*Stephan*

I let out a deep breath as I prepared to go inside and talk with my wife. Over the last 30 or so hours I've come to a conclusion. I'm transgender. I know I'm kind of bringing this in somewhere in the middle of the story but I assure you there was nothing exciting about the self discovery. You see, I'm a counselor at an Inpatient Treatment Facility for Substance Abuse, pretty new to being one too. For a long time I figured I had a "Highly Sensitive Personality" as characterized by my ridiculously high levels of empathy. Like legit, I cry watching Disney movies, I'm deeply impacted by the emotions of others. Just really, I'm super sensitive. I'm also pretty much a loner. Being around others drains the fuck out of me. So you know, naturally I decided to join a profession where I always talk with others…

 

Anyways, about a month ago shit happened. We had a client who stated they were trans and I think staff handled it terribly, so much was done wrong and they were not treated respectfully at all. At the time I was just a resident monitor, no one listened to my concerns though I built great rapport with the client and gained a lot of understanding I had lacked. I thought I might be gender fluid at the time, talking with them I began to realize I wasn't just highly sensitive or cis or straight or anything. But it didn't really fit who I was still. As I researched studies, competencies and lurked on lgbt forums trying to grow in understanding this underserved population, well...it made a lot of sense. Too much sense. All the justifications I told myself, all the 'fetishes' I told myself I had like wishing I were a girl or fantasizing about what if I just woke up a woman, it all fell away. I saw I wasn't alone. That was today, I realized how much it all fit. Now I'm home, my wife is inside and I realized like 4 hours ago this label fit and I had a hard road before me.

 

I know this is fast. 4 hours and I'm telling my wife, am I insane? But, I've never hidden from her. We've faced everything together and worked through it. I couldn't hide this from her besides, this impacts her too. We live in Washington State in the United States. Just outside Seattle, I actually work in Seattle. Yet as my experience with the one client showed me, as progressive as this area allegedly is it has a long fucking way to go and this revelation is going to be dangerous and it's going to suck. So yes, 4 hours is fast but also, I've always made quick determinations of my feelings. I decided I loved my wife a week after we started dating, knew I would marry her within a month and moved in with her just after a month of knowing her. 4 hours of waiting felt like an eternity to me. But I suppose reflecting on all this is just delaying having to tell her. If she didn't understand then...well, then I would.

 

After hanging my keys by the door and putting my shoes away, heart pounding away like a rabbit on viagra, I went into the bedroom. There Marie sat with our twin daughters as they played with their books, chewing not reading. We exchanged our typical pleasantries as I changed into my robe. Did I have to do this? What if I'm wrong? I'm not wrong. I could be mistaken, maybe it's a fetish thing. That doesn't lead to sexual energy and revolves around the mundane? Son of a bitch, my palms were sweating, my heart was liable to break my damned ribs and how could I do this to her?! I was delaying again, drawing out what should be a pretty thick pee into a full on existential panic. I took a deep breath, I needed to do this. We'd always talked, always told each other everything. It's how we had overcome as much as we had…

 

I walked over to my wife and sat across from her. And stared. I don't know how to start. Uhhhhhhh….

 

"What's up?" She was looking back at me with brow furrowed. I don't know what to say.

 

"Nothing…" Damnit, like a bandaid Stephan. "I uh...so I realized something today that I wanted to talk to you about…"

 

"Ok, what is it?"

 

I stealthily wiped the sweat from my hands and licked my lips as I forced the words from my lips, "I uh, so you know how I've been trying to be more familiar with the whole LGBT stuff cause that one client?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Well, so I realized I'm transgender." Smooth, solid delivery. Obviously a logical segue you IDIOT! How can you do this? You ruined her life, we have young kids, she's going to leave you and shes right to do so bec-

 

"I know." Huh?

 

"You know?" She was looking at me like I was an idiot who just shakily declared the sky was blue. 

 

She nodded patiently. "You've told me. I know you're curious. You've always been curious about everything since we met."

 

"Oh. Kay…" I guess that's good? Resolved? Kind of an odd reaction tbh but… "So, how was your day?"

