Healing Conversation

Posted on May 24, 2013 by Kyle

My wife and I had a conversation the other night, a ground-breaking, amazing conversation.  I ended up staying up late, which I paid for the next day in mindless exhaustion, but I’m glad we did it.  It started with her asking me about my therapy, when my next appointment was and if my therapist had given me homework yet.  She was curious about the process.  That led to a couple of hours of conversation that touched on almost everything that’s been bothering both of us for the last few months.

I’ve only been to therapy once and it’s already working.

Beyond talking with her about my thrashing, emotional vomitfests and pendulum riding mood swings, there were a couple of topics I wanted to broach with her, topics she’d had strong reactions around.  Those strong reactions told me she was holding back feelings and concerns, and I’d been looking for the right time for us to talk about them and that night was perfect for it.  With a lot of love and open heartedness and giving of space, we pried open some pretty touchy issues.

For example, how she felt about me going into therapy.  We had a stupid spat a couple of weeks ago and a couple of things she said gave me the impression she had concerns about me going.   She actually kicked off that topic by asking if I’d gotten any homework from my therapist, so I explained what I was hoping to accomplish in therapy and the methodology we were using.  I shared my Spring Cleaning analogy of emptying stuff on to the floor in order to decide what to keep and what to chuck — she gently suggested that we don’t ever fully get rid of anything, this is what we’re made of after all, but that we can decide how much influence our past experiences will have on our future.  That was really good and I thanked her.  Then I referred back to our spat and asked her if she had concerns about me going into therapy.

I literally saw ‘fight or flight’ playing across her face.  She paused, gathered herself and admitted her fears.  She was afraid that I would get into therapy and decide that the life I’d been living with her wasn’t the life I wanted to live in the future, that I would choose to leave our relationship and break up our family in favor of a different future.  There are no words for how grateful I am to her for having the courage to voice that fear.  I had suspected it, but watching her step into the space we’d made to put it into words was amazing for both of us.  I listened, nodded and thanked her for voicing her fears.  I told her I understood that fear, that I’d had it as well over the years when she was exploring different aspects of her life.  I apologized for inadvertently causing that fear and then reassured her that nothing I’d seen so far, nothing I’d contemplated or explored, gave me the sense that I would be leaving her or our family.  Her relief was palpable, though there was also something in her body language that suggested she felt her fear was a bit extreme.  I didn’t say anything to judge her feelings, I want her to feel safe in expressing them, as I want to feel safe expressing mine.

The conversation meandered around as conversations do, with both of us getting ample time and attention.  I had a chance to talk about some of my anger and emotional responses to the relationship she was having with Nick.  She heard me, she didn’t block or try to downplay what I was feeling, she listened and I felt heard.  That was huge.  She shared with me some of the benefit our relationship was getting from the one she’s having with Nick.  Actually, we’re both getting so much support from Nick through all this, that I can feel our triangle poised to move forward on the positive continuum.

Nick was wonderful the other night when he and I met for beer to plan a trip to Portland (wedding related, Nick’s my best man, after all).  I talked about starting therapy and feeling like I had no control over my emotions any more, how I felt really messy and volatile and how frustrating it was to not be in control of when and what I emote.  He empathized and shared from his own experiences in therapy and going through some really rough stuff last year (and I remember how hard it was for him to hold together during that time).  I felt supported, respected and cared for, which is really what I needed.

My wife shared some of the support and help she’s been getting from Nick around processing my gender identity exploration, my trans-ness and her reactions to what I’ve been exploring and the ways I’m expressing gender now.  She explained that it was safer to talk to Nick about this stuff because Nick was a lot like me, enough to relate and help communicate what I’m exploring, but with enough distance that she doesn’t have the same defensive reactions she’d have with me.  When she and I talk, we’ve got 20 years of history and relationship gunk to work through, so I get that.  I have been seeing the benefit of their relationship and conversations in the way she talks to me about gender in a more respectful and informed way.  Their conversations are easing the way for she and I to have conversations and that is a very good thing.

This part of the conversation was the perfect time for me to ask another question, to gently delve into something that I’ve been putting off for a while:  what is it about my gender identity exploration that she is concerned about/threatened by (and don’t worry, I worded the question in a much less confrontational way).  Again, she paused and gathered her thoughts.  What she told me wasn’t a surprise, but it was important to give her enough space to express herself fully before I responded.  So I listened.

