I just wanted to try and capture this though as, like so many of the things that flit through my head it'll probably be gone shortly.
I'm wondering what my view is of how I look. I have noticed that I don't really like to look at myself in the mirror unless I'm appropriately made-up and looking fab. This, in the cold light of day still isn't fantastic but it can be better that what I see (sadly) most of the time.
But it occurred to me that maybe what I think is the image of me, isn't. That I have an internal view of myself that really doesn't match the external appearance and that I'm actually talking and acting through my own inside person which might be a little confusing for everyone else.
Oh yes, while I remember, I'm pretty sure I'm getting more camp in my manerisms and affectations, even at work, maybe I'm trying to just break out ... or maybe I *really* do desperately want to go to the works social night in FULL Fiona mode ... OMG that would be SOOOOOO funny! LOL
Thursday, 20 March 2008
If at first you don't succeed ...
... you clearly haven't drunk enough.
Well, okay, I'm not feeling completely and totally down, but low enough to hit the alcohol - while watching Sex Change Soldier ... not exactly the right programme for a balanced frame of mind at the moment ... will hopefully comment on this in another blog post if a) I remember what I was going to say and b) I can read the notes I made (yes, terrible when you take notes so you can blog about something later!)
Sadly (or maybe fortunately) my liver appears to be functioning perfectly well OR the 20% proof liqueur that I was consuming really didn't have the desired affect! Question for anyone knowledgeable in biological chemistry: does the sugar in sweet drinks in any way reduce the affect of the alcohol? Equally does having food with drink simply 'dilute' the alcohol or are there other chemical reactions going on that effectively mop up any of the nasty compounds created by the digestion of ethanol?
So, currently tired, confused, and nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be ... must try harder next time (preferably after applying make-up etc).
Well, okay, I'm not feeling completely and totally down, but low enough to hit the alcohol - while watching Sex Change Soldier ... not exactly the right programme for a balanced frame of mind at the moment ... will hopefully comment on this in another blog post if a) I remember what I was going to say and b) I can read the notes I made (yes, terrible when you take notes so you can blog about something later!)
Sadly (or maybe fortunately) my liver appears to be functioning perfectly well OR the 20% proof liqueur that I was consuming really didn't have the desired affect! Question for anyone knowledgeable in biological chemistry: does the sugar in sweet drinks in any way reduce the affect of the alcohol? Equally does having food with drink simply 'dilute' the alcohol or are there other chemical reactions going on that effectively mop up any of the nasty compounds created by the digestion of ethanol?
So, currently tired, confused, and nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be ... must try harder next time (preferably after applying make-up etc).
You know, sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it anymore ...
I generally try to be happy and cheery and I always thought that I was amazingly lucky not to have had anything in my life that caused me too much trouble. I later began to suspect that the reason for so few problems was simply that I did so little to actually get myself in situations where problems could occur, basically that I lived such an uneventful life that there wasn't much scope for bad things to happen.
Now I wonder if I was being lulled into a false sense of security. Now everything is going wrong and it's going wrong in the most spectacular way possible.
[ Okay, even as I write this I'm thinking: "Well, it could be worse", "there are other people with much more serious problems", "stop wallowing in self-pity, there really *are* people who are *much* worse off" ]
My wife had been doing so well and had not really gone ballistic about everything that has been happening and I, naively, thought that this may continue. It didn't. Tonight was time for shouting, throwing things and being as nasty as possible. She did eventually calm down and we both explained to our son (who was quite upset by all this) that it wasn't *his* fault at all.
I don't like shouting and screaming, or the throwing of things, or just the sheer malice that can accompany these. I have *never* been a violent person, the only times I've thrown things where out of frustration/disappointment at myself and on all occasions it's when I've been alone and just feeling down.
I think I've tried to say that my wife's sometimes unstable behaviour is something I've had to put up with and she obviously has my TG issues to handle (these often being the cause of her angry reactions). Her retort is simply that *I* knew about how she was before we got married whereas the TG thing only came to light later on. I'm not sure this is entirely a reasonable argument.
What else, oh yes, after all of that I get an e-mail from one of the guys on-site saying I did something wrong. He's right I did, I didn't follow his procedure and, though I'd like to come up with excuses, I can't, I made a mistake. I didn't think, I should be paying more attention to work at the moment and I'm not.
Frankly, I'd love to shout at him and tell him I f***ing don't care about his f***ing process as my life is falling apart and my wife (who claims she still loves me) is now wanting me to sort out the legal position for council tax, child tax credits, and a whole host of things (which make practical sense) OH and this is going to be "her" house and I'm not allowed here at all nor am I allowed to contribute to the improvements. No, I just have to get out as it's HER house.
Oh f*** this is going to get messy.
