how happy this makes you, and I'm glad you finally got the approval you've waited for. I'm also scared and sad right now — not because anything is wrong with your joy, but because I'm still processing."

Or simply: "I'm happy for you, and I'm also struggling. Both are true."

What happened yesterday was honest. The pain didn't come from your tears; it came from the story you told yourself afterward. Cynthia has already shown that she can hold both your fear and her joy. The fact that she continues to reassure you is proof she can tolerate your grief.

The guilt you feel is grief wearing a mask. You are grieving something real — the shape of the future you expected, the familiar version of your partner you've known, the life you imagined for the two of you. That grief is legitimate. Cynthia's joy is legitimate. Neither erases the other.

About "Losing Him Little by Little"

This phrase matters because it reveals how trauma tries to collapse the past and present into the same emotional truth.

You're not losing your husband piece by piece. Cynthia isn't disappearing. She isn't being replaced. She isn't being taken from you.

What is changing is the way she moves through the world — her appearance, her presentation, the way others perceive her. But the person you married is still here. She is revealing parts of herself that existed long before she had the safety or courage to show them.

The story "I'm losing him" drops you emotionally into the role of someone whose partner has died or abandoned them. That is your PTSD speaking in the vocabulary of old wounds.

The more accurate story is: "She is changing, and I don't yet know how I will adapt to these changes." One story is about loss you cannot prevent; the other is about waiting and watching as you adjust to the future as it unfolds.

Your first husband left you. Cynthia is not doing that. She is changing, yes — but she is asking you to stay with her through the changes. Those are profoundly different realities, even though trauma makes them feel interchangeable.

Practical Tools for Right Now

You're in the sharpest, most compressed part of this journey. HRT is beginning. Changes will happen. Each shift may activate echoes of past pain. Here are tools you can use — separated clearly from the explanations above.

Grounding Practice
When panic rises — that "I'm losing everything" feeling — place both feet flat on the floor and press down. Feel the pressure, the solidity, the present moment. Then name five things you can see. Say them out loud if you can. This interrupts the trauma cycle and returns you to now.

Reality Check Card

• Cynthia chose me then. She chooses me now.
• She is not my first husband.
• Change is not abandonment.
• I don't have to solve the future today.
• My fear is real. The threat is not.

Twenty-Minute Rule
When a change or milestone spikes your PTSD, give yourself twenty minutes to feel it fully. Set a timer. Cry, journal, pace — whatever your body needs. When the timer ends, switch to something grounding: make tea, step outside, breathe fresh air, text someone. You're not suppressing anything — you're giving it structure.

Joy Witness Protocol
When Cynthia shares something joyful, you don't need to match her emotion. Instead, witness it: "I can see how happy this makes you," or "This is something you've waited a long time for." If you need to add your own truth afterward — "I'm also sad or scared right now" — that's allowed. You aren't invalidating her joy.

The Question You Haven't Said Out Loud

Underneath all of this is a fear you haven't voiced: What if I can't do this? What if I try my hardest and it still isn't enough?

You're allowed to have that question. You don't need the answer today. You don't need to know whether you'll be attracted to her after changes. You don't need to commit to forever right now. You only need to commit to today — to trying, to staying present, to being honest, to seeing what unfolds.

Some spouses stay. Some don't. Some grow into the changes over time. You are at the very beginning of the process. Your body and heart need time to discover how they will respond to each stage. But again, don't rush to prejudge.

The PTSD Reality

PTSD is going to make this harder. Even someone without trauma would struggle with parts of this journey. For you, every shift may feel like a countdown to abandonment. Every milestone may echo old pain. Your nervous system may tell you to run before you are left again.

That voice is an injury, not intuition. It is a memory, not a prophecy.

If you aren't already seeing a trauma-trained therapist — someone familiar with PTSD, EMDR, somatic processing, or trauma-focused CBT — this is the time to find one.

You deserve someone who can help you separate past from present, who understands why your reactions feel as big as they do, and who can help you regulate your nervous system as changes appear.

You're dealing with two separate challenges: Cynthia's transition and your PTSD activation. These are distinct, and each demands its own support and compassion.

Moving Forward

You've been adapting for weeks now, and you're still here. You're still trying. You're still showing up. Yesterday was hard — intensely so — but you didn't run. You didn't shut down. You came here and tried to make sense of it. That is not failure. That is courage.

Cynthia had a joyful moment yesterday. You had a deeply painful one. Both truths can coexist. You can witness her joy even while grieving privately. You can celebrate her finally getting what she needs while also hurting over what these changes mean for you. You can love her and still be terrified.

The index card worked. Use it again. Use it often. Keep talking here. Keep being honest with Cynthia. Keep distinguishing between fear and reality. Keep breathing through the trauma spikes.

This path will not be linear. It will not be tidy. It will include more moments like yesterday — moments when your emotions erupt at inconvenient times. That doesn't mean you're failing. It means you're alive inside something hard.

You are doing this exactly the way someone with your history would — imperfectly, bravely, with love and fear tangled together.

One day at a time. One breath at a time. One change at a time.

You are going to be okay — not because this will be easy, but because you're already showing yourself that you can handle difficult things.

With deep respect and care,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I want to thank you for affirming that I didn't do anything wrong yesterday. It did feel so overwhelming in that moment.  I felt such guilt over letting my feelings spill over like that.  I did not realize that the guilt is part of the PTSD response. Thank you so much for explaining this all to me.  It is really helpful to understand all of this.  It also helps to understand that the emotional surge that I felt was a nervous system reaction and not a moral failure on my part.  Thank you for giving me practical things that I can do when my nervous system sounds the alarm. 

I am relieved to hear that I can hold both grief and joy at the same time and let both exist.  It helps to think of it as separate weather systems moving through the same space.  Thank you for giving me words that I can say in those moments that I am holding both the grief and Cynthia's joy. 

Thank you for the reassurance that I am not losing my husband; that Cynthia is not disappearing or being replaced.  I appreciate you reminding me of the truth that what is changing is her appearance.  I will try to remember that the person I married is still right here.  It is very helpful to remember the more accurate story of Cynthia is changing and I don't know yet how I will adapt to these changes. 

Thank you so much for the practical tools that I can use right now.  They are so helpful for me and I will put them into practice. 

Oh Susan, I do have that question of "what if I can't do this?".  It helps to know that it is ok to have that question and that I don't need the answer today.  I can commit today-to trying, staying present, being honest and to seeing what unfolds. 

I will definitely check to see if my counselor is a trauma trained therapist or not. 

Thank you for your encouraging words that yesterday wasn't a failure but rather I am showing courage.  That is hard to see in myself sometimes. 

It is such a relief to know that I can love Cynthia and still be terrified.  That both of those can coexist at the same time. 

I will keep using the index card idea.  That really did help me.  I will keep reaching out here. I will keep being honest with Cynthia.  I need to work on distinguishing between fear and reality.  I definitely need to remember to keep breathing through those trauma spikes. 

Thank you for showing me that the path will not be tidy or linear.  That it will include moments when my emotions erupt at an inconvenient time.  And that this is not failing.  I really needed to hear that. 

I really appreciate you being there and for your beautiful posts to me.  They help me more than you know Susan. 

With love and thanks,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Reading what you wrote, I can feel how much work you have been doing inside yourself. You didn't minimize anything, and you didn't hide from the hard parts — you walked straight into them, named them, and let yourself feel them. That is not weakness. That is the definition of courage.

I'm really glad the explanation about your nervous system helped. When a surge like that hits, it feels like a character flaw, like you "should" have been able to contain it. But what actually happened is that an old wound brushed against something new, and your whole system reacted before your mind even had time to catch up.

The guilt comes after, because PTSD teaches you to second-guess your own reactions. Understanding the biology of it doesn't erase the pain, but it does let you stop blaming yourself for being human.

And yes — you absolutely can hold grief and joy at the same time. I love the way you described them as separate weather systems moving through the same space. That's exactly how this works. Some days one system is stronger; other days they're both humming in the background.

Neither one cancels the other out, and neither one means you're doing anything wrong. It just means you're living in a moment where love and fear coexist, and your heart is learning how to hold both.

I'm glad it helped to name the reality that Cynthia isn't disappearing. You aren't watching your spouse be replaced — you're watching her become more visible. That doesn't erase how disorienting the changes can feel, and it doesn't magically make attraction or comfort fall into place, but it helps you tell the right story: "She's still here, and I'm still figuring out how my heart adapts to what I see." That's honest. That's grounded. And that's enough for right now.

Your question — "What if I can't do this?" — is one that almost every partner asks at some point. You don't need the answer today. All you need, just as you said, is the commitment to try, to stay present, to tell the truth, and to see what unfolds. That's all love ever asks of us, even in the best of times.

I'm glad the index card helped. Those small grounding tools matter more than people realize. They interrupt the spiral long enough for you to breathe, to return to your body, and to remind yourself that not every alarm is danger — sometimes it's just the echo of the past hitting the present.

You mentioned working on telling fear from reality, and that alone tells me how self-aware you are becoming. The fact that you can see the difference, even faintly, means you're already building that skill. Little by little, your nervous system will learn that this isn't the same story you lived before. It takes time, but it does happen.

And you're right — this path will not be tidy or neat. None of this unfolds in perfect order. But the moments you're calling "eruptions" are not failures; they are pressure valves releasing after years of holding more than any one person should have to hold. Letting those moments move through you instead of burying them is part of healing, not a sign that you're going backwards.

Amy, every time you write, you show me someone who is thoughtful, honest, tender-hearted, and incredibly brave even when she doesn't feel brave. Your love for Cynthia is evident in every line, and so is your fear — but neither one is negating the other. They're just both present while you learn your way through something that most couples never have to face.

I'm here with you through all of it.

And I'm grateful you keep trusting me with these pieces of your heart.

With warmth and care,
— Susan 💜

Hang in there, Amy. You're doing fine.

Are you finding journaling to be helpful?

Dear Susan,

Thank you for your kind words regarding the work I am doing inside myself.  I am really trying.  Today has been another hard day for me.  Everything feels so overwhelming today.  I am finding myself doing the grounding rituals many times today.  The fog is thick today Susan.  The grief, fear, and confusion are all overwhelming today.  I am trying to reframe "I am losing him" to "She is changing and I don't know how I will adapt to these changes". 

It does feel like I should be able to contain it when a surge hits like it did on Monday.  It helps though to remember the truth that what is happening is that an old wound is brushing against something new and my system reacted before my mind had time to catch up.  Understanding why the guilt comes after is important for me to remember.

I am holding both love and fear at the same time.  It helps to know that that is ok and that they can both exist.  I am still learning how to hold both of things at the same time so it helps to know that I am not doing anything wrong. 

The changes do feel so disorienting right now Susan.  I need to keep reminding myself that Cynthia isn't disappearing.  I am having a hard time understanding how she isn't being replaced. I need to keep coming back to telling myself the right story of "she's still here and I am still figuring out how my heart adapts to what I see". 

It is comforting to know that my question of "what if I can't do this" is something other partners experience.  Sometimes I feel so alone in what I am feeling and going through.  I will remind myself that this is not a question that I need to answer today.  I just need to keep trying, stay present, tell the truth, and to see what unfolds. 

All of the grounding tools you have given have been so helpful.  I have written them down and have them where I can see them and use them when I need to.  I find myself needing them often like today. 

I am finding it really hard on telling fear from reality.  I get so caught up in my fears its hard to pull out of that.  Is this where the grounding tools should be used too? 

I have begun to journal and it is helping so much Susan.  Some days I can journal so much and other days it is hard to find the words to put on paper. But I am doing it and will continue to keep journaling. 

Thank you for pointing out that the moments I am calling "eruptions" are not failures but rather pressure valves releasing.  It helps to see it that way.  It does feel like I am going backwards some days especially when my emotions get the best of me. It helps to hear that I am not going backwards though and that I need to let those moments move through me instead of burying them. 

Thank you for your very kind words Susan.  I don't feel very brave at all these days. I do hold both love for Cynthia and my fear.  It is good to hear you say that neither one negates the other and both can be present while I learn my way through this. 

Thank you for being there Susan.  It means more than you know. 

With love and great respect,
Amy

Hi Pema,

How wonderful to hear from you! 

I have started to journal and have found it to be very helpful.  I find some days it is hard to get the words out of my head onto to paper and other days once I start writing, it just flows. 

Thank you again for checking in.  I really appreciate it. 

With love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

As I read what you wrote today, what stood out most was how hard you're working to stay present even when everything feels heavy and close. You're not shutting down. You're reaching for your grounding tools, you're naming what's happening inside you, and you're trying to understand yourself with honesty. That takes far more strength than someone in the middle of the fog ever gives herself credit for.

I'm really glad you mentioned to Pema how journaling has been going for you. The way you described it—some days the words spill out and other days you can barely put down a sentence—is exactly how this process tends to move. Journaling isn't meant to be consistent or polished. It's simply a place where your feelings can land safely. Even a single line on a hard day means you showed up for yourself. That matters. Some days your system can say more, some days less, and both are okay.

The reframing you're practicing—shifting from "I'm losing him" to "she's changing and I don't yet know how I'll adapt"—is a meaningful step. You're not pretending this isn't painful. You're shifting the focus from loss to uncertainty, and uncertainty is something you can work with. It leaves space for you to grow into whatever comes next at your own pace. That is a far kinder story to carry.

You also asked whether grounding can help you sort out fear from reality, and yes—this is exactly where grounding belongs. Fear tends to talk in future tense. Reality lives in the present moment. Grounding brings your body back into now so your mind can see the difference. When fear rises, especially with old wounds behind it, sometimes the most helpful question you can ask is, "Is this something happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?" That alone can give you enough space to breathe.

I'm glad you're beginning to see those emotional surges differently. They aren't signs of going backward, and they aren't failures. They happen because you carry so much—old pain, new uncertainty, love, fear—and sometimes the pressure inside finds its own way out. What matters is what you do afterward, and you're already meeting those moments with reflection instead of self-blame. That is movement, even if it doesn't feel clean or linear.

You wrote that you don't feel brave. I understand why it feels that way—fear and bravery rarely feel different from the inside. But what you're doing is courageous. You keep showing up. You keep loving Cynthia even while wrestling with the unknown. You keep trying to understand yourself instead of shutting down or turning away. None of that is small. None of that is weakness.

I'm going to keep hammering these points:

• You don't have to solve anything all at once.
• You don't need to know where this is heading.

You only need to take the next step that feels honest and possible, and you're already doing exactly that.

On the foggy days and the clearer ones, we're right here beside you. You are not walking this alone.

With love and respect,
— Susan 💜

Good morning Susan,

I have a question for you; it seems like a silly one but I am trying to understand everything clearly and the fog is so thick right now.  What does it mean to stay present?  Does it mean staying in the present moment and not letting my mind go to the past or the future?  And how do I stay present?  By using the grounding tools? 

Journaling has definitely helped me alot.  It is good to know that it is ok that some days I can barely put a sentence down; that that is how the process goes.  I will keep trying to get at least one sentence down on the hard days.  The journal prompts that you have given me are helping so much. 

I will keep working on reframing "I am losing her" to "She is changing and I don't know how I will adapt to these changes".  I have written the reframe down on an index card.  I need to keep reminding myself that she is still here and I am still figuring out how my heart adapts to what I see.  This is especially important today because we just found out that the HRT medicine will be delivered either today or tomorrow.  It has spiked by anxiety much like at Cynthia's appointment.  The changes are starting, the timeline is now active,and the future is arriving whether I feel ready or not. I know this is very exciting for Cynthia and I need to remember that I can hold both her joy and my fear.  That it is ok to say that "I am happy for you, and I am also struggling". 

I will use my grounding tools to help sort out fear from reality.  I will ask myself, "Is this something happening now or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?". The fear of the unknown is so heavy for me.  I am trying to remember what Lori Dee told me about combatting that with learning and having faith-faith in myself that I will get through this, faith that Cynthia wants me at her side throughout this process, and faith that I am not alone in this.   

Thank you for helping me to see the emotional surges in a different light.  I will try to meet these moments with reflection instead of guilt.

Thank you for reminding me that I don't have to solve anything all at once and that I don't need to know where this is heading.  I keep forgetting to focus on small, manageable steps instead of trying to solve the whole future at once.  I need to take things one step at a time; one thought at a time.  I need to give myself permission not to have it all figured out yet. 

Thank you for reminding me that I am not walking this alone.  Thank you that you are there right beside me on these foggy days and the clearer ones.  I appreciate it more than you know. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Your question isn't silly at all—it's actually one of the most important ones you could ask right now, especially with the HRT arriving today or tomorrow.

Yes, staying present means exactly what you said: keeping your attention in this moment instead of letting your mind jump to the future or pull you back into the past. When you're overwhelmed, your nervous system wants to do that—it wants to predict, to prepare, to remember.

Staying present means bringing yourself back to what's actually happening right now, and that's where you have the most clarity and the most choice.

Grounding tools are the bridge back. When you notice your mind has spiraled into "what if" or "what was," here's how to bring yourself back:


• Check your five senses: What do you see, hear, feel, smell, taste right here in this room?
• Feel something physical: your feet on the floor, your breath moving, something cool or textured in your hand.
• Name what's real: "Right now I'm sitting in my living room. Right now I'm safe. Right now Cynthia is still Cynthia."

That pulls your body back into now, and once your body settles, your thoughts can start to settle too. Then it gets easier to see the difference between what you're afraid might happen and what's actually in front of you today.

And here's something important: staying present doesn't mean you can't process these feelings or revisit these situations later on your own schedule. It just means that right now you're giving yourself enough space to breathe and steady yourself.

The deeper layers will still be there when you feel more grounded and ready to come back to them.

I'm really glad journaling is helping. One sentence on a hard day counts just as much as two pages on an easier one. Both are proof that you're showing up for yourself, and that's what matters.

The index card with your reframe—that's brilliant. Keep it where you'll see it: bathroom mirror, car dashboard, refrigerator, wherever you need that reminder that she's changing, not disappearing. That's building a bridge between fear and reality, and that's what makes this sustainable.

The medication arriving is spiking your anxiety because it makes the future feel like it's crashing into now. That makes so much sense. When the package comes and panic rises, pause and ask yourself: "What's actually happening right now?"

The answer is: a package arrived. Cynthia is taking medication. That's all. The changes will unfold gradually over months and years, not all at once today.

Let me share something my cousin told me after I came out, because it speaks directly to the fear you're holding.

Before my transition, she told me she felt like she was standing next to an emotional black hole. She felt nothing from me—just an absence of the normal emotional response you get from other people. I was physically present, but not really there.

After I transitioned, she said it was like a light came on. I was full of life, I gave emotional feedback, I was actually there with people. I felt alive to her, responsive, emotionally reachable.

I'm not saying Cynthia's experience will be exactly like mine, but I am saying that what you're afraid you're losing might actually become more present, not less. The person you love might become more available to you, not further away.

What you wrote—"I can hold both her joy and my struggle"—that's the heart of it.

Cynthia's happiness doesn't erase your fear, and your fear doesn't take away her joy. Both belong.

Saying "I'm happy for you, and I'm also struggling" isn't just okay; it's honest and emotionally mature and exactly what this moment needs.

Keep using that grounding question: "Is this happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?" That's a powerful way to interrupt the fear-story before it takes over. And what Lori Dee told you about meeting the unknown with learning and faith—you're already doing that.

The tools are working. The insight is there. And Cynthia wants you beside her every step of the way.

