Sometimes I hear my voice
I downloaded Little Earthquakes tonight. I have the cassette somewhere, but I’m not going to take the time to find it and then try to import it to my computer somehow. Lots of memories coming back… it’s weird (and it sounds cliché and emo to say) how music can hold so many visceral memories, much like certain scents.
He said you’re really an ugly girl
But I like the way you play
And I died
But I thanked him
Can you believe that
Sick, sick
Holding on to his picture
Dressing up every day
I got something to say you know
But nothing comes
Yes I know what you think of me
You never shut up
Yeah I can hear that
But what if I’m a mermaid
In these jeans of his
With her name still on it
Hey but I don’t care
‘Cause sometimes
I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it’s been here
Silent all these years
The scary past, follow-up
In the comments on my “write the book that scares you” post, Miss Nomered said:
My boyfriend is trans (he’s an FTM), but the thing is, we got together when he was already transitioning. That, and we met at a queer group – that and I’m pretty fluid and somewhat atypical in my sexuality.
Now, before I go any further, I want to apologize to Miss Nomered for using her comment as a jumping-off point. I don’t believe she meant it in the way it sounded (or rather, in the way that it reminded me of other, previous comments by other people) – a subsequent comment by her confirmed what was already my suspicion. So, Miss Nomered, this isn’t about you or your comment; simply, your comment triggered memories of other exchanges that I want to address.
This was something else I heard frequently, always with that not-so-subtly concealed tone of judgment. “Well, it was easier for us to stay together, because I’m bi anyway.” Or sometimes, even: “I don’t love people based on their gender alone.” No subtlety at all, there.
This is why I had to start the SOTS Forum message board. So bullshit like that would not impede our recovery process. And for anyone who already has a tendency to turn anger and distress inward (raises hand), that was the last damn thing they would need to hear.
Yes, if only you could be more open-minded, more sexually progressive, there would be no problem here at all! Because that’s what it’s all about, not wanting to diddle a girl.
“How fucking stupid are you??” I wanted to scream.
It was never just about the sexuality issue, although that was obviously part of it. But it was never about, “OMG someone might think I’m a lesbian, and I just can’t handle that, because Teh Gheys are ew gross icky, and I am so totally not gay!”
Not even close.
Not in the same ballpark. Or on the same planet.
Once, there was a voice of reason on one of the “Transsexuals (And Partners, Yeah Yeah Whatever)” message boards: “Your sexual orientation is not up for debate.”
It was sad that this even needed to be said. Sad that I wanted to fall down at her virtual feet with a weepy thank you. (Of course, I wasn’t exactly in the most calm and composed state in general, so a little melodrama* would probably be in order no matter what.)
* Dammit, self. No. Not melodrama. It was the biggest crisis of my life. The way I acted throughout was fucking appropriate.
“Write the book that scares you”
At WAM!, in the book proposals session, Courtney E. Martin said, “Write the book that scares you. Write the book that you needed to read.” When I heard that, my heart leapt to my throat. Her words have been resonating in my head ever since.
My comments at the time, in my liveblog, were:
Eeeek… that’s why I started the SOTS Forum site… but of course, I recently shut it down (though I plan to restart it as a Google group; a lot of that was because I broke it and couldn’t figure out how to fix it). But also, it just started feeling too detrimental to be hanging out in that place that I had passed. Maybe that sounds selfish… but that is how I felt.
Maybe one day I will feel like writing that book. I don’t know.
One of the other panelists in that session (don’t remember who, and apparently I didn’t liveblog it) said she firmly believed that everyone in the session has a great book in them. I don’t doubt that I do. It’s the getting it out part that’s terrifying. And not just because of this part (another quote from my liveblog), though that’s certainly part of it – and a passable excuse, if nothing else:
A lot of people talk a lot about writing a book, but actually doing it is a huge sacrifice of a lot of other activities. You have to spend a lot of time just sitting in a chair, writing.
And, last relevant liveblog quote for now:
Courtney: “The book that’s inside of you may be the book you don’t want to write.” It may be the thing that feels too painful, or pisses you off, or is too real or too personal.
She wrote a book about body image. She says she never wanted to write it, because dealing w/ body image issues had been so painful for her.
I can relate… more than a few people have said I should write a book about significant others of transgender people. And I don’t disagree… I mean, I *could* write a good book about it, and from a perspective that hasn’t been done thus far. But I just don’t know if I want to. That stuff, even though I’m “over it” in some ways, in other ways I just want to leave in the past and not think about.
