What's New?
Some of you folks out there might have wondered a time or two if I had any inkling that I was a trans woman before I began actively exploring this idea at age 49. The answer is both "yes" and "no." I was aware of 'something' but I very intentionally left it unexplored. "Why?" You might ask. Which, I have to admit, is a pretty good question to ask. I have a long history of advocating for people to seek counseling when faced with issues effecting their emotional health, so why would I not follow my own advice? I'm fairly certain the short answer is that some part of me already knew what the 'something' was; and I was scared to face it. "So?" You might ask. And again, I have to admit, that's a pretty good question. I have always considered myself a strong ally to other LGBTQIA+ folks, so why would I be afraid to explore my own gender identity? It wasn't until a few days ago that I fully understood the reason why: I was deeply in love with my wife Rebecca.
You see, to explore this part of me meant that I would risk losing her, and that was too steep a price to pay.
The problem is, of course, that those 'secret,' unconscious areas of ourselves have a sneaky way of making their presence felt in our conscious, waking lives - and seldom in helpful and constructive ways. In my case I internalized all my sadness, confusion, depression, and anxiety. I did my best to hide these feelings away. So while on the surface things looked good, the inside of me was a mess.
An untenable situation, right? Except for the fact that there were many (outward) things in my life that were wonderful, I made this schism work for a long time. Believe it or not, my relationship with Rebecca was very sound. And we had two beautiful children that bound us together even more tightly. In teaching, I found a career that felt like a calling. We had good friends and family supporting and loving on us. In this way it took my inner misery 49 years to finally declare that "enough was enough."
This part of my story I have written about many times before, so I'll go with the short version here. In November 2015, I walked into a therapist's office and declared my affinity for women's clothing. "So." She responded. And thus I began to work on my gender identity.
Except that in February 2016, barely three months later, R became sick and died within 24 hours.
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It has long haunted me that Rebecca and I never got to talk together about my dysphoria. There's a part of me that feels like I 'lucked out,' by never having to have what would have no doubt been an incredibly difficult conversation. On the other hand, I'm forever left to wonder what her reaction might have been. Again, I've written about this in the past, so I'll leave it alone for now, other than to say that the knowledge that Rebecca would want me to be happy is a big part of the reason that I'm on the path I chose for myself.
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For a long time, the idea of being in a relationship with another person was laughable. The pain of Rebecca's death was too fresh in my mind for one thing. For another, I couldn't imagine ever finding another person that I loved as much as I had her. Thirdly, I had done enough work on my gender identity by this point to realize that "Nora" was going to be a part of my life going forward. How much I didn't yet know, but she was definitely going to be present. There was no returning this part of me back into the closet going forward. Certainly there wasn't anyone out there who'd be interested in taking on all of this; assuming, of course, that I was willing to even put in the effort to search for someone.
And then I met Cindy, and everything in my life shifted one more time. We met through good friends, and after a bit of time, I worked up the courage to ask her out to coffee. "Sure," she said.
Cindy was similarly aged. She had never been married and had no children of her own. Similar to me, she assumed the notion of a romantic relationship was something to be glimpsed in the rear view mirror. She was very content with her status as 'favorite' aunt to her young nephew. But there was a certain spark when we met that first time for coffee. In my conversationally challenged case, she and I talked for two hours straight before I thought to look at a clock. We met for coffee again a few weeks later. Then again the following week. Pretty soon we felt the need to see each other everyday. I feel safe in speaking for the both of us when I express the shock we felt at discovering we were soul mates.
But what about Nora? The more work I did on my gender identity, the more clear it became that she was going to be a substantial part of my life. "Well, shit." I thought. But telling Cindy was the only fair choice available to me. So I did.
"I fell in love with the candy bar, not the wrapper."
Time and the retelling of the story has rendered certain details kind of foggy. I have her saying the above, while she contends that I was the source, but since this is my blog, I win. After I told her of my gender journey (up to that point), she took a moment to collect herself, and then made it clear she wasn't going anywhere. And she hasn't. Through her, I learned that the human heart has no limit on love. Indeed the human heart has an infinite capacity for love. I didn't think such a thing was possible, but I fell in love all over again. "Love wins," as the saying goes.
So there the two of us were earlier this year (May 14th, to be exact). Standing face to face, reciting words of a certain incantation that have been repeated over and over for eons. There were a few others present - my daughter Grace, her sister Teresa, our common friends Steve and Margo, and Lindsay our pastor. We professed our love, and Lindsay did her magic, and just like that we were married. Maybe not to the State's exacting criteria, but certainly to the Cosmo's enduring spiritual standards.
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For what it's worth, I'm sure that Rebecca approved.
