Looking Ahead After Holiday Depression

After 2 years of being full-time and a one foot in front of the other approach, I am still battling depression. The holidays didn’t help. In the new year, something needs to change.

In the first few weeks of the year, I found myself in a period of immense depression. In my State of Me: 2 Years Full Time post, I said that I was “spiraling into a dark place where I am isolated and lonely.” Unfortunately, I continued to tumble down that rabbit hole. I continued to talk to my therapist. I have reached out to friends. Some of them remind me how inspiring I have been to them. A few have reached out and told me I can call them any time. Still, as I wrote in State of Me, “the depressive feelings that could potentially lead to [suicide] are ever-present.” Why? Because the love of my life wants nothing to do with me, and I simply cannot shake her from my heart even though she shows every sign that she respects me less and less.

I tried my hardest to get into the Christmas spirit this year. I listened to Christmas songs at every turn. I decorated the Christmas tree as brightly as I ever have. As tradition has it, the children stayed up to help decorate the tree once the lights were on. My wife baked a ton of cookies. There was even a neighborhood Secret Santa. But no matter how much I tried to ignore the problems and the sadness, there was no joy in any of it.

Buying a present for my wife was hard. In the past, I have showered her with amazing gifts. Since beginning transition, those presents have not been as grand, but I continued to try to gift well. I still tried. I did not want to try this year. In the end, I gifted her some Disney earrings, which as usual, were a great gift for her. I think she wore one of those pairs every day from Christmas Day to New Year’s Day. In return, I received some earrings from Claire’s and a new skirt for work, which does not really fit my body shape. While we do not have lots of money to be buying presents, I kind of feel like she did not put a lot of effort into my gifts because her heart was not in it.

Christmas Day was awkward. There was no verve to get up and wake the kids to see what Santa had brought. Even Santa’s gifts were a family miracle. We received a last-minute donation of food & toys the week days before Christmas. Both children received brand new, assembled bicycles and assortment of smaller, cool toys. The adults received a food basket with an entire turkey and a bunch of canned food. I was incredibly grateful and humbled that we received such a blessing that truly save Christmas.

After the children opened presents, my father showed up for about an hour. In that time, he showed me pre-transition pictures of myself (at my heaviest weight, no less) and commented on my weight and hair length in the pictures. He then spent about 30 minutes talking to my wife about theology. While they both have progressive Christian philosophies, they are different enough to make for a strange conversation—and one I had very little interest in.

Once he left, we then proceeded to a hotel to visit my wife’s dad, stepmom, and their friends. For the second year in a row, we had Christmas dinner in a hotel room with people I barely know. These low-key gatherings are so much different from the Christmases I grew up with. We went home with overtired children and an underwhelming set of gatherings.

I was looking forward to the neighbors’ Secret Santa exchange a few days after Christmas, but even that was a sour point. I did not have a lot of time to shop with my busy schedule, so my wife helped me shop for gifts while I worked. That part worked out well (except for her telling people she did not know what to get my gift recipient). The person who drew my name really knew nothing about me. He arrived three hours late to the party, and then when I finally got my gift, I opened up a bottle of alcohol. For anyone else in that room, that would have been an OK hurried gift. However, I am not a big drinker. Anyone that even remotely knows me realizes I am only a social drinker at best. I am the last person to buy a 1/5 of anything—especially when the idea of the gift exchange was to give thoughtful gifts under $20. While I had fun at the party, I was very disappointed. The whole situation did not provide a silver lining to my downer of a Christmas.

After the holidays, I put out what amounted to cry for help to Facebook. While I acknowledged some of the positives that occurred this year (mainly FFS—despite the infection—and mostly successful vocal training), I also made mention how much this year has felt like an “unmitigated disaster.” Why? Because my support system is so weak. Yes, there are people I rely on and people who step into help me, but I can only rely on those people so much. I am not good at asking for help as it is, let alone going back to the well to people that have already assisted me. I do not want to be manipulative or overly-needy. I received a few nice responses to my post, but there was notable exception: my wife.

