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Melissa's Story: The Other Woman

He loved going shopping with me. I thought it was fun because most men didn’t enjoy picking out skirts, heels, and lingerie for me. He was different. Very smart, charismatic, and funny, and I felt lucky to be with him. I thought I loved him. He seemed to know exactly what I was looking for in a man, and I was hooked.


He loved going shopping with me.

When our daughter was only a few months old, I found a collection of bras and panties hidden in the bottom drawer of our dresser. My first thought was that they belonged to another woman. But, I wasn’t prepared for the truth. When I approached him about it, he told me that he used to cross-dress from time to time. He victimized himself by saying that I caused him to suppress his feminine side. He was hiding it because of me. Then over time, his story changed. It went from occasionally cross-dressing, to wanting to become a woman. He reminded me every day that he didn’t feel like he could truly be the woman he felt like on the inside because it was my fault for loving him as a man. Despite how I felt about it, he decided that he didn’t want to hide his femininity anymore, and he wanted to transition 100% and live his life as a woman.


He said he didn’t want our infant daughter to know him, or remember him as “Dad.” He wanted to be her Mom. That terrified me more than anything.


It was that moment when the fear, the pain, and the loss hit me like a train. Not only was I losing this man that I thought I loved, but I also had to accept the fact that my little girl would no longer see me as her mom… she would see us both as her moms. A big part of my identity was taken away from me that day, and everything changed. I never thought that I would ever need to share that identity with anyone else - it felt like I was losing something sacred and special… something that was mine. But, he was gaining something that supported this new identity.


The transition went so fast (too fast for me, but not fast enough for him), and I was expected to be okay with all of it. There were many fights, lots of tears, grief, hopelessness. Every day was difficult for me. We tried couples counseling, but those sessions were focused on the steps he could take to become a woman, and the steps I could take to support him through it. We went to trans support groups where I had hoped to find other spouses in my situation who felt the same way that I felt. But, those groups were all about the trans journey - not about the spouses. There was no one to support me through this, and I felt like I couldn’t be honest about how I was feeling for fear of being perceived as transphobic. We read books together and watched videos and documentaries, but it was there was nothing that helped me through what I was feeling. His appearance and whether or not he could “pass” as a female, consumed our lives.


Little by little “he” was disappearing, and was replaced by a stranger that I was expected to love, respect, and support. I was now in a lesbian relationship and referred to him as my “wife.” We both celebrated Mother's Day, our daughter called us both “mom.” I felt like I was a horrible person for having a hard time accepting this. He convinced me that I was the monster. His manipulation over our 13-year relationship ate away at my self-confidence, my identity, and my mental health. I no longer trusted myself. I became completely dependent on him so much that I could no longer make decisions for myself without him.


I supported him, and encouraged him, all the while I was screaming on the inside. Over time I became desensitized to it. I called him by his new name and pronouns. I became an advocate for him and fought against anyone who didn’t understand or support LGBT issues - my own family included. I got really good at lying about my feelings to my family, my friends, and mostly to myself.


I became desensitized to his transition

The hardest part was hiding our past and lying to our daughter. He didn’t want any photos of himself hanging on the wall before his transition because he didn’t want our daughter or friends to question why he looked like a man in the photos. I removed our maternity photos from the wall and hid them in the attic. I went through our daughter’s baby album and removed beautiful memories, one by one. When our daughter was little, we would lie to her about who her dad was, and how she was born with two moms. We dodged our daughter’s questions and reinforced the idea that she is loved by two parents and that’s all she needed. It hurt me every single time to lie, but this was his decision. This was how it was going to be.


Throughout our relationship, he made it a routine to pile on the guilt and made the past feel different from how I remembered or experienced it. I was the villain in his story because I struggled with his transition. I hurt him because I had a hard time accepting him as a woman. He blamed me for not wanting to have sex often enough. He made me feel guilty for not being attracted to him as a woman so I was guilted into having sex with him for years to avoid those confrontations. He made me believe that I chose this life. It was my choice to stay. But, in my mind, leaving was never an option. I never recognized the control he had over me, the narcissism, the gaslighting - I was trapped, and I believed that I put myself there.


It’s been five years since I’ve been on my own. Every day is a struggle. I never recognized it as domestic violence because he never hit me. There were no visible bruises. But, the emotional abuse, PTSD, trusting my own judgment and reality, and making my mental health a priority has been an uphill battle, which I imagine will be with me for the rest of my life.


Our daughter is a teen now. My ex tries to be a “supermom,” lots of love-bombing to build her trust, and telling her lies about me. It kills me when my daughter goes to him when she has questions about puberty, women’s bodies, or her development. My ex has made sure that our daughter sees him more as her “mom” than me. He knows how much this hurts me, and he takes full advantage of it. That is his weapon.


We share joint custody of our daughter. Trying to co-parent with my ex is very difficult. Communicating with my abuser regularly has its toll. On days when my daughter switches houses, my anxiety is so overwhelming. Every text message I receive from him, every email, school events where we need to be in the same space, it feels like I can’t escape him. I don’t know if I will ever be completely free from this trauma. And, I am doing my best to raise my daughter to be self-aware and recognize signs of abusive relationships. I am thankful to read your stories and know that I’m not alone. It’s extremely validating to know that my experience is shared by many women around the world.

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