Altogether now: belly laugh! That's right, I'm a slacker. But what's most important is that I was right about being a slacker. I called it! "Won't last until February," I said. However, I was going to give myself a little more credit than "Won't even make it to 2012." Ever the optimist... ever the renegotiator...
I'm coming atcha tonight in the seclusion of my comfy basement. The ever-loving spouse is spending the night an hour and a half away from here and will return again tomorrow. And so despite the dozens of other way more important things I have to do, I'm going to type up a little bit of news out of Holli World. Even though, honestly, I really don't want to. I'm tired, sleepy even, a bit distracted, and I seem to be having trouble putting everything I actually have to say in cohesive order. But if not now, when?
Sooooo... Sunday night. Yes. Erica and I had, officially, the most horrible conversation about my gender issues ever. It wasn't loud, nor did it in any way resemble an argument. There was a bit of a return to the subject of my long hair and how it was "driving a wedge" into our marriage, and "What do you hope to gain?" or "What do you think is going to happen in you wait around long enough for some sign from heaven, or whatever?" And what I wanted to say was all of the stuff I wrote down in my last segment. Well, some of it sort of got said. A few main ideas. Not in so many words.
To tell the truth, it could have gone better. We talked about how each of us is dealing with some pretty severe emotional needs issues right now, prompting me to mutter, "I'm having a hard time deciding which one of us needs therapy the most." Soon after, I made an attempt to sum up my feelings about what I believe I need. The effect was diminished by the subtle undertones of "crazy" that I'd let creep in...
I told Erica that I believed I had two genders - one physical body, but two genders (important distinction there) - and that a part of me is emotionally starved... my feminine ego... because it receives no love. I then made mention of such phenomena as genetic chimeras, made a bit of a philosophical pass on the topic of souls ("Would it be possible for two souls to reside in a single body?") and claimed that sometimes I wonder if part of me really was supposed to be someone else entirely.
To all of which she replied, after a bit of silence: "I think you win. You definitely need the therapy more than me."
"By that, do you mean 'That's a lot more that he's going through than I ever would have expected,'" I asked, "or do you mean, "He's absolutely insane and needs professional help'?"
"Yes," she said.
It was meant to be a joke... she later told me. Unfortunately, friends, Erica's jokes don't always hit home. For those close moments that followed, it looked like she'd lost all faith in me, or the possibility of seeing this through to a rational conclusion. I could have sworn I actually heard a string snap, like something big suspended overhead had just lost an important element of support. It's as close as I've ever been to being stunned silent.
Maybe I'll get to the rest of that well-worded epiphany of mine some other time. Sooner would be better than later, but I've been all about nailing the timing. I trust that it will work out in the end. Like my sister-in-law loves to say, "It'll be alright in the end; it's not alright, so it's not the end." Ever the optimist... ever the sucker... ;)