I know she has read the Facebook post because she reacted to one of the comments, but she did not mention it, comment on it, or reference it in any way to me. The same night I posted that message, I came home from work and had to endure her talking to her “friend” on the phone for nearly an hour. Rarely does she talk to him while I am around. This felt highly disrespectful. She knows how I feel about him. However, what does she care? She has her fantasy boyfriend, and I am a glorified babysitter and paycheck earner. This, even after I made the breakfast she requested earlier that morning.

She is tired with dealing with me and my emotions, even though I never complained when I helped her through her issues at the beginning of our relationship. I was there through every twist and turn. I drove her to group therapy meetings. I made sure she filled her prescriptions. For 12+ years, I have been there for her. Now that I need the help and support, I am apparently too much for her. I am not worth the effort. The romance is gone. The attraction is gone. If we did not have the kids, I might be subjugated to roommate status. Maybe we should set up a chore wheel.

Admittedly, that’s my anger coming through, but it is hard not to feel the way I do. No matter what I do, I am still the one taking care of the finances, making things work as best as possible for us as a family. ‘Family’: That word has taken on a weird context lately. There has to be a more appropriate word than that to describe what we have going here. Because families love each other, do anything for each other, respect one another. That’s not happening here, and it repeatedly breaks my heart. My heart is so shattered that is difficult for me to put one foot in front of the other. I have been plodding along, but I am tired of going it alone. I am tired of bearing all of the stress of trying. Trying to love. Trying to feel good about myself. Trying to be a good worker. Trying to be a good mother. I can’t bear it alone.

On New Year’s Day, we sat down and talked for about an hour while the kids played in a park. During that conversation, she admitted to pulling away from me. She also said that she was upset because she felt she was having to do everything by herself—the same complaint I have had. Clearly, we are at an impasse if we both feel we are doing “everything” without the other’s help. This is a broken family (or whatever we are), and how we keep sane without continuing to upset each other is a Herculean task.

When I officially reached my 2-year full-time anniversary, I made it a point for myself to celebrate even in some small way. I did not make a big deal about it. I was kind of curious to see if my wife was going to acknowledge it in any way. It was even written on the large family calendar in the living room. For her, it was a work day, which meant I was responsible for the kids. Before we picked her up at the end of the night, I put on my tiara (which my daughter loved) and went to the grocery store to buy myself a Boston cream pie. When we picked her up, she asked, “Were you wearing that all day?” I answered, “No, but why might I be wearing my tiara today?” She paused, then responded, “Oh, is that today?” quietly adding, “Happy Non-Birthday.” Later, I shared cake and Martinelli’s with her after the kids went to bed, but honestly, had I not chosen to celebrate this milestone myself, it probably would have gone unnoticed and uncelebrated.

I am trying so hard to propel myself forward and keep up the one foot in front of the other approach I’ve been plodding along since I started my transition, but after 3+ years of grinding through life, I am so tired. I am tired if feeling like I am working towards a goal that I cannot define. Don’t get me wrong: That goal has nothing to do with transition. I am living the authentic me, and that’s a huge thing. I just don’t have vision for the rest of my life.

Despite the incessant pressures I faced in 2017, I was able to accomplish my face and voice goals. In my best effort to move forward, I feel I need to set some goals for 2018. While the odds of me getting GRS in the upcoming year are slim, I need to accelerate that process. To that end, I have a friend helping me create a GoFundMe page to crowdfund for the surgeon’s required deposit and to start needed electrolysis. As I get that long-term ball rolling, in the short-term, I need to learn to live for myself. I need to dream again. I have to find a way to separate myself from my wife without further injuring my heart. To that end, financial security is a must for myself and my children. I seek new, better paying employment. I also must solve the housing dilemma. Depression or not, I must find a way through, to keep my will strong and positive, or I may not make it through 2018.

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