Now I wonder if I was being lulled into a false sense of security. Now everything is going wrong and it's going wrong in the most spectacular way possible.
[ Okay, even as I write this I'm thinking: "Well, it could be worse", "there are other people with much more serious problems", "stop wallowing in self-pity, there really *are* people who are *much* worse off" ]
My wife had been doing so well and had not really gone ballistic about everything that has been happening and I, naively, thought that this may continue. It didn't. Tonight was time for shouting, throwing things and being as nasty as possible. She did eventually calm down and we both explained to our son (who was quite upset by all this) that it wasn't *his* fault at all.
I don't like shouting and screaming, or the throwing of things, or just the sheer malice that can accompany these. I have *never* been a violent person, the only times I've thrown things where out of frustration/disappointment at myself and on all occasions it's when I've been alone and just feeling down.
I think I've tried to say that my wife's sometimes unstable behaviour is something I've had to put up with and she obviously has my TG issues to handle (these often being the cause of her angry reactions). Her retort is simply that *I* knew about how she was before we got married whereas the TG thing only came to light later on. I'm not sure this is entirely a reasonable argument.
What else, oh yes, after all of that I get an e-mail from one of the guys on-site saying I did something wrong. He's right I did, I didn't follow his procedure and, though I'd like to come up with excuses, I can't, I made a mistake. I didn't think, I should be paying more attention to work at the moment and I'm not.
Frankly, I'd love to shout at him and tell him I f***ing don't care about his f***ing process as my life is falling apart and my wife (who claims she still loves me) is now wanting me to sort out the legal position for council tax, child tax credits, and a whole host of things (which make practical sense) OH and this is going to be "her" house and I'm not allowed here at all nor am I allowed to contribute to the improvements. No, I just have to get out as it's HER house.
Oh f*** this is going to get messy.
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
This may not be such a good thing ...
A really quick post about what happened on Tuesday:
- Annual review - apparently I'm a "nice" and approachable person but need to try harder on the leadership skills (fair point). Thankfully "nice" is enough to get me a good pay-rise so I have, until inflation and my spending kicks in, extra money per month which may help with moving out
- It is now possible that I could have another 6-9months in Vancouver. This is good from a financial point of view (if I can control my spending), it also gets me out of the house and gives my wife space, and of course it means Fiona has free reign and will be getting out and about even more (hopefully)
Chapter V: The Empire Strikes Back
I'm sure I can twist this in some way to make it kind of like the Star Wars story but I'll not even attempt the full on parody - for a start, what happens is just not funny in the slightest.
So, I had been exploring the inner Fiona and had managed through cunning, charm, and amazing ability - no, actually just sheer dumb luck - to not get caught with a suitcase (make that several) full of clothes. So my wife had no idea, she was blissfully unaware of what I was doing and what I was beginning to realise I was.
For those of you with a cruel streak have a look at the very early pictures on Flickr and you'll see what I looked like then - terrible! But certainly not just someone wearing a few bits of underwear for kicks or with just a bit of a fetish for the odd girlie thing. I have to admit that certainly some of the things I bought were because I thought they looked or felt sexy, and yes, making yourself into (in your deluded eyes) an attractive female form is a turn on ... in a bizarre way it's also alot easier (and safer) than alternative methods of sexual satisfaction that errant husbands away on business often indulge in.
It got to the point after a few trips, and after talking alot on one of the forums that I realised that this was not going to go away and that it was not longer a case of turning it off again and throwing everything away. So this is when I started asking about how to go about telling my wife. I asked first of all if I should and of course people said that yes, this is the right thing to do, you shouldn't have secrets, it's the person you love.
I thought about this quite alot and decided that it would be quite nice to have everything out in the open, in fact I convinced myself that telling my wife about Fiona would be a wonderful thing as it would mean absolutely no secrets at all, she would know everything about me completely. She already knew about the past girlfriends (not many so that topic didn't take long to cover when we were going out) and pretty much everything else.
I actually felt quite thrilled at the idea of telling everything. I also thought that being completely honest would mean that my wife would know and understand me more and that she would be able almost reconstruct all of my thoughts and feelings by knowing so much about me and, without this missing piece alot of who I am would affectively be lost.
I have to admit that some of the whole "missing piece" thoughts also had a geeky twist to them; picture the scenario; in the year 4000 they are trying to create a hologram of me and reconstruct my consciousness but they have no record of the Fiona bit ... disaster, what they get isn't me! Yeah, I know, I should really cut down on the sci-fi books/films :D
Anyway, my wife and I were also getting on well after all my travelling and a few glitches related to this (and maybe to my keeping this secret and the affects it still had on me to some extent). So I thought even more that this would be something that she could deal with, that by telling we would become better together. We'd have a better life, we'd have a better sex life, in general we'd be closer and more intimate.
