My story so far and how I came out to my wife

Seeing others share their stories, I decided to share mine too… Maybe someone will find some of this relatable and/or useful. I’ve mentioned some of it elsewhere on this forum, but I’ll try to elaborate on it some more in this thread. To try and put things in perspective, I’ll describe how it came to that point. Perhaps I’m over-sharing as I write this, please forgive me if you find this story disturbing.


There might be triggers in the story, as suicide, bullying, substance abuse are mentioned. (Dear staff, please remove this thread if inappropriate in any way.)


It was in early school years, when I noticed that something about me is different from the boys of my age at the time. They seemed to be… Well, just different. They generally had different preferences in regards to toys, clothing, activities, just about everything. I never quite fit in among them - and neither actually wanted to, as I was always more comfortable among girls and shared their interests. My mother was pretty tolerant of that at the time, I’d even say supportive. My grandmother, who was the de facto head of our family, found it disturbing, but didn’t interfere, saying that this will pass with age. My biological father wasn’t around and didn’t play much of a role in my life for his own reasons - and since I found out those, I can’t blame him. Trough the first few years of school, my life was perfect - I was just a happy kid.


Problems began when I was around 10 years old, or so. In that time, my mother married another man - a honest, hardworking person, who would always say that family comes first and prove it with his actions, but he was almost radically conservative. The same year, our class in schools saw some newcomers, who moved from another city. One of them, particularly, was very popular among the kids and quickly gathered a clique around himself. We were growing up in a time when being gay (and it was an umbrella term for anyone who didn’t fit into predominant stereotypes) was considered to be something abhorrent and violence was a normal occurrence. My somewhat feminine demeanour and long hair (which was considered a very feminine thing) were noticed and I was bullied and physically assaulted because of it. School administration did nothing about it, as it was (and still is) a tradition in local schools to shove such matters under the proverbial carpet, lest their reputation would be tarnished. Also, because I was suspected as being gay, “I had it coming and better man up already”.


My parents reacted pretty much the same way. My mother was concerned, of course, while her husband told that the right course of action is to make a man out of me - and if I was bullied, I deserved it for not being able to stand up for myself.

Fast forwards a few years - and some things I don’t want to speak of - I started to become what my family has considered to be a man, adopting an over-the-top masculine demeanour and style. Having trained in two different martial arts (and getting plenty of street experience), fisticuffs became a favourite method of solving problems for me and also earned me a reputation in the neighbourhood, which perhaps saved me from a lot of bad encounters.

But in private, in those rare moments when I was alone, I would drop the act and be myself. Sometimes I would crossdress, or try to apply makeup, or maybe just fantasise about being a woman… Deep inside, I felt that what I’m doing was very, very wrong and I must hide it at any cost, lest I be called a pervert, or even worse - gay. I also had sexual fantasies about being with men, but as a woman - and I hated myself for even thinking about anything like that. At the time, transgender people were virtually unheard of, it was considered a gross perversion and an heavy illness among most, which led me to think that I’m probably just crazy.


Fast forwards, in high school, I have discovered a certain youth subculture - there were multiple, collectively termed “the informals” by outsiders. Being a part of one of them provided an outlet for my urge to rebel against, well, pretty much anything and the styles that war popular among us at those time, also allowed me to do some of the things I wanted to without being seen as gay. Like many fellow “informals”, I wore had long hair and sometimes used black nail polish - but no one dared to comment on those, in fear of being attacked - yet deep inside I felt that something about me was deeply wrong and disgusting. Somewhat a later, in college, juggling studies, work and wild parties (which often involved heavy drinking), during that time I also had my first sexual encounters with men, which were amazing (even if much different from those I had with women), but in the end only made my feelings of, for lack of a better word, wrongness, stronger. All too often I resorted to alcohol and other substances to numb them, which led to a pretty bad drinking problem which took years to cure - and I’m still careful around booze


