Most of all, I want to thank Honey (SO) for listening so patiently as I tried to straighten out all the tangles in my brain. (for hours, even days, in fact) Honey, you have been such a dear, dear friend, I can't imagine a day going by without you in my heart.
So, here's where we are now:
After six months or maybe more, my wife tells me that she's making some baby steps towards coming to terms with my CDing. What does that mean? Well, we went to a counsellor for some help in dealing with a number of issues, not just the CDing. It didn't help. In fact, after 5 sessions, the counsellor told her that she needed to decide if she was serious about moving forward, and that she needed to decide if it was worth continuing our work. She was very upset at this, but basically he was right. She had balked at every suggestion, from practicing the exercises proposed, to finding out how other couples had dealt with these issues successfully. She didn't want to know, she said. Then got upset when the counsellor reached the point where he stated the obvious out loud. She didn't want to move on any issue at all.
There followed (about half an hour after we left the last session) one of the most vicious attacks on me that I'd ever endured...which is saying something. She needed 'time.' "Time to do what?" I asked her. She'd made up her mind. She'd already told me she would never accept the cross dressing. Ever. I was living in a fantasy world if I thought she would. And she repeated this. Vehemently. She was being pressured. She was being made out to be the villain because I had 'engineered' the sessions to make her look bad. She hoped I was satisfied. My priorities were all wrong. Our children should come first. (Both are adult, one still at home, the other living away.) I was being selfish. And so on. And no, she didn't want to go to another counsellor. I'd just turn that one against her, too.
But what puzzled me in all this, was her denial that she was, in fact, refusing to move ahead. Where was the movement, I asked her. She wouldn't say. Just told me that I couldn't know what she was thinking or feeling, but it was unfair to say that she was not moving.
It was at this point that I was about ready to give up. She was refusing to go to a counsellor. Any counsellor. She said she was moving, but still continued to insist that her position was unchanged. No acceptance. None. Well, I could accept that. I wouldn't be very happy about it, but people feel what they feel. It's not something they can consciously control. If the CDing was the issue that she simply couldn't come to terms with, then, reluctantly, I would move on even if she couldn't.
It was at this point that I came out to our daughter. I spoke to her at length on the phone. (She lives 3000 miles away.) And she didn't even flinch. She was surprised I had kept it so well hidden, but, in her words, "it helped explain a lot of things." I didn't ask her what, exactly. I was more concerned with how it might affect the two of us. She told me it made no difference at all. She loved me and would support me in whatever I decided to do. I told her that I was expecting to move out within the week. She said she'd been expecting it to happen for years.
That night the feces really hit the fan. I had turned her daughter away from her. In tears, she declared that she had 'no husband.' Now [because of me] she had 'no daughter.' Our son would be leaving home soon. 'No one gave a (d...) about her needs.' She was going to be left alone with no one. Then she left the room, still in tears. I'm not proud of this, but I didn't follow. (You see how we hurt each other.)
That was just over 2 weeks ago. I'm still here. We've cooled down quite a bit...even talked...very guardedly...about what is happening. And again she has insisted that she is moving. I recently received a copy of Peggy Rudd's My Husband Wears my Clothes in the mail. If you don't know it, it's an excellent introduction to CDing, written from the point of view of a CDer's wife. It's also helpful that Peggy Rudd is a professional therapist/counsellor, so she knows whereof she speaks. I read the book in two days...about 4 or 5 hours total. I had shown it to her, and invited her, as gently as possible, to have a look at it. (She had previously told me on a number of occasions, that she was sure I could provide 'an endless supply of things she should read' to convince her to change her mind. She didn't have time, wouldn't read them, and they wouldn't make any difference, anyway.) It turns out she has looked at the book, but only part of it. She won't say which part. She won't discuss it. She won't tell me if she will read any other parts of it. She says she has been looking for another title, but again, refuses to tell me what title she is looking for. It's not in the local bookstores. She hasn't ordered it, but knows where she can. She has no time to read it. Won't tell me if she does order it. And won't tell me if she has read it, even if, at some point in the future she does.
I suppose I should acknowledge this as a baby step. After all, she has begun to inform herself...barely. But that's all. Just barely. And she refuses to discuss anything with me. I'm afraid to bring anything up, for fear of pressuring her. I'm afraid that she may be right...that I am being selfish.
In the meantime, I feel like I'm left holding back the tide. There is this huge pressure building up and I'm holding it back...back...back. I need to reach out to people. (She doesn't want me to.) I need to do more than just wear panties...always being careful to hide them from her sight, even though she knows I'm wearing them. It's just clothing. And simply wearing a single article of clothing, no matter how feminine, is not enough. I need to find out who I really am and find some way to express it. I'm afraid once the tide bursts, as I fear it inevitably will, it will sweep everything away in its path. And I don't know how deep the water will be once it levels out, if you can follow my metaphor. I don't know how often I will need to dress, or how much because I've never been able to. I don't know if I'll need to go out in public, because I've never been able to. And of course, I'm afraid that I'll lose...no, let me correct that...I'm afraid that I've lost forever the person I love, and who once loved me.
Finally, I'm afraid that no one in my life will ever see, will ever truly understand that what drives this need is a whole constellation of values that we traditionally label as 'feminine:' gentleness, affection, empathy, nurturing, a love of beauty, to name a few. I am not ashamed of these. I fear that at best I may someday expect to be 'tolerated.' What I dream of, is that someday I may be actually be valued. Maybe my wife is right. Maybe I am living in a fantasy world. Because right now that dream seems unreachable...so distant, in fact, as to be almost out of sight. And that makes me profoundly sad.
Jassmine, this is the letter I promised you. (Hope you don't mind sharing.) I'm sending you my love.
I am so sorry to hear that things aren't going well for you 
And I want you to be happy 
.... But I feel that I really have to say what I am certain everyone else is thinking here....
... Time to man YOUR lifeboat and get out before you get sucked under with the titanic 
. She doesn't deserve you at all. And you don't deserve to have to put up 
with a 5 year old spoiled rotten brat.
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