I turned the Big 4-0. I’m not happy about that, but I am a happier person overall since transitioning. While on a family vacation, I am reminded that while my family supports me, there is a limit and a continued uneasiness that lies under the surface of that support.
In October 2015, I wrote a piece about how I was grieving my marriage. At the time, I had just determined that I needed to live the rest of my life as a woman, and I went full-time three months later. In order for me to take that giant step, I had to resolve that my relationship with my wife was effectively over without any kind of reconciliation. I realized I needed to give up on the idea of staying together if I was going to be able to become my authentic self.
Since then, I have taken some steps to become more independent and separated from the person with which I still awkwardly share a bed. I allowed myself to be be wooed (to varying levels) by two different women. I tried not to be angry when my wife reconnected once again with her best friend of 20 years who has always been a toxic influence on her life. I have tried to create a little distance knowing that we are not meant to be together in the long-term. However, neither of us rush out to file divorce papers.
Since I went full-time, my wife’s level of support of me has been exponentially stronger. She had defended me in public and in private. She has encouraged me to pursue surgeries (one of which is only 2 months away!). She has allowed me to embrace the title of Mom with the children. When I wrote that entry about grieving my marriage, these are things I never thought I would be writing about today. In the last 1 1/2 years, we have taken huge strides in repairing our friendship. In my opinion, we make a great team, even if she does not find me attractive anymore. This growth and new bonding has made me question whether or not we could survive together as a non-sexual couple buoyed by mutual love and respect. I have allowed myself to fall back into a comfortable place I once felt when things were better between us. By doing so, I am fooling myself. Things simply cannot be that way, and that reminder was soundly presented to me this evening.
I am on vacation with my family in Orlando. We are here 10 days to primarily visit family in the area. We are also taking the time to visit the magical Walt Disney World and to celebrate my 40th birthday. That was not always the plan, though. Back in January, my wife’s aunts began planning a trip out here for February that only involved my wife and children–not me–all without asking me. It was very rushed and felt secretive, and ultimately I felt like my children were going to be taken away from me involuntarily for a week. The thought of that crushed me. Because of some technical issues with the booking of flights, the trip was postponed to June, and alternatively the family travelled to Washington State to see my wife’s father. To avoid conflict, I was invited on both trips, so I would not be forcibly separated from the children.
Washington went fairly well. Her father and stepmother frequently travel to our area, so they are well-acquainted with me at this point. The Floridians, however, took a defensive position when I transitioned and staunchly supported my wife. They influenced her to move to the East Coast. They nearly cut off communication to me. While they have seen pictures and followed my transition on Facebook, they are still uneasy about my presence, and so I naturally bring tension to the current situation by no real fault of my own. In addition to two aunts, my wife’s grandmother lives out here, and—as Murphy’s Law would have it no other way—she shares my birthday. Grandma is in her 80s; her health is poor. This may be the last time my children get to spend time with her. However, she is old school and completely against my transition.
I came out to Florida fully willing to share my birthday, to show respect and extend an olive branch in an uneasy situation. The plan: My birthday would be celebrated at a breakfast, while her birthday would be celebrated at a dinner later that night. My wife chose to keep my breakfast closed to just me, herself, and our children. Dinner was to be an all-family affair. The night before it was to all happen, the plans changed. Grandma was now requesting only my wife’s presence without myself or the children. This behavior upset me greatly, as I felt the move was a premeditated, disingenuous act. My wife decided to agree, and after all of my day was done, our immediate family was separated, while my wife and her family could talk about me while I was unable to speak for myself.
It’s not that I do not trust my wife to defend and support me, but at the same time, this was the first time in a long time that I felt that support fade away. She chose to allow me to be excluded in a situation where we could have presented a united front demonstrating that we have been working well together. Instead, my wife did not see that opportunity. While she felt I had a right to be upset by the changes, she chose to walk out that door and wish me “Happy Birthday” while leaving me alone to babysit our children in our hotel room. When she returned, she could not understand why I had been stressed and upset while she was gone.
The conversation that resulted was a tough one. She reminded me that she still wanted a divorce. She complimented me in the sense that she felt we make a great co-parenting team and that she wants me to be nearby when she eventually is offered a job in the future (probably over a year away). However, that is as far as she would go. The tone was different than the cooperative and friendly tone I had started to which I had become accustomed. She was redrawing the same lines she had drawn before: a future divorce due to unhappiness with me and our situation. Her taking the kids when she moves. Following this talk, I fear an ultimatum and a child custody fight in our future. That is something I certainly want to avoid. Our children mean to the world to each of us individually. They keep us safe and alive. They are a reason to live and a reason to love. From my prospective, my children are why I did not attempt suicide when I was in my darkest moments. My attachment and love for them was why my fight to be called Mom was so important to me. It is why I am on this vacation instead of allowing my children to travel 3,000 miles away without me. It’s not that I do not trust my wife to take care of them. It is that they are an essential part of me. She feels similarly. She reiterated tonight that she would die without her children. If we are not to stay together, then there will be some extremely difficult negotiations ahead at some unpredictable time.
Part of what made this conversation difficult was because I care too much for someone that ultimately does not want to be my partner. I thought I had grieved our marriage. I thought I had moved on, but I have not. I have misinterpreted her increased friendship and support as symbols of love—a love that simply is not there for me anymore. I have allowed myself to slip and become dependent on this relationship again. However, doing so will set me up for failure and increased personal pain. I feel I need to grieve some more, separate some more. How can I when my love is still there? I can suppress those feelings but then I am the one being disingenuous.
An uncertain future faces me. The decisions and events of the next year or two will determine the fate of my life, my wife’s life, and the lives of our children. My 40th birthday was filled with Disney magic (and even some Universal enjoyment), but I will always yearn for the magic my wife and I once had. It is so difficult to let go. I thought I cleanly broke that dependency a year ago. I was sorely mistaken, and now I do not know what to do about it.
This vacation will go on, and I will continue to be my authentic self in front of the family. I hope they will begin to accept me a little more, but I am also not hear to twist arms. I am not holding out hope that Grandma will see the light, but I am not going to alter my being for them. I will continue to love on my children and respond to “Mom.” I will wear a cute dress, which is my definitive style. I will be me. Thankfully, I have not been asked to act differently around the family. We shall see how this goes.
The hamster wheel in my head will turning, though, as I start my 40s in an uneasy place. I grieved, but it was incomplete. I slipped and became complacent. I will need to grieve again and ask myself another time: If not this marriage, what do I want?