Fat forwards again, I’ve settled into adult life. With much effort, I suppressed any desires to be feminine to the point I seldom ever felt them - but it came at a price. Any emotion I would feel, aside of anger, was but a shadow of itself. I became cold, distant and somewhat aloof, towards everyone except a few people, one of whom is my wife. I didn’t have much serious relationships before, preferring one-night stands and friend with benefits, because I was always in fear that they’ll find out who I really am inside, and I couldn’t allow that to happen. My wife, on the other hand, noticed that my over the top masculinity wasn’t as real as I tried to make it look. By her words, she like that I had what she considered to be a “softer side”. Albeit she sometimes playfully teased me about being somewhat feminine at times, she didn’t really think of me of anything g but a man, who’s shy of showing feelings.


I’ve always strived hard to be the husband she wanted, shoving the part of me I considered to be wrong as deep as I could hide it. On a few occasions I did give in to crossdressing, but by that time I’ve learned that there’s such a fetish and thought that it must be it, especially considering that we were sharing other somewhat uncommon interests in bedroom. Of course, I’ve kept that crossdressing a secret from her for years.


Some years into our marriage, I’ve got a job at a major local airport. (Due to sheer numbers of employees there and the rate of employee turnover there, it’s safe for me to tell this - literally every other person in my city or in 50km radius knows someone who has worked there, I’m just one of thousands who did)


Among my coworkers, there was a number LGBTQ people, who were open about their identities and preferences - and partly thanks to them, I’ve realised that the stereotypes I absorbed as a kid were just wrong - I realised that they are absolutely normal people.


But what has led me to actually question my identity was just a photo editing app on the phone. So it happened, it had various looks-altering filters, one of which would show how the user would look if they were of the opposite sex. Just for a laugh, I clicked it. A few seconds passed as the app worked its magic on my selfie… And then I saw her. I immediately recognised the woman on the photo and I was… I don’t have a word to describe the gamut of emotions that fell upon me that moment. I knew that woman, I knew her all too well, yet I denied her very existence - which didn’t change anything l, really. It was me, what I was deep inside.

Shocked, disgusted and angry I deleted the photo immediately along with the app itself. I wanted to forget that moment. I wanted to just die on the spot. But I didn’t. Everything I tried to forget of my turbulent youth, childhood troubles, the feeling of being wrong, it all just heaped upon me in an instant - it took all the strength I had not to break down on the spot.

Later that evening, I called my wife and told that I’ll have to work trough the night, because of lack of staff - which was a frequent occurrence. Instead, I went to a bar and got drunk to the point of barely being able to stand.
As it was a popular place among tourists, drugs were easy to acquire, so I bought myself a joint of the most potent MJ the local dealer had, pondering of how to muster the courage to go and jump from a bridge and how to make sure I’d break my neck on contact with water, and how sorry I am to my wife and kid for leaving them like this, but I believed that it would be for the better - they deserved someone much, much better than me.

I don’t know exactly what was in that joint I smoked, and honestly, it doesn’t matter why it had the effect it did, but as I inhaled the sweet smoke, I suddenly collapsed to the ground, being unable to move. Laying there, on the damp asphalt, looking up the dark sky and falling drops of rain, being unable to move or breathe, I felt as my heart was beating ever slower and weaker, thinking to myself “So this is how it feels to die? I’ve expected worse” as darkness descended upon me.

Next thing I remember, I woke up some time later, I don’t know how much, it was night, I was freezing and sore. Somehow I managed to get to my feet and crawled towards home, however I can’t recall how I even made it before sunrise.

My wife wasn’t working then, staying home to care for our children. When I woke up and came to my senses, she wanted to know what all of this meant. Not knowing what and how to say, I just told her the whole story, but probably did it in a chaotic manner, as I was overcome with emotions. I told her that I wasn’t the man she thought I was. I came out to her as genderqueer and bisexual, telling all the details of what, how and when I indulged in my secret desires and what they were… Albeit, to be honest, there are still things left untold. Soon enough, the discussion turned into a shouting match, as I tried to explain why I hid it from her, for all this time. A lot of it is my fault, as I just poured it all out on her, without any preparation whatsoever - seriously, never do it like that if you can help it. It was a shock to her, similar to one that I’ve experienced when seeing the sex-changed photo of myself.

