I came out last night to my wife and my daughter. It ... wasn't as horrible as I thought? But still, not great, to put it mildly. But at least it's done and out there, to them. And I wanted to tell them before I met with a gender therapist, or with anyone, for that matter.
I told my wife first. She was surprised yet not surprised, if that makes sense. Not surprised, in the sense that she knew *something* was going on with me. I've had bouts with depression for the past couple of years, and the struggle comes and goes. I've seen a psychologist on and off about it, taken various medication, with okay-if-not-great results. So she knew, I think, that our talk was related to that. She wasn't expecting that I was going to tell her that I think a lot of that depression, and the "I'm never comfortable in my own skin" self-loathing feelings I have comes from gender dysphoria – and that I believe I really identify as female, not male.
"For how long?"
Told her probably for a long time, I just never identified it in those terms. But over the past two years I'd thought about it, and the past few months was when I thought it was more than just a possibility.
And then ... a lot. I tried writing it out as a more detailed summary, but it's too much. I told her that I still love her, very much, and our daughter. And that I didn't want to rock the boat, upset our marriage, but .... If things keep going for me the same way, without addressing this, I'm never going to be happy on a personal level. In my relationships, yes. Me, not so much.
She asked a lot of questions. What I'd decided to do. I said besides thinking, talking with her was the first actual thing I'd done. And I didn't want to do anything else until that was done. She asked if I'd thought about counseling. I mentioned that I wanted to see a gender counselor (and explained what that was). She asked if I'd go see my regular psychologist again, or go on medication. I said I was amenable to seeing a regular psychologist, but with the medication, that was something I didn't particularly want to do without serious consideration. Medication in my experience is like a band-aid, it just masks problems and pushes them down.
I asked if she would go to therapy with me and that was when it got bad. She doesn't want to. These are my issues, she didn't ask for this, why am I dragging her into it. All I could offer was because I want to figure this out and do what's best for us, not just me. It didn't go over well. At that point we stopped. She said she needed time to process all of this, which I said I understood totally) and she wanted to talk about it again maybe this weekend. I said sure. I asked if I could talk – very big picture – to our daughter about this. She was hesitant but said yes, mostly after I laid out what I would say to her.
So I talked later with my daughter, who's seven. I didn't quite know how to approach it, but I did my best. Basically, we talked about boys and girls, and then how sometimes girls pretend to be boys, or boys pretend to be girls. And then I told her that sometimes there's boys who don't feel right being boys, and want to be girls – and girls who don't feel right being girls, and want to be boys. That's when I ended with "and I'm think I'm one of those boys".
"Oh. Why?"
Told her I didn't know, and I wish I did. But I would be talking to doctors about that.
"So ... wait, you can really become a girl, if you wanted?"
Told her yes, I could. No, I didn't know if I actually would. I needed to talk with lots more people about this first. (And this was something important that I didn't want her talking about with her friends yet.)
"Oh. Okay. Have you talked to Mommy about this?"
Yes.
"So, if you're a girl, does that mean you'd be my mom? Because I already have Mommy."
No, I'd still be Daddy. Just different.
At this point she immediately changed the subject and started telling me about the game she was playing that day with her friends at recess, so I dropped the discussion. That's her cue for her being uncomfortable and not wanting to talk about something, and I didn't want to push anything.
I think I surprised my wife in that after all this I went down to the basement den and cried for a while. I don't usually cry about anything. (I'm unfortunately very good at repressing feelings.) It was good to let everything out, it was just crushing that it didn't go well, even though it was what I expected. I went for a walk later, after my daughter went to bed. Apparently I went out for about three hours. Don't know where I went – my brain was just in a dull fog the whole time.
And now, the appointment with a gender therapist in two weeks. Hopefully my wife and I will talk about this again (hopefully this weekend) before that appointment.
I feel like there's been a big weight lifted from my shoulders ... and a different big weight handed to me instead.
