On the Subject of Partners and Isolation

It’s been about a week since my last post, and boy, has it been a rough week.

My partner has been going through a bipolar cycle, which essentially means everything comes to a grinding halt in our home, and all the attention, focus, etc turns to her. It means her work suffers. It means our home life suffers. It means she ignores everything in the home, from me to our pets to her kids and just spends days in bed. It means that for yet another few weeks she is essentially given a “pass” to be an inconsiderate ass. It means that, once again, the feelings of isolation rear their ugly heads and make me question everything.

This is My Dance Space…

I’m finding that I’m having issues with personal space. That is, I don’t want anyone in it. I’m not entirely sure why. One would think that with all the nifty little changes that are happening (and they ARE happening!) that I would be more excited about my body and having people (ie. my partner) near it. But the opposite is, in fact, true.

Monday, Monday…

So good to me…

Except that I’m exhausted and my candle is slooooowly burning down. I’m realising I’m too old to be running like I was last week. Non-stop.

Anyway, Friday was our first couples therapy session since the decision was made to transition. We had already been in couples therapy for a few months, trying to work out issues that, now, seemed to have stemmed from my repressing my own self for so long.

We went in and started the session off with “We’ve had a major breakthrough.”

Therapy, Part Deux

I wish I had had time yesterday to write this, while everything was still fresh in my mind. Unfortunately you’ll have to settle for day-after recollections.

First off, let me just say that I absolutely love my therapist! She’s this feisty old broad in her 70s, who has been with her partner for 31 years, and has been working with transgender clients for 30 years. There’s a touch of something British about her, which I love. She’s well-travelled and can relate to a lot of my experiences, which is nice.

Not knowing what to expect, I was terrified going into it. Would she question me? Would she tell me she thought I was wrong? Would I have a rapport with this person?

I think I lucked out…

Step 1… Therapy

Aaaaaand…. we’re off!

Today’s the day. The day I start my therapy with a professional who specialises in things like gender dysphoria, and comes highly recommended by a peer who is one of the best in the field. (I’d totally have him for a therapist except for the fact that he’s actually my partner’s therapist! Damn her for monopolising all the good help!)

Yesterday I sat down and filled out all the new patient paperwork. It had the typical stuff: Medical and Psychological Background, Treatment Plan, Issues That Appear in Yourself or Your Family, Treatment Plan, etc. It was strange that for the first time I actually checked the boxes next to Gender Dysphoria. I’ve filled out forms like that so many times before, always hesitating over the gender issues (if the questionnaire even asked about it… some don’t), but never acknowledging it. It was a giant step to check that box, and it made me smile.

I’m Allowed…

Day two of the silent treatment. And I start therapy tomorrow. Not sure what that says about timing. Here I am about take a giant step in this whole process and the one person I counted on to be there isn’t even acknowledging my existence right now. Though maybe it’s good that the first step is therapy.

She said something to me today, via text because god forbid she actually talk to me, that really hurt. She said for the first time in four years she was scared of me. Which I don’t understand. I have NEVER been violent, not with her, not with anyone. Am I mad? Sure. Who wouldn’t be when their partner refuses to talk to them, and kicks them out the bedroom? (I was actually told to leave the room yesterday evening, for no reason other than I was there. So I had to wait until she was asleep to go back in.) But it’s already been proven that she is the one with the temper, a really scary temper. And after four years of violent bipolar episodes, for her to tell me that she’s afraid of me is a freaking joke.

I am allowed to be mad. I am allowed to be uncomfortable. I am allowed to express my feelings without worrying about whether I’m going to be completely shut out.

Random, Random, Random

I have six days until my first therapy session with a psychologist who comes very highly recommended in dealing with trans/body/gender issues. I’m excited but nervous as hell. What do I say? “Hi. I’m pretty sure I’m a boy, but I need to make sure things are sorted out in my head since everything that follows is HUGE.” I feel like there’s no way to go in and NOT sound like an idiot. I am 99% sure that I know what I want, and that last 1% is only there because I need a professional to tell me I’m not crazy.