In anger, she requested that I leave - and I did. For the next six months we have lived apart, with me visiting our children on a regular basis.

That was a hard, sad and rough time for both us, while we were coming to terms with our new reality. During that time it has seemed that our marriage is broken - and we’ve discussed divorce multiple times, but didn’t actually proceed with it, because it was just too much trouble at the time.

After about two months apart, we started discussing what has led to that point. In the following months, after much talking, arguing and basically going trough all the troubles we previously had in our relationship, we started living together again, if not for anything else than well-bing of our children.

Ever so slowly, she has started to accept my identity and so did I.

This happened five years ago, but the story is far from over - we’re still working on adapting our relationship and my journey of becoming myself is barely mid-way, but now there is hope for a better future together.

As I’ve said, there are still things I have to tell her, such as my persistent desire to transition… But I’m not yet ready for it and we both aren’t yet ready to discuss it. Also, my children don’t know about all this, save for that I sometimes dress eccentrically and occasionally use make-up, but they don’t see anything weird in this.

If you read this far… Thank you, whoever you are.

 

Thank you for the kind words, @quebec. I already have found many wonderful people here, on EC, and a feeling of belonging I never actually felt before.

While more then half of my life was pretty much a prolonged dumpster fire, I’m, in a way, grateful for the experiences I have had, as they taught me about what really matters in this world and in this life.

Surely, I’d love to stay here and become a part of this wonderful online community and hopefully, also contribute something useful - you people have been very welcoming and understanding, and I sincerely appreciate that.

 

So, the story continues and it just made more sense to me to put this here instead of starting another thread.

Last night, after kids were asleep, my wife told me that we need to talk and it'd be better to do so over a glass of cognac. I immediately thought that something might have happened at her work, it's the kind of job that can take a heavy toll on one's emotional well-being, because it's just the way humans are.

But I couldn't be more wrong.

As I've poured two glasses for ourselves, she suddenly said that she needs to talk about me. Trying to keep my calm and act natural, I asked what about the old boring me, in my usual self-deprecating manner, trying hard to smile genuinely.
"It's about that work trip you had... You're not like yourself after it." she said. Being on the verge of panic (as I now felt what's coming but I was not ready for it yet), I've replied that she knows well I can't talk about my job. "It's not about your job, you really think that after all these years I can't tell that something is bothering you and it absolutely isn't about your work?" she said, "I don't know what's happening and I don't know what to expect from you, and I think I deserve to know, because, we're, you know, a family!"

For a moment, I hesitated, thinking of the most plausible excuse not to talk about the proverbial elephant in the room, but seeing her inquisitive, piercing gaze, I knew that for the good or for the bad, this is the only chance I've got. If I don't confess now, it's over, she will see at as a breach of trust that might never be mended.
I tried hard to remember the words I was preparing just for this exact occasion, what exactly I was going to say on my coming out, but I couldn't. I don't think I'd remember names of my kids that moment, if someone would ask. I've downed my glass and said that I am a woman. To say she was shocked is to say nothing. We just sat there for a minute, just looking at each other, her eyes wide with shock... From what has been recently between us, it seemed to me that she has a clue, that she knew this moment would come, after all, it's been years since I've told her that I'm struggling with my gender identity... But maybe it was wishful thinking. Or maybe I missed something.