 

Our night returned to pretty normal, fed the kids, talked, normal stuff. I tried to shake the feeling I'd messed up, that the other shoe would drop any second now. But I couldn't. It followed me the entire next day through work. I'm struggling to face this realization, how the fuck is she so calm? Probably because I'm a moron. I soft pitched it. She relayed what I said to my long standing curiosity of what things felt like as a woman rather than what I intended. Because I hedged and wasn't clear. So now I get to do this again. 

 

Fuck.

 

So here I am on the ground again. Trying to explain again. Dream come true, this is. "So yesterday when I said I'm…. transgender. Did you have questions about it?"

 

She looked confused, "Not really...should I?"

 

"Well, I don't know." I don't know how to deal with this, "It's more than the curiosity. It's...theres...theres a disparity between who I am inside and how I am outside."

 

"What?"

 

"Like, my brain is one way and my body was born another." Silence… "So. I need to find a doctor for hormone replacement therapy to fix this…"

 

"You need medicine? Wait, when you say your brain and body were born different you mean. You want to be a woman?" Her eyes began to fill with tears. Oh I'm an idiot, abort! No it's too late for that. Fuck!

 

"Yeah, I'm ...that…" Great now I'm starting to cry too.

 

"What's that mean? You're having surgery? You're leaving me? What do I-"

 

"I'm not leaving! I'm not going anywhere love. I'm…" Do I want surgery? I think it's part of it but...I looked at her face. No. No, I know how she feels about vaginas. I don't want a surgery that will cost me my family. "I don't need surgery. Just the hormones. I just...there's a fog."

 

"A fog?"

 

"A fog, like it's harder to think. Like I'm tired and foggy and my emotions are dead and I have less feeling in my body. Like. It's like a glove or a thin layer of clothing on everything that keeps me from feeling it. So, I need the hormones to fix it."

 

"So it's like a vitamin?"

 

"Yeah, I guess."

 

She was still crying but spoke through the sobs, " I know it isn't a vitamin, I just mean you take the pill and it helps?"

 

"Yes, that's it. Nothing else."

 

"Will you be happy with that? Won't you want more?" I wanted to hold her and tell her it would be ok. Hell, I wanted to be held and told it would be ok. But I felt disconnected. Like I'd hurt her too badly, so I didn't. And she didn't…

 

"Yes. I promise." Fear, confusion, anguish, pain all raged inside me for command of emotions. I'd say it was a rainbow of emotion but it was so frantic that all the emotions had mixed and now it was this nasty mud color instead. I almost forgot! "If I don't get better then I'll know I'm wrong and can stop."

 

She thought for a few long, silent moments, "but if it isn't this then you'd still have that fog…"

 

"And I'll see somebody about that. But...it is this. I know it is, too much fits for it to not be. If I'm wrong the medicine would make me feel worse and we'll know to stop."

 

"If this is what you need to do I'll support you. Just tell me if you want more. I need to prepare, I can't have it sprung on me…"

 

The conversation continued like this for a few hours, we cried, we hugged and at long last we held each other. We spoke of why I felt this way, what she feared and we agreed to always communicate about it. It wasn't my secret to share but one that would have consequences for both of us. I made that rule. I had to because I felt that I didn't know I was trans when we married. I couldn't give her a choice to start this journey with me. But I can make sure she has control, as much I do, of who we tell. The list of never tells was easy: her family, my family and my work associates. Our families don't understand this stuff. Mine was hostile to it all when I was young, I don't think they outgrew that. Hers, verbally against transfolk. And my work was full of religious zealots.

 

The next day was harder. We were apart, I at work trying to find an informed consent clinic to see me. She, with the babies alone.

We needed each other to recover from the stress of my outting. Somehow we both made it through and talked more of how we felt. While that day was harder there wasn't much new to it, just the internal dealings of stress and fear. From there it got better, except for the month I had to wait to see a doctor and then a few more weeks past that to start my medications. Or the fact the meds weren't controlling my testosterone levels, but those are foot notes. We conceived a third child, yes by choice. We were thrilled, I was scared but overcame that fear through time. It was great until that day. Sometime in October. 