She fears that if I decide to pursue medical transition and that transition will lead to me leaving her and breaking up our family.  She fears losing an important part of her self-identity as queer if I were to pass as male.  She’s worried that if I change that much, she may no longer want to be in this relationship with me.  She is fierce about her queerness and one of the things that drew her to me is that we together are a queer couple.  It’s an important part of her identity and this is a struggle many, many couples with a transitioning partner go through.  She expressed her frustration about the way I’ve changed, that I’m not the same person she decided to make a life with 20 years ago.

Again, I gave her space, I listened and then I responded.  Wait, first I apologized.  Not for exploring gender, nor for what I’ve found in that exploration, nor for the changes I have undergone as a result.  I apologized for shutting her out and explained my fears around talking to her about being trans.  There is some history around the reaction I expected to get, and her reaction falls in line with that expectation.  But I acknowledged that she’s my partner and going forward I am committed to being as transparent and open as I can about my process and discoveries.

I explained my feelings and thoughts about medical transition.  That I’d given it consideration, that I certainly had access to all the necessary information and plenty of friends and acquaintances to talk to about the topic.  And that the various times I’d considering transitioning to male, I had realized that doing that would leave my female side stranded.  I explained that I didn’t want to trade one kind of pain for another and that instead of medical transition, my path was leading me through social transition.  Transition to ‘where’, I’m not entirely sure but it will include more public and inter-family recognition of my gender identity and my preferred pronouns.

There was other sharing from her about emotional stuff she’s dealing with.  It felt good to be able to support her as well.  The conversation was amazing, we opened up and were vulnerable and authentic with each other.  We managed to avoid getting defensive, and I believe we will be able to do it again.

At the end of all this, we held each other, grateful for our partnership, our love, our history and our future.  Grateful for a chance to communicate and confirm that we are in this together.  And, adding to the amazingness of it all, we kissed.  Not a safe, dry peck on the lips (our usual) but a full, lips and tongue kiss.  And that, my friends, hasn’t happened in a very long time.  It felt good, she tasted good, I got giddy over it.

A sign of better things to come for us, I certainly hope.

 

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Posted in exploring gender, finding me, genderqueer, relationships, slices of life, The Therapy Chronicles | Tagged , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Ask Kyle Anything… Answers (hopefully) to Jenna’s Questions

Posted on May 20, 2013 by Kyle

Jenna asks:

A while ago invited your blog readers to ask you anything. So I’m asking. How do you define “in love” and do you think it is possible to maintain an “in love” state with the same person for 5 years, 10 years, etc? What makes “in love” separate from other types of love or is there a difference for you?

Well, I’ve put this off long enough, I think, time to try to give an answer.

What is ‘in love’ to me?  The initial stages of being in love are very much about New Relationship Energy (NRE)  for me.  Everything about the relationship is new, there are so many things to discover and share and I always feel like I want to show them everything I can do, all the things I love, I want to open up the book of my life to them.  Everything about them is new and interesting and I have endless appetite for learning about their lives, what they love, what they hate, what they want out of life and, of course, how I can help them get what they want.   Being in love is a consuming feeling, over 90% of my conscious thoughts are about that person, about when I’ll see/talk to them next, what I want to say, things I want to share, what we talked about last, reliving moments with them.   Sleep is less necessary in this phase of the relationship, I’ve found, as though the NRE and new found love generate more energy than they consume.

This doesn’t last forever, not in my experience, not from what I’ve read and gathered from friends.  At some point that is completely impossible for me to predict, that initial incandescent burn eases down into something a little less hot, and that makes sense.  Though it feels like you have endless energy and wakefulness for the new love in your life, the reality is you can’t sustain that level of performance forever.  So if the relationship is going to continue, it has to find a sustainable groove.  You have gone through the initial rapid information acquisition phase and you know a lot about each other, enough to see the flaws as well as the things that continue to attract you to that person.  Doesn’t mean you don’t have things to share, and aren’t super hot for each other, but other parts of your life start reasserting themselves.  Like sleep, family, work, hobbies, other friends.  To transition from NRE to sustainable, you need to recognize those other areas of each other’s lives and respect the importance of them.

