Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Missing what he had


I haven’t blogged for a while, to be honest, because blogging requires two things from me.   Honesty and a semblance of self reflection.  Of late, facing up to either has been easier to avoid.  And I’m not finding it straight-forward right now, but I woke up this morning knowing that it was a blog day.

But its why I should blog more often, because the moment I do, crystal clear, stark answers stare back at me.  I started the first version of this blog thinking that I was confused about my gender and that things were all up in the air.  The latter part of that is true, but the reasons why I am unsettled are simple and are not to do with confusion.  I am intensely missing all the things I got to have when I was him.  And I’m teetering at the edge of our acquaintances and beyond finding out the true reason for the split.

Let’s consider the equation for a moment.  As him: married 16 years, enjoyment with the kids, people understand your situation and think well of you for it, good job, fantastic family holidays, meals out with someone you love, a familial support network when you are unhappy, solvency because you aren’t supporting two households, good standing in the local church (I know, I’ve never mentioned that one before, but there it stands), respectability, normality, easy life.

Then I contrast it with now.  Don’t get me wrong, I still have some (well a couple) of those things.  But I don’t have the things off that list that I really value.  Family holidays have firmly been taken off the list - ironically they were high on the list of things I valued about my old lifestyle.  Meals with a loved one.  Having some respectability.  I am grateful for the things I have now.  Sitting, writing this, in my fluffy pink dressing gown and my pretty nightdress, I am happy.  But Jekyll and Hyde that I am, I’m also insanely jealous of what he had and I miss it so much.  Even to the point where I wonder, not for the first time you’ll recall, whether I should go back.  I have to question what is important.  Forgive my French, but having made four other humans, I purport to love, so unhappy to get what I want is just a little bit shit and feels a lot selfish.  Why should I be happy at their expense?

But worse, and I’m going to be excruciatingly honest here.  I’m really not comfortable with the whole world knowing that I'm transgendered.  How’s that for out, loud and proud?

The progression is already happening.  As this is a separation, we have not publicised it, but all parents know that kids, by their very nature publicise everything.  We have not told them about why we’ve split up.  But over and over again, as people are, bit by bit finding out, the question they arrive at is why.  Why are, to all intents and purposes, a happy couple splitting up?  And how do you answer that?  Thanks to a wise friend, we have a script, “Mr A has some problems that he needs to resolve, there is no-one else involved, but we needed some time apart.”  It washes some of the time.  But the kids don’t buy it because its their whole world thrown into turmoil.  I know they don’t buy it because they are still asking why.   We are not telling them the real reason and they can tell.  Mrs A and I might get back together and once I’ve told them, it can’t be untold.  Life’s ‘undo’ button is greyed out on this one.  And the moment they know, everyone does.

I’m not sure if I’ve explained myself well at all here.  Or if anyone else even get’s what I mean.  Suffice to say, there are days I would trade being transgender.  Even if feeling pretty is the best feeling ever.