Things with my wife keep doing the two-steps-forward, two-steps-back dance. After what felt like a pleasant, even hopeful weekend with her, she shattered my illusions Sunday night by saying she wanted to eventually start dating other people.
So I guess it’s a good thing that I’m finally going to get some professional help this week. On Tuesday, my friend Erin (intro here), who has quickly become an important part of all this, is taking me to a local monthly MtF trans support group she sometimes attends. This isn’t a social gathering; it’s an actual support group run by a gender-specialized therapist. I don’t like talking about myself in groups (where I can’t be anonymous), but at this point I need to stop hiding, I guess.
The day after that, I have a scheduled “initial assessment” phone call with the local University health program. Turns out I’m lucky enough to live near a university with an actual transgender services program. They will listen to me ramble, sort out my situation, connect me with a qualified therapist, and — if need be — help me further down the road with other trans* related services. This is the same program that helped my brother-in-law, so I know they’re good at what they do.
It puts me in mind of one of my favorite Nellie McKay songs.
There’s the doorbell
Hello man in white
He’s gonna make you all well
Get’cha through the night
But hey now
You don’t feel better
As you take your fresh bromide
Maybe this man of letters lied …
That’s me today: Melancholy Ali. Except I’m hoping that whatever my man (or woman) of letters tells me ain’t no lie!