"Say agin?" she said. Feeling a giant lump in my throat, I repeated what I said and started to tell that it doesn't change anything, that I'm the very same person and I still love her as much as I did before... But as I was talking, her face turned into a grimace of disgust. I won't write the words she said, suffice to say the choice profanities she used would make even a seasoned sailor blush. That wouldn't be so bad, if not the slurs spoken - I can't take those easily from anyone, but coming from her those did hurt. Multiple times I tried to say that I’m sorry for making her feel like this, it’s none of her fault, it’s normal that she’s shocked and we can make it trough all this, but alas, to no avail, she just kept repeating the same things, and then I just sat there, listening, trying to hold myself together lest I burst into tears or a fit of rage. After a while, she seemed to calm down a bit and then she said the phrase I dreaded the most, having heard it from her before, about a transwoman she met once… “How dare you call yourself a woman?”. I don’t know why these words have that effect on me, a sort of emotional anesthesia, I just stoped feeling anything at all the moment I’ve heard those, so I got up and went to bed. With all the exhaustion from the day an this talk with cognac on top, I fell asleep nearly immediately, even though I heard her crying silently in the kitchen.

I have absolutely no idea of what to do now, feeling only guilt for hurting my wife like that. Yes, sure, I didn’t chose to be like this, but she didn’t sign up for all this either, she married someone who she has always seen as a man and what she got is this dumpster fire. If only I could express in words how sorry I am for all this. At least, the kids didn’t have to witness any of it.
I’m having a day off today, and she’s at work. I’ve tried messaging her, but she didn’t even read those messages… I’ll see her later tonight, but I don’t know what to expect, what to say or to do. I’ve got my backpack ready if she will want me to leave but no idea of what’s next if she doesn’t. I can feel this isn’t over yet and I hope that I will have whatever it takes to handle what it to come.

 

Thank you. Just let me return the *hug*.
O need to cry for me, I don’t have it that bad, I’ve got you and the folks here that are super supportive… I’m worried for my wife, unlike me she doesn’t have really anyone to turn to in this hard situation - and I’m not sure she’d even look for help. I just hope that once the initial shock passes, we’ll be able to figure out where to go from here.

 

Another day, another update:

So far I'm getting the silent treatment. My wife didn't speak a word to me since she came home yesterday, didn't touch dinner either. I've told kids in advance that we had a heated discussion and asked them not to try interfere. So, for now I'll just wait.

Thank you. I rather prefer to ascribe that to shock rather than malice. She can be hurtful on purpose, but in this case, it seems to be more or a protective reaction. But, time will tell.

 

As of writing this, the silence between us continues - no clue of how long this is going to last. I’ve got the silent treatment before, but this time it’s longer than it ever was.

Thank you. Love can surpass many things, but now the question is if it is there in the first place. Things might be a bit bleaker then they seem… But it doesn’t mean it can’t be helped.

 

Silence goes on as of writing this. There has been much thinking, remembering and reflecting on what has been going on between us ever since her mother died, which seems to have been, in a way, a turning point in our relationship.

And as much as I hate to admit it, this one time silent treatment actually does have an effect. I feel like an addict deprived of their substance of choice, not hearing a word from her, not feeling her touch. It hurts almost physically.

Maybe I am an addict, as for years now, she was the centre of my life in every aspect, except professional, which I have to keep completely separate from private life because of it’s specifics.

For years I’ve did everything I could to make her happy, at any expense. Nothing was too important not to be sacrificed in the name of love I had for her, nothing and no one. There was not a thing I wouldn’t do to earn her smile or a word of approval, but as time went on, those became more and more rare, which only made them more precious in my eyes.

Was I a perfect spouse or parent? No, absolutely not. My shortcomings are many and I readily admit it, the only thing I can say in my defence is that I strived to do everything in good faith.

But no matter what I did, it was never enough, which only prompted me to try harder… And the more thing in life I gave up, the more precious she became for me. After all, how lucky this pathetic meatball is to be with such a smart, beautiful woman? Alas, all too often I fail to live up to her expectations- something I am regularly reminded of. And what do I do? I try harder yet again. Over the years this became a norm for me. Because, why wouldn’t you do everything possible for someone you love? It’s not that my life is worth anything in my eyes, and when I do something that is for me or my own well-being, I feel ever so guilty for wasting time and effort that I could rather spend on my wife and children. Sometimes she does things for me, that make me feel good, but invariably I feel obliged to work even harder on making her feel good and guilty because she had to spent her time and effort on me.

