There’s been some positive movement for me. Not in that my ex-wife and I are getting back together — I wish! — but in that I’ve started to let go, and also to accept.
It didn’t come easy. As I blogged about earlier, I was in a sort of denial mode this past week. Cold turkey, that was me. At one point, Meg from Call Me Meg pointed out to me that I was more or less in “purge” mode. I denied it, but she was mostly right. [By the way, public apology to Meg for the snarky reply I gave to that e-mail. I was being an asshole last week.]
I sunk to a real low Thursday night: completely in a foul mood, snapping at the ex-wife and kids, not happy with anyone or anything. After a tense exchange with the ex-wife, I stormed upstairs and slept for something like ten straight hours. When I woke up Friday morning I felt both miserable AND guilty for the night before. I ended up taking the day off work because I just couldn’t muster the energy to make the commute.
The plus side of this was that, the first time in the whole week, my ex-wife and I had some time to talk without the kids interrupting. I won’t bore you with all the details of the conversation; suffice to say I expressed to her, once again, how I wanted another chance, and how sorry I was for how I’d been before, and how I was still in love with her. And once again, she rebuffed everything and sad she still loved me but was no longer in love with me in that way. And we talked about my need for therapy, and her need to move forward, and how I was probably depressed, and other things.
But then, at one point, I realized something. Something that I had to do, that would maybe let me let go. Something I had not yet done in all of this. It was something I’d been fearing to do all this time, afraid it would be the nail in the coffin of my chance at winning her back. And maybe that was the problem, and maybe that nail needed to be hammered in after all.
So I got into my female clothes and I stood fully dressed in front of my wife.
Before Friday, I had never let her see me en femme. Heck, I have never, ever let ANYONE else see me en femme. But I asked her if she’d be okay with it, and I told her that I felt like I had to do it. And she agreed, and so I went off and got dressed.
And for some reason, that did it. It got me over the hump. “This is me,” I said at one point. “This is who I’ve been hiding from you for all these years.” And she hugged me, and we talked some more, and in some crazy way that helped me move on.
It’s weird, I know, but that’s what happened. It’s like, now that I’ve let her see me in a dress (I guess you could say “now that I’ve introduced her to the real Me”), I don’t have any illusions any more. I am still in love with her, and it still hurts to lose her, but I think I can move on now. And I know she’s on my side.
Amidst all this, I also decided that it was time to take a picture of myself for posting online. In all the time I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve rarely posted any images, and never of me. “Keeping it hidden” and all that. But since I’m in a sharing mood, I thought I’d go ahead and share it with you (slightly Photoshopped) so that you have at least SOME idea of who’s behind this blog. I’ve told you before, I’m a tall, fat man, and if this isn’t proof, I don’t know what is:
Some people carry a spare tire around their midsection; right now, I carry enough to replace all four tires. I’m forty pounds heavier than I was three years ago, and my first goal is to lose those forty pounds, and more. I consider this my official “Before” picture. And boy howdy, is it ever a before! I’ve been putting on weight these past few months — I blame stress and cortisol and lack of sleep — and the picture isn’t pretty. But I figure if it’s the worst picture I ever take, then I can at least say I’ve made progress.