Top surgery and beyond

It's been nearly a month since I posted. And I can tell you the reason I haven't posted hasn't been because life has been boring. Quite the opposite. So much has happened it's almost impossible to catch up. So obviously I'm not going to take you through every nuance.  But I will give you the one big highlight: since I last wrote, R  had top surgery.

Yep. It happened.

I have so many mixed feelings about this that I don't even know where to begin. I feel like I should be writing something meaningful but it's almost too close to the bone. You know what I mean? No pun intended.

On the one hand I'm very excited for him. It's actually kind of a relief that he's never expressed any hesitance about going through with the surgery. If it were me, I would feel very mixed. I mean it is surgery. But it's altering your basic architecture.

And yes–I get it. That's the whole point. I'm actually really proud and impressed with R. He did it. It was brave. It was courageous. And it was actually extremely self-loving. And God knows, we all need to give ourselves love.

On that level, he's actually been a role model for me. I'm typically female in respect to needs. Like a lot of girls, I was also raised to put other people's needs before my own. I don't always do them mind you. In fact, I think it can actually make one quite selfish. But I'm learning at my late age to put my needs first. It's actually healthy.

And that means that I get to react to the surgery. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it, but it hasn't been all positive. I feel like a bit of a traitor for writing this here. But I'm going to do it anyhow in deference to the fact that I've said I would tell the truth. Let's just say it's been difficult. It's not that I'm so into breasts that I can't live without them (although certainly I would want to.) I think it's more about being with someone who is essentially altering who they are. And yes–I know that R  is simply becoming who he is on the inside. In other words, he's always been a man. He's just had the great misfortune (and I mean that sincerely) of having been born into a female body.

But I'm still allowed to react, right?  (I'm telling myself this) This is where I'm having difficulty. Because intellectually, I absolutely love what he's doing. I admire it and I respect it, as I said before.  But it's major. I guess the whole top surgery thing–well that's the point of no return. His voice seems to get lower every day. His muscles grow. And his beard gets thicker. And then there is the hair.  and actually I don't mind any of these changes. Some of them I actually like.  But I have to tell you it's really weird to watch this transformation.

 But I will save that for another day–look forward to the post titled, living with a grown adolescent.

So  if anyone is still reading, thanks for the support. I really appreciate it.

A moment of panic

Just got back from seeing R's surgeon. I feel numb. just numb.. I know S said that I shouldn't be processing this stuff with R. It's too much. It's not fair to him, to process the negative. Which is why I don't want to post everything. Which is why I waited to post this. (I wrote it a few days ago but now I'm posting because it feels more important to me to be completely honest with my process. Not sure why that's true. But it feels that way.)

So his process is making me constantly reassess everything.. .Like how together are we? Who is he? Who is this person I'm with? One of the very basic things about being in relationship is being with a boy or being with a girl. And this very basic thing is changing. And it's hard. It's fucking hard. I so want to be that kind, understanding person who smoothly accepts every step, who is gracious and understanding and enlightened. But I just feel fragile and faulty, like a broken machine that can't be fixed. Last night I was watching Jodie Foster and thought, wow, would she stay with her partner if her female partner became a guy? Would I?

The more real this gets, well, the more real it gets. It's all so strange. It's surreal. It's like they're taking the person I know and changing her into something and someone else. Today in the waiting room I thought for the first time, maybe this won't happen. Maybe I won't just stick by him. Maybe I'm just not a big enough person. And then I wondered, when he emerges, who will he be? Who will I be? I know we're more than our gender. But in our world, our culture, it so defines who we are.

Photo by by nickwheeleroz via Flickr