Caught in Transition
Caught in Transition
by Virginia Lee May
Copyright © 2015
This was first published in Canada by Wild Wood Words Press 2015.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
ISBN:
978-0-9947973-0-8
Design by Tara May
FIRST EDITION
Dedication
I want to thank my family for their love and support through our transition, as well as the writing of this book. I want to thank my sister for always being there and believing in me.
I especially want to thank the love of my life, because without you there would be no book.
Preface
This is a true story, and it’s my story. The events shared may be foreign to you but became the world in which I found myself living.
What I have learned is to sift through the complexities of my life and discern which were valued and which were not, and therefore needed to be overcome. Sacrifices may be needed to keep what is good, or to rid your life of what distorts it’s goodness. Some sacrifices you make may demand more from you than you ever thought possible.
The choices you make will change you, and you will become stronger than you ever thought you could be.
2011
The person I fell in love with was a tall, long haired man who defied convention and definition. He wore the black leather jacket and rode a motorcycle, but he still had the heart of a poet. He was dissolving before my eyes. I feared he would be gone forever.
The Shock
Days often pass by in an unremarkable fashion. The sun rises and sets, we live our routine lives in a routine fashion. Today was not going to be that kind of day. A shift in my world that I could not prepare for was already underway.
In general my husband acted differently from most people, but during the past couple of weeks he was even more different. I knew he always took vitamins but I had begun to notice that he was taking more pills more often. Why would he take pills in the morning and then more again in the evening? After a few weeks of this I finally reached the point where I couldn
’
t stand it anymore and thought it was time for a talk.
“
Why are you taking so many pills? What are they for?
”
I asked him. He hummed and hawed and finally said that he wanted to increase the sensitivity of his breasts. Okay, I thought - where did that come from? Why would a man want to increase his breast sensitivity? It didn't make any sense to me.
“What do you want to do,
do you want to be a woman?
”
I asked with a smile.
“
The thought has crossed my mind,
”
he said and trailed off.
That was weird, but it got me thinking and I couldn
’
t stop myself from asking,
“
If you could take female hormones, would you?
”
His answer was
“
Yes.
”
What the hell! I was shocked.
My eyes flooded with tears. I cried as I felt myself collapsing inside. My world was crumbling. I felt anger, sadness; I was hurt, and frustrated. I wanted to hug him and hold him so tightly, but at the same time I wanted to push him away from me. What the hell? Why now? I didn't know whether to cry or lash out at him with words of anger.
I didn
’
t know what to say. I feared that the husband I loved and respected was going to turn into an effeminate male. How could I keep that respect for him now?
I wouldn't have minded him wearing two earrings or clothing that was a bit more colourful and bright, but I had a really hard time with the idea of him wearing makeup. Seriously, I thought, what fifty-three year old man is going to look good all dolled up like a woman?
Didn't we have a good life and a happy marriage? Wasn't I a good enough wife? Then I thought maybe this was just a passing phase - I mean he had already bought the little red sports car, and a motorcycle. Maybe this was just a silly midlife crisis kind of thing. I soon found out that not only was it not going to pass, but it was soon going to begin consuming our lives.
A few nights later my husband turned out the bedside light and turned to me in the dark.
“
I don't believe I can carry on living like a man - I know I'm a woman and I can't keep pretending,
”
he said.
I lay there in the dark with those words echoing painfully in my mind.
“
He's kidding - he's got to be kidding ,
”
my mind replied to each echo.
“
Why would he believe that?
”
This person who I fell in love with thirteen years before was now telling me he could no longer be the man I knew him to be. I felt stunned, utterly helpless, as tears rolled silently down my cheeks. Why was this happening to me? This didn't happen to girls from south St.Catharines where I grew up. This happened to other people.
“
Its okay - we'll work this out.
”
I whispered softly and I held onto him tightly. Could I hope to stop time and keep him together as he was?
In the morning his late night comment was the elephant in the room. We walked softly around each other, no one wanting to set the other one off. I missed our easy going ways, now it felt like we had to walk on eggshells, in case we upset the delicate balance, inviting an avalanche of emotion that could tear us irretrievably from each other, forever.
My husband, Steve, left for work at 7:15 AM. I kissed him goodbye and sighed. I couldn't believe what was happening and I didn't want to accept it. I felt like someone had sliced my heart out. I remember getting myself a coffee and sitting on the couch thinking that we'll never again be able to dance in public, ride on our motorbike together, hold hands walking in the park or kiss. Everything this society, this heterosexual society allows, we could no longer do. I had to change his mind because we couldn't live like that.