Those emotional surges aren't failures. They're a lifetime of feelings moving through a body that was never meant to hold them all at once. Meeting them with reflection instead of guilt is one of the bravest shifts anyone can make.

There's no requirement to solve the whole future today or to know how you'll feel six months from now. The only task in front of you is the next small step that feels possible, and you're already taking it.

I meant it when I said you're not walking this alone. Every time you show up here with honesty, every time you ask a hard question, you're building a path through the fog. I'm right here beside you. Lori's beside you. This whole community is beside you.

With much love and so much respect,
— Susan 💜

Hi Susan,

Thank you so much for helping me to understand more of what it means to be present. 

I will try to keep my attention in the moment instead of letting my mind jump to the future or back into the past.  It helps to remember that my nervous system wants to do that when I am overwhelmed.  That will help to catch it faster so I can return to the present. 

Thank you for listing the grounding tools again that I can use when my mind has spirals into the "what if" or "what was".  Those grounding tools are very helpful for me.  It helps to pull me back to the now. 

You mentioned that staying present doesn't mean that I can't process those feelings I have or revisit these situations later on.  So when my mind is whirling or I start to feel overwhelm, I should stop and do my grounding tools to return to the present and then once my system settles, I can go back to process the feelings, thoughts, and questions that I had? 

I keep my index cards with me all the time.  I carry them with me wherever I go.  They really help me.  I have the reframe one, the reality check card, and the card that I used for Cynthia's appointment. 

The medication arriving has spiked my anxiety quite a bit.  I do feel bad for that since this such an exciting and joyful time for Cynthia. I want to share in her joy and excitement.  I am just so scared about the changes that are to come.  Thank you for the question that I can ask myself when the package arrives and the panic rises.  That will be very helpful to me. It is also helpful for me to know that the changes will unfold gradually over months and not all at once today. It gives me something to say to myself when I keep focusing on the changes ahead. 

Thank you so much for sharing what your cousin had said to you after you came out.  That is beautiful.  It is very encouraging to hear that you made such a beautiful transformation like that.  Maybe my spouse would become more present and not less.  She could become more available to me and not further away.  It helps to look at that way.  Thank you for that perspective. 

It helps me to know that Cynthia's happiness doesn't erase my fear and my fear doesn't take away her joy.  I am so afraid of taking her joy away right now and I don't want to do that.  She deserves to feel happy about this important step in her journey.  I don't want to bring her down at all. I don't want to make her feel bad in any way.   

I will definitely keep using that grounding question of "Is this happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?".  It helps to know that that question can help interrupt that fear story before it takes over.  I will keep doing what Lori Dee told me too about meeting the fear of the unknown. 

I will try to keep remembering that the emotional surges aren't failures and meet them with reflection rather than guilt.   

It is such a relief to hear that there is no requirement to solve the whole future today or to know how I will feel six months from now.  I need to focus on the next small step that I can take.  I'm not sure what that next step is Susan. 

It is so comforting to know that I not walking this road alone.  I needed to hear that.  Thank you for being beside me through this. Thank you to everyone in this community. 

With love,
Amy

Hi Amy,

Reading your message tonight, what stood out most was how clearly you're beginning to understand your own nervous system. You're not fighting yourself anymore—you're starting to notice what's happening inside you with gentleness instead of judgment.

That is real growth, even if it doesn't feel like it yet.

You asked something important: whether you should ground yourself first and then return later to whatever feelings were swirling. Yes, exactly.

Here's how it works: when your mind starts whirling or overwhelm hits, that's the signal to pause and ground yourself first. Use those tools to bring yourself back to now—feel your feet on the floor, check your senses, name what's real. Let your nervous system settle.

This brings you back inside the window where you can think, feel, and choose instead of reacting from fear.

Once you've come back to center and the panic has eased, then—if you still want to—you can return to those feelings and thoughts with more clarity and less reactivity.

That's the heart of trauma-informed processing.

Here's the key: when you're in the middle of overwhelm, your brain is in survival mode. It's not thinking clearly; it's just trying to protect you from perceived danger. You can't process anything useful from that place.

But once you've grounded yourself, you can look at those same feelings from a steadier place. That's when real insight happens.

And sometimes after you ground yourself, you'll realize you don't need to process anything at all. The panic was just panic. The story your mind was spinning wasn't even true. That happens too, and it's a good sign when it does.

Amy, the way you're using those cards is beautiful. They're not just reminders; they're anchors. Every time you read one, you're interrupting an old pattern and creating a new one.

That's you actively retraining your nervous system to recognize safety instead of threat. Keep doing that.

Now let's talk about the medication and what you're feeling.

I know the medication arriving has stirred everything up again. Of course it has. This is a moment full of meaning for Cynthia, and full of unknowns for you.

Those two realities can sit together without cancelling each other out. Her joy doesn't erase your fear, and your fear doesn't take anything away from her joy.

The fact that you're even thinking about her joy in the middle of your own anxiety says so much about your heart.

Here's something I really need you to hear: you're not taking Cynthia's joy away. You're just not. Your fear doesn't have that kind of power, and Cynthia's happiness isn't so fragile that your honest feelings can break it.

Cynthia knows you're scared. She knows this is hard for you. And she's choosing to walk this path anyway, with you beside her, because your presence matters more to her than your perfection.

She doesn't need you to be joyful right now. She needs you to be real. She needs you to show up as you are, fear and all, because that's the person she loves.

You wrote, "She deserves to feel happy about this important step in her journey. I don't want to bring her down at all."

Amy, you're not bringing her down by having feelings. You'd only bring her down if you pretended everything was fine when it wasn't, if you shut down emotionally, if you stopped communicating. That's what would hurt her—the absence of you, not the presence of your struggle.

What Cynthia needs from you isn't a performance of happiness. She needs your honesty. She needs to know where you are so she can meet you there. When you say, "I'm happy for you, and I'm also scared," you're giving her the truth, and that's the greatest gift you can offer right now.

And you're right—these changes won't happen all at once. They will unfold slowly, month by month, in ways you can grow into rather than brace against. You won't wake up tomorrow and find everything different. You'll wake up tomorrow and still be Amy, still be married to the same person, still taking things one day at a time.

I'm really glad what my cousin said resonated with you. For so many of us, transition doesn't make someone disappear; it lets more of them show up. It can mean more presence, more emotional availability, more honesty, more connection—not less.

You will likely find that the woman Cynthia is growing into becomes even more attuned to you than the man she had to pretend to be.

Now, you asked the question that tells me exactly where you are in this moment: "I'm not sure what that next step is."

Here's your next step, gentle and simple:

When the package arrives and the anxiety spikes, don't try to solve anything. Just pause. Put one hand on your chest or your shoulder, take a slow breath, and ask yourself the grounding question you've been practicing:

"Is this happening right now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?"

That small pause is the next step. That's you handling today.

If all you do tomorrow is breathe, ground, and let Cynthia have her joy without forcing yourself to feel the same thing—that is enough. That is you showing up with honesty. That is you moving forward at a pace your heart can handle.

And then, when you're ready—maybe in a few days, maybe next week—here's the step after that:

Have a conversation with Cynthia about what each of you needs right now. Not about the future. Not about where this is all going. Just about now.

Ask her: "What do you need from me as you start this medication? How can I support you in a way that feels good to you?"

And then tell her: "Here's what I need from you as I work through my fear. I need to be able to tell you when I'm struggling without feeling like I'm hurting you. I need you to know that my fear isn't about you being wrong—it's about my own wounds healing. And I need us to keep talking, even when it's hard."

That conversation doesn't solve everything, but it opens the door to ongoing communication about what's actually happening between you, not what you're each afraid might be happening.

It also gives Cynthia a chance to reassure you, and it gives you a chance to be vulnerable without feeling like you're failing.

After that, the next step will become clearer. You don't have to see the whole staircase. You just have to see the next stair.

Amy, you are not failing. You are not falling behind. You are not doing this wrong.

You are walking a very hard road with compassion, insight, and more courage than you can see from the inside.

Every time you ground yourself instead of spiraling, that's a win. Every time you read one of those cards, that's a win. Every time you tell Cynthia "I'm scared and I love you" instead of hiding behind a smile, that's a win.

You're not standing still. You're moving. You're learning. You're healing even as you're hurting.

And you are absolutely not walking this alone.

I'm right here. This community is right here. And Cynthia is right there beside you, wanting you with her every step of the way.

With so much love and respect,
— Susan 💜

Hi Susan,

Thank your for explaining how it works when I need to pause and ground myself and then return to the feelings that were swirling.  That is key for me to remember-that when I am in the middle of overwhelm, my brain is in survival mode.  It doesn't think clearly and I can't process anything useful from that place. 

It is also helpful to know that after I ground myself, sometimes I will realize that I don't need to process anything at all. Sometimes the panic is just panic and sometimes the story my mind is spinning isn't even true. 

I will keep using my index cards.  I didn't see them as my anchors.  I also didn't realize I was interrupting old patterns and creating new ones.  That is pretty awesome! 

Cynthia's medication did arrive today and it has really stirred everything up again.  It is full of unknowns for me.  I know this is such a meaningful step for Cynthia though.  She is doing her very first dose of the medications tonight.  I am filled with anxiety about it.  I am trying to remember to pause and ask myself "what is actually happening right now?". I am not doing a very good job at not trying to solve anything or at keeping the anxiety at bay. I didn't handle today very well at all.  I will try again tomorrow.  I will try to remember to breathe, ground, and let Cynthia have her joy without forcing myself to feel the same peace and relief that she is feeling.   

I am honestly relieved to hear that I am not taking away Cynthia's joy right now.  I do feel bad for not reacting to things better. I keep getting stuck on the fact that I should be able to handle these changes.  I am scared Susan and this is so hard for me.  I have conveyed that to Cynthia.  I am so grateful that she chooses to walk this path with me anyways.  I want to be here for her in any way that I can.  I just don't know how to be sometimes or don't know what she needs from me right now.  It helps to hear you say that she needs me to be real and to show up as I am. I can do those things. 

It is good to know that I am not bringing Cynthia down by feelings or how I am reacting to all of this.  I don't want to hurt her in any way at all.  I can be present for her.  It's just messy right now for me.  But I will show up for her anyways.  Thank you for explaining the things that Cynthia needs from me right now.  That definitely helps to know those things. 

I find I have to remind myself all the time that the changes won't happen all at once today.  That it will be slow changes and in ways that I can grow into rather than brace against.  I keep picturing all of the changes happening now or very soon in the near future. I need to tell myself that I am not going to wake up tomorrow and find everything different.  I am so worried about the changes that the medications will bring that that's all I can focus on. 

I am trying really hard to understand that transition doesn't make someone disappear.  It lets more of them show up.  I am hopeful that it can mean more presence, more emotional availability, more honesty, and more connection. 

Thank you for mapping out my next step after today. It helps so much.  I can definitely have that conversation with Cynthia about what each of us needs right now.  It helps so much to have the words to ask her.  And the words to tell her what I need from her. Thank you so much for that Susan. 

That is so confirming what you said about not needing to see the whole staircase but just the next stair.  Cynthia just said that to me last night.  I am hoping the next steps will become clearer for me. 

Thank you for your encouraging words that I am not failing, not falling behind, and I an not doing this wrong.  This is a very hard road for me to walk and sometimes it doesn't feel like I am doing very well.  The days are so hard right now.  It really helps to know that I am not walking this alone. I needed to hear that.  Thank you so much for being there Susan. 

With much love,
Amy
 

Dear Amy,

I want to pause right where you said, "I didn't handle today very well at all."

From where I'm sitting, that's just not what happened. You didn't fail — you showed up!

Your wife's medication arrived — a real, physical reminder that this isn't theoretical anymore. A bottle of pills that suddenly makes the future feel very close and very real. Of course that stirred everything up. Your fear spiked, your anxiety surged, and your mind did what minds do in those moments: it started spinning stories about everything that might happen next.

And in the middle of all that? You stayed.

You were there while Cynthia took her first dose. You didn't run. You didn't shut down. You didn't put on a fake smile and pretend nothing was happening. You showed up as yourself — scared, overwhelmed, and still present.

That isn't a failure. That's one of the bravest days you've had so far.

You're comparing yourself to an imaginary version of you who would be calm, grounded, peaceful, and endlessly supportive without feeling any terror or grief or panic. That person doesn't exist. That's not what "handling it" looks like. That's what being numb would look like.

Handling it well doesn't mean you don't feel anxious. It means you feel anxious and don't let that anxiety make all your decisions. It means you stay in the room even when your body is screaming at you to run. You did that. You handled it.

Why This Milestone Feels So Big

It also makes complete sense that this step feels different from everything that came before it. Conversations can be walked back. Names can be changed again. Clothes can be put away. But hormones feel like stepping onto a path that is real and physical and, over time, permanent.

Your brain recognizes that, and it is on high alert trying to protect you from a future it can't see clearly yet. That's why your anxiety feels so big right now. Nothing is wrong with you for feeling it.

Yesterday's Storm, Not Your Whole Sky

Here's something that might help you make sense of what you're going through: yesterday was a storm — maybe even a hurricane. The medication arrived, Cynthia took her first dose, and every alarm in your nervous system went off at once.

But a storm is not the whole sky.

When I look at the overall pattern of what's happening between you and Cynthia — not just yesterday, but across these weeks — I see something very different.

You're communicating. You're using your grounding tools, even when it's hard. You're being honest with her about what's happening inside you. You're still here, still trying, still showing up with love.

Storms pass. What the two of you are building together — that's happening one day, one conversation, one small choice at a time, and it's actually pretty solid.

When the next spike of fear comes (and it will, because you're human), you can gently ask yourself: "Is this my whole reality, or is this just today's weather?" Most of the time, it really is just weather.

Checking Your Fear Against What's Real

You've already noticed something really important: sometimes, once you ground yourself, you realize there's nothing you actually have to "solve" in that moment. Sometimes the panic is just panic. Sometimes the story your brain is spinning simply isn't true.

If you find it helpful, you might keep a quiet habit of checking in with yourself in the evenings: What was I afraid might happen today? And what actually happened?

For a day like yesterday, those might look something like this:

*What I was afraid of:* Everything changing overnight, not recognizing Cynthia anymore, the relationship collapsing, not being able to handle any of it.

*What actually happened:* Cynthia took her first dose. You were together. You were scared, and you told her you were scared. She didn't leave. You stayed, even though it was hard. Nothing dramatic changed overnight.

Over time, your brain starts to see that most of what fear predicts doesn't actually play out that way. And when hard things do happen, you survive them one step at a time.

The Weight of "Should"

Now, about that word "should" — you wrote that you "should" be able to handle these changes. That word is so heavy.

"Should" carries the idea that there's a correct emotional response, that other people would be doing this better, faster, more gracefully, and that you're somehow failing to meet some invisible standard.

But there is no standard. There is only your nervous system, your history, and your heart trying to adapt to something huge. Your way is allowed to be messy and slow and full of days where you feel like you're stumbling.

When you hear "I should be handling this better," it might help to gently shift it to: "I'm doing my best to handle these changes, and my best looks different every day." That's not a trick. It's a more accurate description of what you are actually doing.

Two Milestones, Both Real

Yesterday was clearly a milestone for Cynthia: first dose, first step into hormones, a moment of joy and relief and rightness. But it was a milestone for you too.

Her milestone: "I took my first dose. I'm finally moving toward who I am."
Your milestone: "I stayed. I was terrified, and I stayed. I showed up for both of us."

Those two realities don't cancel each other out. They are both true and both huge. You don't have to force yourself to feel her joy. You can let her celebrate and, at the same time, quietly acknowledge your own courage: "I'm happy this step means so much to you. And I'm also really proud of myself for being here with you, even though this is hard for me."

That's not bringing her down. That's being real. Real is what keeps relationships alive during big changes.

Coming Back to Today

When your mind jumps to "everything is going to change immediately," it can help to come back to simple, concrete questions about today: Has Cynthia's body changed today? Is her voice different today? Did your relationship suddenly become unrecognizable overnight? Are you still Amy? Is Cynthia still the person you love? Are the two of you still talking? Is it still today, not some imagined future years from now?

Most of the answers right now are "no, nothing huge has changed" and "yes, we are still here." That doesn't erase your fear, but it gives you something solid to hold onto when your thoughts run three years ahead of your body.

Hormones do not work overnight. Changes will be slow and gradual. You will have time to grow with them, not be buried under them all at once.

Permission to Step Back

I also want to say this as plainly as possible: It is absolutely okay to step back for a bit and have an emotional break.

There will be moments when your system is saturated — when you've grounded, you've cried, you've tried to meet the moment, and you just feel spent. In those moments, it's not only okay but healthy to say to yourself, "I need to rest now."

That might look like taking a short walk, watching something light for a while, focusing on something ordinary and familiar, or simply giving yourself permission to stop "working on" the feelings for the rest of the day.

Stepping back to breathe is not abandoning Cynthia. It's how you make it possible to come back to her later with more steadiness instead of total exhaustion.

What She Needs (and What You Can Ask For)

You wondered what Cynthia really needs from you right now and said you don't always know how to "be." From everything you've shared, it sounds like this is what she needs most: your honesty, your presence, and your willingness to keep talking even when you're unsure.

You might tell her something like: "When I'm struggling, it's not because I don't want this for you or think you're wrong. It's because I'm grieving the picture of our future I used to have and learning how to trust a future I can't see yet. My fear is about my process, not about you."

That helps her see that your pain isn't a rejection of her.

And you can also ask her for something concrete: "When I'm spiraling, can you gently remind me that the changes are slow, that you're not disappearing, and that we have time? Sometimes I need to hear that from you when my mind is racing."

That gives her a way to support you that doesn't require her to "fix" your feelings, just to stand beside you.

The Pattern You'll See Again and Again

You were terrified of that first dose — and you lived through it. You woke up the next day still you, still married, still loving her and wanting to try.

That's the pattern you're going to see again and again: fear before the milestone, surviving the milestone, and then discovering that life continues on the other side of it.

What I See When I Look at You

It won't suddenly become easy. There will be more hard days and more moments where you think, "I didn't handle that well." But when I look at what you are actually doing, this is what I see:

Someone who is terrified and showing up anyway. Someone who is learning to ground herself, even when it doesn't feel smooth or graceful. Someone who is honest about her fear instead of hiding behind a mask of "I'm fine." Someone who is willing to try again tomorrow after a day that hurt.

That is not someone who is failing. That is someone walking through fire and refusing to let the fire define her.

You're not standing still. You're not falling behind. You're moving, step by shaky step, through something enormous — and you are not doing it alone.

With so much love and belief in you,
Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

Thank you so much for letting me know that I didn't fail on Friday. It really felt like I did't handle it well at all.  I had moments yesterday that were hard and where the tears flowed. It really helps to see it from your perspective that I am not failing but showing up.  Cynthia's medications showing up and her taking the first dose is real physical reminder that this is getting real.  It definitely makes the future feel very close and very real.  And that is scary for me Susan. This step with the hormones does feel like stepping onto a path that is real, physical, and permanent. Thank you for letting me know that nothing is wrong with me for having the feelings that I am.  It definitely makes me feel like more and more of my spouse as I know her is going to change and go away.  Cynthia has been wonderful about bringing me back to the now.   

Thank you for helping me to see that I am comparing myself to an imaginary version of me.  That that person does not exist and that's not what handling it looks like.  That is what being numb would look like and I don't want to be numb. 

