I’m Selfish

In July 2016, I heard the worst news of my life. My wife of 26 years (the love of my life) was diagnosed with cancer and it was terminal. My family was crushed. We knew life would never be the same again.

What I did not know at the time was that my life long struggle with gender identity was coming to a head. I had an internal struggle that even I could not recognize for what it was, even after struggling for so many decades, the denial was too strong.  I had never associated my past behavior of cross dressing; hiding my box of female clothing where no one could find it; listening to feminization hypno videos and audios; and everything else that was quieting my dysphoria for even just a few moments at a time as a hint that perhaps I was transgender. But the guilt and shame of it all made me think I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

With my wife healing from her surgery and chemo pending, I was forced to face what had been haunting me all my life. After all, facing the death of a spouse is one of the most stressful things that can happen to a person. So, in addition to worrying what was going to happen to her; I worried about what was going to happen to me. What would I do without the love of my life. All our future plans were taken away. No retirement together as we had planned. No buying a house in Florida as we had planned. No travelling the world together as we had planned. No sailing off into the sunset as we had planned. But when I tried to share my deepest concerns with my loved ones they thought he’s selfish - but it was not necessarily wrong.

In my heart and mind I knew I would do everything I could to support her. I would be completed dedicated, not only to her but to the adult kids, to do my best to allow them to continue to live their lives to lessen the impact of this terrible situation. I did not want to have any regrets after she left this world because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

Over the next year, 2017, my life was filled with doctors; nurses; cancer treatments; cat scans; negative results and anxiety. During this year my research into my own decades of suffering was leading me to one place. After starting therapy with a fantastic gender therapist, I finally admitted to myself that I was Transgender. Oh, it took some time to fully accept this and the denial was strong, but yet it explained so much. Maybe I wasn’t a freak after all, and that this was not my fault, or just some devious fetish. I knew the only answer for me was to transition, if I ever wanted to be rid of my dark passenger, that dysphoria that shaped my world and the way I had viewed it up to that point. The dysphoria was at times debilitating; at sometimes manageable and other times left me alone for short periods. But it always influenced the way I viewed the world and my decision making, not that I knew it at the time. And I was selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

In 2018, I began the process of coming out to my loved ones. I was filed with so much anxiety that I was put on medication for it. I told one of my step daughters first. It went well I thought. But soon after that, she told me how upset I had made her. She was more upset that now she too had a secret to hide from her Mom and she resented me for it. So, I shared the news with my wife’s sister. Again, it seemed to go well. But I knew I would have to share this news with my wife. I was dreading that. I sat on the couch next to her for days with one thought in my mind. Should I tell her, or shouldn’t I tell her. Over and over again. My anxiety level again had increased and felt debilitating. My family did not want me to tell my wife about my realization that I was Trans, and that I was facing transition. It could only affect her negatively and why put her through that? Why don’t you just wait for her to pass to start transition, they said. But I knew I could not do that. I knew that the only way to remain strong enough to support her and my family was to heal myself first. And I was selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

The rest of 2018 was filled with my wife going through the stages of grief for her husband that she thought she knew. It was really hard for her, and I felt terrible. I started HRT on April 12^th, 2018. My journey had begun. Over the rest of 2018 I came out to just about everyone including the rest of my family. My son, who was 40 years old at the time completely wrote me off with one of the most horrible and offensive letters I ever received. That also meant I would never see my three natural grandkids again. That was in June of 2018 and we have had no contact since. I came out to my 3 siblings, one of which is a twin brother. They struggled with it as expected but all seemed supportive. They all live across the country from me so we don’t see each other much. I came out to our best friends, and of course my wife shared the news with many of her good friends. Several of them immediately gave me a hard time, with some even interrogating me about how I could be so selfish to do this to her while she struggled with the disease. Well that was easy to explain because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

But I knew I had to tell her. I could not let her go to the beyond, if there is one, without knowing who she had married 28 years prior. I also could feel the tremendous guilt that was building up inside me. That guilt came from the feeling like I was hoping for bad news on her condition so I could eventually start to live the life I was always meant to, and I could not go on with that guilt. So, on February 11^th, 2018, our 28^th anniversary, I shared the news with her in a letter that I had written. She sat on the couch and read as I stood by. She told me later that she thought I was leaving her. Of course, I would never do such a thing. But she read the letter, and I cried. I apologized. I cried more. I tried to explain how much I had suffered in silence and alone, and how I hid it all my life, my 60 prior years. I thought that might make it easier to understand. But after it sunk in, all I got was, “why didn’t you just wait until I died?” Well that’s because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