Since writing the previous update, I have seen a counsellor at a local crisis centre. It was an act of desperation, as at that moment it felt that I’m losing the last of my mind. That was a long, hard talk, but maybe it was the eye-opener I needed, or rather confirmation that what I thought, what I saw is real, after all - ever so slowly, my wife took control of most of my life. Yes, I’ve been told before that the relationship I have isn’t a healthy one, sure… But I never listened. I just got away from those people, cut them out of my life for good.

I’m so deep in all this I don’t know what to do and if I have the strength to do anything about it anyway. For now, I just try to endure what is happening… But all I want to do is to crawl and beg for forgiveness.

Thank you for the kind words.

 

Thank you, dear friend. Honestly, trying to be kind to oneself and not go down on a spiral dive into the pit of self-pity can be one of the hardest things to do.

And, another update:
Last night, my wife broke the silence by asking where the hell are the flowers and excuses, because I’m being an a-hole, generally make her life miserable and how lucky I am she puts up with someone like me. It wasn’t a particularly good start, but it’s better than silence and this was a chance to talk things trough.

And we did talk. She explained how she sees things related to my identity, that she considers it to be a mental illness, a perversion and possibly a result of being repeatedly exposed to “all that woke LGBTQ pseudoscientific nonsense coming from the West”, where people “forsake traditions and chose perversion”, and that she obviously knows better. Struggling to keep my calm and the urge to give in and apologise profusely, I’ve tried to explain that it’s neither an illness nor a perversion, it’s just a way that people are and it is nothing wrong with it, but alas, to no avail.

Then I asked her why didn’t she leave when I first came out as genderqueer, if this is something so horrible for her? What’s with those cases where she would put make up on me or out of the blue buy me a piece of feminine clothing? But the answer I got is that she thought if she “indulged my perversions some” that might help to “fix” me and she thought it was funny seeing me like that. I’ve asked why was she so against the idea of me seeking professional help, if she considers this an illness (I’ve mentioned to her before that I’m considering going to a therapist), but the only reply I got that therapy is just an excuse for losers not to do anything about their situation and it was about time for me to man up and get myself straight.

Things didn’t end there, however. There was a whole bunch of surprises awaiting me, as my wife told me things I had no idea about, as she never told me before and I never really asked either - but I’ll be asking advice about it in the relationships forum, as those are unrelated to gender identity.

While I still feel lost and confused, pretty much without a real clue of what to do now, at the very least things moved from the stalemate that was there for the last few days, but deep inside I feel a bit good about enduring through this period of silence and the confrontation without breaking down. This gives me a glimpse of hope that I’ll find a way out.

P.S. I’m sincerely sorry to all those who have cried reading my posts and I appreciate all the kind words and support I received here. You people are wonderful and amazing, I can only hope I will ever be able to repay your kindness.

 

A bunch of stuff has happened since my last post, but somehow words keep trying to escape me as I type this, but there’s another long post brewing.

Yesterday before I went to work, my wife suggested that we let the kids to stay at my mother’s place for a few days. It was quite usual, but I agreed, thinking what she could have in mind - it’s not often she suggests something like this. (Kids were pretty excited at the prospect, as they didn’t get to see grandma in a while now.)

Fast forward to late evening, she messaged me that she’d like to meet me after work. Despite my insistence that it’s not a particularly good idea and I’m not even sure by what time I’ll finish, she showed up, making sure that I could see her trough the window.