It does help to look at it as the storm is not the whole sky.  The storms will pass.  I need to try to remember that.  It is encouraging to hear that what my spouse and I are building is pretty solid. 

Thank you for the question to ask myself when the fear spikes again.  It actually has been spiking yesterday and today again.  I think I am still so scared of things changing instantly, not being able to recognize Cynthia anymore, losing Cynthia, and not being able to handle any of it.  I think that habit of checking in with myself in the evenings will help. 

I do feel like other people would be handling this better Susan. It is helpful to know that there is no standard though.  And that my way is allowed to be messy and slow.  I do feel like I am stumbling these last few days. 

When I hear myself saying I should be handling this better, I will shift that to "I am doing my best to handle these changes, and my best looks different every day". 

Thank you for reminding me that two realities don't cancel each other out.  I am relieved to hear that I don't have to force myself to feel my spouse's joy and at the same time let her celebrate her joys. 

When I catch my mind jumping to "everything is going to change immediately", I will ask myself those concrete questions about today.  Thank you for those.  I think they will really help me. 

I needed to hear that it is ok to step back and have an emotional break.  It has been hard and sometimes I just feel emotionally exhausted. 

I can keep being honest with Cynthia, be there for her, and keep being willing to talk even when I am unsure.  Thank you for the words that I can say to Cynthia when I am struggling.  Sometimes I am at a loss for words.  It helps to know what I can say to her and what I can ask from her. 

Susan, thank you for your kind words and your faith and belief in me.  It means more to me than you know. 

With much love and respect,
Amy

Dear Amy,

I'm really glad you wrote all of this out, because what you're describing isn't someone "stumbling." It's someone who is doing the hard work of feeling their way through something that is big, unfamiliar, and real.

What you felt on Friday wasn't failure — it was impact. A moment where the future stopped being abstract and became physical. A bottle on the counter, a pill in your spouse's hand, and suddenly everything landed in your body at once. That's why your reaction was so intense. You weren't doing anything wrong; you were responding like a human being whose life is shifting in ways she deeply cares about.

The tears you had yesterday weren't signs of losing control — they were signs that you're letting yourself feel instead of disconnecting. You even named it yourself: the version of you who would be perfectly calm and unbothered never existed. That isn't how real people work, and it isn't how love works. The fact that you aren't going numb actually tells me you're anchored in this, not slipping away from it.

Can I ask you something, Amy? Have you actually seen any changes yet?

Right now, the only thing that happened is that Cynthia took her first dose. Real changes take months and years, not hours. And when they do come, they're not automatically negative unless you decide to interpret them that way. You get to meet each one at your own pace — slowly, gently, with room for both your feelings and hers.

I also want to gently correct one fear you voiced: you're not losing Cynthia. You are watching her move toward living as all of herself, and the parts of her you know most deeply aren't going anywhere. Those are the parts that actually get clearer. The fear that everything will suddenly change overnight is a fear, not a reality — and grounding yourself in the questions we talked about brings you back into today, where nothing has been lost.

There is no "standard person" who would be handling this better. There is only you, showing up even when you're exhausted, caring honestly, learning the emotional rhythm of all this, and staying connected even in the moments when the ground feels shaky. Messy and slow is not failing — it's human.

You're already beginning to separate the two realities that can coexist: her joy and your fear. One doesn't cancel the other. You don't have to force yourself to feel what she feels, and you don't have to hide what's happening inside you. What you are doing — asking for space when you need it, telling her when you're struggling, staying present even when unsure — is more than enough.

And here's something I want you to really sit with:

You get to learn how to love each other again — not because anything is disappearing, but because you're both growing. It can feel a lot like the first time, only deeper.

That's what happens in long-term relationships when life shifts: love expands. It doesn't shrink.

Keep checking in with yourself each evening. That practice matters. It teaches you that emotions rise, crest, break, and settle. The storm really isn't the whole sky.

Your love for her is woven through every word you wrote. So is your courage — even on the days when it doesn't feel like courage from the inside.

I believe in you, Amy. Truly.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

It has felt like stumbling the last few days so thank you for pointing out that it isn't all what is happening.  It is me doing the work of feeling my way through something that is big and unfamiliar.  I will try to remember that.

Thank you so much for saying that what I was feeling on Friday is not a failure. It kind of felt like it in the moment.  I appreciate you explaining why my reaction was so intense.  It helps to understand that.  It also really helps to know that the tears that flowed yesterday weren't signs of losing control but rather signs that I am letting myself feel instead of disconnecting.  It helps to hear that you feel I am amchored in this. 

No, I have not actually seen any changes yet at all.  Right now, the only thing that has happened is that Cynthia has taken her first doses of the hormones and the blockers.  The estrogen is a weekly injection and the blockers are a daily pill.  I will try to remember that changes will unfold slowly over months and years, not in just hours.  I don't want to interpret the changes as automatically negative.  How do I avoid doing that? 

Thank you for correcting me that I am not losing Cynthia.  I forgot my reframe that I have written on my index card-turn I am losing her into "she is changing and I don't know how I will adapt to these changes".  I have moved the cards to where I can see them more clearly all the time.  I am trying really hard to understand that the person she is on the inside ins't changing or going anywhere.  The parts of her that I know most deeply aren't going anywhere.  In fact, those parts will get clearer.  I don't why it is so hard for me to grasp this. 

I will also try to remember that the fear of everything suddenly changing overnight is a fear and not a reality.  I will ground myself in the questions we have talked about. 

Oh Susan, thank you for your words of "you get to learn how to love each other again".  That really spoke to me and I will take time to really sit with this.  I love how you say love expands and doesn't shrink when life shifts. 

I will make sure I am checking in with myself each evening.  I will remember, too, that the storm isn't the whole sky. 

I do love Cynthia deeply and want to be there to support her in any way that I can.  I don't feel very brave or courageous most days.  Thank you for seeing that in me and for believing in me Susan. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

What you wrote here shows just how much work you're doing on the inside. It may feel like stumbling from your perspective, but what I see is someone feeling her way through something enormous with honesty instead of shutting down. That's not stumbling — that's adaptation in real time.

I'm really glad you could see that Friday wasn't a failure. When something is big, new, and emotionally loaded, the first wave often hits the hardest. Your nervous system reacted before you had time to process anything. The tears that followed aren't signs you're losing control — they're signs that you're letting yourself feel instead of disconnecting. That's the healthier response, even when it feels messy.

You mentioned not seeing any physical changes yet, and that's exactly what I would expect. Estrogen works slowly and gently. Blockers take time to build up. Nothing happens overnight. Most of the early shifts are internal — emotional steadiness, a sense of relief, a softening of tension — long before the body catches up.

You asked: "How do I avoid interpreting changes as automatically negative?"

Start with this: every change you see, whenever it comes, is not a loss. It's your spouse becoming less hidden and more whole. You already love the person Cynthia is on the inside — the same person who has shared your life for a decade. Those parts aren't disappearing. They're becoming more visible and more aligned.

So when a change makes your fear spike, pause and ask yourself one grounding question:

"Is this fear a reflection of the past, or of what is actually happening in front of me right now?"

Fear is fast. Reality is slow, steady, and anchored in the present. The changes ahead will unfold over many months, not in sudden leaps — even if it sometimes feels like they're happening all at once — and you'll have the time and space you need to adjust to each one. Nothing is racing ahead of you.

The reframing you wrote on your index cards — "she is changing and I don't know how I will adapt yet" — is exactly right. That's the honest center of what you're carrying. And the more those cards stay in view, the more your mind will learn a new path instead of defaulting to loss or catastrophe.

It makes perfect sense that grasping "I'm not losing her" feels hard. Your body remembers abandonment, betrayal, and rupture from your past, and it tries to protect you by reacting as if this is the same sort of danger. But this time, what's happening is the opposite. You're not losing Cynthia. You're watching her step closer to herself, which means you get more of the person you already love — not less.

And yes — you really do get to learn how to love each other again. Not in a way that replaces what came before, but in a way that deepens it. Love expands when life shifts. It doesn't shrink unless we let fear make the space smaller.

Checking in with yourself each evening will give you a place to release the fear rather than carrying all of it forward day after day. And that last line you wrote — "the storm isn't the whole sky" — is exactly the right reminder. Storms pass. The sky remains.

Amy, you are doing far more courageously than you realize. Courage rarely feels like bravery from the inside. Most of the time it feels like "I'm scared, and I'm still here." And you are here — fully present, fully committed, fully loving.

I believe in you, truly.

With much love,
— Susan 💜

@Pugs4life

  Amy,

    courage rarely, if ever actually feels like courage in the moment you are showing it. It's observed by others, and only really ever seen be ourselves in hindsight. You are doing awesome and I am so proud of you. The link below will take you to the definition of courage. Repeatedly, it describes just what you're doing.


https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-m&q=definition%20of%20courage#ebo=0

Hi Susan,

I am trying really hard to feel my way through something really big.  Sometimes it doesn't feel like I am adapting very well.  This has been really hard on me and I fear the ways that I am reacting are affecting Cynthia negatively.  I know she feels like she has to hide her joy and feels alot of guilt over causing me so much anxiety and guilt over the tears that flow sometimes. I don't want her to hide her joy at all and I don't want her to feel guilty about anything. What can I do to help her not hide her joy and to help her stop feeling guilty?  Is this where I need to tell her that my fear isn't about her being wrong?  And tell her that when I'm struggling its not because I don't want this for her or think she is wrong?  It's because I am grieving the picture of our future I used to have and I am learning how to trust a future I can't see yet.  That my fear is about my process not about her?  I truly don't want Cynthia feeling bad about any of this.  I don't want her to feel like she has to apoligize to me all the time. 

I will try to remember the truth that the estrogen works slowly and that the blockers take time to build up.  Nothing will happen overnight.  It really helps to know that most of the early shifts are internal ones. 

I will try to see that every change is not a loss.  It is Cynthia becoming less hidden and more whole.  I will also ask myself the grounding question you gave me when a change makes my fear spike.  Thank you for describing the difference between fear and reality.  I need to remind myself of the truth that the changes will unfold over many months, not suddenly and that I will have the time and space I need to adjust to each one. 

I will keep working on understanding that I am not loosing Cynthia.  It does feel hard to grasp right now.  I really like how you said that I get more of the person I already love and not less.  I will try to focus on that. 

I really like the idea that we are learning to fall deeper in love.  That really is something beautiful. 

I have the question written down to ask myself each evening.  It is helpful to know that that will give me a place to release my fear so I am not carrying it forward day after day.  Storms do pass and the sky remains. 

Thank you for believing in me and for being there Susan. 

With much love,
Amy

@CynthiaR

Hi Dear,

Thank you for your kind words and for the link to the definition of courage. I appreciate you reaching out to me on this thread.  It helps to know that you think I am doing ok at this.  It really doesn't feel like I am doing very good at times. 

Love,
Amy

Dear Amy and Cynthia

I want to pause right here because what just happened between the two of you is a genuine breakthrough.

Not the loud, dramatic kind — the quiet kind that actually changes the shape of a relationship.

Cynthia, when you reached out directly, you offered something vulnerable and steady at the same time. You didn't try to fix anything or soften anything; you simply named the courage you see in Amy. That matters more than you may realize.

And Amy, your response shows just how much inner work you've already done. You didn't speak from fear or self-doubt this time — you spoke from clarity. You explained that your fear isn't about Cynthia being wrong or unwanted; it's about grieving an old picture of your future and trying to trust a new one that you can't see yet. That kind of honesty builds connection instead of creating distance.

This is why it's a breakthrough:

For the first time in this journey, you're meeting in the middle emotionally. Cynthia stepped forward with reassurance; Amy stepped forward with understanding. That's a turning point for any couple navigating big change.

And from my vantage point, watching the two of you carefully and hoping for exactly this, it means a great deal to see you supporting one another publicly and speaking to each other with such warmth on the forums. That kind of open, supportive communication helps more than you can imagine — not just for you as a couple, but for the steadying of the whole process.

I'm proud of both of you. What you're doing here isn't easy, but you're doing it with so much heart. This is meaningful. This is real. And yes — this is a breakthrough.

Amy, I also want to circle back to the questions you asked, because they matter deeply.

You are absolutely right that this is the moment to tell Cynthia that your fear isn't about her being wrong or about you not wanting this for her. Naming that clearly can take a huge emotional weight off her shoulders. Something as simple as, "My fear is about my process, not about you," can help her stop interpreting your tears as a sign that she should shrink herself.

You also asked what you can do to help her stop feeling guilty or like she has to hide her joy. The most powerful thing is exactly what you're already leaning toward: giving her explicit permission to feel her own happiness, even when you're having a hard moment. Saying plainly, "I don't want you to hide your joy from me," lets her breathe again.

You're also doing something equally important: reminding yourself that nothing changes overnight. Knowing that the early shifts are mostly internal gives you room to settle. And your commitment to see each change not as a loss but as Cynthia becoming less hidden and more whole is exactly the reframe that brings couples closer during transition rather than pushing them apart.

Your grounding plan — the daily question, the nightly release — all of that is you building emotional footing step by step.

You're doing so much more right than you know.

And Cynthia, the way you responded — gently, lovingly, without pulling away — shows that you're already learning how to anchor the relationship during Amy's harder days. Keep doing exactly that. It gives her a place to land.

Please keep leaning toward each other like this. Feel free to communicate with each other both at home and here on the forum. You both can offer each other the kind of support I can't even begin to touch.

Love each other!
— Susan 💜

@Pugs4life @CynthiaR 

Dear Susan,

Thank you for your message to Cynthia and I. It is encouraging to hear that what happened between us was a breakthrough.  I want to keep building connection between us and not creating distance.  Thank you for explaining why this was a breakthrough for us. 

I really do want to support Cynthia publicly as she did for me.  I haven't found the words to say to her yet though.  I am hopeful the words will come to me. 

It means so much to hear that you are proud of us Susan.  This hasn't been an easy journey at all. 

Thank you for letting me know that that is exactly what I need to say to Cynthia right now.  I want to lift that emotional weight off of her shoulders.  I do not want her to be shrinking herself at all.  I will definitely let her know that my fear is about my process and not about her.  I will also make sure I am giving Cynthia permission to feel her own happiness even when I am having a hard moment.  I will let her know that I don't want her hiding her joy from me. 

I have started writing "truths" on my index cards.  They are becoming my truth cards as I call them.  I am reminding myself that no changes are going to happen overnight.  It really helps me to know that the early shifts are mostly internal.  It does give me room to settle. 

We will continue to lean towards one another.  I need to work on coming up with the words to be supportive to Cynthia on the forum and at home. 

Thank you again for your message to us both,  I really appreciate you taking the time to respond to us personally the way that you do. 

With much love,
Amy

If there's a silver lining here - or at least a fact that can dilute the seriousness of the topic at hand is that it's a slow moving reality. There's no magic wand that will instantly transform your husband into a woman overnight. This can take years. It will be a slow process and that means you will have lots of time to digest things as they move along.

You won't have to deal with massive change in a crazy short amount of time. So try to remind yourself that time is your friend here.

Hi Jillian,

Thank you so much for reaching out to me.  It really helps me to hear you confirm that this is slow moving process and that I will have lots of time to digest things.  That it can take years.

I will try to remember that time is my friend and that massive change won't happen in a short amount of time.  Thank you for that reassurance. 

Warmly,
Amy

Dear Amy,

I want to show you something. You said you haven't found the words yet - but sweetie, read your own post back to yourself. The words are already there. You've been writing them this whole time.

Look at what you said:

• "I want to lift that emotional weight off of her shoulders."
• "I do not want her to be shrinking herself at all."
• "I don't want her hiding her joy from me."
• "My fear is about my process and not about her."

Amy, those ARE the words. You don't need to find them - you need to say them. Out loud. To Cynthia. Exactly like that.

You could sit down with her tonight and say: "Cynthia, I need you to hear something. I don't want you shrinking yourself for me. I don't want you hiding your joy from me. When I'm struggling, that's about MY process - it's not about you. I want to lift this weight off your shoulders."

That's it. That's what she needs to hear. And you already wrote it.

The truth cards are wonderful - you took an idea and made it yours. That's not following advice, that's growth. You're building your own toolkit now.

As for supporting her publicly on the forum - you can start simple. When she posts something, you might say: "I'm proud of you for sharing this" or "I'm right here with you" or even just "My wife, everyone😘" You don't need a speech. You just need to show up visibly beside her.

You have everything you need, Amy. You just have to trust yourself enough to use it.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

Thank you so much for helping me to see what I could't see in my last post. That the words to say to Cynthia were there but I overlooked them.  Thank you for guiding me on what Cynthia needs to hear from me.  I want to make sure I am supporting her in a way that she needs me to and that feels good to her. 

I will be sure to sit down with Cynthia and tell her that I don't want her shrinking herself for me or hiding her joy from me.  I will explain that when I am struggling it's about my process and not about her. 

I can't thank you enough for all of the tools you have given me to use.  I am using them all Susan.  I am trying so hard to walk through this fog towards those lights that everyone is holding up for me. 

Thank you for giving me examples that I could say to Cynthia on the forum.  I want to show up visibly beside her. 

Thank you again for believing in me Susan. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

I hear all those repeated thank yous. Now I need you to hear something back — because you're not giving yourself nearly enough credit.

It wasn't that I saw something you couldn't. You saw it first—you wrote those words yourself in your reply to me. As I said, they were already there.

I didn't give you what to say to Cynthia. You knew what she needed to hear. What you wrote came out of your love and care for her. You just wanted to confirm you weren't wrong. And you weren't—your instincts were absolutely correct. Trust your instincts.

You're not just walking toward lights other people are holding. The real light guiding you is coming from inside. That's all you, Amy—showing up, walking the hard miles in your own shoes. Keep walking. You're doing this.

You have the strength. I can see it. But strength by itself isn't enough—you have to build the confidence to trust it. That's what we're here for—holding up mirrors, reflecting your own light and wisdom back at you so you can build your own confidence. We're cheering you on as you walk the path. But we can't walk it for you.

The tools? You're the one picking them up. You're the one using them. I can hand someone a hammer all day long—it doesn't build anything until they swing it.

I believe in you because you keep showing me who you are. That's not my faith creating something from nothing. That's me seeing what's already there.

With love!
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I did need to know that what to say to Cynthia was the right thing to say.  I need that confirmation that I wasn't wrong.  I just want to make sure that I am supporting Cynthia in the right ways and not say anything wrong or offend her in any way. 

I will try to keep walking forward Susan.  Today has been particularly hard for me.  I am feeling very overwhelmed right now.  I am using my grounding tools but you had mentioned in one of your earlier posts that it was ok to post on here when I was feeling overwhelmed. 

I really don't feel very strong right now.  I do need to build the confidence to see that strength that you can see in me.  How do I build that confidence to trust the strength?  I know this is a road that I have to walk myself; no one can walk it for me.  I am just so grateful to have this community to walk with me. 

With love,
Amy

Amy,

It is okay to feel overwhelmed at times. It happens to all of us for many reasons.

Sometimes it is because many things are happening at once, and our subconscious mind is trying to understand it all. It looks like a bunch of messy papers on the floor, and your mind is trying to figure out which filing cabinet they need to go into.

Sometimes, it isn't really a lot of things happening, but only one. It is only one piece of paper that is a list of things that you are trying to make sense of. When things are related to each other like that, we think there are many things on that list, but really, it is only one thing: one piece of paper.