It would be ridiculous for Steve to imagine that we could go on with our lives, when what he was suggesting wasn't our life. It sure as hell wasn't mine. I had fallen in love with a man, married a man and raised our children with a man - that was my reality. The idea of him becoming a woman and acting as if we were still the same married couple was ludicrous!
Steering Away from the Rocks
Life in general is always changing, in flux, constantly moving and taking us along for the ride. There are always obstacles to overcome as well as moments of complete joy.
I hoped to find an alternative that I could persuade him towards. Maybe he just wanted to be more in touch with his feminine side or maybe he just wanted to wear lingerie or pantyhose around the house. I could live with that. Part of me wanted to call my sister and cry on her shoulder, while the other part of me wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. Every evening for the following two weeks Steve and I talked. Some nights I'd talk and he'd be silent, while other times he'd talk and I would sit and cry.
Life still continued around us with no one being the wiser. My daughter and her partner came and spent the weekend. My son and his girlfriend dropped in. My best friend celebrated her fiftieth birthday and we smiled through it all - the perfect married couple.
Steve suggested that a therapist that specialized in gender issues might help us to find our way together. He wasn't exactly sure which choices were right for him to pursue and needed guidance as well. He made an appointment with a therapist and went to see her before I did. This way he could explain where he felt he was and where he thought we were, so we could get some help and have our life together work.
Along came January 28, 2011 and Steve went to see the therapist. This therapist had worked before with transgendered people. I was hoping he'd return with good news, for example, he just wanted to be treated like a woman not really be a woman, or at least have evidence that a rock had fallen on his head and it was all a dream. But no - Steve returned and told me he was a woman, trapped in a world that didn't see him that way because he was living inside a man's body.
What does one say when one's husband tells them they are a transgendered person? I didn't even know what that meant. I called him a transgendered male - but found out later that would be a woman wanting to be a man, so the real term for him was transgendered female. Writing those words made me feel sad and brought tears to my eyes. Has that term been around forever, or was it something new - a new label for people?
Talking to myself was getting me nowhere so I made an appointment to see the same therapist on February 3
rd
. I hated her on sight. She was cool, detached, and the one person validating Steve's feelings. I can't remember what was said, but I do remember crying at the end of the appointment and she never even offered me a tissue. I came home feeling so alone and embarrassed. How could I possibly stay married to someone who wanted to be a woman? What would my family say? What would the neighbours think? I was filled with so much pain. The pain he created in me was tremendous. I truly loved him and I couldn't understand why he was doing this to us. Why was he doing this to me? I knew in my own head that sounded selfish, but my own head was the only place I had to go.
Thoughts of suicide played out in my head; if I wasn
’
t here I wouldn
’
t feel all this pain. These thoughts popped in and out daily, but when it came down to it I just couldn
’
t kill myself while my mom was still alive. Some days I wished Steve would kill himself so my pain and sadness would stop, and then he could come back in his next life as a woman.
I loved him, I loved him with all my heart, but I couldn't love him enough for him to stay a man. It was unthinkable to me that he wanted to be a woman. I really thought I could change his mind and was heartbroken to learn it wasn
’
t possible.
The snow kept falling as did my tears when I saw two new pairs of long dangly earrings on his dresser. In my head I told myself, "I can handle this," because no matter what he wears he is still my Steve. But when I see physical manifestations of his femaleness I cry out of sadness, frustration, and anger.
The tears changed nothing and the play back and forth between us continued. It was a badly choreographed dance that we fell in to. Neither wanted to upset the other, but I know he just wanted me to embrace him. I knew that embracing him meant I had to also embrace his need to change, and I just wanted him to stop - just stop - I wanted everything to stop.
A New Woman in the House
It was in February 2011 that Steve began living life as a male at work and a female at home. He decided he was going to call himself Sophia (Sophie for short). As soon as he got home from work he put on a skirt, jewelry, a wig and makeup. Steve looked okay for a six foot one inch male wearing three inch heels; at least he knew how to walk well in them. I hated the name Sophie (it made me think of the movie Sophie's Choice) and I didn't think it suited Steve at all. I don't think I ever called him by that name throughout this entire time.
February 14, 2011, Valentine's Day, one of the worst days ever - what a difference a year makes. Last year we were headed to Jamaica, that day he gave me a gold necklace with a single gold circle pendant on it. I stared at that necklace and saw it as a representation of my life - one thing - all alone. Totally singular. I anguished over that necklace all morning and finally said to him, “How could you give me something so awful - here you are ripping my life apart and you push that thought home by giving me a single solitary circle.
”
I cried and I yelled at him, and he looked shocked. The poor man had no idea why I had gone off the deep end. He said he was sorry that I didn
’
t like it and he would take it back. He left and was gone a very long time.
