I can't believe how much difference a year makes. I won't bore you with the recap of my old life. But I have to give credit to my wife for how far she has been able to come. I know it's been difficult for her, but she's at least reached the stage where she's able to say, "I know you're going to dress sometimes. Just don't do it where I have to see it." It's still a long way from where I would like us to be, but it's progress. She's not demanding I stop. She's not demanding I throw everything out. She's not saying (as she once did), "You've repressed it for 30 years. Why can't you repress it for another 30 years?" So it's progress. It's been slow, and I won't pretend it hasn't been painful, but it's progress.
So I went shopping yesterday: out of town. She has asked me not to shop locally. Okay. Much as I would like to, I won't. Went down to Victoria and visited a couple of consignment shops. One had all kinds of beautiful clothing in it...it's in a very upscale part of town, though it's in a very tiny mall, there. I'm afraid it was a little crowded, so I chickened out and did the "shopping for my wife" thing. Okay, I'm not ready to be completely out there, even with strangers. But I did shop, and I did find a lovely outfit in my size, at a very reasonable price. The second store was empty when I went in, so I took the bull by the horns and told the ladies behind the counter that I was shopping for myself, and wondered if this would be okay with them. They didn't even blink. Of course it was, they said. If I was comfortable, so were they. So I was able to try several things on in the privacy of the change room, even when several other women came into the shop while I was there. For me, that's progress. But you can see (well, okay I can see) where I need to go next.
I also received an email just this morning from a support group in Victoria. (I just found them a couple of days ago.) They meet on a drop-in basis the third Monday of every month. I've been invited to go down there in September, to see what it's all about. The facilitator tells me that most of the people who come are transsexuals, but they are open to CDers and other people dealing with gender issues. (This includes SO's.)
She even said I could come dressed, if I wanted. (Oh, wouldn't I just love to?) I won't, but who knows about future meetings? I'm not ready for that, yet, though I would dearly love to be able to do something more than simply skulk about the empty house. That's not good enough. It feels like I'm hiding (well, I am), but it feels as if I'm hiding because I'm ashamed, and I'm not. I'm almost surprised at being able to say that, but it's true. The shame I felt when I was in my teens and early 20's is truly gone, and has been for a long, long time. But hiding behind closed doors feels almost the same, and I want to move beyond that. No, that's not quite right: I need to move beyond that. I am going to Esprit next year...that's my excuse for buying clothing, but I recognize that it is just an excuse. One week to be myself, out in the open, almost a year away, then back to the closet. No, it won't do. It's not enough. I guess what I'm discovering is the truth in the observation that "coming out is not a single act; it's a process." I'm not sure where I go from here, but I'm on my way.
Oh, and the beard is definitely going to have to go, even though it does match my wig beautifully.
("And won't that cause a fuss at home?" you ask. Well, yesssss....but as Charlie McArthy observed of Edgar Bergen's life: "That's a long story...and a dirty one." We'll save it for another time.)Forgive the ramble. Love to you all.
Karen
I loved that post. 