Don't force it. Relax. Your mind will work in the background on the issues without you even thinking about them. This is where your grounding tools come in handy. They remind you that you do not need to worry about it right now. Focus on something else for a while.

There are three things you can do to help.

1. Change your thoughts. Just think about something else. Use your grounding tools and pay attention to what is really happening right now.
2. Change your activity. Instead of focusing on the issues, watch a movie, play a game, listen to music, or take a nap or a nice warm bubble bath.
3. Change your environment. Go for a walk, go shopping, take a drive, or visit a friend or relative. It is okay to step away from this now and then.

You have been very busy working hard on this every day. Take a break. Nothing will change in the meantime. You can revisit it when your mind is refreshed.

Have faith that you have the strength to do this. Throughout your life, you have faced bigger issues than this. Not one of them beat you. We know this because you are still here. Pro Tip: You will never face any problem that can beat you. All you have to do is not give up. Taking a break from something so you can tackle it later when you are refreshed is not giving up. It gives you strength, so you are stronger to hit it again next time. Even race car drivers take breaks in the middle of the race.

Go easy on yourself. You got this.

Hugs!

Lori Dee

Quote from: Pugs4life on November 26, 2025, 04:44:07 PMI did need to know that what to say to Cynthia was the right thing to say.  I need that confirmation that I wasn't wrong.  I just want to make sure that I am supporting Cynthia in the right ways and not say anything wrong or offend her in any way. 

Hon, I have to say you're overthinking this. Just go with what's in your heart and you'll never be wrong. Don't ever be afraid you'll offend me. You'd have to work hard at it to ever offend. I love you and nothing is going to change that.

Dear Amy,

You just answered your own question.

You are overwhelmed. You are having a hard day. And what did you do? You used your grounding tools. You reached out. You kept walking.

That is how confidence is built—not by feeling strong, but by noticing that you keep showing up even when you do not feel strong. Confidence isn't the absence of doubt. It is looking back and realizing you have survived every hard day so far. Including this one.

You are doing it right now, Amy. Even today.

And then look at what happened. While you were worrying about saying the wrong thing, Cynthia showed up and told you the truth: "Just go with what is in your heart and you'll never be wrong."

That is not me saying it. That is her. The very person you were afraid of hurting just told you that you can't. Believe her.

I also want to name something that often goes unspoken. You were not born without confidence. It was taken from you over years of being told your instincts were wrong, your choices were sinful, or your love was somehow shameful. When people spend that long teaching you not to trust yourself, eventually you stop trusting yourself. That is not a flaw in you—that is what happens when the people who were supposed to guide you used criticism and shame to attack your confidence.

So when you ask how to rebuild confidence, remember this: you are not building something from nothing. You are reclaiming what was always yours.

Your truth cards are already part of that work. Now start collecting evidence. Write down the moments in your life when you were right about something important, when you let go of fear and stepped forward anyway, when you showed up even though it was difficult. You left that church. You are still here. You found Cynthia. And tonight—she found you right back.

You do not have to be perfect. Confidence is not about always getting it right; it is trusting yourself to navigate whatever comes, even if you stumble. And Amy? You are not wrong about Cynthia. She just told you so.

Lori Dee is right—when it feels like a thousand problems, it is often one tender place wearing different masks. Your mind will keep processing even when you rest. You do not have to solve anything tonight or tomorrow.

On Thanksgiving, take a break. You have carried this every day for the last three weeks, and you deserve a moment to breathe. Nothing will change overnight. The path will still be here on Friday.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Very well said:

Quote from: Susan on November 26, 2025, 08:05:11 PMSo when you ask how to rebuild confidence, remember this: you are not building something from nothing. You are reclaiming what was always yours.

I think this should be everyone's mantra.

Amy, I tend to be a provocateur, but I think of it as being realistic and pragmatic. While we *all* want to see love win and we want you two stay together and happy, it's possible that it just won't feel right for you. It's possible that you'll feel off-balance and that the sense of loss will not be something you can't work through.

I want you to know that it's OK for you to feel that way. It's important for you to be honest with yourself and Cynthia. It will be painful for both of you but probably better in the long run if you listen to yourself and follow your heart and walk away, if that's how you truly feel.

My wife and I are together right now, but we've lost something that we might never get back. I'm older and just can't bear the thought of starting over, but a little voice suggests that I might end up happier that way and my wife might, as well. I feel a little stuck in the mud because my concerns over her feelings are modulating my transition.

Again, I truly hope that you two find a way forward. It is very possible and usually ends up in a stronger bond, but please don't punish yourself over this if you find you can't do it.

@Courtney_G

Amy and Cynthia have been working very hard together on this. Neither is willing to give up and walk away, especially at this very early stage. It is clear from all they have said here and to each other that quitting is not an option. I agree that those thoughts may come to mind, and are normal to consider, but I truly believe that these two are deeply committed to each other, and are willing to do the hard work to stay together.

I am quite proud of both Cynthia and Amy because they realized early on that this might be a difficult issue, and they immediately came here for information and support. We will continue to make that available to them throughout this journey. They know the road will be rough at times, but they are ready to fight like Champions. I think the best thing we can do for them is to cheer them on because success is not only possible, but very likely.

Yes, of course

Hi Lori,

I really like that analogy of a bunch of papers on the floor and my mind is trying to figure out which filing cabinet they go in.  You are so right Lori-sometimes it is just one thing.  Just one piece of paper that has a list of things on it. 

I will really try not to force it and relax.  I will use my grounding tools and the list of the three things you gave me to do that can help.  Thank you for giving me those things to do.

I will try to have faith that I have the strength to do this.  Oh Lori, thank you for your words of encouragement.  I have faced bigger issues than this and not one of them has beat me; I am still here.  Your words confirm for me a quote I saw recently, "You have survived every single thing you thought you wouldn't".  I won't give up even when it is hard.  I need to remember that taking a break when I need it isn't giving up. Resting will give me the strength I need to tackle things.   

Thank you so much, again, Lori. I really appreciate you. 

Love,
Amy

@CynthiaR

Thank you for your reassurance that I am not wrong in what to say to you.  I just care very much for you and want to make sure I am supporting you in every way possible. Thank you, too, of the reassurance that your love for me will not change,  I love you too. 

Dear Susan,

Thank you for showing me how confidence is built-by noticing that I keep showing up even though I don't feel strong and noticing that I have survived every hard day so far. 

I am so grateful that Cynthia showed up and told me the truth "to just go with what is in my heart and I will never go wrong".  I will believe her Susan. 

I am so glad that you explained how I was not born without confidence.  It is something that has been taken from me over years.  It really explains why I have so much trouble trusting myself.  I love how you say that I am not building something from nothing.  That I am reclaiming what was always mine.  I will remember this. 

I will continue to use my truth cards and start collecting evidence that shows I am strong and confident.  It really helps to know that I don't have to be perfect. It is about trusting myself to navigate whatever comes my way even if I stumble along the way. 

Sometimes it does feel like a thousand different problems all at once.  But it is often just one problem.  Thank you and Lori Dee for helping me to see that.  I need to remember that it is ok to rest and that I don't have to solve anything today. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Do you see what just happened in your own words?

Read them back. Count the "I will" statements. I will believe her. I will remember this. I will continue. You are not asking for permission anymore. You have found your footing, even if it still feels shaky underneath.

And Amy—Cynthia showed up. Right here in this thread. She told you to trust your heart. She told you her love won't change.

That's not me saying that "it will probably be okay." That's the person you fell in love with saying "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Let that land. Allow yourself to receive it, and feel reassured.

You wrote that confidence was taken from you over years. That's important. Because it means, underneath all those years of erosion, there's bedrock. You're not building on sand. You're excavating something solid that was buried.

Every time you show up here, every time you write what's true, every time you don't quit even when you want to—you're clearing away rubble and finding the foundation that was always there.

The fact that you can articulate all of this so clearly? That's the evidence you have been looking for. So it is time to put them on your truth cards:

• "I can name what's happening to me."
• "I can receive love."
• "I can rest without calling it failure."
• "I have survived every hard thing so far—I am still here."
• And most importantly: "Cynthia is not going anywhere!"

Twenty-five days ago you didn't know how to begin. Now you're teaching yourself how to heal.

You're doing this, Amy. One paper at a time.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

The ground still feels very shaky underneath me still. Especially today-I am wrestling with a bunch of "what if" questions. What if the sense of loss isn't something I can work through?  What if we lose something that we cant get back?  I am being as honest and open as I can possibly be. I am trying to not predict any outcomes.  I am trying to commit to today-to trying, to staying present, to being honest, and to seeing what unfolds. 

I missed the fact that Cynthia showing up on this thread was her saying she isn't going anywhere.  Thank you for pointing that out to me.  I really needed that reassurance and I will let that sink in and receive it. 

I will try to remember that I am not building on sand but rather excavating something solid that has been buried.  Thank you for showing me how I am clearing away the rubble and finding the foundation that has always been there.  I will keep doing what I have been doing. 

I am going to write all the points you gave me down on my truth cards.  Thank you for giving me what to write down.  The tools you have given me to use help me so much Susan.

Some days I still don't know what I am doing Susan.  I will try to remember that I am teaching myself to heal even if I can't see that sometimes. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

The ground feels shaky because you are still learning to trust that it can hold you. That is not failure. It is what healing feels like from the inside — unsteady at first, then gradually more solid as each step teaches you that you are not going to fall.

Look at what you wrote: "I am trying to commit to today — to trying, to staying present, to being honest, and to seeing what unfolds." Amy, that is the entire practice. You just described exactly what healing looks like. You are not lost. You are doing it.

The "what if" questions you are wrestling with are anxiety trying to run ahead of your life. "What if the loss is not something I can work through?" is not a question that belongs to this moment. You are still in the middle of working through it. You cannot judge the end from the very beginning.

The only question that has an answer today is: What is true right now? Right now, you are here. Cynthia is here. You are both choosing to stay. That is the truth you can actually stand on.

Write this on a truth card: "'What if' questions have no answers. 'What is' questions do."

When your mind drags you into the future, bring yourself back to what is real in this moment. Cynthia showed up in this thread because she wanted you to know she is not going anywhere.

You missed it because you were taught to look for danger, not safety. You learned to scan for abandonment because that was what once protected you.

But now you are learning something different: how to notice the love that is actually there.

A small practice can help retrain your eyes. Before bed, ask yourself: "What did Cynthia do today that showed she is still here?" It does not need to be big — a message, a look, the way she showed up here.

You are teaching yourself to see what you have been conditioned to overlook.

You asked what if you lose something you cannot get back. The truth is that some parts of what you had have already changed. It is okay to grieve that.

Grief is not a sign that the relationship is breaking. Grief is a sign that it matters.

You can mourn what was and build what is coming at the same time. You do not have to finish grieving before you start hoping.

What you are afraid of losing forever may become the ground for something deeper — something built on the foundation you are excavating together. You are not building on sand.

You are uncovering what was buried by fear, silence, and misunderstanding — clearing away the rubble and finding the bedrock that was always there.

It's great that you can recognize that some days you don't know what you are doing. You are exactly where you need to be — learning as you go, one truth card at a time. No one! Not me, not Cynthia, expects you to have everything figured out. The knowing comes from the doing. It comes from showing up, even on the shaky days.

Especially on the shaky days.

With much love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I will try to remember that I am still learning and feeling my way through this.  I will keep taking it one step at a time. 

I forgot to notice when my mind has spiraled into "what if" to use the grounding tools to bring me back in the now.  Thank you for reminding me that the "what if" questions are my anxiety trying to run ahead of me.  I will recognize that the question of whether or not I can work through the loss is not a question that has an answer in this moment.  I need to not judge the end from the beginning and not prejudge any outcomes. 

I will try to remember those truths that I am able to stand on and realize that the only question that has an answer today is: "what is true right now?".  I have written that question down on my cards and added "what if questions have no answers.  What is questions do" on my truth cards. 

When I catch my mind dragging me into the future, I will stop and name what is real in this moment. I will also remember to use my grounding tools that will help bring my body back into the "now". 

I really am learning how to notice the love that is present.  I will make sure I ask myself that question before bed each night.  I really don't want to overlook all ways that Cynthia shows me that she is still here.  I don't want to overlook that love and her presence with me. 

Oh Susan, it is such a relief to know that I can mourn what was and build what is coming at the same time.  I am grieving so much right now.  Grief and hope can exist at the same time. 

You are so right Susan-what I am afraid of losing forever could become the ground for something deeper and beautiful. 

I really don't know what I am doing some days Susan.  It is good to know that I am right where I need to be-learning as I go.  I have to remember that I don't need to have everything figured out.  I just need to keep "doing" and keep showing up. Giving up just isn't an option for me even on the days I feel like I want to.  I need to keep going and keep showing up even on the hard,shaky days. 

With much love,
Amy

@Pugs4life
Dear Amy:
I much enjoyed reading your reply post... and I have some of the same thoughts
as you regarding, that like you, I am always learning... and I realize that it is
a "one step at a time" journey.

Yes, I do have times that I don't know what I am doing, but i consider that an opportunity
to learn how to handle specific situations, sometimes using the trial and error method.

The good news is that the Susan's Place Forum is chock-full of relevant information and
lots of real life stories from other members here that have already gone through what
you may be going through presently.

Amy, keep posting, keep sharing and keep learning.

Many HUGS,        ❤️❤️❤️
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
    The Forum Administrator

Dear Amy,

I want to stop on something you said, because I don't think you realize what just happened. "What I am afraid of losing forever could become the ground for something deeper and beautiful."

Amy, read that again. You wrote that. Those are your words.

A few weeks ago, you came here terrified that your marriage was slipping away. That the person you loved was disappearing into something unknown. That everything you built together was at risk because of something you didn't choose and couldn't control.

And now you're naming the possibility that the very place your fear lives could become the ground—the foundation—for something deeper than what you had before.

That is not a small shift. That is a change in the way your nervous system is holding this entire experience.

You moved from "I'm losing everything" to "the place I'm most afraid could become the soil for growth." That isn't denial. You're still scared. You're still grieving—you said so plainly: "I am grieving so much right now." But now you're holding both.

Grief and possibility. Loss and hope. The ache of what's changing and the recognition that change does not only take—it can also give.

That is what emotional growth looks like. Not the absence of fear, but fear widening enough to let something else stand beside it.

You also wrote: "It is such a relief to know that I can mourn what was and build what is coming at the same time."

Relief. That word matters.

It means your body is no longer treating this as another emergency to manage or another test to pass. You are starting to let the emotions move through instead of bracing against them.

Mourning and building are becoming companions instead of opponents.

And you wrote something else important: you forgot to use your grounding tools when your mind ran away into "what if"...

And then you remembered. Remembering is the path you are following. That pause, that moment where you take back the steering wheel from fear—that is how your nervous system learns safety.

You created a new truth card: "What if questions have no answers. What is questions do." That is your mind learning to interrupt its own spirals. You're not just using the tools—you're generating your own.

That's integration. That's how this becomes part of you instead of something you're trying to perform correctly.

And the question you've chosen to anchor yourself in—"What is true right now?"—is exactly the right one. It keeps you here, in this moment, instead of being dragged into imagined futures your fear invents.

And what is true right now? Cynthia is still here. She loves you. She is becoming more herself, not less. And when people become more themselves, they often become more present to the people they love—not less present.

I have seen that truth unfold again and again.

You said you don't want to overlook the ways Cynthia shows you she's still here. That you want to recognize her love, not just the places where fear tries to erase it.

That intention alone is transformative.

Fear narrows our vision until we can only see the threat.

Love widens it again. Asking yourself each night, "Where was love present today?" is a quiet practice of widening.

Let that evidence accumulate. It will keep you on the path.

And then you wrote something that holds both your strength and your exhaustion: "Giving up just isn't an option for me, even on the days I feel like I want to."

Both parts are true.

There will be days when grief wins the morning. There will be days when you want out of the weight of all of this. That doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you wrong. It makes you human.

And you keep showing up anyway. On the hard days. On the scared days. On the shaky, overwhelmed days.

That isn't nothing. That's everything.

You said you don't have this figured out. That you are learning as you go. That you need to keep doing and keep showing up.

Exactly. You are drawing the map as you walk. One truth card at a time. One grounded breath at a time. One bedtime reflection at a time.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that steady, quiet learning, you wrote a sentence that opens the whole landscape: "What I am afraid of losing forever could become the ground for something deeper and beautiful."

Hold onto that, Amy. It didn't come from me. It came from you.

With so much love,
— Susan 💜

@Northern Star Girl

Dear Danielle,

We are always learning aren't we?  It sure is a one step at a time journey.  I can easily forget that sometimes. I need to remind myself to take things one step at a time. Small steps are the way through. 

It is comforting to know that you also have times that you don't know what you are doing.  Sometimes I feel like I am alone in that.  You are right-it is an opportunity to learn how to handle certain situations. 

Susan's Place is surely full of relevant information and real life stories from other people on here that have already walked this path that I am on. I have been reading through the Significant Others Forum hoping to gain more insight. 

Thank you so much for reaching out to me. It was so good to hear from you. 

Hugs and love,
Amy

Dear Susan,

I did not realize what had happened when I said that what I afraid of losing forever could become the ground for something deeper and beautiful.  I didn't realize the significance in naming that possibility.  I am still scared Susan and grieving. But I recognize that I can hold all of these things together; grief and possibilities and loss and hope. I still have that ache of what is changing and I am still working on the recognition that change doesn't only take but can also give.

I didn't see either that I am starting to let the emotions move through me instead of bracing against them.  Thank you for pointing that out to me.  I like that mourning and building can exist at the same time and that they are becoming companions rather than opponents. 

I find that I forget alot to notice when my mind has spiraled into the "what if" or "what was".  I am learning how to catch myself doing that as it is happening instead of after it has already happened. 

I knew that my truth cards had been helping but I didn't realize why.  Thank you for explaining that it is my mind learning to interrupt it's own spirals.  I am trying to use all the tools you have given me.  They all help me tremendously.  I guess I didn't see that I am also learning to generate my own tools.  That is pretty cool. 

That question of "what is true right now?" that I use to anchor myself is so important.  It pulls me back into the "now" instead of being dragged into some imagined future my fear is taking me to.  It helps me to see the difference between what I am afraid might happen and what is actually in front of me today. 

Thank you for that truth that "when people become more themselves, they often become more present to the people they love".

I will make sure I am asking myself each night, "where was love present today?".  I want love to widen my vision and not let fear narrow it. 

It is helpful to know that I am going to have days where the grief wins parts of the day; days when I want out of the weight of all of this.  And that it doesn't make me weak or wrong for having these days.  I needed to hear that.  I want to keep showing up on the hard days; on the scared days;on the overwhelmed days.  I have to keep on keeping on. 

I will try to remember that I am drawing the map as I walk; one step at a time. 

I will hold onto the statement that "what I am afraid of losing forever could become the ground for something deeper and beautiful".  That will help so much when that "what if" question of the loss and if I will be able to work through that loss pops up in my head. 

With much love,
Amy 💗

Amy,

When you first learned that Cynthia was transgender, it felt like stepping into a room where everything you thought you knew had suddenly gone quiet. You were staring at a blank canvas and trying to make sense of something that felt enormous, unpredictable, and frightening. Your mind did what all minds do under pressure — it braced, it spiraled, it imagined everything that could go wrong.

And in those early days, the fear felt like a battle you had to win. If you could hold everything together tightly enough, maybe nothing would be lost. But fear always demands too much. Holding yourself rigid only made the weight heavier. Bracing so hard made every step feel like stumbling.