A bit later when I went out, I asked her what is this all about, to which she replied that she wants to go out with me “like in the old times” and dragged me towards a place we used to frequent before we got married. Most of the going out consisted of her talking, with occasional breaks to check something on her phone, the (pretty strange) attempts to get me to drink some stiff drink and me listening to her, trying to figure out what is this all about. A few glasses of wine for her and a coffee for me later, we went out for a walk, which was cut short by sudden rain and we went home. During the whole time she acted so nice, that I saw the woman I married in her again, it was so similar to how she used to be years ago… And that hurt. I’ve tried my hardest not to show what I feel and perhaps I’ve succeeded in that.

When we arrived home, she told me that she’s sorry she left a mess in the kitchen and if I would be so nice and do the dishes. I’ve said okay, just wait a minute until I change out of my work clothes. (I’ve been lazy for the last few days and didn’t bother to change out of uniform after work and simply put on jacket that would hide the obviously unifrom-y parts. Nobody bats an eye on “tacticool” stuff around here anyway.)
As I’ve we went to change clothes, I’ve heard loud cursing from the kitchen and my wife complaining that I can never do anything she asks me to and there’s an even lesser chance of me doing anything right. Trying to maintain calm, I’ve asked wether it would be a problem for her to wait for a minute or two, because I already said that I’d do the dishes, but alas the only reply I got was a barrage of insults.

Well, okay. I’m used to it. She didn’t say anything I haven’t heard plenty of times anyway. I’ve told her that if she’s not up for talking with me like adults should, I’m just going to sleep as I’m working today, too. She didn’t reply, but some time later I’ve heard her watching a movie next room, much louder than would be reasonable. Didn’t bother me any, though.

Early morning (as in 4AM or so) she woke me up and demanded that I make her coffee. As I figured I’m not getting any more sleep there and I’d be getting up in an hour anyway I’ve complied with her request. Afterwards, she was acting real nice again, telling how much she loves me and will miss me today, and what a great man and husband I am.
I’m at work at the moment, while she keeps bombing me with messages, each sweeter than the previous, but this time I only see it as a warning sign. I wonder what is to come.

Gosh, that’s a lot of words, but I couldn’t tell it in fewer. Other times I feel that I probably shouldn’t be posting all this at all… But on the other hand, these posts don’t let me to backtrack and pretend nothing ever happened, they will stay here as a painful reminder of what has been.

 

TL;DR: I’m moving out this evening and we’ve agreed on a co-parenting arrangement, at least for now.

The mostly unnabridged version:
Yesterday night, she asked me to drive with her to my mother’s place to pick up the kids. I agreed, as she doesn’t drive and getting a taxi Sunday night is quite difficult. Halfway into our not particularly long drive, we had a close call being pushed off the road by a truck, but thankfully to gravel on the roadside and lack of trees there, it was just a rather rough emergency stop, but looks like it was a bit too much for my trusty old Audi.

Either way, waiting for the police and the tow truck to arrive (which are known here for taking their sweet time), got us time to talk.

Just after it happened, she started to yell at me that I almost got ourselves killed, but with the adrenaline still rushing trough my veins I could respond by laughter and saying that if that would be my goal, we wouldn’t be talking right now… And if not for the kids, maybe I would do just that. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked me, and I’ve went on to explain how I see our situation.

For once, she did listen. After I finished my heartfelt monologue, she told me that maybe it would be for the better for us to stay a part for a while, to which I agreed. However, she did say her trademark phrase of “see if I let you back into my life after this”, but instead of replying to that remark I asked her what are we going to do about parenting, considering our situation it’s doubtful that any of us would be able to deal with it properly on their own, that maybe we could figure out an arrangement similar to what we have already - one of us is with the kids at any given time of the week, as our youngest child has special needs. Surprisingly, she agreed almost immediately. We didn’t talk much about what are we going to with what is between us, deciding that it’s something better left for a later time.

Today, I’ve talked with our children about this all, as she left it for me to do. As expected, they aren’t happy, but at least my oldest child agreed that it might be for the better.

What’s next? I have no idea. I’ve talked with a counsellor, who suggested to wait out a week or two before making any further decisions, to allow my mind to clear and they’re probably right.

Thank you all for bearing with me.