That’s when the real work of a relationship starts, I think.  That’s when you figure out how to fit into each other’s lives, rather than push the other elements of those lives aside to accommodate you.  And that’s not to say there aren’t compromises.  Friends will probably see less of you once you flip from single to in a relationship, it happens.  What is dangerous at this stage is the risk of losing friends entirely.  If your life continues to revolve only around the new person, you’ve gone too far, in my opinion.

I think the initial ‘in love’ phase that’s all consuming and ignores all else in your life mellows into something that is sustainable, and also grows and deepens.  You get to know your new love more and more over time, not just through the time you have alone together but by the way they are with their friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances and strangers.  That deepening is the source of power for a relationship going beyond a couple of years into decades.  And, as I’ve found in my own life, that mellower level of being in love can certainly flair up into white hot again at times.

I think there are a lot of levels of love, actually.  I’ve had numerous crushes that were romantic/sexual but were never consummated.  I’ve had friend-crushes that had almost as much intense NRE as the romantic/sexual relationships I’ve had.  I’ve had sexual relationships that were heavy on friendship and lower on romance.  I’ve had intense, long term friendships that went as deep as the sexual/romantic relationships and I was just as crushed when those friendships faded as when I’ve broken up with a girlfriend.  All of these relationships involved love.  I think one key to sustainable love in any kind of relationship is trust, and trust is built on honesty and reliability.

Going back to Jenna’s questions: if you mean, can someone remain as intensely in love as when you are in the first throws of NRE for a long term relationship, my experience is ‘no’.  And my experience is, ‘that’s not a bad thing’.  Intense, white-hot heat tends to make the strongest materials brittle over time.  Does that lack of that intensity sometimes lead to relationship problems?  Certainly, but I don’t think the answer is to retain the intensity, I don’t think you can.  I think being aware that NRE mellows is important, partners should talk about that and find habits, rituals and space to continue to build intimacy of all kinds even after that initial phase.  And here I throw in some caveats.  The life cycle of a close proximity relationship is going to vary from that of a long distance relationship (again, based on my experience).  I think an LDR can retain intensity for longer, because you don’t have constant exposure and proximity to contribute to a sense of comfort and complacency.  Someone who you don’t see very often is going to remain somewhat unknown, contributing to the sense of mystery and excitement.

I am currently in love with my wife, still in love with Roxy, in love with my daughters, in love with my life (even with the recent challenges), in love with my stories and characters.  I love my friends, though I’m not in love with them.  Hmmm.. so what’s the difference?  I think one difference is the level of joy and pain I can experience in relation to my experiences with them.

Jenna, does this work as an answer to your questions?  If not, feel free to ask more.  You should all know by now, you can Ask Kyle Anything.

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Firm

Posted on May 19, 2013 by Kyle

I watch him walk past for the umpteenth time, my eyes sliding along the top edge of the book I pretend to be reading.  The jeans he’s wearing frame the tight domes of his bubble butt perfectly and I find my imagination is not shy at all in visualizing what he looks like under them.

I want to follow him into the back room of the cafe and pin him against the wall.  I want to pull those jeans down while he’s pressing back against me and gasping his consent.  I imagine running my palms against the flat panes of his hips and reaching around to cup him.  I imagine he thrusts himself against my hand as I press against him from behind.

I want to kick his feet apart and watch as his firm ass opens up for me.  His hair is buzzed on the sides with just a little length on top, plenty enough for me to grab and pull his head back.  I imagine biting into the base of his neck as my fingers plunge into his warmth.  I imagine him saying ‘Yes, please, yes, yessss, yessssss’.  I imagine him wanting me as much as I want him.

I imagine swinging him around to face me, running my hands across the firm muscles of his arms and chest, hard planes of flesh and bone.  I imagine him leaning up for a kiss, the feeling of his new mustache against mine, the sweet taste of his tongue exploring my mouth.  I imagine we growl and grunt against each other like animals in heat, letting go of convention to fall into the clean burn of desire.  I imagine this would never happen in the back room of a busy cafe during a busy weekend afternoon, but I don’t let that stop my fantasy.  I’m enjoying the wet heat between my legs as I imagine my hands on his body, inside him, the feeling of him squeezing me, holding me, drawing me in even more deeply.