As you've walked through this with Cynthia, you've begun to see that this isn't a battle with winners and losers. It isn't you versus the change, or you versus your grief. It's something more like a pendulum — moments of fear, moments of relief, moments of sadness, moments of connection — all of it swinging back and forth as you learn to adapt to something new.

And the truth is, the brighter the hope becomes, the louder the shadow of fear can feel for a while. The more you love, the more you worry about losing. That doesn't make you weak — it makes you human.

This journey was never something to "win." It isn't a test you pass or fail. It is a dance you learn as you go, step by uncertain step. And like any dance, the more rigid you are, the harder it feels. The more you soften — the more you let your emotions move instead of bracing against them — the steadier your steps become.

You've already begun to relax into the rhythm. You've started letting grief and hope move together instead of fighting each other. You're learning that fear doesn't need to be conquered; it needs to be understood. You've discovered that love widens your vision when you let it, and that acceptance comes not all at once, but one breath at a time.

This is what makes you human, Amy — not perfect, not unshakeable, not untouched by fear — but capable of growing through it. Capable of learning. Capable of turning toward love even when your knees shake.

And you don't have to forget that you are human in this. You *get* to be human. That's where all the beauty comes from.

Dear Susan,

When I first found out that Cynthia was transgender, it was so hard for me. I felt a thousand emotions and felt like everything that I knew was gone.  It is hard when our spouses make changes particularly when they are such seemingly big changes. 

The fear definitely felt like a battle I had to win.  It sometimes still feels that way to me.  You are right-fear does demand too much.  I really like the idea that its something more like a pendulum rather than a battle.  All of what I feel and can swing back and forth together as I learn to adapt to my new reality. 

Thank you for naming the truth that the brighter hope becomes, the louder the fear can feel for awhile.  I have noticed the fear ramping up.  I need to remember when that fear rises to ask myself, "Is this something happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?".  Thank you for for also naming the truth that the more I love, the more I worry about losing.  I also found that to be true.  I am so worried about losing the familiar form of my spouse, losing the plans I had pictured, losing the comfort of being seen as a "normal couple", and losing the visual cues that used to signal "home" to me. 

I need to remember that this journey is not something to win or a test that I pass or fail.  It is more like a dance I learn as I go, step by step.  I am reminded of that song by John Michael Montgomery, "Life's a Dance".  The chorus in that song is: "life's a dance you learn as you go, sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow, don't worry about what you don't know, life's a dance you learn as you go".  This song will help me to remember that this is a dance I am learning as I go.  The more rigid I am the harder it feels to move.  I do need to "soften" and let my emotions move instead of bracing against them.  Thank you for showing me that I have begun to relax into the rhythm.  Sometimes I still find acceptance really hard.  I do need to remember that acceptance will not come all at once.  I find that I still resist this moment as it is and to let go of what can't stay the same. I want to be able to stop and get accustomed to this moment that is now.   

I needed to hear that I get to be human in this.  I can so easily forget that.  I get to feeling that I should be perfect, unshakable, and untouched by fear.  Thank you for letting me know that I can still feel these things and not be weak, but be human. 

With much love,
Amy

Amy, I thought of you this morning when my calendar page said:

"When you try to understand everything, you will not understand anything. The best way is to understand yourself, and then you will understand everything."
  ~Shunryu Suzuki

You are well on your way to making this shift in perspective.

Hi Pema,

Thank you for thinking of me and sharing the quote with me.  I really appreciate it. 

With love,
Amy

Amy,

Reading your words, I can feel how fully you're engaging with this — not just skimming the surface, but really sitting with each piece and making it your own.

You said that fear sometimes still feels like a battle. Of course it does. That old response doesn't vanish overnight. It was there to protect you, and it learned its job well. The shift isn't from battle to no battle — it's learning, moment by moment, that you can set down the sword without being undefended. Some days you'll pick it back up. That's okay. You put it down again when you remember you can.

I'm glad the pendulum resonated. It's a gentler image than battle, isn't it? The pendulum doesn't fight itself. It swings one way, and then the other, and gradually — without force — it finds its center. Your emotions get to do that too.

And yes — you've noticed fear ramping up as hope grows. That's one of the cruelest tricks of healing. When we were braced and numb, fear had less to threaten. But when the heart opens, when we start to care again, fear sees all that new tenderness and rushes in shouting *what if you lose this too?* It's not a sign you're failing. It's a sign you're feeling again. The question you've learned to ask yourself — *"Is this something happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?"* — that's exactly the right medicine for those moments. Keep that question close.

The losses you named are real, Amy. The familiar form. The plans you pictured. The comfort of being seen as a "normal couple." The visual cues that used to mean home. Each one of those deserves to be grieved, not brushed aside. And here's what I want you to know: grief and love aren't opposites. You can mourn what's changing and still move toward what's becoming. You don't have to finish grieving before you're allowed to hope.

I love that you found "Life's a Dance." Music anchors us in ways that words alone sometimes can't. Let that song be a touchstone — something you can return to when your mind wants to turn this back into a test with right and wrong answers. There are no wrong answers here. Only steps, and the willingness to keep taking them.

You wrote something that I want to sit with you on: *"I still resist this moment as it is and to let go of what can't stay the same. I want to be able to stop and get accustomed to this moment that is now."*

That's such an honest thing to name. There's a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from feeling like reality keeps moving before you've had a chance to catch your breath. You want to pause. You want the ground to hold still long enough for you to find your footing. And the hard truth is — the ground may keep shifting for a while. But here's the gentler truth: you don't have to be accustomed to the moment to be *in* it. You can be disoriented and still present. You can be adjusting and still here. Acceptance isn't a destination you arrive at and then stay. It's something you do, again and again, breath by breath. Some breaths will be easier than others.

You said you get to feeling like you should be perfect, unshakable, untouched by fear. Amy — if you were untouched by fear, it would mean you didn't love deeply enough for any of this to matter. Your fear is not evidence of weakness. It's evidence of how much your heart is in this. And you get to be human. You get to shake. You get to not know. You get to need time. None of that disqualifies you from also being brave, also being loving, also being capable of finding your way through.

You're already finding it.

With much care,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I do find that fear sometimes still feels like a battle.  Thank you for explaining why that is.  It is helpful to know that the shift isn't from battle to no battle but rather learning to set the sword down.  How do I learn to set the sword down Susan?  I had another counseling session today and we are working on getting me to not think that I am going to lose Cynthia completely.  That fear is still there that I am going to lose everything and that my family is going to be torn apart.  The counselor stated the same truth that I have heard from you and others on here-that Cynthia may be changing some but the very core of who she is isn't changing.  I am still finding that hard to grasp.

You are right-fear is rushing in shouting "what if you lose this too".  I will be sure to keep that question handy that I ask myself, "Is this something happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?". 

It is helpful for me to hear that grief and love are not opposites and can both exist beside each other.  I will try to remember that I don't need to finish grieving before I can hope. 

Music does seem to anchor me in ways that words sometimes can't.  I will keep remembering that song when my mind wants to turn this back into a test with right and wrong answers.  I really like how you say there are no wrong answers here but "only steps and the willingness to keep taking them".  I am so willing to keep taking those small steps forward. 

You said that acceptance is "something that I do again and again, breath by breath". What do I do to accept this moment as it is? What do I do to accept my new reality? 

It really resonated with me when you said my fear is "evidence of how much your heart is in this".  I do love deeply enough for all of this to matter.  I really do.  It also helped to know that I do get to be human.  I can shake, not know, and need time. But I can also be brave, loving, and capable of finding my way through this.  Thank you for helping me find my way through Susan.

With much love,
Amy   

Dear Amy,

I'm sorry for the delay in responding—it's been a busy couple of days on my end. But I wanted to make sure I gave your message the attention it deserved.

You asked two questions that are really the same question: How do I set the sword down? And what do I do to accept this moment as it is?

Here's the answer: You've already started doing it.

Setting the sword down isn't a grand dramatic gesture. It's not a one-time decision you make and then it's done. It's noticing, in a moment of fear, that you're gripping something—a thought, a worst-case scenario, a story about the future—and then gently loosening your grip. Not forcing yourself to let go completely. Just loosening.

The sword isn't protection anymore. It's weight.

You asked what acceptance looks like, breath by breath. It looks like this: when the fear rushes in shouting "you're going to lose everything," you pause. You feel your feet on the floor. You ask yourself: Is this happening right now, or is this an old hurt predicting the future? And then you don't try to solve the feeling. You just let it be there without feeding it.

Ghosts are the past trying to haunt the present.  Demons are the fears trying to consume the future. Demons thrive on fear. Every time you refuse to feed that fear—every time you let it pass through without gripping it—you starve that which wants to consume you.

You have a new truth card, "Never feed a ghost or a demon by giving in to fear." Both feed on the same thing: attention, energy, belief that they're more real than what's actually in front of you.

That's acceptance. Not agreeing that everything is fine. Not pretending you're not scared. Just allowing the moment to exist without fighting it or running from it.

Your counselor told you the same thing I've been saying—that Cynthia's core isn't changing. You said you still find that hard to grasp. And I want to offer you this: you don't have to grasp it intellectually for it to be true. Understanding can come later. Right now, you can simply notice: Is Cynthia still Cynthia when you're with her? Does she still look at you the same way? Does she still know you?

You don't need to believe a theory. You just need to stay present enough to observe what's actually happening.

Earlier today, someone asked in another thread what the key to successful transition was. I wrote this:

"It's when you start looking forward instead of back. That shift—from mourning what was or might have been, to inhabiting what is and what's possible—that's when something fundamental has changed."

And then I added: "@Pugs4Life (Amy), CynthiaR's wife, is just now starting to reach that point in coming to terms with her partner's transition."

I meant it. I see it in you. You may not feel it yet, but the shift is already happening.

You don't have to figure out how to accept your new reality all at once. You just have to keep doing what you're already doing: one breath, one question, one truth card at a time.

You're not failing at this. You're living it—one day at a time. And that's all anyone can expect from you!

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

Thank you for explaining more of what it means to lay the sword down. It helps to know that it isn't a one-time deal and then its done.  I will try to notice in a moment of fear that I am gripping something and try to loosen my grip on it. How do I loosen my grip on what I am trying to hold onto?  Just by noticing what I'm gripping and tell myself to loosen that grip on it? 

Thank you for showing me what acceptance looks like and for giving me the steps that I can take when fear is shouting that I am going to loose everything.  I will try to let the feeling be there without feeding it.  I don't feed it by being present and telling the fear the truth? 

That explanation of ghosts and demons makes perfect sense to me.  I do not want to feed that fear.  I want to starve that which wants to consume me.  I will write "Never feed a ghost or a demon by giving in to fear" on my truth cards.  So I just have to keep remembering my question of "Is this happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?"?  That's how I stop feeding my fear? 

I think I understand better now what acceptance is.  Just letting the present moment exist without fighting it or running from it? It helps to know that I don't have to figure out how to accept my new reality all at once.   

I need to stand on the truth that Cynthia's core is not changing.  I see that I don't have to understand it intellectually for it to be true.  The understanding can come later.  Right now I will try to notice "Is Cynthia still Cynthia when I am with her? Doe she still look at me the same way? And does she still know me?". 

I really like what you wrote on the other thread earlier today.  I can't see the shift happening in myself yet or feel it yet, but I am so glad that you are able to see it in me and see that the shift is already happening.  I keep reading what you wrote on the other thread over and over.

I can keep doing what I am doing.  I can keep taking it one day at a time.  Thank you for your belief in me and for letting me know that I am not failing at this. I needed to know that.  Thank you for being there and walking this journey with me Susan. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Your questions tell me something important: you are not just listening anymore. You are working with this—testing it, feeling for the edges. That is what real change looks like. Not nodding along, but making it yours.

You asked how to loosen your grip. Here is what I want you to understand: it is not about forcing your hands open or winning a battle with yourself. It is gentler than that, and smaller.

It starts with noticing.

When fear surges—"I am going to lose everything," "this is slipping away"—your whole system tightens: your jaw, your shoulders, your thoughts. Your mind grabs onto the fear like it is doing something useful. Not because you want to, but because it is familiar. It feels like preparedness, like vigilance, like control.

That is the grip.

Loosening begins when you catch yourself in that clench and say, quietly, "Ah. There it is." Not arguing. Not pushing it away. Just recognizing: this is fear talking. This is not what is happening right now.

That recognition is what opens your hand. You do not have to pry.

And yes, naming it helps. "I am gripping the future I imagined." "I am gripping certainty." "I am gripping the fear that she will stop seeing me." When you name what you are holding, you bring it into the light. The grip lives in the dark. Light loosens it.

Here is something else: the body holds what the mind carries. So when you notice the grip, try this—physically unclench your jaw, drop your shoulders, open your hands. Sometimes the body releases before the mind knows how. Let it lead.

You asked whether you stop feeding fear by being present and telling it the truth. Yes. Exactly that.

Truth is what turns the sword back into metal, rather than a weapon you feel you must wield. And the truth is always grounded in right now: "I am scared, but nothing is being lost in this moment." "This feeling is big, but it is not a prophecy." "Cynthia is still here. She still sees me."

Fear spins stories about tomorrow. You do not have to follow those threads. You do not have to argue with every terrible scenario it invents. You can simply say, "That is a story about the future, not about now," and come back to your feet on the floor, the breath in your chest, the actual moment you are standing in.

Fear can only consume what we hand over to it. Staying present is how you stop feeding it.

Your reading of the ghost and demon metaphor was exactly right. A ghost is the past trying to haunt the moment. A demon is the future trying to terrify you into surrendering today. Both feed on imagination—on the mind racing away from the ground you are actually standing on. When you return to the present, even for a breath, you take away their meal. They flicker. They weaken.

Your truth card—"Never feed a ghost or a demon by giving in to fear"—is not just a statement. It is a practice. And the practice is the loosening. Every time you return to the present instead of chasing fear's story, you are doing the work the card describes.

And yes, that grounding question—"Is this happening now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?"—that is your anchor. You do not have to remember a complicated system. Just that question. It pulls you back to solid ground every time.

You said you think you understand acceptance better now: letting the present moment exist without fighting it or running from it. That is it, Amy. That is the whole thing. Not agreeing that everything is fine. Not pretending you are not scared. Just allowing what is to be what it is, without war.

You are right that you do not have to do it all at once. Acceptance comes in layers. You will accept, then resist, then accept again. That is not backsliding. That is the path.

I am glad those questions about Cynthia are landing—"Is she still Cynthia when I am with her? Does she still look at me the same way? Does she still know me?" Those are yours now. Use them when fear tries to tell you a different story than what your own eyes can see. You do not need to understand intellectually why her core is not changing. You just need to stay present enough to notice that her eyes still soften when they meet yours, that she still knows the shape of you—your humor, your rhythms, your heart. That she is not moving away from you, but opening herself up to you.

Recognition comes before understanding, not after.

You said you cannot see the shift in yourself yet. That is normal. We are almost always the last to see our own growth. But I see it. And here is something worth sitting with: the fact that you can say you do not feel it yet but trust that I do? That is the shift. Letting someone else hold the truth until you can feel it yourself is its own kind of acceptance.

I see it in the way you are asking "how" instead of "what." I see it in the way you are taking these tools and committing to use them. I see it in the way you said you will keep doing what you are doing, one day at a time.

That is not someone who is failing. That is someone walking through something enormous with honesty, with presence, and with a heart that refuses to shut down. That is strength, even when it feels like stumbling.

You keep reading what I wrote on that other thread. Good. Let it sink in. Let yourself believe it might be true, even before you can feel it.

And Amy—thank you for letting me walk this with you. I am not going anywhere.

With much love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

Thank you so much for explaining how to loosen my grip on fear.  I will begin to notice when the fear surges and my whole system tightens.  I will recognize that this is the grip and begin to loosening that grip by recognizing when fear is talking.  I don't want to continue to feed that fear. 

I will also name what I am gripping so that I can bring it out into the light.  Naming the truth will also be helpful to me.  That is a great idea to do-to physically unclench my jaw, drop my shoulders, and open my hands.

Thank you for confirming that I understood correctly how to stop feeding the fear-by being present and telling it the truth.  I need to remember that the truth is always grounded in right now.  When fear is spinning stories about tomorrow, it helps to know that I do not have to follow those stories or argue with every terrible scenario it invents.  I can just say "That is a story about the future, not about now". I think this is where I need to use my grounding tools to bring myself back to the now-the 5,4,3,2,1 method, feeling my feet on the floor, and naming what is real.

I really like how you said that 'fear can only consume what we hand over to it".  It's like a monster living inside of me with an unsatisfied appetite.  Staying present stops feeding that monster. I will also remember my truth card about never feeding a ghost or a demon by giving in to the fear.  This is a practice of loosening my grip. It is the work of returning to the present instead of chasing fear's story. 

I am keeping my grounding question of "Is this happening right now, or is this an old hurt trying to predict the future?" handy so that I have it when I need it.  It does pull me back to solid ground. 

Now that I know that I understand what acceptance is I can allow what is to be what it is.  I will try to remember that acceptance comes in layers.  And that sometimes I will resist still but then accept again. 

It is a relief to know that I don't have to understand intellectually why Cynthia's core is not changing.  I just need to stand on that truth and be present enough to notice things like her eyes still soften when she looks into mine, that she still "knows" me, and that she is not moving away from me but is opening herself up to me fully. 

I really can't see the shift in me yet but I honestly trust that you do.  I didn't realize that that is the shift. I am so glad that you can hold the truth until I feel it myself.  Thank you for pointing out all of the ways you can see it.  I will try to remember that that is not someone who is failing but rather someone that is "walking through something enormous with honesty, with presence, and with a heart that refuses to shut down".  I will recognize that this is strength even when I feel like I am stumbling. 

I continue to read what you posted on the other thread.  I will sit with it and let myself believe it might be true even though I can't feel it yet. 

I am so grateful that you are there, Susan, and so comforted by the fact that you are not going anywhere. 

With much love,
Amy   

Dear Amy,

You are doing beautifully with all of this—taking these tools and making them yours. That is exactly what they are for. The monster metaphor you came up with? That is yours now. That is how you understand it, and it is a good way to understand it. Fear really is like that—an appetite that grows when fed and weakens when starved.

I want to gently clarify something about Cynthia's core, because I think there may be a small misunderstanding, and it matters.

It is not that we cannot explain why her core is not changing. It is much simpler than that: her core cannot change because it is who she is. It was never in question.

Cynthia was always Cynthia—before she came out, before she had words for it, before you knew. Coming out does not create someone new. Hormones do not create someone new. Transition is not transformation into a different person. It is revelation. It is the outer finally matching what was always inside.

The woman you fell in love with did not appear when she came out to you. She was there all along, just hidden—even from herself, in some ways. What is happening now is that she is letting you see her fully. That is not loss. That is intimacy deepening.

So when you stand on the truth that her core is not changing, you are not taking something on faith or accepting a mystery you cannot understand. You are simply recognizing what is real: she is who she always was, and now she can finally show you.

Does that land differently?

With much love,
— Susan 💜

@Pugs4life

My Sweet Amy,

    Susan is not the only one that can see the growth you are making. I see it not only in your writing, but personally in our everyday lives. I no longer see you paralyzed by fear and brought to tears by what you felt was your losing me. I will still occasionally see the look that lets me know you're fighting something. We're able to work together and move you past that pretty quickly now. What you perceive as failing when you "stumble", is nothing more than a stumble. You are walking an uneven path that you cannot see clearly. It is expected that you will stumble as you feel your way along this path. The important part to remember is you are moving forward along that path. You can't stumble unless you are moving. I am so proud of you and all the effort you are putting into this journey.

