I’ll preface this story….
My wife and I have been having a rough time recently. I keep screwing things up. I push too far, or I do something I’m not supposed to do. I try to stick in the rules but I keep messing things up…. Part of this is down to my wife’s variability at the moment. What is perfectly OK one day, may not be the next.
Because of this, I have done the “I’m not doing this anymore” thing. This ramps up my depression, this in turn ramps up my wife’s depression. We argue, we cry. We get OK again, and my wife talks me back into dressing.
After such an episode of me screwing things up, I’ve not been dressing for a week. Yesterday my wife and I were talking and she suggested that today I get dressed. Just something modest, nothing stupid, no hair do, or make up. So this morning I got up, showered and got dressed. Nothing silly, My new tan boots, black tights, just above the knee red skirt and a black T-shirt with “Meant to be” printed on the front. Nice, and casual.
The day was going great. My guilt of dressing after promising I wouldn’t, wasn’t anywhere to be seen. My wife was happy, I was happy. I looked great and felt great. All was good.
My wife informed me that our friends were popping over this evening to do the present exchange. The wife of this couple is a life long friend of my wife. They are more like sisters than friends. The wife has met Cerys twice before. The husband hasn’t. They have always stated that they are fine with my “hobby” and have no issues what so ever.
Shortly before this couple were due to arrive, I asked my wife if Brian (not his real name) would be OK as he’s never met Cerys. Brian is a “mans man”. Drinks heavily, loves his sport, He’s on the local pub’s skittles and darts teams…. Brian and I have talked about my “hobby” many times in the past. I have explained that it keeps me sane, keeps my depression at bay, and generally gets me through life. He’s fine with it…..
My wife sent her friend a text to check that Brian would be OK.
The text came back “Brian has decided not to come. He don’t think he could cope with seeing “me” dressed as a woman”
This sent me flying! I’d only just got the courage to dress again. For the first time in a week, I wasn’t spending a lot of the day in a dark room, laying on my bed fighting my demons. I was up, I was functioning, I was happy. My wife was happy. We were happy!
Now, after a couple of hours back on the bed in a darkened room, I’m ready to pack it all away again! I’m back to hating being a crossdresser.
What upsets me the most is that Brian claimed to be perfectly happy with what I do. He understood it…. He didn’t care. Now I find that this isn’t true at all.
I can cope with the idea that some people won’t be keen or like it. I can cope that some will have prejudice. I can’t cope with someone saying for many years, this couple were the first people we told nearly 20 years ago, that he was perfectly OK with it, only to find that he isn’t.
I’m absolutely distraught! Just when I was beginning to feel good, Brian comes along and pulls the rug from under me.
I didn’t stay dressed. I went to get changed back into drab mode, and stayed in my darkened room until my wife’s friend came (alone) and left. It seems that every time I get dressed lately, something goes wrong to cause distress and hardship. If I could take the magic pill, I’d be halfway down the packet by now! I’m so fed up with feeling sad. I’m so fed up of the trouble this causes. I really want it to go away!
People will give you “nice lies,” and you have to accept that they’re just nice lies. And realize they’re doing it because they want to remain friends. If Brian said he was OK with you dressing up, now you understand he meant that he was OK with you doing it without him.
I do the same thing with family members who hunt. I’m not a hunter. I can’t stand the thought of killing another animal. But, members of my family hunt, and enjoy it. So when the subject comes up, I tell a nice lie about it. As in “Nice buck,” when I see a picture of one they shot. Inside, I just cringe.
My ex wife used to give me those nice lies when I first started dressing. In fact she seemed she was in full support. Bought me clothes, gave me her old clothes, helped me with my make up. She’s a kind hearted woman, who felt it was her duty as a wife to support me. And she did until she couldn’t stomach it anymore.
And I was a moron for not recognizing that. I was selfish in my own personal wants and needs. And to pretend I cared about her feelings, I’d tell her that if she didn’t want to see me dressed, to call me when she was on her way home from work. Every day for 2 weeks, she’d text me and let me know. I should’ve seen right then, that it was time to pack up my gurl stuff.
A wise man once told me “It’s better to be happy, than right.”
CDing was one of the reasons I went on anxiety meds. All those battles inside my head about what I wanted and how I thought everyone else should be.