I imagine him whimpering as I withdraw, wanting more, always wanting more, my mouth on his neck, holding him firmly against that sudden emptiness.  Helping him into his jeans, cupping him again, stroking and massaging his hardness, and pressing the heel of my palm against him as he comes again, catching him as his knees buckle.  I imagine whispering hotly into his ear, “I’ll be back for more, you’ll be ready for me” before giving him a peck on the cheek and returning to my seat.

~~~~~

He walks by again, his gait the perfect amount of swing and swagger.  I adjust myself in my seat, I’ve slid down a bit and my pants feel uncomfortably tight.  I track his trip back to the kitchen when he turns, looking directly at me, catching me in the act of objectifying his sweet, firm body.

Did he just wink at me, or did I imagine that, too?

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Touch

Posted on May 18, 2013 by Kyle

I had the most amazing massage the other night, and not a relaxation massage, this was a therapeutic massage which means I am walking around with sore spots all over from spots not so tenderly administered to.

My massage guy worked on my very messed up body for two hours.  Two hours.  He tried all kinds of funky pinning and stretches, he found all my owie spots, even the origin of my tension headache (the physical origin, at least) and worked with me to release as much as possible.  I’ve awoken three mornings in a row without a headache after 4 days waking up with one.    We discovered my left side is totally ‘jacked up’ and he did his best to get it to stand down (that will need more sessions).  He compared my lower back to ‘railroad tracks’ and said if I’m not feeling it, it’s because the rest of me was screaming more loudly.  He was the perfect massage top and I was happy to bottom to him.

I walked away feeling looser and more relaxed than I have been in ages.  That was a miracle in itself.

I also walked away reveling in the miracle and wonder of being touched.

No, the touching was not sexual but it was touch, all over my body.  Touch from someone who was focused on my needs, on the nonverbal signals — especially when I couldn’t or wasn’t verbalizing.  He’s very respectful and acknowledges my gender in ways that are so normal it helps me feel more normal and comfortable in my skin.  That respect and knowledge of gender comes from his own experiences as a trans man, and he’s a naturally empathic person and I relax under his care very easily.  I’ve been a fan and recipient of massage for a long, long time and have always been a ‘good’ patient, able to breathe through the therapy and give over to the therapist but with him its even better.

Two hours of being touched, acknowledged, respected and celebrated.  No, it wasn’t sex, but I have to say, it was really damn good.  Those are all elements of what good sex is, as far as I’m concerned.  Sessions with him are definitely on my ‘must have’ list now.

 

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I went walking

Posted on May 17, 2013 by Kyle

Today I went for a walk
And I wanted to keep walking

Walking away from cubicles and artificial light and artificial drama

Away from people and machines

Away from connection and responsibility

Away from emotions.

I was walking along, crying, talking to myself, tears streaming down my face, only half caring what I must look like

If I keep walking maybe I won’t care at all

If I keep walking maybe I’ll find silence, solitude

If I keep walking maybe I can walk away from my tears, away from the relentlessness of my emotions.

Maybe I can walk away from myself.

If I stopped remembering what I’ve lost would that being me relief? Or would it bother me like a phantom limb I wasn’t quite sure I’d ever had?

If I waked far enough would the voices in my head run out of things to say?

If I walked far enough …

Maybe I could just lie down and cease

No more breathing through it.
No more feeling my feelings.
No more acting strong when I don’t feel strong.
No more needing anyone.
No more being needed.

If my head is completely empty, will I care about the other emptiness?

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An Illustrated Guide to Depression

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Kyle

This recent post on Hyperbole and a Half was recommended to me by Neighbor Femme … Depression Part Two.  If you suffer from depression, anxiety or any of the related emotional mental plagues, you might recognize yourself in this.  If you don’t, but you know people who do struggle with these issues, I think you might gain some insight.  It’s hard to explain just how it feels to be in the midst of depression, or coming out of it (also a hard place to be), so it’s very cool that this blogger found a way to put it into words and pictures.

Stuff like this:

The beginning of my depression had been nothing but feelings, so the emotional deadening that followed was a welcome relief.  I had always wanted to not give a fuck about anything. I viewed feelings as a weakness — annoying obstacles on my quest for total power over myself. And I finally didn’t have to feel them anymore.