Okay, now I think I’ve sufficiently set this thing up.
As mentioned above, I started the SOTS Forum site in December 2003, and ran the support forum there until earlier this year. Part of the reason for shutting down the forum was that I did something stupid one night while mucking around with FTP, shell access, and god knows what else, and basically deleted the entire database (or at least the message board front-end interface; I still don’t really know). But partly, just like the line about sitting in a chair and writing, that was a convenient excuse. Don’t get me wrong – it’s very true, I don’t have the time, necessary technical prowess in this particular area, nor the disposable income to pay someone what they would deserve in order to fix my fuck-up. But I’ll be honest: I had been thinking of shutting down the board for a while.
I didn’t really want to shut it down, wholesale. I wanted to pass it onto someone else who would take over as admin, webmistress, etc. Except nobody was stepping up. And I had been distancing myself from the board for a long time: posting only occasionally, and mainly just taking care of behind-the-scenes issues like combating spam. The reason – and even though I know, logically, it’s not “selfish,” it still feels that way and I feel guilty – was, to use a phrase previously used by a cisgendered* partner of a FTM in California who was a lifesaver of support for me in the first few days following my discovery: “It was getting too detrimental to wallow in other people’s pain.”
I was glad the board was there – hell, I created it specifically because of the glaring lack of support resources for SOs at the time when I needed it – but every time a new member would join and describe her (it was, 99% of the time, her) pain and agony, it was like I was reliving all of that misery, yet again.
I created the board because nothing like it existed. I created it to be the support forum I needed. And now, should I “write the book that [I] needed to read”?
Let’s face it, that book still does not exist. First of all, there are only a handful of books out there by SOs of trans people at all (some are mentioned here, and even with that list, I was reaching); and the ones that do exist are mainly of the “my partner transitioned but I stayed with them and it was tough and here’s how we did it” variety.
Which is great, and those books serve a purpose, and speak to the people who need it. But what I always got from those books’ existence, and more significantly the lack of books by the partners who didn’t stay?
Well, it was the same thing I got from the online support forums “for transsexuals and their partners” (the “and their partners” glommed on as a superficially-inclusive afterthought):
“If you really loved her**, you’d stay with her.”
In so many words, and not. I got it both ways.
And, too:
“Think about how she must be feeling! It’s so much worse for her!”
This is when I truly learned the importance of safe spaces.
The board – especially the “SOs only” area, visible only to those to whom I granted access – was sacrosanct. There was no accusatory language, no projecting, no trying to turn someone’s life falling apart into a teachable moment. There was no judgment. If you decided not to stay with your transitioning partner, it wasn’t because you didn’t love them enough, or you were transphobic (that was the accusation that always galled me the most), or you weren’t willing to stick it out through hard times (Religious Right anti-divorce rhetoric, anyone?) – it was because you were doing what was right for you. What a concept.
I wish the board existed, now, in book form. I want the details spelled out – the process of going through the five stages of grief (because in many ways, it is like mourning a death), trying to keep up external appearances while your world crumbles from the inside, the self-doubt and self-loathing and self-hatred and second-guessing and all the rest of it. I want the affirmation spelled out in all caps, underlined, italicized, bold:
You are not a bad person for not staying in a relationship with your trans partner!!!
I want that book to exist. I know the ability to write it is in me. Part of me wants to, but part of me feels resentful that someone else hasn’t already done it.
And, anyway: I think I’m still too scared.
—
* We never used that term on the board; I guess because no one knew it?
** A big no-no: using female pronouns when I’M NOT READY TO HEAR THEM. Hello, my life crisis is NOT political; do NOT make it about YOU.
You know how some songs bring it all back…
Speaking of songs (now that I’m listening to my iPod on shuffle)… here’s one I love/hate.
These wounds won’t seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There’s just too much that time cannot erase
At least now, I can listen to it without breaking down and having my body racked with sobs. But just barely. That’s progress, right?
Telling my story
I finally got around to watching last week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy – the one with the MtF patient who’s getting SRS. And as I said in an email to Jenny and Niki, I feel, just… weird.
I couldn’t think of a more specific word, because I’m having a hard time describing this feeling even to myself.
Basically, the show brought up a lot of feelings that I haven’t experienced in a (relatively) long time. I was kind of expecting that it would effect me in some way, but… well, you never really know how something will “trigger” you, as they say, right?
