I’ve just finished reading “She’s Not There” by Jenny Boylan. I’m struck by the parallels between her story and mine, and I’ll probably post more about this in the future, but right now I’m thinking about how she says she always hoped and prayed that she would be “saved by love” from her condition.
Bubbles and I have been married for almost twenty years, and reading Jenny’s book, I’m reminded that I felt very much the same way. When I met Bubbles, I was awestruck, and shortly thereafter, hopelessly in love. I thought for sure that I had found my cure. How could I possibly ever want to be a woman knowing that I had such a fine one in my life already. I convinced myself that not only did I no longer feel the need to be one, I no longer could even entertain that thought, because to tell my wife about my “true self” would crush everything that was most important to me.
Fast forward to about 2 months ago, and we are having the most damaging argument of our marriage. Angry, hurtful words are said that cannot be unsaid, and suddenly our world is changed. I’m left with an agonizing emptiness in my heart as I realize that I very possibly no longer love the woman I’ve depended on for so long.
After two weeks of deep introspection, I believed that I could not get past it, and I sadly resigned myself to the fact that I was about to be divorced. Then, and only then, did my mind allow itself to go that place that was hidden for so long, and I was struck by the realization that since (I thought) I had already lost everything, I may as well go ahead and become the woman I always wanted to be. I immediately was delirious with joy at this realization, but this was quickly followed by the thought that I would also lose everything else (kids, job, extended family, etc). However, as my rational mind tried to dismiss the thought of transition as ridiculous, I also found that I couldn’t go back. Just as words can’t be unsaid, thoughts of this magnitude can’t be unthought, and I found myself on an inevitable path to self-fulfillment at the expense of everything else in my life. Strengthened by my new-found honesty, I was duty-bound to call Bubbles and break the news that I was going to investigate transition.
The conversation that ensued defies all logic. After the initial shock of my news sunk in, at least superficially, Bubbles said the words that I will never forget. They went something like “I want to do this with you so that I can protect you from all of the people who may try to hurt you because they don’t understand what you are going through”. I was suddenly reduced to tears and the ambivalence I had felt about our relationship only an hour before literally melted away.
So, this begs the question, how is it that the secrets we keep because we fear the damage they may cause to our dearest relationships have the power, when brought to light, to strengthen those relationships in ways that we never imagine? Ironic, ain’t it?
Another question is, why do we keep these secrets for fear of losing those closest to us, when if we are truly that important in their lives, they should be able to stand by us? Of course, this is until we realize that when we share our secrets in order to deal with them, those we share them with are unwittingly dragged into dealing with them as well. So, is it that we fear loss, or that we fear placing the burden on our loved ones?
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