But my experiences slowly flattened and blended together until it became obvious that there’s a huge difference between not giving a fuck and not being able to give a fuck. Cognitively, you might know that different things are happening to you, but they don’t feel very different.

 

and this

When I say that deciding to not kill myself was the worst part, I should clarify that I don’t mean it in a retrospective sense. From where I am now, it seems like a solid enough decision. But at the time, it felt like I had been dragging myself through the most miserable, endless wasteland, and — far in the distance — I had seen the promising glimmer of a slightly less miserable wasteland. And for just a moment, I thought maybe I’d be able to stop and rest. But as soon as I arrived at the border of the less miserable wasteland, I found out that I’d have to turn around and walk back the other way.

and this,

That piece of corn is the funniest thing I have ever seen, and I cannot explain to anyone why it’s funny. I don’t even know why. If someone ever asks me “what was the exact moment where things started to feel slightly less shitty?” instead of telling a nice, heartwarming story about the support of the people who loved and believed in me, I’m going to have to tell them about the piece of corn.

… so now I’m wondering what my piece of corn is…

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A Mother of a Day

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Kyle

The cracks have turned into jagged breaks and I’m ooozing out all over.  All the thoughts, feelings, impulses… messy, messy, messy… that I’ve been holding down for so long, are bursting out in an ugly tangle.  I guess that’s what happens when you give yourself permission to start feeling everything again, it begins to be impossible to unfeel.  All the masterful control I thought I had all these years seems to have been bulldozed away in a matter of weeks.

I hate it.  I hate not being in control.  Even if that control has been revealed to be an illusion, it was comforting when I thought I had it.  It would be like starting over, except that I don’t know what that starting place is supposed to look like.  Do I just ooze all over with my messy emotions and my bursts of neediness and attacks of flamethrower anger?  And am I really feeling all these emotions, or are some of these the ones I’ve convinced myself I’m supposed to have because I’m so enlightened and poly and mature and advanced?  Or because I should be angry because other people should know better?  And so on.

I can look back and see my depression behind me, I know I’m not in it anymore, but I seem to be teetering on the edge.  I haven’t moved far enough away from it to feel safe.  Because of that lack of balance, I am desperate for stability.  I want predictable schedules, I want to know where my people are, I want my things to be in the same place I left them. I want a chance to move off the edge of depression and onto solid ground and not have to deal with big life changing stressers for a bit, but that doesn’t seem to be possible.  Well, maybe it was possible, but that’s not what happened.  So I’m feeling all the more brittle and out of control.

I had a rough day Sunday, Mother’s Day.  My wife was out of town, visiting friends in her hometown and taking her mom out for brunch.  There was nothing out of the ordinary about the day, but maybe that was the problem.  See, I’m an introvert and our 3 year old is  an extrovert.  I woke up with a headache and couldn’t shake it, except for brief moments, all day.  The times I felt it loosen its grip were when I had a moment or two without my daughter’s incessant demands for attention — a 40 minute nap, an hour outside weeding while she watched a movie, a few minutes here and there.  I started snapping at her right away that morning, yelling at her to just stop for a moment, to just wait to just… it was awful.  I was awful, she was normal.  I really missed having my partner there to help absorb some of that demand. We all got through the day intact and we even managed some good moments.  I just need more space and quiet lately and I was not getting much at all Sunday.  High points of the day were grilling cheeseburgers for dinner and making tator tots (my choice) and using our portable fire pit to roast marshmallows and make s’mores.  An extreme low point was me stomping into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and listening to my hysterically crying daughter scream about me leaving her.  I just needed a time out.

