I have mentioned somewhere in this blog before that I had been having marital troubles with my wife before coming out to her. I have mentioned that, at some level, I now think that denying my tendencies was one of the factors in those marital troubles. I think I may have even revealed that it was a fight with my wife that caused me to have the moment of clarity that led to me finally being honest with myself.
Well, I just found out last night, during a frank but ultimately positive conversation with my wife, that the same fight that brought me to a tipping point also brought her to a tipping point. A very different tipping point.
On that night, my wife had made the decision to leave me.
She hasn’t yet, and given recent developments between us she has pulled away from that decision. That she told me this fact last night was, I think, both very hard for her but also an assurance to me that she wasn’t going to follow through with it. Still, it was like a knife in the heart to hear it.
I blame myself, of course. One thing I’ve gotten over the last few weeks is an incredibly humbling amount of clarity about myself. But it means that my wife and I have a lot further to go before I can pretend this is simply about getting her to accept me as a crossdresser.
I have purposely tried not to talk too much about that part of my experience in this blog because it is personal and it hurts and it might reveal too much identifiable info. However, the nature of this blog has from the beginning been to act as a therapeutic tool for me to say things out loud that need to come out. As such, I think I’m just going to start talking about it over the coming weeks.
I don’t know how much is in here, or how much of it needs to come out, or how much of it is relevant to the theme of dressing. But I think it’s all relevant to my experience as a human being who spent twenty-plus years running away from these feelings. I know that dressing has been in the background the whole time. And I know that I wish so damn hard that I had not spent twenty years running from it.
Maybe writing it all down will be of value to someone else someday. Maybe there will be someone in a position to benefit from my story. Or maybe it will just be a waste of time and pixels. Whatever. It’s going to happen.
Strap in. It might be a bumpy ride.