I really can't think of a worse way.
She knows, now. The wife, that is. It all seems inevitable, of course. The chronic writing, she saw something in a notebook. The circumstances are tragic but not relevant.
But now she knows. We talked for hours about my motivation and its late-showing in me. She assured me that she would not leave me.
And it is going to work. At least I hope so. She was depressed for a while, and now we're better. Today was the first day I came home to her not almost in tears. It's OK when I get home and am able to comfort and talk to her, but when she's alone, then the feelings and thoughts come back to her. We talked and I promised not to wear anything of hers and she promised to help me dress more androgynously (though she fell short of helping me dress in full femme mode).
There was a misunderstanding in terms. I told her that I was not a transsexual, but she didn't hear the "not" in that sentence. The gender thing isn't in that place for me right now. Regardless of what else we discussed in those hours, they were all focused that way. We only cleared that up recently. What a horrible thing to per her through.
I think it's going to be OK. We still talk late into every night now, like we used to, and that means a lot to both of us. I have been in a deep depression lately, and I need her more than ever.
I don't know how often I'll come back here. I'll lurk and respond rarely. I know this isn't over, and I'll help when I can those who are working on their journey, and I may come here in search of that, too. But a big part of her hurt was I was talking about her and her accepting this to my counselor.
Got to go!