I think my article titles should have been thought out better with Volume 1. I should have probably named it Emotions, or Issues or something since I don’t think this quantifies as a fear.
For the last year or so I have been shoving emotions down inside. The focus was on Wolsey’s recovery from top surgery and our exodus to get him bottom surgery. This has been so much the focus I really haven’t talked about all the little things I am dealing with.
It has taken me a long time to even consider it, and I may not have done anything without the urgings of Wolsey to talk about it. The large gorilla (or elephant as the case may be) in the room is the actual results of the surgery, or rather what the successful transition of bottom surgery means emotionally to me.
I am completely, 100% supportive of Wolsey’s transition. I love him more than anything and at no point in time would I advise him to veer from his course. In addition, I find him just as attractive, just as great as a spouse, and I am never leaving him.
The problem is that the bottom surgery is the final physical bits of my wife disappearing. I don’t mean to imply that my spouse is only made up of the fun bits. It is however the last part of Wolsey, that looked like what he looked like when he married me and was my wife. Twenty one years as my wife, almost 2 years as my girlfriend (before and after a breakup) before that, and my best friend before that.
Yes, he is still the same person, absolutely true and he still feels like it. Sometimes though, it feels like there is a dog or gerbil inside me keening in mourning. Like something is missing. I look around and nothing is different, I have a spouse who is also my best friend who loves me and I love back. Every once in awhile, in the half light when I see Wolsey doing something I can almost make out my wife. This has changed over time slowly, but it sometimes rears its head.
Then the realization will hit me, that all traces of my wife are gone. Now, the actual soul is still there, but none of his physical appearance remains the same. He is more like my wife’s brother in physical appearance.
It feels like I am watching my ex-wife undergo a terminal disease. It slowly moved its way up on the calendar, and finally happened. So I have been working on coming to terms not with his changes, but with the loss of my wife’s image.
His breasts are gone thanks to the surgery, now he has a chest that is definitely masculine with no sign of the large DDs that were there. Thanks to hormones and newly acquired muscles, his shoulders, arms, ass, thighs and legs don’t resemble anything like he used to be.
His hourglass waist, was liposuctioned away and then altered by hormones after that. His face isn’t even close to what it was before, the gelfling, girly face long since changed into a broader, muscular guy with a beard.
His lower bits were the last vestige of him from before, and now they are gone. The elvish, slender body with big boob feminine form no longer has any trace of my wife’s visage, except for his eyes. His eyes still sparkle mischievously (or angrily depending on if I had awaken him too early).
I am incredibly happy he had the surgery, with his medical problems in that area, along with his transition this is the best possible thing that could happen. There will be a party for it.
I suspect I am a little more sensitive about it because my parents are gone, and this is the first time I have had any sort of grief or situation that I couldn’t go to them about (of course this isn’t including their deaths, but that is its own thing). I don’t open up to most people, I have a hard time being like that with someone who isn’t related to me, or who is dating me.
This probably makes me sound like a dick. I don’t have regrets that he transitioned, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about his old self sometimes. I just thought I want to be honest on this blog, and it would be disingenuous to imply that there wasn’t any sadness, or grief.
Maybe that will help others to realize they aren’t alone in grieving the loss of their spouse’s old form, even while they are loving their new form.