So I tried to prepare to tell her. This is hard. Really it is, and too be honest I made a complete and utter mess of it all!
I won't drone on about it too much, in short this is what happened.
About one week after our anniversary (my wife tells me this is when it was and this in particular hurt her) we were lying in our bed and I was trying to get my wife to put on some sexy lingerie (or maybe she was just taking some off and complaining about it, I forget) and the conversation went like this:
Wife: "I hate wearing this stuff"
Me: "Well, it's my turn to wear it next!" (hopeful sound in voice I suspect)
Wife: "Are you some sort of transvestite"
Me: "Actually yes I am"
At this point decent into hellish scene of confusion, tears, and disbelief.
I ended up in the spare room and my wife cried her heart out most of the night. I was stunned, I didn't know what to do.
I can't remember much about the morning I think we talked and I tried to explain. My wife didn't really understand it all and it obviously didn't sink in though she seemed to calm down - I think this was just the shock.
We had to take our son to meet up with his Grandma (my wife's mother) and I said I'd drive ... again calm going down. Nothing was said until we got back ... and then more hell, more questions, more tears, more hurt.
In the end my wife couldn't take it and had to tell someone so she phoned her mother and poured her heart out. Her mother was angry, hurt, confused and then some more angry ... she said (and I still think this is somewhat 'funny') that she was going to phone my parents (never have figured out exactly why she felt the need to do this) ... so this means I had to phone them first ... by which time I was in a complete state.
My wife wanted me out of the house but she had reached another calm point whereas I was in no fit state to drive or even move, I have only cried more in my life a few times since, and one of them was shortly after all of this happened, I'll come to that in a little while.
So I spent some time at my parents house, again alot of which I can't remember now, certainly we talked and I tried to explain as best I could. Eventually though I had to go back home because I was flying out to India for two weeks with work and needed to get some things. Yes, I should really have stayed to sort things out, but at the time my wife really didn't want me there and we were heading for divorce. So, I thought it would be better to be away for 2 weeks to give us both space.
So now we come to one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever gone through. I went back to the house, my mother-in-law was there, the place had been turned upside down and any evidence of me had been removed (photos, books, etc). I had to try and pack some things but before I did I wanted to see my son ... I remember carrying him to the dining room and hugging him and trying to talk to him. I remember him pointing out of the window at something and talking away as if nothing was happening. When I went upstairs to pack I just broke down, I have never felt so utterly drained and in pain than I did at that point.
I flew out and, as will not be surprising to anyone of a similar persuasion I still had Fiona clothes and things with me even then! (If I do the prequels to this story it might explain why, in in the depths of such sadness I would even consider doing this when my activities had caused so much pain). My wife and I talked more when I was out in India and I even had to phone my in-laws; they were "disappointed" in me and didn't want to see me - both are fairly understandable reactions.
When I got back (in time for my sons birthday) my wife and I talked some more and she had decided that, given that I abide by certain rules, that she would take me back and we would not divorce. The "rules" were pretty fair I have to say and allowed me to carry on with the Fiona things while away from the house but strictly not while at home.
So, it seemed like we could move forward, albeit with some comprimise and still with a long, long way to go with understanding and acceptance but it was a start at building our relationship back up for the sake of our son, our marriage and ourselves.
Sadly, as you'll have seen from the latest posts, this hasn't been at all easy and it looks like we're far from a happy ending at the moment. I'll post the next bit of the story later, and try and explain what happened in the following 2 years leading up to the problems that we have now and why things really just haven't got better, and if anything are now much worse.
So, I had been exploring the inner Fiona and had managed through cunning, charm, and amazing ability - no, actually just sheer dumb luck - to not get caught with a suitcase (make that several) full of clothes. So my wife had no idea, she was blissfully unaware of what I was doing and what I was beginning to realise I was.
For those of you with a cruel streak have a look at the very early pictures on Flickr and you'll see what I looked like then - terrible! But certainly not just someone wearing a few bits of underwear for kicks or with just a bit of a fetish for the odd girlie thing. I have to admit that certainly some of the things I bought were because I thought they looked or felt sexy, and yes, making yourself into (in your deluded eyes) an attractive female form is a turn on ... in a bizarre way it's also alot easier (and safer) than alternative methods of sexual satisfaction that errant husbands away on business often indulge in.
It got to the point after a few trips, and after talking alot on one of the forums that I realised that this was not going to go away and that it was not longer a case of turning it off again and throwing everything away. So this is when I started asking about how to go about telling my wife. I asked first of all if I should and of course people said that yes, this is the right thing to do, you shouldn't have secrets, it's the person you love.