I think maybe I should warn my friends who are contemplating therapy that they should be prepared to fall apart even more than they currently are.  It’s as if someone pulled on a loose thread and the whole fabric of who I am started falling apart.  Not so much the gender part of me or the sexual part of me or the artistic part of me … those are the outer parts built on top of the inner mechanism.  It’s the inner part of me that seems to be unraveling.  What I’ve always seen as strengths are starting to look like weaknesses.  Correct responses now seem questionable.  I don’t know what to anchor myself to anymore.  I have ‘drifty’ days and on those days Roxy reminds me to feel the ground beneath my feet and she reminds me that everything I’m feeling is real and that the sun will come up tomorrow.  I am doing a better job of reaching out to friends, who have all responded wonderfully to me, giving me reassurance, being fierce, being protective and letting me know I’m not alone.  And, oh man, even when I know I have all of you, sometimes I feel so alone in the midst of the my internal wasteland.

“How are you doing?” has become my most dreaded question.  How am I doing?  Do you have an hour, or two?  Do you really want to know?  That’s OK, I don’t really want to go there so the answer is “Fine”, or “I had a great ride to work today” or “Good, how about you?”

Truth is, I’m struggling, but I’m still alive, the sun keeps coming up and I keep muddling my way through.  I am keeping my anger and hurt to myself and away from those who’ve triggered it, as best I can.  Everyday I wake up and hope for a better day, an easier time with my emotions.  And stability.  I know I am the very picture of doing a million things at once, but right now, I need the world to slow down a bit, to allow me some moments of stillness.  It feels like if I could just sit still, in a quiet space, for enough time, I could figure it all out.

Hmmm… and since that isn’t going to happen, I guess I’ll keep doing it this way.

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Another Snippet from the Novel: Hick

Posted on May 13, 2013 by Kyle

“That whole ‘hick’ thing you got goin’ on is pretty cute. Works pretty well for ya, dunnit?”

She’s sitting across from me, one dainty ankle crossing another, both tucked under her chair. She’s sipping something out of a chimney glass, looking the very picture of refined big city Femme. And she’s talking to me like she’s from my home town.

She doesn’t usually sound like that, in fact I’ve never heard her speak in any way that would indicate she didn’t come from upper middle class private schools.

I don’t know yet if she’s mocking me but I can feel my color rising. I don’t respond, instead I take a sip of my beer an look at her expectantly. She’s going to make a point and I’m curious what it will be.

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Genderqueer Moments….

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Kyle

Yesterday, I caught a sideways glance of myself in a mirror and it was one of those cognitive dissonance moments.  What I saw was a dude with boobs… as if my head belonged to a guy and was put on someone else’s body.  I didn’t hate it, it wasn’t a dysphorically negative moment, it was just ‘Huh, wow, that’s what other people see, isn’t it?’

 

 

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Coming Up For Air

Posted on May 9, 2013 by Kyle

Though I have been going through a lot of hard stuff lately, it’s not all gloom and doom, so let’s lighten it up with some of the good things happening in my life:

  • I’m starting therapy today and although some people would approach that appointment with some dread or nervousness, I’m really looking forward to it.  I am primed and ready to get to work on pretty much everything and keep advancing on my journey to a healthier and happier me.
  • I have a geek meeting tonight, which is very cool because I love getting my geek on.
  • Later tonight, I get to hang out with Neighbor Femme.  I have a way overdue birthday present for her and we have tons of catching up to do.
  • I am attempting to instigate some karaoke socializing with friends for Friday night.
  • Saturday is soccer and a Pizza Klatch facilitator training on Transgender topics (really looking forward to this)
  • Also Saturday, my wife is heading east to her hometown to visit with friends and take her mom out for Mother’s day.  Me and the kids will be spending lots of quality time together .  OK, who am I fooling, the teenager will try to spend as little time as possible interacting with me and the smaller one.  The smaller one will be on me the entire time….
  • … and that is why I’m so glad my buddy Elijah is coming over Saturday evening to hang out a bit… much needed buddy time.
  • Sunday … garden time, hanging with my small one, hopefully the big one will make some kind of special breakfast so I don’t have to… or even any breakfast so I don’t have to :-)

brotherly love….

I posted something to one of my Facebook pages about doing karaoke on Friday and my little brothers, Nick and Elijah, both commenced with the mockery.  Apparently, they both only go to karaoke to laugh at the people trying to sing.  I threw it back, saying that they had nothing to say unless they came to see and hear me.  And if they wanted to laugh at me after that, I’d buy them a beer.

Naaa… I wouldn’t.  I’d beat the crap out of them.  It’s the brotherly thing to do.

 

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