Alright, dear readers of the page! It seems that lubricating the joints, greasing the wheels, and whatever else I had to do to get my guest blogger to show up and write a little piece has worked! The guest blogger is my dear Egg! Surprise!!! What I wanted to get from Egg was her side of my coming out story, rather my outing story.
I asked her to write her side of the story down after a long conversation about it. I’m sure she is pretty nervous to be writing it down, because she doesn’t feel she is a good writer. I have read her stuff. Trust me, just like everything creative that she does, she is good at writing. So I am gonna try to copypasta her writing, word for word. Her side of all of this sometimes gets lost in MY side of everything. As she has been by my side for all of it, it was great to hear her side. And without further ado, below are the words of the EGG.
As I begin to finally write out this post, I’m imagining heaps of impatience coming off of my dear wife in sizzling tsunami waves of fire. She asked me to write something from my perspective about my initial discovery of her being transgender. I say “discovery,” but it was more like being pushed out of a moving train.
We were both blindsided. Her, because she wasn’t ready to come out to me yet. Me, because I was clueless. I know Sophia has mentioned in previous posts that she was outed by a ‘family therapist’ (please feel free to imagine me doing some serious air-quoting right there). I remember walking into a large room with about 25 or so folding chairs and taking a seat towards the back with Sophia and ‘the therapist.’ Still, to this day, I don’t understand how this person thought it appropriate for the first thing to come out of their mouth to be “Let’s talk about the trans issue.” I was utterly confused; mostly because I had no idea what being transgender really meant. As we discussed (I use the word “discussed” loosely here) further I became more and more angry. A very confused-hurt kind of angry.
I was angry at the ‘therapist’ for handling things the way he did. He had no right to do that. None. How can anyone be so careless with another person’s feelings and call themselves a ‘therapist?’ I’m still furious with them. They single-handedly derailed our relationship by being so tactless.
I was angry with Sophia. I felt so betrayed. Angry that I had to find out the way I did. Betrayed because this wasn’t what I had thought I had signed up for. Betrayed because I felt so alone and lost. The confusion was unbearable, and nearly crushed me.
I can’t pinpoint the timeline from when we had the ‘therapy’ session and when the dreaded D-word came out of my mouth. Divorce. A word I never imagined I would say. Honestly, the timeline is so jumbled in my head. But I believe once divorce was on the table, we were “separate but living together” for about 4-6 months. It felt like forever at the time and I felt even more alone.
I spent so much time trying to work things out in my head and in my heart. Ultimately, I realized that I was scared; terrified of what people would think of me, of us. I didn’t want to be perceived as lesbian. I didn’t want to be scrutinized and judged by friends and family. I knew that if I decided to continue with this marriage I was going to have to get over my fear and my own vampire of an ego. I fondly recall a night at the local tavern, talking over drinks, and deciding that I deeply wanted to try to work things out. I was relieved that Sophia was still willing to try, that I wasn’t too late. We discussed some things superficially over the course of several months. We struggled at first; the whole two steps forward, one step back kind of deal.
My damned ego and fear just kept coming back to bite me. But I can pinpoint the moment when the cloud of confusion and fear parted. The first time she tried on a dress in front of me. It was a dress I had bought for myself some months earlier but never wore (Sophia will tell you that I have a closet full of clothes with tags still attached. Lies! All lies! #dontjudgeme). The instant she put on that dress I knew, without any doubt, that dress was never mine. It was always hers. She twirled and twirled in that dress. She glowed. You would have thought that happiness itself called her home. How could I…scratch that…How could ANYONE deny that happiness? From that day on, I fell in love with Sophia. The woman she always was. In so many ways Sophia is so much braver than I am; but I’m going to do my damnedest to keep up! 😉