Rising from the Mud
Unexpected Vibrancy of Color
Greetings, greetings!
Ride with me first on The Golden Boat podcast embedded here to reflect light upon the offerings below.
Willing and Open and Struggling
(originally posted at r/mypartneristrans on 9.11.21 in the early stages of my spouse’s gender transition)
I stopped being a disbeliever in love at first sight on September 11, 1998 before September 11th came to hold what it now does for the world. It was the day my eyes met the soul-full gaze of a hauntingly beautiful stranger. We stayed mesmerized in that gaze across the space until its indescribable power caused us both to look away. We kept stealing glances at each other throughout the evening until a mutual friend introduced us. As we spoke together for that first time, we each experienced a deep sense that we would be teachers for one another. The rest is history…our history.
A month later, I asked her, who was presenting male at that time, to marry me. She said yes. Our artist-made wedding rings which we designed, hold 3 words…LIGHT, REMEMBER, FOUND. When our eyes met there was a wondrous sense of LIGHT. As we first spoke, it was as old souls who began to REMEMBER one another. Finally, and at long last, we had FOUND one another in this lifetime.
(1999 wedding day photo by Becky Thurner Braddock)
Since that fortuitous meeting, teachers we have been for each other, and ever in the most unexpected of ways. Through each gauntlet of challenge that has threatened our union over these many years, we have emerged more awake and aware as individuals, and re-dedicated to our ever-evolving bond.
2020 arrived. With it, pandemic times descended, delivering universal trauma to all citizens of the globe, while undue political chaos, deepening social injustice, and humanity’s inhumanity toward not only ourselves but the generous earth that carries us, added unprecedented weight to the heavy. Alongside what we all endured collectively, and continue to endure, came the quieter, more personal challenges. And another September 11th.
September 11, 2020. I stood crying in our kitchen. I was about to embark upon risky though necessary air travel to help my then 94 year old mother in another state while my mother-in-law struggled through ongoing hospice in our home state. My tears flowed for myriad reasons connected to that symbolic date and also with the certain knowing that I would be gone and separated from my mate for a long time.
Still, we never could have imagined how long, nor the magnitude of personal challenge that would ensue. I would become my mom’s 24/7 caregiver/advocate for nearly a year while living apart from my spouse. My mother-in-law would pass away upon her birthday. And the built-in isolation of the pandemic, coupled with my spouse and I living in different states while caregiving for our moms and all the toll and grief that would bring, created the perfect storm through which my spouse’s egg cracked open releasing a state of deeply suppressed gender dysphoria. It was as startling and unexpected for her as it has been for us all.
She shared her truth with me in real time as it was happening for her in late 2020. We pledged honesty through open communication from the start and through the distance we had to endure while caring for our moms. I was open and willing to take this ride with her.
We knew there were 3 journeys here…hers, mine and ours. “Ours” being the WE of this, the journey of the relationship.
Her pace has been swift. HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy), coming out to family, friends and colleagues, laser hair removal, legal name change, presenting full-time as female all happened quickly. FFS (Facial Feminization Surgery) looms ahead in December 2021. She is happy in becoming whole for the first time. Having her truth buried for so long, there is no time to waste
I honor and respect her and hold genuine curiosity and pure wonder around this later in life awakening. I stand as a supportive partner and as an ally. Yet I am paces behind. My process is fluid and ever flowing forward rather than sitting stagnant, yet transition is loud and large. Upon it, I am passenger to her driver while also needing to drive my own motorbike.
The distance that actually served us well in the first few months of transition, began to work against us. In order to serve the WE part of all this, we needed to be under the same roof. Yes, our communication was open and honest. We both were working with our therapists and spiritual mentors and digging into research. Still, we had no idea what it would be like to live day to day together in this new way. This all resided within our imagination, our hopes, our dreams. Would our love be enough?
Finally, with a supportive care plan in place for my mom, I was able to travel back HOME for awhile. My mate met me with an abundance of JOY, excitement and love. It breaks my heart, and hers, that I was unable to meet and match her JOY.
We knew that residing in the tangible reality of transition as a WE would be a whole different experience than our solo journeys have been thus far. I am struggling. She is struggling. WE are struggling.
September 11, 2021. So on this eve of yet another September 11th, I share this overview of our story. I seek not advice, but rather YOUR story. YOUR experience, strength and hope. I know well and trust in the healing power of stories shared, and offer my hand and heart to all so willing to offer their truth.
And if my beloved mate witnesses this post, I offer the following to her…I LOVE YOU with a depth beyond words. Our souls knew then, when our eyes first met, what we have still yet to uncover today. Treasure rests gracefully. May we expand as individuals, as well as the WE that we are, to embrace the gem within.
July 6, 2024
That was THEN and this is NOW…