I mean… okay, first of all, yes, I’m glad to see a mainstream TV show portraying a transgendered character as something other than a freak or a mockery. That is very, very good. But the side camera shots of the wife, looking confused and in pain… well, let’s just say I indentified all too much. And I felt like they didn’t give enough time to her side of it. -Not that I should expect them to. It’s a fucking primetime soap opera, not an indepth exploration of actual people’s lives. It’s just… I don’t know, I guess I get defensive about this stuff. And at the end, where she’s all, “I came back because Donna is my husband and my best friend, despite all the pain” – well, I felt angry at that point. As if it’s so noble to stick around despite all the pain and betrayal. Look, it may work for some people, but I hate the way those of us who choose to take care of ourselves rather than live the rest of our lives as a martyr get painted as if we don’t care or we’re heartless or selfish. Which by the way – YES, I AM selfish! I take care of myself! What is wrong with that?? If I can’t take care of myself how the hell can I be a true partner to anyone else??
I guess I just didn’t expect to have all these feelings drudged up tonight… not to this extent anyway. Now I have this ball of emotion in my stomach and I don’t know what to do with it. This is why I don’t visit the support forum I started for partners of TG folks very much anymore. Sometimes I feel guilty for not commenting more, but the community has grown to a point where it’s pretty much self-sustaining. Sometimes I feel like I should step in more than I do, as the administrator, but it’s just… I can’t take the daily involvment in other people’s pain. I can’t watch, daily, as new people come in, wives who’ve just found out about their husband being TG and have been pushed aboard that lovely emotional rollercoaster I was pushed onto almost 4 years ago. (Hard to believe it’s been that long.)
Recently one of my closest friends asked me why I didn’t blog about all of this back when it was happening. I just… couldn’t. I didn’t even tell my parents about it until almost a year later. I didn’t tell anyone (except my therapist, Jenny, and Niki). I kept it all inside me, even though I knew that wasn’t good. But how do you talk about this?? Oh and I talked to people online too, and that was a huge help… and I started my support forum… but still. No, I did not blog about it. I don’t know what I would’ve said. I don’t know how I could’ve written about it and not self-censored. Not to mention the fact that I’m sure I would’ve been guilt-tripped about it by my ex for “outing” him (now her), which I get, I mean, yes, it’s her life too, and I blog under my real name, but still… argh.
I did write some in my now-sorely-neglected paper journal. Those first few nights, I basically stayed locked in the bedroom, unable to eat or sleep, just scrawling in my journal and bawling. That journal is packed away in a box in the closet now, and I haven’t looked at it since. Honestly I’m afraid to. And this all makes me realize, that I don’t think I’m ready to tell my story yet. See, a while ago my dad had suggested that I write a book about my experience. And I think it’s a great idea – for one thing, there aren’t any books out there written by the partner of a TG person. (The only ones that I know of that come close are written by wives of crossdressers – not the same thing.) And certainly not a partner who didn’t do “the noble thing” and stay in the relationship. I think one day I will write this book; I think it’s important. But not yet. I need more time.
I just hope that when the time comes when I do decide to write it, that I remember everything! Already I can tell that I have blocked some of it out. I guess I’ll have to crack open the journal. But even that won’t tell the whole story. Oh, but I definitely remember that night, New Year’s Eve, when it all hit me in the face like a sack of bricks and my world fell apart. I literally felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. And I called Niki and bawled on the phone to her. I had no idea how my life could go on.
But like I was saying, I think that I need more time and more space before I write a book, tell my story. I need to make sure I have the right distance and perspective. I want to be able to tell the whole story, you know? And I want to stress to partners that it’s okay not to stay. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t mean you’re insensitive or “selfish” (in a bad way) or that you’re transphobic or that you don’t love the person or all the other bullshit that gets said about us. It’s okay to take care of yourself – and you have a right to be angry. Yes, yes, I get it, the TG person has to be true to themselves, but you know what, do the “selfish” thing and for one minute, let this not be about THEM. It’s about you. And you were betrayed. And personally, I couldn’t live with that for the rest of my life.
Anyway. Just rambling, venting. I don’t blame you if you didn’t read this whole thing! I feel weird tonight – but it’s been good to have a night to myself where I just take it easy. 12-hour work days start on Monday, for about 2 weeks. Argh. And tomorrow I need to get some freelance work done, I guess. No rest for the weary…
And, one other thing: clearly, this has been an exercise in pushing my boundaries of self-censorship. Because I don’t like self-censoring.