Wife, the Universe and Everything

So Here it is, Merry Christmas! Everybody’s blogging fun; Look to the future now … it’s Only Just Begun?

So with 4 more sleeps until Christmas Day, what would I like Santa to bring me?  Nothing more than a change of sex and the continued acceptance of my wife and daughter; but like the terms and conditions on your winter skiing* holiday insurance, the devil is in the detail. My wife Does Not Approve, to the extent that I have agreed not to have any female things in the house at all. It is, of course, not her fault – before we married I told her that I dressed but via embarressed discussion, I said that I wouldn’t do it again. A lie?  Yes. To myself, to her, to the world.

You see I would give up being transgendered if I could; it is something that in my lowest moments I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy … and yet, even as I type that, I feel the regret and the sense of loss that would bring. I AM transgendered** and it’s deeply, intransigently part of who I am.

The tag line to this blog is ‘a peek inside the shell’ because that’s how I feel I am.  What you would see if we were to meet, is a forty-something man who’s a bit reserved and doesn’t quite fit in but makes a fair approximation of a male-of-the-species.  The mannerisms are about right.  Ok, he doesn’t like sport or hang out at the pub, but he can do DIY and make techy stuff work. Behind the façade though, there’s my true self, swimming around inside, mostly hiding, only occasionally coming to the surface to grab some light…

When people like me or love me, who do they like? Who do they love?  Is it the shell or is it the squidgy bit inside? How can someone love the me inside and yet not accept my female expression? This is where my sadness finds it’s home.  Do I hurt myself or do I hurt my wife? Does my daughter need me or does she need a dad?  How selfish can I, should I, be?

Another year goes by, what should I do?  I am 42.

 

* I have never been on a skiing holiday and, until otherwise tested, am unable to ski.  But I can ice skate :)

** Subject to a qualified medical practitioner certifying that I’m not, in fact, barking mad.

 

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