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But back to the subject of the wife's self-image.  Does the trans person realize that the trauma she has spent her whole life living, she just passed on to her wife?  The trans person has had to live all those years presenting to the world as someone she isn't - a man.  The world could not know her true self.  Now that the husband has transitioned, the wife must now spend the rest of her life presenting to the world as someone she isn't - a lesbian.  Personally, I've got nothing against lesbians; but I don't happen to be one.  Now, society doesn't mind men, so as a man, she didn't suffer from who she was, except internally.  But a good part of society does have trouble with a lesbian - so not only is the wife presenting as somebody she isn't, she's presenting as someone who could end up in harm's way for appearing to be a lesbian.  And she is having to make this presentation to the world, not because of who she is herself or something she did, but because her husband transitioned.

How does a wife do all this?  How does she manage to deal with all her spouse's changes, and come out accepting?  It's very difficult because we have two people here who are both in desperately self-defensive positions.  Sometimes people see this as being totally selfish.  The wife sees that her spouse has become totally selfish - but the trans person must be that way, because transitioning is too huge a job to be able to do it in an unselfish manner.  But the trans spouse will see her wife as being totally selfish, too, because she wants everything "her way," the old way.  She will say she's just trying to survive.  She feels like there's an elephant in her living room.  It's a huge issue that you can't avoid, and which shadows every moment of every day.  This elephant has caused every family member to defend him/herself from the impending doom of possibly being crushed under its huge feet.  So a wife has to take care of herself.  Oftentimes, the trans spouse, once "out," goes into fast-forward.  What the wife has to do at this point is to tame the elephant.  The elephant is not going to go away, so she has to tame it, so she can deal with it.  To change metaphors, she has to convince her trans spouse to switch from a speedboat to a rowboat.  She has to insist on her spouse slowing it down, so they can ride together in the boat, and not leave her behind, hanging on for dear life in the wake of that boat.  Some transitioning spouses don't understand why it takes their wives so long to accept their "true selves."  The question here is - how long did it take you to come to terms with who you are?  Unless you are in your teens or twenties, trans people, it took you years.  Sometimes 50 years or more, to come to terms with who you are.  So how can you, trans people, expect your wives, parents, siblings, children, to come to terms with this in a few days or weeks, or even months?  Time is the key.  And time is exactly what most trans people are not willing to give, because they are in a huge hurry to be "themselves," right now.  But that elephant has to be tamed, and the family (wife) has to be willing to become an elephant-tamer and make the effort - and many wives are not willing to do that.  Here's what I did, to gain myself the time I needed.  My trans spouse used to say to me "I'll never get to transition if I go at your pace."  My response was "If you transition at your pace, you'll get to transition sooner, and you'll do it alone.  If you transition at my pace, you'll still get to transition.  But you won't be alone.  And I promise to keep taking small steps forward."

Can others be expected to understand?  Not really.  This whole scene is not understandable unless you are going through it.  I will never really understand transexualism.  Not completely understand.  I may have done all the research; I may understand in my head.  But I know I will never truly understand.  All I can do is accept.  The concept is so alien to anybody who isn't trans, that it's not really possible to wrap your head around it.  Trans people should not worry about people who don't understand.  Worry about people who are judgmental and refuse to accept.

Now, let's look at the dreams and the images of the future.

The dreams of the 50+ year-old transperson (severely simplified):  "I'm finally going to be able to be my true self.  I'm going to be a woman and spend the rest of my life being really me.  Oh, joy!!  My wife and I will travel the world like two girlfriends and we'll have such fun!!"

The 50+ year-old wife (before the bomb dropped) (severely simplified):  "I'm so looking forward to retirement.  Relaxing and walking along the beach into the sunset hand in hand with my husband.  Maybe we should look into Viagra - things could be better there.  Traveling the world.  Being Grandma and Grandpa and going to our grandbabies' christening, birthday parties, high school graduation, all that."

The 50+ year-old wife (after the bomb dropped):  @##$$%%^^&&*&**()(**&&^^%%$$## !!!!!  If we walk along the beach hand in hand, they'll throw rocks at us.  Our families will forbid us from coming into their homes.  Our neighbors will shun us.  We'll never get to retirement because he'll lose his job.  Forget the Viagra - forget the sex at all (except for the wives who choose to continue intimacy in "experimental" methods).  If we share a room when we travel (and who can afford separate hotel rooms?), people will look at us and laugh.  So much for grandchildren - our kids won't even let us see them.  All dreams shattered.

So, why do we stay?  I'm not sure it's unconditional love.  I think it's a lot of history - at least it is for us.  We have shared a lot.  It's a very deep and abiding friendship.  A real partnership.  And a lot of hope.  A lot of hope that nobody will throw rocks, and that the neighbors will say "so what?," and that he won't lose his job, and that we can be happy in a celibate relationship, and that if people look at us strangely we won't let it bother us, and that our kids will figure out a way to explain the grandparents to the children and the children's friends.  So far, our hopes have mostly borne fruit.  Nobody has thrown a rock.  In all our close and extended families, there is only one person who is refusing to accept her.  Two out of three immediate neighbors said "so what?"  (the third still waves hello, but doesn't stop for a chat any more.  Oh well.)  She did not lose her job.  We're managing in a celibate relationship.  Nobody has looked strangely at us.  Our daughter (no grandbabies yet) introduces us proudly as "my parents - my mom 'Sue' and my father 'Jane'."  (made-up names)  Her friends think her parents are "cool," but then her friends are all theatre people so they are very accepting of gender oddities.

Do I wish I would wake up and it would all go away?  Of course I do.  I wish I still had a normal marriage, a man, and a future out there with fewer "challenges."  Does our daughter wish it would all go away?  You betcha.  Would our siblings and friends like "Mike" back?  Yup.  But we're muddling through, and we're all making it.

And here's a funny "aside" on self-perception.  We know a few gay couples and lesbian couples who are suddenly becoming hetero couples.  Are they happy?  NO!!  Are they going through all the same things I talked about above?  You bet.  A lesbian who suddenly has lost all her friends (lesbians circle the wagons, big-time), the only society she knows and is comfortable in - the lesbian society has shunned them.  The lesbians and gays have to re-think their whole relationship, and their whole self-perception, when they suddenly are going to be presenting as hetero, something they are not.

Nobody ever said life is easy. We all face challenges, some big, some small. This is a big one. It takes a lot of effort, a lot of time. We all envision our lives as a straight path, but in reality, the path has many twists and turns. For some, it's not worth it. I thought, at the beginning, that I could never be happy again; my spouse's happiness seemed to come at the cost of mine. But that did not turn out to be true, at the end of the journey, and the future does have a brightness to it again. I know that the journey is not over, and never will be. But I am no longer afraid to face the future with my chin up, because now, it is certain that I will step on a rock, or I will fly.