I came out at work and to my colleagues in October of 2018.  I started to transition socially and announced on Facebook to all the world to see that I was Transgender, and went full time on October 15^th 2018. Now presenting female, but not looking at all feminine caused much anxiety for me. I got glances every time I left the house. I even got derogatory comments from some out in public with my wife. But my female persona, my true self was getting stronger as I had now been months on HRT. My family struggled with my pronouns, she/her/hers. I corrected them often. Some were better than others and I know they were trying, but they were failing a lot too, as were pretty much everyone else. I hated it when I was speaking to someone over the phone and they still called me sir, even after telling them my name is Rachel. One person even commented to me that he never heard of a man named Rachel before. I let it go without a reply. In November 2018, I began my legal transition. I had my name changed by the NY Supreme Court, but yet my family would not call me Rachel. Again, I had to correct them, even got into an argument once or twice with them about it. They couldn’t understand how deadnaming me and mis-gendering me was affecting me because after all they were trying. And I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

2019 ushered in and my body and mind were feeling the effects of the hormone changes. I was only beginning to realize that being my wife’s caretaker for close to 3 years was causing me much anxiety and depression. If you have never been someone’s caretaker you cannot understand what it does to you. Very similar in fact to how cis-gender people can never understand how transgender people feel and what we go through. My social life came to a complete halt. I no longer could spend time refreshing my own batteries. I gave up playing in my rock and blues band a year prior. I gave up going to concerts with friends. In fact, I gave it all up and was now totally dedicated and committed to nothing other than my wife’s struggles. Her disease was progressing and she was still going through chemo, radiation and immunotherapy. I was there to support her through it all, and still am. She said to me during the summer of 2019 that she now understands why I had to come out when I did, and that the family has now adjusted to it, and that they would have had a much harder time had I come out after she passed. My own twin brother wrote me off in a letter in August of 2019, saying he doesn’t know who I am any longer, and I am so selfish with all my talk of transitioning my gender. I really thought that my loved ones cared what I was going through, but it’s easy to explain because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

More recently the cancer has spread again, and my wife is now on powerful pain meds, no longer drives and no longer goes to work, and only has limited time left. I do everything for her. I am her spouse; protector; medical advocate; nurse; and health care aid. Her sister who has visited from out of state to help many times over the last three years said she really appreciated all I did for her sister. She told me this over and over while I paid for her airfare to come in and help while I was at work. In October 2019, I offered and gave her $5,000 of my hard-earned cash so that she and her husband could get dental work they had been putting off for so long because they didn’t have the money. Yet she has the unmitigated audacity to spend $1,000 on marijuana to feed her addiction while she was supposed to be here helping me take care of her sister for 4 weeks. When she asked how I was holding up going through all of this, I told her. But she didn’t care at all when I said how much I would miss my wife when she passes, because my step-daughters had that base covered, and surely losing their mother was worse for them than me losing my wife of now close to 30 years. I tried to explain how exhausted I had become after the 3 years of caretaking, but yet I was scoffed at and called selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

I finally had to go on FMLA family leave from my job to stay home full time and take care of my wife. I would not get paid, but at least I had some savings in the bank to rely on, because after all, what good was that money doing me if I couldn’t use it to stay home with her for her last days.  The boredom of sitting at home while my wife sleeps most of the day is hard to handle. The anxiety caused by trying to get my wife to take the meds at the right time; and to eat some food was tremendously tough to handle, and still is, because as of this writing, the battle continues, and I don’t know for how much longer. While my transition is now 20 months in the making, and going along well, it leaves me extremely sad and maudlin that I cannot start to live my new life and am missing so much. But I am dedicated to my wife’s struggles as I ever was. I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

When recently discussing what Christmas gifts we all wanted, I responded with, I’d like nothing at all except for people to use my preferred pronouns. I didn’t think that was too much to ask, but yet my wife’s sister argued with me that they were trying their best and why couldn’t I just accept that. I told her that was not good enough for me and people like me. She said, Hey, why are you making us learn a new language with anger in her heart and words, to which I replied that she/her/hers is part of the English language. Clearly with all that was going on, I had some nerve asking for the correct pronouns. But that’s because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong.

After all this, I became depressed, moping around and feeling sorry for myself, feeling greatly underappreciated alone. But I also know that with time being short, I would have to break out of it. I know that no one, absolutely no one will help me get my life back together, and where it will lead when this situation is over. I know I am the only person responsible for my own happiness. No one else can do that for me so I picked myself up, dusted the depression away and am now trying to make it through everyday minute by minute. I know in my heart that somewhere down the line I will be fine because I’m selfish – but it is not necessarily wrong.

So, only you are responsible for your own happiness. Grab it by the horns and don’t let go. Find a way to be true to who you really are, live the life you were meant to live and remember it’s OK to be selfish because being selfish sometimes is not necessarily wrong.