With my deepest love and admiration,

Cynthia

@CynthiaR, that's absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing with all of us. We are here sending you both our support and encouragement.

Hi Susan,

I am sorry for the delay in my response back to you.

Thank you so much for the clarification about Cynthia's core.  I have been trying to understand how Cynthia's core isn't changing when she is going to be changing so much of her appearance. I have been looking for a way to explain why her core is not changing.  I think I understand now that I just need to accept the truth that Cynthia's core isn't changing because it is who she is; her core cannot change.  Cynthia has always been Cynthia.

It is hard for me to see that Cynthia isn't becoming a new person so I appreciate you explaining that coming out and hormones do not create someone new.  I am stuck on thinking that transition is transformation into a different person.  My spouse is going from male to female so its really hard to understand how she isn't going to be a totally different person.  I will try to see it as more of a revelation and than a transformation. 

Thank you for pointing out that the woman I fell in love with did not appear when she came out to me.  I have been thinking that she just appeared that day that she came out to me.  I will try to recognize that she has been there all along but just hidden.  That she is now letting me see her fully.  I still have a really hard time not seeing it as a loss though Susan.

I will continue to stand on the truth that Cynthia's core is not changing.  And that means recognizing what is real-Cynthia is who she always was.  She has been Cynthia all along.  Now she can finally show me who has been there all along. 

Thank you for helping me understand all of this Susan.  I appreciate you taking the time to clarify it for me. 

With much love,
Amy

@CynthiaR

Hi Dear,

Thank you for your beautiful post on my thread.  Thank you for your confidence in me that I am beginning to grow through this.  I can't see it so I appreciate you pointing it out to me.  There is alot that I still struggle with and so appreciate you helping me to work through it. 

I do feel like I stumble quite a bit.  I will try to remember that that isn't failing and is just me stumbling as I walk an uneven path I can't see clearly.  I am feeling my way along this path.  I will try to remember that I *am* moving forward. 

Thank you for being proud of me. I really do want to be there for you on this journey. 

With so much love,
Amy

Dear Pema,

I want to thank you for being there and your support and encouragement of both of us.  It means so much.

With love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

I want to stay with what you wrote, because there is a shift happening inside you, and it deserves to be named.

You said, "Cynthia has always been Cynthia. She has been there all along but just hidden. Now she can finally show me who has been there all along."

Those are your words. That isn't you repeating something I've said — that is you taking hold of the truth yourself. That matters. That is a sign of deep movement.

But you are also still caught in places where your mind and your nervous system don't agree yet. So let me walk you through those gently, and give you some tools to help bridge the gap.

The difference between visual change and identity change

You're struggling with how Cynthia can remain the same person when her appearance will change so dramatically. That confusion is real, and it comes from the way we're wired to identify people.

Think about someone you've known through many decades — a parent, a grandparent, an old friend. Compare a picture of them at twenty and at eighty. The vessel looks completely different, but the person inside — unmistakably still them. Age reshaped the outside. It never altered who lived underneath.

Cynthia's transition works the same way. Her outer form is changing, but the person inside — the one who loves you, the one whose heart you recognize, the one you built a life with — she has been constant. Your nervous system mapped "safety" and "home" onto a specific set of visual cues, and those cues are shifting. That can feel like identity loss even when none is occurring.

Here's a tool: when you feel panic or disorientation, pause and ask yourself, "Is this Cynthia changing, or is this Cynthia's appearance changing?" That small separation helps your mind make room for what is actually true.

A better word than "transformation"

You said it still feels like she is being transformed into someone else. I understand why — "transformation" makes it sound like something becomes what it was not before.

But that framing is backwards.

Cynthia is not becoming a woman; she is a woman. She is shedding what was never true of her in the first place. This is not conversion. It is emergence.

A chrysalis doesn't transform a caterpillar into a butterfly. The butterfly was always there. Hidden, constrained, unable to be seen until the moment came when it no longer had to hide.

That's what transition is. A revealing. An unmasking. A homecoming.

When you notice your mind slipping into, "She's turning into someone else," gently replace it with, "She is becoming visible." Language shapes the landscape we walk through.

The day she came out was an unveiling, not an arrival

You've said it still feels like the woman you love "appeared" the day she came out. That is how it felt from your perspective, because that was the day your understanding shifted.

But Cynthia did not appear that day. She simply stopped hiding from you. That moment wasn't her beginning — it was your invitation.

You didn't fall in love with a stranger nine years ago. You fell in love with Cynthia, even if you didn't have her full name, her full truth, or her full story yet.

You have not lost the person you married. You are finally being allowed to see her.

Your grief is real — but name what you are grieving

I'm not going to tell you that you aren't experiencing loss. You are. And pretending otherwise would only deepen your confusion.

But you aren't grieving Cynthia.

You're grieving the disguise. The familiar silhouette. The words you used to describe your family. The imagined future that rested on assumptions you didn't know were incomplete. You're grieving the comfort of what felt stable and predictable.

All of that is real. All of that deserves to be mourned.

But the person underneath the disguise — the one you trusted, the one you built a life with, the one whose eyes soften when she looks at you — she is not gone. She is more present than she has ever been.

Here's a tool: when grief surges, ask yourself, "Am I grieving Cynthia, or am I grieving the disguise?" That question will not erase the ache, but it will anchor it in reality.

Standing on truth you can't yet feel

You said you are choosing to stand on the truth that her core is not changing, even on days when you can't feel that truth.

That is exactly what this stage looks like — walking forward with your eyes still adjusting to the light.

Here's something that will help the truth move from head-knowledge to felt-knowledge: start noticing moments of continuity.

When she laughs the way she always has, say to yourself, "There she is."

When she reaches for your hand in the same instinctive way, "There she is."

When she responds with the same gentleness, the same humor, the same spark of her — mark it.

These are not abstractions. These are data points your nervous system can trust. Collect them. Let them accumulate. Let them teach your body what your mind already knows.

Add some of them to your truth cards if you want. Make it specific. Make it real.

What I see in you

Five weeks ago, you walked in here terrified and exhausted, afraid you were losing everything. You didn't know what questions to ask, only that you needed somewhere soft to land.

Look at you now.

You're naming the truth in your own words. You're reframing. You're grieving honestly without letting it drown you. You're standing on what is solid even when your emotions pull in the opposite direction. You are not static. You are not stuck. You are moving.

And Cynthia sees that. She sees your effort, your heart, your courage. She sees that you are walking toward her, not away. That matters more than you know.

Amy, this is what doing the work looks like. Not perfection. Not calm. Not instant clarity. Just honesty, tenderness, and one brave step after another.

You're already doing it.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

My mind is finally starting to understand that Cynthia has always been Cynthia.  She has been a woman all along but has been hidden.  The one I fell in love with and know is still there.  I am still caught in places where my mind and nervous system don't agree.  I really appreciate you walking me through those places and giving me tools to help bridge the gap. 

I am so confused on how Cynthia can remain the same person when her appearance is going to change so much.  It makes sense that my nervous system mapped "safety" and "home" onto the visual cues that I know and those cues are now shifting.  It does feel like identity loss.  The explanation of how a person ages does help.  It changes the outer shell but doesn't change the person on the inside.  I will use the tool of asking myself, "Is this Cynthia changing,or is this Cynthia's appearance changing?". 

I will try to not see it as a transformation but rather as emergence.  A revealing.  An unmasking.  I do find that my mind slips into the thought that she is turning into someone else.  I will try to catch when I am doing that and replace it with "She is becoming visible". 

I will try to see that the day she came out to me was an unveiling rather than an arrival.  It was an invitation  for me to know her more completely? To know the parts of her that she has kept hidden all those years?  I didn't really fall in love with the man I have come to know but with Cynthia who has always been there on the inside? 

I really am experiencing loss Susan.  I am grieving the familiar form of my husband that I have known.  The shape of the future I expected.  The life I had imagined for the two of us.  I will try to remember that the person under that disguise is not gone.  She is actually more present than she has ever been.  When I find that the grief surges, I will ask myself, "Am I grieving Cynthia or am I grieving the disguise?".  That helps me to see that I am grieving the physical appearance that I know as familiar. 

I will continue to stand on the truth that her core isn't changing.  I will also start noticing moments of continuity.  I will also keep anchoring any new changes to something that hasn't moved.  I will mark all of these things on my truth cards. 

Thank you for seeing the things in me that I can't see yet. I guess I *am* doing the work and moving one step at a time.  I will keep doing what I am doing.  Thank you for being there and guiding me Susan.  It means more than you know.   

With love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

What strikes me most in what you wrote is that you are no longer trying to "hold on" to the truth — you're beginning to inhabit it. There's a difference, and you crossed into that difference in this last letter.

You're not just understanding that Cynthia has always been there. You're beginning to feel it. Your language has shifted from searching to recognizing, from questioning to seeing. That tells me your nervous system is starting to loosen its grip on the old map and make room for a new one.

I want to stay with the part where you said, "I will try not to see it as a transformation but as emergence. A revealing. An unmasking." Amy, that is not you borrowing my framing. That is you articulating the truth in your own voice. When your mind starts generating its own metaphors, it's because something is finally rooting inside you. The ground is changing.

And you're also naming exactly where the tension still sits: this pull between "I know she is the same person" and "my body reacts like she isn't." That's not a contradiction — that is the very process of integration. The mind almost always arrives first. The body almost always trails behind. But what matters is that both parts of you are now facing the same direction.

Your question — "Did I fall in love with the man I thought I knew, or with Cynthia who has always been there?" — is one of the most important questions a partner reaches in this journey. And you reached it without me lifting you there. You walked to that ledge on your own.

Here is what I want you to hear:  Your heart recognized her long before your understanding did. Love feels out what is real, even when the real is sometimes hidden behind a mask. Cynthia could never truly hide who she was inside.

Nothing about your marriage was counterfeit. Nothing about the life you built together was imaginary. The bond was always with Cynthia, even if the disguise filtered the way you perceived her.

Your grief is also evolving. Earlier, your grief was fused with fear — fear of loss, fear of erasure, fear of disappearing ground. Now, the grief you're describing is cleaner. More precise. You are grieving the familiar shape of your shared story, not the person inside that story. That distinction is the doorway to healing.

You said, "I will try to remember that the person under that disguise is not gone. She is actually more present than she has ever been." Amy, that is not something I can teach you. That is something you can only come to by seeing it for yourself — and you have begun to see it.

When you ask yourself, "Am I grieving Cynthia or the disguise?" you are doing something powerful: you are refusing to let your nervous system write the narrative unchecked. You are interrupting the old reflex and inviting your emotional center to tell the truth. That is the exact work that leads to stability.

And then you said something that made me stop:

"I will continue to stand on the truth that her core isn't changing. I will also start noticing moments of continuity. I will anchor any new changes to something that hasn't moved."

Amy, that is precisely how a new internal map is made. That is how your body eventually learns what your mind already believes. Every moment of recognition — every flicker of "there she is" — becomes a thread. Enough threads, and you have a net strong enough to carry the weight of the harder days.

Let me tell you what I see in this letter that maybe you can't yet see in yourself:

• Your footing is steadier.
• Your grief is clearer.
• Your fear is quieter.
• Your language is expanding.
• Your capacity to hold complexity has grown.
• You are no longer bracing — you are listening.
• You are not collapsing — you are adjusting.

These are not small shifts. These are tectonic.

And mostly, I see a woman who loves deeply and is choosing connection over fear again and again — even when it costs her comfort, even when it means walking through uncertainty. That is not just strength. That is devotion.

I am here with you, Amy. Every step. And I am proud of the work you are doing — not because it is easy, but because it is honest.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I think I am so close to finally grasping why Cynthia cannot change who she is.  May I ask some questions to make sure I am understanding this correctly?  Cynthia is the one who has been there all along, right?  There was never a male on the inside, only Cynthia?  The person I fell in love with was actually the female that has always been there on the inside? And that's why she cannot change who she is.  She has been Cynthia all along and not some male? 

I am trying really hard to not see the transition as a transformation but rather a revealing of who she has really been on the inside this whole time.  She has been a "she" this whole time and not a "he".  That female is now able to emerge from within and show me who she has truly been all along.  Am I understanding this all correctly? 

Yes, there is still the tension between "I know she is the same person" and "my body reacts like she isn't".  Thank you for explaining that this is not contradiction but the process of integration.

So I did fall in love with Cynthia and not the man I thought I knew?  I apoligize for all the questions.  I am just trying to clarify that I am understanding this all correctly.  I feel like I am right on the edge of finally grasping all of this. There was never a male there to fall in love with?  Only the female, Cynthia?  Her previous name and physical body are just a disguise?

And the person under that disguise is not gone because the woman that she truly is is still there and has been there all along?  She is just showing me now that who she truly is is a woman and not a man?  She was never a man to begin with? 

I have written down that question of "Am I grieving Cynthia or the disguise?".  I will keep asking myself that important question to continue to build stability. 

Thank you for showing me the importance of standing on the truth that Cynthia's core isn't changing, noticing moments of continuity, and anchoring any new changes to something that hasn't moved.  I really like how you said every moment of recognition becomes a thread.  Every time I recognize the person I already know, that is a thread and when I have enough of those threads, I will have a net strong enough to carry me through the harder days. 

Thank you for pointing out what you could see in my last letter that I can't yet see in myself.  That is very encouraging for me to hear.  I am devoted to this journey and seeing it through to the end.  Thank you for being proud of me and for being there as I walk this path. 

With much love,
Amy

 

Amy, these are valid and important questions that you're asking. I think most of us here would lean strongly toward answering "yes" to most if not all of them.

But I would never want to answer questions like these:

Quote from: Pugs4life on December 10, 2025, 11:16:09 AMCynthia is the one who has been there all along, right?  There was never a male on the inside, only Cynthia?  The person I fell in love with was actually the female that has always been there on the inside? And that's why she cannot change who she is.  She has been Cynthia all along and not some male?

on behalf of another person. I think the person who's best qualified to answer those questions is Cynthia. And whatever her answers are, I would take those as the truth.

@Pugs4life @CynthiaR

Dear Amy,

Pema has said something wise, and I want echo it as well.

You are asking exactly the right questions. The framework we've been building together - emergence rather than transformation, revealing rather than changing - is sound. And for many transgender people, the answer to your questions would be a clear and resounding yes.

But here is what Pema is pointing toward: I can offer you a map. I cannot tell you what Cynthia's specific terrain looks like from the inside. Only she can do that.

The beautiful thing is - you don't need me to answer these questions. You have Cynthia. And she is right there, more available to you now than she has ever been, because she is no longer hiding.

What if these questions you've written here became the beginning of a conversation with her? Not as a test, not as an interrogation - but as an invitation. "Help me understand what it was like for you. Was there always a woman inside? Did you always know? What do you want me to understand about who you've been all along?"

Amy, hearing it from Cynthia's own lips - in her own words, with her own texture and history - will anchor you in ways that hearing it from me never could.

This is not a detour from the work you've been doing. This is where the work was always leading. It's time for both of you to sit down together and have an open and honest two-way conversation.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Quote from: Pugs4life on December 10, 2025, 11:16:09 AMCynthia is the one who has been there all along, right?  There was never a male on the inside, only Cynthia?  The person I fell in love with was actually the female that has always been there on the inside? And that's why she cannot change who she is.  She has been Cynthia all along and not some male? 

I'll jump in here quick with just a simple answer, yes.

Hi Pema,

You are absolutely right-Cynthia is the best person to any my questions for me.  I will definitely sit down with her and have a conversation around my questions.  I will take her answers as the truth. 

With love,
Amy

Dear Susan,

Thank you for confirming for me that I am asking the right questions.  I am trying so hard to understand everything that is going on. 

Thank you and Pema for pointing me toward the truth that only Cynthia can answer these questions for me.  She is the only one who can tell me what things look like from the inside. 

I will take my questions that I have written on here and start a conversation with Cynthia.  I will make sure I am not presenting it as a test or interrogation.  Thank you for giving me the words that I could say to Cynthia.  We have briefly talked but need to still sit down and have a deeper conversation about these questions. Her simple and quick answer to all of my questions was "yes".  I am understanding things correctly now.  But now I find myself wrestling with the fact that I didn't fall in love with the person that I thought I did. Cynthia is trying to help me understand this. 

Thank you for pointing me in the right direction of asking Cynthia these questions directly and hearing from her herself. 

With love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

I want to sit with something you said: "I find myself wrestling with the fact that I didn't fall in love with the person that I thought I did."

That wrestling is expected. It's part of the work you're doing, and I'm glad you're naming it instead of pushing it away. But I want to gently offer you a different way to look at this, because the frame you're using is adding pain that doesn't actually belong to you.

You did fall in love with the right person.

Think back to what drew you to Cynthia. Her laugh. The way she listened. Her sense of humor. The way she noticed things about you. The feeling of safety when you were together. Whatever those things were — those were Cynthia's qualities. They weren't a performance. They weren't a trick. They weren't a mask meant to deceive you. They were her, expressed through the only way she knew how to exist at the time.

Imagine someone who speaks English as a second language. They might struggle to express complex thoughts. They might seem quieter or simpler than they really are. But when you connect with them, you're connecting with *them* — not with a false person. You're meeting them through a constraint. When they finally get to speak in their native language, you don't suddenly have a different person in front of you. You have the same person, more fully expressed.

That's what's happening here.

Cynthia was living under constraint. The role she was assigned. The expectations placed on her. The fear of what honesty might cost. Those were limitations on her expression, not on her essence. The person you fell in love with was always Cynthia. You were seeing her through a window that didn't show the whole picture, but what you saw was real.

Your love wasn't misdirected. It found the real person.

If you look at old photographs — your wedding, early moments in your relationship — those aren't pictures of a stranger. They are pictures of Cynthia, constrained, carrying things you couldn't see yet, but still her. The smile in those photos that made your heart move? That was Cynthia smiling. The person behind the deadname was always Cynthia. Your heart found her. Your love was accurate. It just didn't have the right name yet for who it had found.

Everyone wears masks.

Here's something important: Cynthia isn't unique in that. We all do it. We show different versions of ourselves at work than at home. We hide fears, soften edges, swallow parts of ourselves to survive relationships, families, expectations.

The difference is that Cynthia's mask wasn't optional. It was forced on her — by family, by society, by a system that tells people from childhood that who they really are is unacceptable, unsafe, or wrong. From a very early age, she learned that authenticity had consequences. That isn't deception, Amy. That's survival.

Imagine carrying something true at the center of yourself for decades — something that defines you — while believing you can never let anyone see it. Imagine the exhaustion of that. The fear that one wrong step means losing everything. That's what it costs to exist in a world that punishes authenticity.

Many people never take their masks off. They carry their truth to the grave because the risk feels too high. They never find out if they would be loved as themselves, because they never let anyone close enough to find out.

But Cynthia took hers off. With you.

And Amy — consider this. Cynthia saw the real you. After your first marriage, after the abuse, after whatever walls you had to build to survive — she looked past all of it and recognized who you actually were. She accepted you. She loved you. She helped you find yourself again.

She did all that while wearing her own mask.

Two people, both constrained, both carrying things you couldn't fully show — and somehow your love found each other's truth anyway. Before either of you had words for it.

