A New Book Begins, TOUGH POST
FIRST A WARNING.
This posting discusses suicide, among other things. I am not actively suicidal, and yet I am not open to platitudes regarding life. Overall I have a positive view regarding life and enjoy overall good health, both physical and mental.
If the subject of suicide disturbs you, don't read any further. You have been warned.
NOW FOR THE POSTING.
A New Book Begins
I'll give it the working title, "Life", only because I need a name for it and it's as good as any title for now.
Synopsis: A crossdresser who has been married for 20 years validates his nature.
I was first dressed when I was 3 years old. Dad and mom thought it would be fun to see their son in his older sister's dress. It was lots of fun.
In 1983, I told my girlfriend, who is now my wife, that I was a transvestite. I told her everything I knew about it, which at the time wasn't much. She didn't like it and wished I'd quit. I told her I wanted to do so, which in a way I really did. Later we became engaged and in 1984 we were married.
I thought I could get rid of the clothes, but clearly I could not.
I bought and hid clothes, threw them away, bought more, and just tried to keep sane. The wife didn't like the idea of transvestism at all. Add to that she had problems with her own sexuality.
It wasn't until 1991 that I discovered TriEss and other sources of information about what I am. For a time, my wife allowed me to dress a little and even helped. Invariably she would reject that part of me and we'd argue. Still, I was able to dress occasionally.
In 1998, we had our first and only child. She was born almost 2 months premature and spent that amount of time in the hospital. My wife had problems too, and spent a month in the hospital herself. I went to the hospital all but two days of that time, staying away times I thought I was catching a cold.
Around that time my wife promised me that she would work to integrate "Stephanie" into our family. She has done nothing toward that goal. The kind view is that she didn't keep her promise. The less-than-kind view is that she lied.
Now my daughter is about to turn 6. She's a great kid! My wife and I had a discussion early in September.
"What are you going to say when Alice (not her real name) asks why Daddy wears nylons?"
"I don't know."
We discussed this for awhile, and she is completely and utterly unable to answer the question. I am nothing.
On September 12, 2004, I purged everything. I will not confuse my daughter.
On October 18, I discovered this place. For now, it is my safe haven. I cannot think of a better compliment for a place such as this. Thank you everyone!
On November 9, I see a counselor to begin along the path to saving or ending our marriage. I need to be a whole person, but cannot if nearly half of my self is to be ignored, rejected, reviled. We'll either find a way to stay together or we'll split.
My wife and I discussed what I am TG-wise. I should have been born female. I should have carried our daugher in my belly. Would I go for SRS? No. It wouldn't satisfy my needs. Would I live as female without surgery? Definitely no. Photos can be kind; the light of day isn't. I wouldn't pass well enough to live en femme without hormonal and surgical assistance, but those aren't me. Point is, my TG life wouldn't change very much if we divorced.
If we divorced, the finances are such that I'd get a condo nearby, we'd find a way for her to keep the house, and we'd do what we can to make this less painful to Alice. I have neither the need nor the desire to make a divorce messy. Fortunately neither does my wife.
My one dark concern is suicide. When I was a kid, I had the means to end my life. I dry ran the procedure and asked myself if I could do it. "No," I concluded. In the 90s, we were in couple's therapy related to my wife's problems. The counselor kept going back to things from my past that I'd already resolved; they didn't need resurfacing. I thought I'd break. My conclusion from adolescence was reversed; I'd kill myself in order to keep someone from breaking me. Suddenly the option "not to be" empowered me to change the course of therapy. That good turn lasted for 3 to 6 months when the counselor began a revisiting of my past and what seemed an attack on my transgenderism. When I began reconsidering suicide I understood my situation and acted accordingly. I terminated the couple's counseling.
Since that experience I now have suicide and execution scenes play through my mind anywhere from 20 to 100 times a day. They are relentless and almost always violent. Going back into some form of counseling to save this marriage is scary. I swore I'd never go back, but I am doing so of my own accord to try once again to save this marriage. Will counseling get bad again? (The question is rhetorical.)
Elsewhere outside of this forum I've seen someone refer to suicide as the Dark Knight. For what it's worth, I don't believe I fit the pattern of suicidal people. During this current purge, suicide was certainly a considered option. I'm still here. I also think I'm back to my view from when I was a kid. "No, I can't kill myself." While suicide has been considered, I am not "pursued by the Dark Knight".
I look forward to either the improvement of our marriage, or divorce. In either case, I will get to be whole again, which is all I want.
The new book has begun. How it will end is unclear.
Originally Posted by fractlgrrl
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