 

I was between seeing clients and my wife was quite pregnant at this time and she had concerns. I'd struggled with a bit dysphoria I had come to realize, during the birth of our first children, I'm a woman who is on the wrong side of what biology will allow me to do. My wife, being aware of this, was struggling with how the pregnancy was impacting me. That I'd have to face that dysphoria again, she wanted a support group but felt alone. If anyone is unaware support groups for the spouses of transfolk come in two flavors. 'Cis need not apply' or 'my freak husband ruined my life'. This had of course upped her fear. With the former she was judged for not also being trans, while the latter talked about how it would end in tragedy and pain for her. I tried to help her find a support group, that sucked. So many hateful groups to find…

 

The conversation evolved to a point of discussing what we need from each other, we were talking via text.

 

Me: I need you to push me. I'm scared to try new things and need that push. 

 

Marie: I can help with that. Fun socks, underwear...paint your toes….

 

Me: ...ok. You decide. What do you need?

 

Marie: I need to be honest. I can't help you transition socially as your wife, you need me as your best friend. Do you know what I mean? Is that wrong?

 

Oh. I stared at my screen. Is it wrong. I felt like I was falling while staying firmly seated. That sense that permeates ones being before a magnetic rollercoaster rockets you to 60 miles per hour in under 2 seconds. 

 

Me: What do you mean?

 

I waited as my heart pounded in my chest. I knew what she meant. Tears gathered in my eyes and I fought them off, I had a client in less than 10 minutes,  I couldn't become compromised now!

 

Marie: I don't know. You need someone who can stand by you and push you to be who you are. I don't know if I can. I'd never kick you out or ask you to leave but I can't ask you to hide for me either and you are. You need to be free to explore who you are.

 

Me: Ok. I understand.

 

My heart raced, she wanted to leave me. I knew it was coming but it still hurt like a bitch. I out my phone away, I had 2 hours of acting like I legitimately gave half a shit about some addicts feelings and struggles. While my life was falling apart...No! Later, now is time for professional Stephan. The mask loosely in place I left to see my clients. 

 

Barely making it through those sessions in piece and actually forcing myself to engage and counsel was rough. I closed my door and let loose. I cried, the hardest I've cried in years. The snot ran free and my shoulders shook. I couldn't stop my thoughts, I was losing everything. She was leaving. She thought I was a freak, someone she couldn't be with. I'd feared this since the day I realized I was trans. She's leaving, I'm losing everything. Again and again this thought ran through my mind. 

 

I looked at the clock, lunch time. I stymied the flow of tears and wiped the snot from my face. I needed out of this box, I needed to walk and think. Walking helps move my thoughts forward. I carefully made my way to the bathroom, as the only 'Male' I knew it would be empty. I washed my face and composed myself. A quick look confirmed the efficacy of my efforts. I look like shit. A quick and cautious walk to the door, miraculously avoiding everyone, I informed the receptionist I was heading out for lunch without showing my face.

 

I did a quick check on my phone for the local LGBT center and started walking, 20 minute walk. Fair enough. I started off hoping to burn my emotions away and numb my pain enough to get through another day. As I exited the GPS I saw I had a lot of messages. About 14. The theme was much the same in all of them: concern.

 

Marie: I feel like I hurt you. I'm not trying to. Are you ok?

I feel bad. I'm not saying I want to leave you. I don't know how to say what I mean.

Baby?

Stephan? Are you ok?

Can we talk when your able?

I didn't want to do this, to hear her verbally reject me but I'd never hid from her before. I called. 

 

"Hey, are you on lunch?" She definitely sounded concerned. I fought past a budding lump in my throat.

 

"Yeah, I just took lunch."

 

"Are you ok? I didn't mean I'm kicking you out. But I don't want to trap you. You've never been someone to go half in on anything so I have trouble believing you want to this time."

 

And I lost the battle with the lump, now it was going to be hard to talk… "I'm ok. I um. This is all I want. I can't…."

 

"Baby?"

 

"I don't want to lose you." The tears started again. In a questionable neighborhood. Nice.

 

Her voice broke as she spoke, "don't cry. I don't mean. I'm not. I'm not leaving you. I just don't want you to feel you have to hide who you are but I don't know if I can be there for that much change, not as your wife."

 

I just sniffled on the phone and continued walking the street. I felt lost, alone, a freak, a loser, an aberration. No one wanted me. The tears continued to flow as I walked this broken road alone…