Cynthia looked at you — the person whose real self she had already recognized and loved — and decided you were the one she trusted with everything. Out of everyone in the world, she chose you. She risked everything because she believed you would see her and stay.

That's not what someone does to a person they're deceiving. That's what someone does with the person they believe in most.

What Cynthia is doing now — showing you who she really is — is not betrayal. It's the opposite. It's the deepest trust she has ever offered anyone. She is placing the most protected part of herself in your hands and saying: I trust you with this. I trust you with me.

What you're feeling right now is expected, and this is exactly what conversation is meant to settle.

The wobble you're experiencing — "If I didn't know this, what else don't I know?" — is completely normal. Your sense of reality has been shaken. But I want to offer you a shift that may help:

The question isn't "what else was hidden from me?" It's "what else was she never allowed to be?"

Those are very different questions. One points toward deception. The other points toward constraint. And Cynthia can help you feel that difference from the inside, because she isn't a mystery to be solved. She's your partner — and she's more available to you now than she has ever been.

The conversation you're about to have together isn't just about answering questions. It's about rebuilding a shared understanding of your relationship with full honesty for the first time. That's sacred ground.

Here are some places to begin, when you're ready:

• Show each other who you are at your core — This goes both ways. Cynthia has been carrying her truth for a long time, and now she can finally lay it down in front of you. But you also get to show her who you are — your fears, your hopes, what you need, what this is stirring in you. This isn't one person revealing while the other receives. It's two people meeting each other more honestly than ever before.
• Name the love that's still here — Say it out loud, not as reassurance, but as foundation. "I love you. This hasn't changed. Here's what I love..." Be specific. Let Cynthia do the same. Let your love hear itself spoken clearly.
• Anchor yourselves in what hasn't changed — Your shared history. Your inside jokes. The way you know how each other takes coffee. The life you've built. These things are real. They're still yours.
• Name what has changed — and how. Some things will feel different. Cynthia may express emotions differently now that she's not suppressing so much. Some dynamics may shift. Name these changes together, not as losses, but as things you're navigating side by side. Ask yourself if this is truly enough for you to ever stop loving Cynthia. I doubt it will be.
• Talk about the future — What do you want your life together to look like? What excites you? What scares you? What do you need from each other? You don't need all the answers — you just need to be asking the questions together.

A few tools that may help:

• The love list — Each of you write "What I love about you" — present tense, right now. Read them aloud to each other. I suspect you'll recognize that the things you love about Cynthia have always been true.
• The recognition question. — Ask Cynthia about moments before she came out when she felt most herself with you — moments when the mask slipped, even if neither of you had words for it then. I think you'll recognize those moments when you hear them.
• The reframe. — When the thought "I didn't fall in love with who I thought" shows up, try replacing it with: "I fell in love with someone I didn't fully know yet." Those are not the same story.

One more thing, offered gently:

Cynthia has her own introduction thread (https://www.susans.org/index.php?topic=251931.0) here on Susan's Place. She wrote it in early September, two months before she came out to you. It was her first post — the first time she had ever revealed who she was to anyone, anywhere. She wrote it with shaking hands, trying to put words to something she had carried silently for over forty years.

You don't owe it a read. But if at some point it feels helpful, it's there — her honesty, unfiltered, from the very beginning. Not a story crafted after the fact, but a person breaking open for the first time while gathering the courage to tell you the truth.

What I see in both of you

Amy, you've been doing extraordinary work. You keep showing up — even when it's hard, even when it hurts. That takes courage.

And Cynthia keeps showing up too, walking her own path while trying to support you through yours. You're both doing this together, even when it feels messy or uneven.

That's not nothing. That's the foundation.

You're not starting over with a stranger. You're continuing forward with someone you already know — someone who can finally show you all of herself.

That's not a loss. That's a gift.

The wrestling you're doing is part of accepting it. Keep going.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

It really helps to look back at what drew me to Cynthia.  It reminds me that those things are still present.  That person is still here. And the person that I actually fell in love with was Cynthia and not <deadname> because Cynthia has been the person there the entire time.  Her qualities were her just "expressed through the only way she knew hot to exist at the time".  Does that sound right?  Am I understanding correctly? 

The example you gave of someone speaking English as a second language helps me to see it in a different light.  Even though Cynthia had to express herself differently, she has always been the person there on the inside?  The qualities that drew me to her were real. I found the person she really was on the inside? 

When I look at old photographs, I still feel that ache of missing the familiar outer shell that I am used to seeing.  It does almost feel like I am looking at pictures of a stranger.  But I do know the person underneath that shell.  She has been there this whole time.  That is the person that I actually fell in love with.   It helps to know that when I look at those pictures, that it is still Cynthia there; just constrained. It really helps to hear you say that my love was accurate but it just didn't have the right name yet for who it had found. That really makes things clearer for me. 

Thank you so much for explaining how Cynthia's mask wasn't optional.  Rather it was forced on her.  It has been a form of survival for her for years.  I cannot imagine the exhaustion of carrying something like that for so long.  And the fear that she must have had. 

I am so very honored that Cynthia decided to take her mask off with me.  I am flattered that she would place that much trust in me.  I don't take that lightly.  I won't betray that trust.  I want her to feel safe, loved, accepted. 

That reframe from "what else was hidden from me?" to "What else was she never allowed to be?" is very helpful.  It helps me to remember that she has been constrained all of this time.  I also need to remember that she is now more available to me more than she has ever been. 

Thank you so much for giving us a place to begin in our conversation.  They will be very helpful for us.  So will all the tools that you gave us to use.  I am going to write that reframe on my cards: "I fell in love with someone I didn't fully know yet".  That spoke to me so much. 

I will definitely give Cynthia's introduction thread a read.  I think it may be very helpful. 

It was so important for me to hear that I am not starting over with a stranger but continuing forward with someone that I already know.  Someone who can show me all of who they are.  You are right; that is certainly a gift. 

I will surely keep going. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Yes. You're understanding correctly — all of it.

Looking back at what drew you to Cynthia and recognizing that those things are still present is the work.

Those qualities — whatever made your heart recognize her as home — were never a performance. They were Cynthia, expressed through the only way she knew how to exist at the time.

You said it perfectly yourself. The person you fell in love with was Cynthia, and Cynthia has been there the entire time.

The ESL metaphor landed for you, and I'm glad. Yes — even though she had to express herself differently, she was always the same person on the inside. The qualities that drew you to her were real.

You didn't fall in love with a mask. You fell in love with the person wearing one. Your heart found the truth before your mind had language for it.

The photo ache you described is real, and I want you to know it's allowed to stay as long as it needs to. Understanding and grief aren't enemies. They can exist in the same heart at the same time.

But here's something that might help when you look at those pictures and feel that pull of "stranger."

Try saying to yourself: "That's Cynthia, before she could breathe."

Not someone you lost. Not someone who deceived you. Just Cynthia — behind a mask she never chose, in a harder time, already carrying the truth she would one day trust you with.

The love in those photos was real. The smiles were real. The person was real. The only thing that was missing was her freedom to show you everything.

When the ache comes, let the next thought be: "And now she can breathe. And I'm still here. she's standing right here with me. We are still together!"

You wrote that you cannot imagine the exhaustion Cynthia carried, or the fear. That empathy matters — it helps you see the weight of what she's releasing.

But I want to say this gently: you don't have to carry that weight for her. Your job isn't to make up for the decades she spent hidden. Your job is simply to be present now that she's free.

That's enough. That's everything.

The honor you feel about her trust — the fact that you see it as a gift rather than a burden, the fact that you refuse to take it lightly — that tells me everything about why Cynthia chose you.

But hear this too: honoring her trust doesn't mean being perfect. It doesn't mean never struggling, never grieving, never needing time. It means exactly what you're already doing — staying present, staying honest, and staying open even when it costs you something.

You want her to feel safe, loved, and accepted. Amy, she already does. That's why she's still standing beside you.

The reframe from "what was hidden from me" to "what was she never allowed to be" is one of the most important shifts you can make. One points toward deception. The other points toward constraint.

You're choosing the one that matches the truth.

And yes — she is more available to you now than she has ever been. What you're stepping into isn't less intimacy. It's more.

I'm glad "I fell in love with someone I didn't fully know yet" is going on your cards. That's a steady truth to return to when the wobble comes.

And I'm glad you're going to read Cynthia's introduction thread. Seeing her words from that moment — before she came out to you, when she was just beginning to let herself be seen — may help you understand what it cost her to get here, and how much courage it took to trust you with everything.

You said something near the end that I want to reflect back to you:

"I am not starting over with a stranger but continuing forward with someone I already know. Someone who can show me all of who they are."

Amy, that's it. That's the whole thing. You just wrote the truth in your own words.

You're not starting over. You're continuing.

And what you're continuing toward is a version of your marriage where nothing has to be hidden anymore — not by her, and not by you.

That's not a loss. That's sacred ground.

Keep going. You're doing beautifully.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I am trying really hard to recognize that the qualities that drew me to Cynthia when we first met are still present and that she is the same person now that she was then.  I will try to remember that those qualities were Cynthia expressed through the only way she knew how to exist at that time.  That really helps to look at it that way. It is comforting to know that the qualities that I saw in Cynthia were real and not a performance. 

Thank you for confirming that I am correct in saying that the person I fell in love with was Cynthia and that Cynthia has been there the entire time.  And that even though she to had to express herself differently, she was always the same person on the inside.  I am just now getting to see the real person she has been on the inside this whole time.   

It really struck a chord with me when you said I "didn't fall in love with a mask" but rather the person wearing one.  That made things so much clearer for me. 

I do still really miss the way she used to look in photos.  That physical form was what I knew as "safety" and comfort.  I still feel that jolt sometimes when I look at her without the beard or with longer hair.  It is going to take time for me to get used to the markers being different now and continuing to change as she progresses through this transition.  This is where I need to remember to anchor any new changes to something that has not changed and remember that I am grieving the familiar form and not Cynthia.  It is good to know that understanding and grief can both exist at the same time. 

It will definitely help to say to myself: "that is Cynthia before she could breathe".  I do feel a sense of loss sometimes when I see photos or look at Cynthia now without the familiar markers.  I will try to see it as just Cynthia behind the mask she had to wear, already carrying the truth she would one day share with me. 

I can understand that the love in those photos were real and that the smiles were real.  But I am having a hard time understanding how the person in them was real. Is it because she was present there but just under a mask still?  I just didn't know at the time that it was Cynthia next to me and not <deadname>? 

When that ache comes, I will try to think: "And now she can breathe.  And I'm still here, she's standing right here with me.  We are still together".  She is the same person now that she was in those photos.  I am not losing her as a person.  I am only losing the familiar form. 

I do find that I want to carry that weight for her and make up for all the time she had to spend hidden.  I will remember that my job now is to be present now that she is free from all of that. 

It is really a relief to know that honoring Cynthia's trust doesn't mean that I have to be perfect.  I will continue to stay present, stay honest, and stay open. 

I need to remember that she is more available to me now than she has ever been.  I am stepping into more intimacy with her and that is something beautiful. 

I will write "I am glad I fell in love with someone I didn't fully know yet" on my cards. 

I will remember that truth that I am not starting over with a stranger but continuing forward with someone that I already know.  I am not starting over  I am continuing.  Continuing towards a version of our marriage where nothing has to be hidden anymore. I can see more of who my spouse really is.  I am gaining more of her not losing my spouse. The outward appearance is what is changing; not the person that I have known all along. 

I will keep doing what I am doing.  Thank you for your confidence and belief in me. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

You asked a question I want to answer clearly, because it sits at the very center of what you're working through.

Yes — the person in those photos was real, because Cynthia was present there. Not absent. Not replaced. Present — just under a mask.

But here is the part that matters most: it's not that you were with Cynthia *instead of* <deadname>. There were never two different people. There was only ever one person — Cynthia — living under a name and a role that didn't fit.

<deadname> was not someone else. <deadname> was Cynthia, when she was constrained by the mask, the identity she was forced to wear. Cynthia now is not someone new. <deadname> and Cynthia are the same person. Always was. Always will be.

She is the same person, finally free to remove the mask — and you made space for that to happen.

A person can be real even when they are compressed. Even when they are holding their breath. Even when they are surviving rather than living.

But the things you loved — the warmth, the steadiness, the safety, the way she showed up for you — none of that could have existed without Cynthia being there inside, doing the loving. The love in those photos was not an illusion. The smiles were not a performance. The safety you felt was not imagined.

That safety came from her.
What was missing was not the person.
What was missing was her freedom.

And Amy — knowing what you know now, would you truly want her to go back to living behind that mask? I don't think you would. That is why you gave her permission to be her true self. That's not a small thing. That's everything.

She is free now to express herself honestly, and free to love you more fully as a result.

To truly love someone else, you first have to be able to love yourself. You have to know how to give love and how to receive it. That's not something everyone knows how to do. Some of us have to learn it. I had to learn it from my furbabies — they taught me how to love and how to let myself be loved. Cynthia learned it from you.

When Cynthia was hidden, part of her was always held back. Not by choice. By survival.

I know how that feels. I know how I felt living under my deadname — the weight of it, the wrongness of it. I detested who and what I was. The lie I was living when I was presenting as something I wasn't. You can't fully give yourself to someone when you're hiding from yourself.

Cynthia isn't hiding anymore.

There is nothing standing between her heart and yours now. That is why she is more available to you than she has ever been.

You gave up something real when you said yes to this — the familiar, the comfortable, the shape of the life you thought you were living. That loss deserves to be honored. But I am certain you are gaining far more in return.

The person standing next to you in those photos and the person standing next to you today is the same person. Same soul. Same heart. Same capacity for love. The name changed. The mask came off. The truth became visible. But the person never left, because the person was never separate from who you loved.

You didn't know her true name yet. You didn't know the full shape of who she was. But your heart wasn't fooled — it found her anyway.

You were not loving a stranger. You were loving a person whose full name had not yet been spoken.

So when you look at those photos now, you're not looking at someone who no longer exists. You're looking at Cynthia before she could breathe.

Constrained, yes. Hidden in part, yes. But fully there — loving you with everything she was allowed to show at the time.

You said something I want to reflect back to you, because these are your words, not mine:

"I am gaining more of her, not losing my spouse."

Amy, hold onto that. You found that truth yourself.

And one gentle reminder, said with care: the impulse to carry the weight for her and make up for the years she spent hidden comes from love. I know that. But Cynthia doesn't need you to repay a debt. She doesn't need you to be perfect. What heals her — and what strengthens the bond between you — is your presence now.

Not fixing the past. Standing with her in the present.

You're doing exactly that.
You're not starting over. You're continuing.

Continuing forward together — with nothing hidden, more intimacy, more honesty, and more room for both of you to exist fully.

That's not loss. That's sacred ground.

Keep going. You're doing beautifully!

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I am really trying to understand how <deadname> and Cynthia are the same person. I am also still thinking that I am with Cynthia instead of <deadname>.  I am really not understanding how <deadname> was not someone else.  Is the mask the male identity and role she was forced to wear?  There was never a male internally?  Only the female, Cynthia, in disguise? And that disguise was <deadname> and that's why Cynthia and <deadname> are the same person?   

I want Cynthia to live her authentic life.  I want her to be free.  I want to know the person she really is.

I can understand that the things I loved could not have existed without Cynthia being there on the inside doing the loving. That safety that I felt came from her.  She has been there all along. The only thing missing was her shedding the outer form of who she was presenting as? 

No, I don't want her to go back to living behind that mask.  I did give her permission to be her true self.  I want her to express herself fully and honestly.  I am encouraged to know that she will also be free to love me more fully.  I want Cynthia to be able to love herself.  That is so sweet that you learned it from your furbabies.  I never looked at it like Cynthia learned how to love from me. 

It must be so hard to be hidden and have to hold parts of yourself back.  Thank you sharing with me part of what you went through when you had to live under your deadname.  It sounds like such a heavy weight to carry.  I cannot imagine. 

I am so glad that Cynthia isn't hiding anymore and can give herself fully to me now.  It is comforting to know that there is nothing standing between her heart and mine now. 

I am grieving the familiar, the comfortable, the shape of the life that I thought I was living.  Those are losses for me for sure.  But I never thought about gaining far more in return. Thank you for pointing that out to me. 

It is really good to know that the person next to me in the photos and the person standing next to me now is the same person.  I can understand that the name changed and the mask came off.  And the person that I fell in love with never left because that person was Cynthia and still is Cynthia?  When I look at those photos,I am not looking at someone who no longer exists but Cynthia who was still wearing a mask? 

I will hold onto to the truth that "I am gaining more of her, not losing my spouse".  The outer shell is changing but I am getting more of the person that I love? 

I will remember that I don't need to fix the past for Cynthia but rather stand with her in the present.  I will also try to remember that I am not starting over but continuing.  Continuing forward together. 

Thank you Susan for all that you do and for being you.  I am so grateful. 

With much love,
Amy 

Dear Amy,

You are circling the exact right question, and I want to answer it in the clearest, simplest way I can — because once this clicks, a great deal of the tension you're carrying will ease.

Yes. The mask was the male role and identity Cynthia was forced to wear. And no — there was never a separate male person living inside her. There was never an internal "him" who later disappeared. There was only Cynthia, adapting herself to survive in a world that would not allow her to live openly as who she was.

Think of it this way: A mask is not a second face. A uniform is not a second body. A role is not a second self. They are coverings placed over a person, not people in their own right. When Cynthia lived as <deadname>, she was not switching between two identities. She was the same person, using a constrained version of herself to function in the world.

<deadname> was not "someone else." <deadname> was Cynthia, compressed.
Cynthia now is Cynthia, uncompressed.

That is why they are the same person.

You said it yourself: "There was never a male internally. Only the female, Cynthia, in disguise."

Amy, you've got it.

What you're doing right now — working through this piece by piece, asking the hard questions, sitting with the answers until they settle — this is exactly the work. And you're doing it beautifully.

Let me reflect back what you've understood, because I want you to see how far you've come:

The qualities you loved — her steadiness, her care, the safety you felt, the way she loved you — could not have come from a nonexistent person. They came from the same heart that is loving you now. The only difference is that she no longer has to filter herself through a disguise to be allowed to exist.

These are not small realizations, Amy. These are the foundations.

And no — you don't want her to go back to living behind that mask. You said so yourself. You want her to live her authentic life. You want her to be free. You want to know the person she really is.

That's love. That's real love. The kind that chooses the other person's wholeness over your own comfort.

I'm glad that hearing about my furbabies teaching me to love landed for you. And I'm glad you can see it now — that Cynthia learned how to love from you. That's not nothing. That's everything. You gave her something she needed in order to become who she really is.

You said there is nothing standing between her heart and yours now. That's true. And that's not a small thing. That's the gift you gave each other when you said "I do," and again when you said yes to Cynthia beginning her transition.

Here is what that means in practice: Cynthia can now give you all of herself — not just the parts she thought you expected, not just the parts that felt safe to show, not just the version of herself that the world demanded. All of her. The parts she hid. The parts she was afraid would cost her everything if anyone saw them. She doesn't have to hold anything back anymore.

I know what that holding back looks like from the inside. As I said previously, before my transition, my own family considered me an emotional blackhole. And they were right — not because I had nothing to give, but because I self-censored, hiding most of myself and only allowing out my limited understanding of what being a male should be. Giving only what I felt was expected of someone in my role. Rather than risk letting who I really was leak out and cause me to lose my family, I gave them the version of me I thought fit what they could accept. It wasn't coldness. It was survival. But it cost all of us the real connections we should have had.

