Being adrift is not what I would choose, but right now it is definitely how I’m feeling.
In the past six or seven weeks, I have been tossed about like a cork on the ocean in a violent storm.
- My wife of 34 years left me; she was so messed up by my transition that she admitted herself to the hospital for a week, and then moved in with my son Matt, who hates my guts and was more than happy to have her “on his side”.
- After a short period of feeling sorry for myself, I began to get out more, to adjust to being alone, my apparent future state. I began going to a social function which had sounded fun but which I’d never gone to before.
- I went to said social function with someone I regarded as a friend. This friend, prior to the second time this function convened, told me that she was attracted to me, and that she wanted to sleep with me. She was fairly graphic in her details of her sexual prowess (she is trans and pre-op). Gross? Yeah, a little bit .. but being adrift, I was also somewhat flattered that anyone could be attracted to me.
- At that same social function (Game Night), I had the opportunity to be introduced to many other people; I especially enjoyed the company of one of them. Although we barely talked, I found her sense of humor to be rather similar to my own, and pretty much immediately liked her. To boot, she was very attractive … way out of my league, even back when I was a good-looking, “brave” guy.
Let’s call her S.
- A few days after that second Game Night, I was contacted by S’s sister, who had also been there that night. She said that S. wanted my contact information, and I passed it on. My mind went wild with confusion .. what could this incredibly attractive cis-woman want with me? I wanted to leap at the chance to communicate with her, but held back. I was afraid.
- The next day was a Sunday, one that I won’t soon forget. Hazel, my wife of 34 years, called me up and asked me out of the blue whether I would “take good care of Taz”, her pet rat. She wouldn’t tell me anything, and I became concerned that she was planning to take her life. It turned out that Matt and his family hadn’t been treating her very well, and she was once again in “escape mode” .. a thing that some PTSD sufferers do in self-defense; she just needed to get out of that environment. She ended up moving back in here; we talked for a good long while, and mutually decided that our marriage was over, for good. We’d not been in a relationship, in any sense, in more than 15 years; we’d been functioning as room-mates, in a really strange way .. telling each other that we loved each other, in some sense of duty to the marriage.
- I had been coming around to the idea of being single, and I was liking it. When she moved back in, I felt that I needed to curtail some of that pleasure in my newfound life, but at the same time, I resisted. It came to a head the Tuesday after she moved back in; while showering that morning, I came to the sudden realization that despite my love for her, she couldn’t stand thinking of me in my transitioned form; I could not have her any longer, and .. things came crashing down.
More drama ensued over the next few weeks. I am still adrift, and barely able to see the next wave-crest before I hit a trough. This girl I met at Game Night, S., interests me greatly, but I am cautious .. I know very well that I am most likely misreading things here; she invited me over to her place, to hang out with her and her daughter, and it was .. wonderful. She’s such a nice woman, and fascinating too. I so badly want her to be my friend.
I am really messed up right now. In some ways, I am closer to putting that proverbial gun to my head than ever before .. it’s a state of limbo from which I cannot seem to escape, and the worst part? I am kind of enjoying it, in a perverse, self-torturing way.
I find that I need to get away from the trans community, to get a greater perspective .. and I feel guilty for that, because the trans community has been my only refuge through all of this, and I want to escape .. hence the wild thoughts of bullets to the head. The guilt is driving me mad, not just about my desire to “escape” the trans community, but the guilt that’s built up over years and years.
My marriage was a planet; a planet whose gravity I felt as a cloak of invincibility. Its gravity has proven to be much less of a force than I anticipated, and now that I am beginning to float away to some new place, I feel guilty that gravity has failed me. If I had not transitioned, Hazel and I would likely still be in this marriage. I wouldn’t exactly be comfortable, and neither would she .. but due to apathy, we’d probably have stayed this way, maintaining the status quo right up ’til the end.
Is it better this way? Yet to be determined.