Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: dating, fat, survivor of child sexual abuse, survivor of incest, transgender husband
My ex-wife had genital reassignment surgery a few weeks ago. She told me she was a woman 2 1/2 years ago, and has been living as a woman on the outside for a year and a half, and she felt it was time to go ahead and get the surgery. What a fucking ordeal that kind of surgery is, holy shit. The recovery takes forever!! We knew that going into it, but still, holy shit. She is in a lot of pain but she is doing okay.
I am in a lot of pain too, but I’m doing okay too I guess. I suppose the truth is that no matter how much you anticipate a punch, it still hurts when it comes. This surgery was like a punch for me.
She has a look of freedom in her eyes that was never there before. It is almost painful to witness it. It’s kind of like looking at a butterfly who has been caged and is now free. The problem is that her freedom has now put me in a cage, kind of, and I am not ready to leave yet. I wish I was. The thing is, the safety of living with her is still better than the alternative for me right now, which would be not living with her.
I wish I could learn from her courage. Against all odds, she did this enormous thing. She risked losing everything – her family, her friends, her job, her home – everything – just to be who she really was inside. Now that she has a vagina, she feels complete and whole. I wish I could learn from her courage and risk safety and leave her and fall in love again. We formally ended the marriage about a month after she told me she is a transgendered female, but I was still in love with her. Grieving over the loss of her is over its roughest point, but there are still little nicks and cuts. Losing your husband in this unique way is really a death by a thousand cuts, and there are still cuts. Like for instance our roofer stopped by unexpectedly and asked how my husband was. Great, I thought, another person I have to come out to. And how much do I tell these people? We still live together. No, the marriage is over. Yes, we probably will get divorced eventually. Right now we are still living together, raising our son. And up until a few weeks ago, the inevitable ‘yes, she will probably get the surgery’.
A few days ago, I cried at my therapist’s office about all of this, about losing my husband all over again. It’s not the same kind of grief as when I first lost him, but it definitely feels like a loss all over again. I guess somewhere in the back of my head, I kept thinking ‘When is he going to stop this craziness already?’ But the truth is, he was never going to stop that craziness because he is a she on the inside, and now on the outside too.
So my therapist asked me if perhaps this finality, this ‘nail in the coffin’ made me ready to have a funeral for my husband. We had touched on it before in the last two years since ‘he’ came out as a ‘she’ to me. But I had never been ready before. I feel ready now. I guess that is the nice thing about the surgery — it set her free. Maybe now it will set me free too. So I am preparing a eulogy about all the wonderful things that I miss about the only man I was ever able to trust enough to have sex with him.
Get this though…
There’s a guy at my job that I – I don’t know – that I think about. Okay, I guess I “like” him. He started there last year, and since then we have seen each other around the office sometimes. We have both been to some office functions, and sometimes we talk to each other when we see each other. I told my therapist “I think maybe I like a boy.” That’s how I said it because that’s how I feel. My sexuality is still stuck in fucking teenage and childhood years. They say that when you go through abuse as a kid (or when your parent is an alcoholic, or any other kind of traumatic shit we force kids to live through), that your emotional age kind of ‘arrests’ at the age you were when all your shit started. I had three abusers – the first (the babysitter) when I was 5, the second (my brother) when I was 8, the third (my dad) when I was 15. When I talk about liking a boy, I feel 15, the real age I was when I started actually liking boys. It’s just that my shit never progressed beyond that age. You’d think that since I was married and had a child, that somehow I would stop being afraid of men and sex and all that, but no.
I wonder if he sees me as the fat office girl he has to say hi to sometimes.
So anyway, I told the therapist I like a boy. She smiled and asked me about him. I told her what I knew, which really isn’t much. He’s a tall guy, kind of a bigger guy, and he has longer hair. I told her he seems nice and that everyone only has good things to say about him. Then I told her that I basically contrived a meeting with him for tomorrow under the pretenses of working together on some project when really I just want to see what he’s about. Honestly, this whole thing is so stupid. He never talks about having a significant other, but I could have sworn that someone told me that he used to be in an 11 year relationship. I don’t even know if he is still in that relationship or not? If he is, then this is the safest crush in the world, since I refuse to mess around with that sort of thing. (I have a mantra that I will not screw over other women just for a man. And messing around with a married man screws over another woman. That’s my own personal mantra; no judgment for anyone else doing that. Everyone has their own moral codes.)
The therapist told me that setting the meeting with him is a good thing. She said that even if nothing else comes of it, it is good that I am socializing and not taking to my normal hermit instincts. She said that this is probably a safe way for me to dip my toe in the water, by liking a guy who is probably in a relationship because nothing can come of it (which makes it safe).
Sometimes I wonder if my child sex abuse stuff shows on me. Does he know? Does everyone at the office know who I really am?
This, of course, is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. Our thought processes around dating are completely different than normal people. When a non-abused person likes someone, they wonder ‘does he/she like me?’ You know what I wonder about? ‘Will he rape me?” “When is it safe to be alone with him? Is it after 6 months of dating?” “If I bring him to my home, will he force himself on me?” And of course, my most popular thought process revolves around him gaining my trust only for the purposes of abusing my child. All this, and I don’t even know him, and he’s probably in a relationship so all of this is moot anyway.
I will be glad when this stupid meeting is over tomorrow so I can stop worrying already.
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