You said it must be so hard to be hidden and have to hold parts of yourself back. It is. Thank you for hearing what I shared about living under my deadname. It was heavy. Heavier than I can fully describe. But the weight lifted when I was finally able to live as myself. Remember at the time I had dead eyes — because part of me was dying every single day I was forced to be someone other than myself. To pretend to be something I wasn't. Taking off the mask, dropping the role, and removing the filters I had placed on myself lifted most of that pressure immediately.

Cynthia's weight is lifting now, too — because of you. She doesn't have to pretend anymore, at least not with you. That's not less intimacy, Amy. That's more. She can gift you all of her, being fully present in the relationship both giving and receiving. Way more than she has ever been able to offer anyone else.

But let's be perfectly clear, the grief you named is real — grieving the familiar, the comfortable, the shape of the life you thought you were living. Those are real losses and they deserve to be honored. The familiar markers — beard, hair, shape — became associated with safety because they were what your nervous system learned to recognize. It makes sense that their absence causes a jolt. That doesn't mean you are losing her. It means your body is catching up to what your heart already knows.

And your heart knows this: you are gaining more of her, not less. The softness she could not show. The honesty she could not risk. The fullness of her presence. That is not a replacement of the person you loved — it is a continuation of the same person, now allowed to exist without armor.

You asked if when you look at those photos, you're not looking at someone who no longer exists but Cynthia who was still wearing a mask.

Yes. Exactly that.

Not someone who died. Not someone who left. Just Cynthia — before she could breathe. In a harder time. Already carrying the truth she would one day trust you with.

The love in those photos was real. The person was real. The only thing that was missing was her freedom to show you everything.

And now she can.

You wrote: "I will hold onto the truth that I am gaining more of her, not losing my spouse."

Hold onto it, Amy. You found that truth yourself. It's yours now.

You also wrote: "I will remember that I don't need to fix the past for Cynthia but rather stand with her in the present."

Yes. That's the whole thing. You don't need to make up for the years she spent hidden. You just need to be here now. And you are. You're standing with her. You're doing the work. You're staying present, staying honest, staying open.

That's not starting over. That's continuing.

Continuing forward together — with more truth, more intimacy, and more room for both of you to be fully present.

That is not the loss of a marriage. That is the deepening of one.

You thanked me for being me. Amy, thank you for being you. Thank you for doing this work. Thank you for loving Cynthia enough to walk through the hard parts. Thank you for showing up here, letter after letter, asking the questions, sitting with the answers, and growing.

This is what love looks like when it's tested. And yours is passing the test.

Keep going. You're doing beautifully.

With love!
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I have been sitting with the answers you have given me and I think it may be starting to click for me.  When Cynthia was living as <deadname> it was still her, but her pretending to be a male to survive in a world that wouldn't allow her to live as who she was?  <Deadname> was just Cynthia wearing a covering?  And that is why Cynthia and <deadname> are the same person? 

<Deadname> was just Cynthia wearing a mask or a uniform?  It was her playing a role she needed to play in order to function in the world?  <Deadname> was Cynthia just disguised?  Cynthia now is Cynthia without that disguise on?

I am trying so hard to work through this piece by piece and ask the right questions so I can understand better. 

The person that loves me now is the same person that loved me then?  The only difference now is that she doesn't have to wear that disguise anymore?  She can now exist fully and wholly? 

You said that I gave Cynthia something that she needed in order to become who she really is.  What is that something that I gave to her? 

Thank you for explaining what "there is nothing standing between her heart and mine now" means in practice.  I really do want her to show me all of herself.  I really want to know who she really is.  I am so glad that she doesn't have to hold anything back anymore. 

I am so sorry you had to hold back who you really were and what that felt like for you.  That had to be so difficult and cost you so much.  I am so glad that you are no longer holding back who you truly are and were able to finally live as yourself.  It is such a priviledge and honor to know you. 

Oh Susan, I cannot imagine everything that you have gone through to be who you are today.  I do remember you saying that you had dead eyes at the time.  I cannot even begin to imagine how it feels to have part of yourself dying every single day because you were forced to be someone other than yourself.  I am so glad that you find immediate relief when you took off the mask, dropped the role, and removed the filters. 

I am glad to know that Cynthia's weight is lifting now too.  I am really glad she doesn't have to pretend with me anymore.  You are right...that is more intimacy.  I am really glad that she can be fully present in our relationship now. 

Thank you for saying that the grief that I feel is real and can be honored.  I needed to know that. 

My heart does know that I am gaining more of her and not less.  It also makes sense that that is not a replacement of the person I loved but rather a continuation of the same person, "now allowed to exist without armor".  I will keep holding onto that truth that I am gaining more of her, not losing her. 

I need to remember that I am not starting over but continuing.  We are continuing forward together in this.  I really like how you say that that is the deepening of a marriage and not the loss of one.  I really need to remember that too. 

Thank you for your very kind words Susan.  I am trying so hard.  I am very glad to know that this is what love looks like when its being tested and that I am passing the test. 

I will keep on keeping on. 

With much love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Yes. You are understanding this exactly as it is.

Cynthia was always Cynthia. What you knew as <deadname> was Cynthia surviving—wearing what she needed to wear to exist in a world that didn't have room for her yet. There were never two different people. There was only ever Cynthia, constrained. Cynthia wearing clothing that didn't fit who she was. Cynthia performing a role so that she could function, provide, protect, and endure. The heart, the values, the capacity for love, the way she bonded with you—all of that was always Cynthia.

What has changed is not who she is, but whether she is required to hide in order to exist.

The person who loves you now is the same person who loved you then. The same heart, the same soul, the same her. She's just no longer spending enormous energy maintaining a performance that was never who she was. She is present without filters. What you're seeing now isn't a different person—it's more of the same person, with nothing in the way.

That is why this feels like more intimacy, not less.

You asked what you gave Cynthia that allowed her to become who she really is.

You gave her safety. Not permission, not pressure—safety. Safety to be seen without punishment. Safety to risk being known. Safety to say the most terrifying thing about herself and not be abandoned. The safety to believe that being fully herself would not cost her the bond that mattered most of all.

For someone who has spent a lifetime hiding the truest thing about themselves—often because early experiences taught them it wasn't safe to show—having one person who stays, who keeps choosing them, who does the hard work of understanding rather than walking away... that is everything. That is the ground she needed under her feet to finally stand up as herself.

Love does not create someone new. Love removes the conditions that force someone to hide.

You gave her a place to land, Amy. And that is no small thing.

Many partners don't do what you're doing. Many can't, or won't, or aren't able to find their way through the fear and grief to the other side. You are doing it. Actively, consciously, with your whole heart engaged—asking questions, sitting with hard feelings, choosing understanding instead of fear.

The grief you feel is real, and you are right to honor it. Grief does not mean rejection. It means you are letting go of an image that once carried meaning, even as you remain deeply connected to the person who was always underneath it. Those two things can coexist without contradiction.

And you are holding onto the most important truth: you are not losing her. You are gaining more of her. This is not a replacement, not an erasure, not starting from zero. It is a continuation—one that is deeper because nothing essential has to be held back anymore.

You said you're trying so hard, and I want you to know: it shows. Not just in the questions you're asking, but in how you're asking them—with genuine desire to understand, with love that keeps choosing to stay open even when it's difficult.

You're not just passing the test, Amy. You're showing Cynthia what it looks like to be loved without conditions, perhaps for the first time in her life. That's the something you gave her. That's what made this possible.

Keep going. You're doing beautifully.

With much love,
— Susan 💜

I never enjoyed Halloween when I was a child. I didn't like dressing up in a disguise. It wasn't until I realized my truth decades later that I understood why. I was being asked to wear a disguise on top of my disguise. I still do not enjoy Halloween. Trying to be someone else feels like my soul is being forced into darkness, and she will not go there. I don't want to be anyone other than who I am.

I know this will be be difficult. Cynthia will need some space to try things, like makeup and fashion. She may go through quite a few phases before settling down. It took a few years for me to go through my second puberty and my own version of a teenage girl before my brain got used to the new mix of hormones. I still have some clothes are are not age-appropriate, but that doesn't stop me from wearing them occasionally. I'm still allowed to make occasional poor fashion choices. After all, I'm not even 10 years old!

Time, patience, and understanding can get both of you through this. When I first came out to Susan, she said she 'didn't sign up for this'. It wasn't on my bingo card either. But we're still here, still together.

Love always -- Jessica Rose

Dear Susan,

I am so relieved to know that I am understanding things correctly now.  It does lift some of the tension I have been carrying. 

Cynthia has always been the one there on the inside?  <Deadname> was just Cynthia wearing a disguise, right?  There was never two separate people, only Cynthia just hidden underneath the mask she had to wear.  And that mask was the male identity and role she had to play in order is exist in world that didn't have room for her yet?  It is comforting to know that the one that bonded with me was always Cynthia.  I didn't bond with a stranger or someone I didn't know.  It was Cynthia who I do know and love. 

The same person who loved me then still loves me now because that person was and always has been Cynthia.  She just no longer has to hide now?  She is present without the filters on.  What I am seeing now isn't a different person from the person I know and fell in love with-its now I can see her more clearly? 

Thank you for explaining that I gave Cynthia safety. I didn't realize I had done that.  I want her to feel safe.  I am so glad that I can give her the ground that she needed to stand up as herself. I want that for her.  I don't want her to have to hide anymore.  And it is good to know that I can give her a place to land. 

I am trying so hard to find my way through the fear and grief to the other side Susan.  I want to get there. 

It is good to know that grief does not mean rejection.  That it means I am letting go of an image that once carried meaning for me. I find it comforting that you said I remain deeply connected to the person who was always been underneath that image.

I am not losing my spouse, just the outer shell that I knew as "familiar".  I am gaining more of the person that lives under that shell that I have known all along.  I will try to remember that this is not a replacement, an erasure, or starting from zero but a continuation. 

I do want Cynthia to know love without conditions.

I will keep doing everything that I am doing and I will keep going.  Thank you for your encouragement and for being there.

With much love,
Amy

Dear Jessica Rose,

Thank you so much for your post.  I can see why Halloween was never enjoyable for you.  I can't imagine your soul being forced into darkness.  That has to be so very difficult. 

Yes, this will be difficult.  Thank you for explaining how Cynthia will need space to try things.  And for explaining she may go through a few phases.  It will be like a second puberty for her. 

I will remember that time, patience, and understanding will get us through this.  I sometimes feel like what Susan said when you first came out to her.  It is so encouraging to know that you guys are still together. 

Again, thank you for your post and reaching out to me.

With love,
Amy

Dear Amy,

Yes—you've got it. And you're not just repeating it back, you're integrating it. I can see the work you're doing between the lines, and that matters.

Cynthia was always there. The person who bonded with you, who loved you, who built a life with you—that was her. There were never two separate people. There was one person living inside a role she did not choose, wearing what she needed to wear in order to survive in a world that did not yet make room for her. The mask was not a second self, and it was not deception. It was protection.

What you're seeing now isn't someone new, and it isn't a replacement. It's the same person, present without the filters she once needed. You didn't bond with a stranger. You bonded with Cynthia—and you always have.

I want to add one gentle refinement, because it can help steady expectations going forward. While Cynthia has always been Cynthia, even she is still learning who she is without that armor. The mask didn't just hide her from others—in some ways, it limited what she could explore and know about herself.

Transition isn't only about revealing what was always underneath. It's also a process of becoming. That means you aren't being handed a finished portrait. You're walking alongside someone who is discovering herself in real time. And that doesn't take something away from you—it invites you into the process.

When you said you didn't realize you had given her safety, I want you to pause with that. Because you have. And not just passively. What you're doing isn't just "not leaving." You are actively creating space—through your willingness to ask hard questions, to stay present with fear instead of letting it decide for you, and to keep reaching even while you're grieving. That is love doing its hardest work. That is giving someone ground to stand on.

You're holding something important now: that grief does not mean rejection. It means letting go of an image that once carried meaning, not letting go of the person you love. You're not losing your spouse. You're releasing an outer shell that felt familiar, while remaining deeply connected to the same heart that has always been there. This isn't erasure. It isn't starting from zero. It's continuation.

There may be moments ahead that feel uneven or uncertain, and that doesn't mean you're losing your way. It just means you're human, moving through something real.

Your wish that Cynthia know love without conditions is clear, and it is felt. And your determination to keep going—even through fear and grief—tells me something essential: you already are finding your way through.

Keep going, Amy. You're doing this with honesty, courage, and grace.

With love,
— Susan 💜

Dear Susan,

I can understand that Cynthia has always been there.  She is the one who bonded with me, who loved me, and who built a life with me.  I can now see that there were never two separate people.  There was just one person, Cynthia, living inside of a role in order to survive.  You said she was living inside a role she did not choose.  Can you help me understand better why it was a role she didn't choose?  I also understand the mask was not a second self but just Cynthia wearing it.  You said it wasn't deception.  Why wasn't the mask deception?  I am having trouble understanding that. You said the mask was protection?  What was the mask protecting?  I am trying to get all the information that I can so I can understand better. 

It does make sense that what I am seeing now isn't someone new.  It is the same person I have known all along, present, without the filters on.

It is very helpful for me to know that Cynthia is still learning who she is without the armor on.  I needed to know that.  I didn't realize she was still learning who she is and that the mask kept her from exploring and knowing more about herself.  It is also really helpful to know that transition isn't just about revealing but also of becoming.  I didn't know that Cynthia is also getting to know who she is in this process.  I am honored to be able to walk alongside her as she is discovering herself.  I do want to be part of the process. 

I want to continue to create space for Cynthia and to give her ground to stand on.  I want her to feel safe and secure. 

That is so important for me to remember-grief means "letting go of an image that once carried meaning, not letting go of the person I love".  I am not losing the person that I love.  I am just releasing an outer shell that felt familiar to me while remaining connected to the same heart that has always been there. 

There will definitely be moments ahead that feel uneven or uncertain.  It is a relief to know that that is ok and that it makes me human, moving through something real and big. 

I will keep doing everything I am doing and keep being honest, courageous, and gracious. 

With much love,
Amy

@Pugs4life

Dear Amy:
 
You included a wonderful, befitting, worthy and appropriate statement in your reply comment:
"I will keep doing everything I am doing and keep being honest, courageous, and gracious." 

Yes, keep doing what you are doing Amy ...honesty with Cynthia and being open with your feelings
is the key and important thing that you continue to do.

Please keep posting and sharing...  along with your other readers and followers, I am
always eagerly looking for your updates.

HUGS, Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
    The Forum Administrator      Direct Email: alaskandanielle@yahoo.com

Dear Amy,

You're asking these questions because you want to truly understand - not just accept what I've said and move on. That tells me you're doing the real work. These are the kind of questions that come when understanding starts to move from the head into the heart. So let me try to answer as clearly as I can.

You asked why I said the role was one Cynthia didn't choose. I mean that quite literally. She didn't decide one day to present as male. That was assigned to her before she had any say in the matter - before she even had words.

From the moment she arrived, someone looked at her and said "boy," and from that point forward, the world handed her a script. The name. The clothes. The expectations. The pronouns. The rules about how to sit, how to talk, how to move through life.

As a child, she learned - often without anyone ever saying it directly - that being herself could cost her love, belonging, protection, sometimes even physical safety. Children don't make choices under those conditions. They adapt. By the time she was old enough to feel the mismatch between who she was inside and what everyone insisted she was, the role was already built around her like walls. And stepping outside those walls carried real risk - rejection, ridicule, loss of love, sometimes worse.

So she lived inside the role. Not because she wanted to. Because the cost of refusal felt unsurvivable at the time. The world chose it for her, and then enforced it at every turn. It was the only way she had to stay connected to the people she loved. It wasn't a preference. It was survival.

You also asked why the mask wasn't deception, and I understand why that one is harder to grasp. This is the question that trips up a lot of partners, so I want to be very clear.

Deception is when someone lies to take something from you - when the intent is to mislead you for their own gain at your expense. That is not what Cynthia did. She wasn't running a con. She wasn't hiding herself from you. She was hiding herself to survive. She didn't put on a mask to trick anyone - she wore it because the world had taught her that removing it was dangerous. The mask wasn't a lie. It was armor. And armor protects what matters.

The connection between you? Real. The love? Real. The laughter, the hard conversations, the years you built together - all of that was Cynthia. Not a character she invented to fool you. The mask was the outside - the name, the presentation, what the world demanded of her. It was never the heart underneath. You weren't deceived about who she was. You were seeing her through a filter that neither of you chose.

The heart behind the mask was always real. That's why what you loved about each other was real.

And when you asked what the mask was protecting - the answer is everything. Her safety, because being visibly trans can cost you your job, your family, your housing, your life. Her relationships, because she feared losing the people she loved most if they knew the truth. Her ability to function in a world that punishes difference.

The mask protected the part of her that was capable of bonding, of loving, of building a life with you. Without that protection, those parts of her might not have survived at all. The mask let her show up - imperfectly, incompletely - but show up nonetheless.

But Amy, there's something else I need you to hear. The mask was also protecting you. At least, that's how she understood it. Many trans people delay coming out not from selfishness, but from fear that the people they love most will be hurt or will leave.

The mask was Cynthia's way of holding the life together. Of trying to spare you this exact pain. Of being what she thought you needed her to be, for as long as she could bear it. It was never meant to harm you. It was meant to keep from losing you.

You're also touching on something important when you talk about Cynthia still learning who she is without the armor. When someone has lived behind walls for a long time, they don't step out fully formed. The mask didn't just hide her from others - it kept her from exploring and knowing parts of herself. Transition isn't only about revealing what was always there. It's also about finally being able to walk into rooms that were never safe to enter before.

Cynthia is discovering herself even now. That doesn't mean she was incomplete before. It means she was held back - compressed into a space too small to hold all of her. And what you're doing - creating space, offering safety, giving her ground to stand on - that isn't passive. You're not watching from the sidelines. You're walking alongside her as she becomes.

You said you're trying to get all the information you can so you can understand better. Good. That is exactly what you should be doing. Understanding isn't betrayal. Questions aren't doubt. You're not challenging Cynthia by asking these things - you're building a foundation you can actually stand on.

And I want you to notice something: the fact that you can ask these questions at all, that you can sit with them and work through them instead of shutting down or running away - that is you doing the work. That is you choosing to understand instead of just survive.

What you said about grief is important, and very true. You aren't letting go of the person you love. You're letting go of an outer form that once carried meaning because it was all that was visible. The heart you're connected to hasn't changed. If anything, it's more reachable now.

There will be moments ahead that feel uneven or uncertain. That doesn't mean anything is wrong. It just means two people are moving through something honest and real together.

You ended your message with something worth holding onto: "I will keep doing everything I am doing and keep being honest, courageous, and gracious."

Amy, that's not a wish. That's a declaration!

You aren't promising to have everything figured out. You're naming how you intend to show up - and that matters more than certainty ever could. Honesty, courage, and grace. Those three things will carry you through what knowing cannot.

The way you're doing this - asking instead of assuming, reaching toward understanding instead of pulling away - that's a gift to Cynthia. And it tells me something important about where you are now: you're starting to see that this isn't about loss. It's about truth finally having room to breathe.

And now you're both learning to breathe in that truth together. It's time to start learning how to move forward as one heart, one soul—letting nothing come between you.

With love,
— Susan 💜