I thought about this quite alot and decided that it would be quite nice to have everything out in the open, in fact I convinced myself that telling my wife about Fiona would be a wonderful thing as it would mean absolutely no secrets at all, she would know everything about me completely. She already knew about the past girlfriends (not many so that topic didn't take long to cover when we were going out) and pretty much everything else.
I actually felt quite thrilled at the idea of telling everything. I also thought that being completely honest would mean that my wife would know and understand me more and that she would be able almost reconstruct all of my thoughts and feelings by knowing so much about me and, without this missing piece alot of who I am would affectively be lost.
I have to admit that some of the whole "missing piece" thoughts also had a geeky twist to them; picture the scenario; in the year 4000 they are trying to create a hologram of me and reconstruct my consciousness but they have no record of the Fiona bit ... disaster, what they get isn't me! Yeah, I know, I should really cut down on the sci-fi books/films :D
Anyway, my wife and I were also getting on well after all my travelling and a few glitches related to this (and maybe to my keeping this secret and the affects it still had on me to some extent). So I thought even more that this would be something that she could deal with, that by telling we would become better together. We'd have a better life, we'd have a better sex life, in general we'd be closer and more intimate.
So I tried to prepare to tell her. This is hard. Really it is, and too be honest I made a complete and utter mess of it all!
I won't drone on about it too much, in short this is what happened.
About one week after our anniversary (my wife tells me this is when it was and this in particular hurt her) we were lying in our bed and I was trying to get my wife to put on some sexy lingerie (or maybe she was just taking some off and complaining about it, I forget) and the conversation went like this:
Wife: "I hate wearing this stuff"
Me: "Well, it's my turn to wear it next!" (hopeful sound in voice I suspect)
Wife: "Are you some sort of transvestite"
Me: "Actually yes I am"
At this point decent into hellish scene of confusion, tears, and disbelief.
I ended up in the spare room and my wife cried her heart out most of the night. I was stunned, I didn't know what to do.
I can't remember much about the morning I think we talked and I tried to explain. My wife didn't really understand it all and it obviously didn't sink in though she seemed to calm down - I think this was just the shock.
We had to take our son to meet up with his Grandma (my wife's mother) and I said I'd drive ... again calm going down. Nothing was said until we got back ... and then more hell, more questions, more tears, more hurt.
In the end my wife couldn't take it and had to tell someone so she phoned her mother and poured her heart out. Her mother was angry, hurt, confused and then some more angry ... she said (and I still think this is somewhat 'funny') that she was going to phone my parents (never have figured out exactly why she felt the need to do this) ... so this means I had to phone them first ... by which time I was in a complete state.
My wife wanted me out of the house but she had reached another calm point whereas I was in no fit state to drive or even move, I have only cried more in my life a few times since, and one of them was shortly after all of this happened, I'll come to that in a little while.
So I spent some time at my parents house, again alot of which I can't remember now, certainly we talked and I tried to explain as best I could. Eventually though I had to go back home because I was flying out to India for two weeks with work and needed to get some things. Yes, I should really have stayed to sort things out, but at the time my wife really didn't want me there and we were heading for divorce. So, I thought it would be better to be away for 2 weeks to give us both space.
So now we come to one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever gone through. I went back to the house, my mother-in-law was there, the place had been turned upside down and any evidence of me had been removed (photos, books, etc). I had to try and pack some things but before I did I wanted to see my son ... I remember carrying him to the dining room and hugging him and trying to talk to him. I remember him pointing out of the window at something and talking away as if nothing was happening. When I went upstairs to pack I just broke down, I have never felt so utterly drained and in pain than I did at that point.
I flew out and, as will not be surprising to anyone of a similar persuasion I still had Fiona clothes and things with me even then! (If I do the prequels to this story it might explain why, in in the depths of such sadness I would even consider doing this when my activities had caused so much pain). My wife and I talked more when I was out in India and I even had to phone my in-laws; they were "disappointed" in me and didn't want to see me - both are fairly understandable reactions.
When I got back (in time for my sons birthday) my wife and I talked some more and she had decided that, given that I abide by certain rules, that she would take me back and we would not divorce. The "rules" were pretty fair I have to say and allowed me to carry on with the Fiona things while away from the house but strictly not while at home.
So, it seemed like we could move forward, albeit with some comprimise and still with a long, long way to go with understanding and acceptance but it was a start at building our relationship back up for the sake of our son, our marriage and ourselves.
Sadly, as you'll have seen from the latest posts, this hasn't been at all easy and it looks like we're far from a happy ending at the moment. I'll post the next bit of the story later, and try and explain what happened in the following 2 years leading up to the problems that we have now and why things really just haven't got better, and if anything are now much worse.
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