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Jeannie had agreed with Gina Kelly that it would be helpful to read Todd’s blog, “Why I Dress.’ She had plans for later that day to meet with Gina and discuss the whole matter of Claire. She did want to gain Gina’s perspective; what it was like being married to someone who was transgendered. Mostly it was because she was still upset over her husband’s actions that she was almost looking for an excuse to stay angry. Todd’s revelation of sorts challenged Jeannie’s faith in God to the point where she felt faithless herself…It was difficult to even remain committed to her marriage and it was almost easier at this point to give up even though she told herself she loved her husband. She sat in her living room, cup of coffee in one hand, the article in her other, and a growing bitterness in her heart. She began to read.

It's really simple...I'm not quite sure why I dress; at least any one reason. What I can say is that this has been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. My counselor reminded me that there's been a lot written about "a boy and his dress," not all of it accurate, and a lot that we just don't know. For me, it's more about who I am than what I'm wearing. I've often thought about how it all fits together. I'm not completely comfortable about everything I feel and think regarding my cross dressing. Certainly, the whole self-pleasure aspect of it, for me at least, leaves me feeling odd and often leads to self-condemnation.

When Jeannie had read "self-pleasure" she had become angry and hurt all over again. Understandably, she had begun to question her own self-worth, wondering just what was so wrong with her that her husband would choose to "pleasure himself" rather than come to her for the love and support she had already shown for him. Just what was wrong that he preferred his own company? What kind of man would want that over what she had to give? She wept harder over that than anything Todd had demonstrated, said, or written.

"Come fare questo? Che cosa un fottuto bastardo! How could he do this...What a fucking bastard."

Her Sicilian usually didn't "rise up." Geovana Caliva Sinclair was a forgiving woman; she had forgiven her own parents for being so distant and neglectful. But for her husband to betray her like this?

"What's wrong with me?" she questioned. It took her nearly a half-hour of crying before she returned to the page, and even then, her tears stained the pages as she continued.

I hate myself when I do that. My wife is the most precious gift I ever received. Did you know that her name actually means "Gift of God?" How could I betray her like this...how fucking sick am I that I turn my back on the blessing I've received? But I know that a lot of what happens...no, not happens. My choice to masturbate is not an event without my control...it's a choice. I can't say that it's wrong...but it's entirely wrong for me. And for me, it cheapens the real part of me that is Claire. The part of me that is so important to how I think and act and love and give...She's the reason I'm as "good" as I am...why I function even though my mother hated me and my father beat me. To me...being able to resist...It isn't because I'm better than anyone else...far from it. It's really about why I feel a love for myself...sorry, odd contextual use of the word...why I can hold myself as being important and human. To me, it's never been about the dress. I wish I could find the words to tell her…my wife…how much I love her without having to give this part of me up.

"He's all over the place,” Jeannie thought to herself. "First it's about jacking off...then he's saying he loves me? I just don't get it” She was more angry than embarrassed at that point, but she was determined to read this through. She wanted to have it all settled when she talked to Gina.

I am so ashamed...there are days when I want to die...Maybe you feel like that too? Feeling like you’ll never be able to share this part of you with the ones you love? The only time I ever shared ...unintentionally...Claire with anyone, my mother slapped me. We had a great...pretty good relationship up to that point. From the time she found me in her dress...I was fourteen...until she died a couple of years ago...she never once again used my given name...and she never let me explain. She was never a warm person to begin with...I suppose that happens when you're abandoned by your own dad...but whatever love she had for me died that day. I cry every day...every fucking day for that. I'm a grown man...married to a beautiful woman; the most caring loving person I know...and yet I'm stuck at fourteen...still looking in the mirror over my shoulder at the most cruel hateful look I will ever know. I wanted to be so much like her....I wanted to please her...I never could.

Jeannie read the words and her efforts to remain distant went for naught. She read the words “when I want to die." over and over again. She couldn't believe how much shame her husband had suffered for so long. She knew about the "discovery" but she never knew just how much hurt Todd had held in. She never saw him cry...at least like how he described. She was angry again...It wasn't fair for him to write sad pitiful words in the middle of this...she wanted so much to remain angry, but "the most caring loving person I know?" She didn't feel very caring or loving at the moment, but try as she might; she was unable to staunch the tears that flowed. She wanted to hate her husband, but she had nothing but love for him. Not LOVE...that was gone, maybe for good...but the soft, unfettered acceptance that tried oh so hard without success not to forgive. Whatever the outcome over all this other stuff...she wasn't even sure she still wanted to be married...the part of Geovana Caliva Sinclair that was real and alive and human could never not love. She was as her husband had so aptly put it, the most caring loving person he knew, and nothing would change that...A divorce ...separation ...estrangement ...she might never love him ever again in the same way, but she would never stop loving him either.

I want to be who I am...I suppose everyone does. But not at the expense of my marriage. Claire is just part of the whole. If I never ever again wore a dress...or slacks or a skirt and blouse...lol...If I never dressed the "part" ever again, it would be entirely worth it if I could hold my wife in my arms and never let go. I dress because it's an expression of who I am inside. Claire Elizabeth is a kind caring and hopefully encouraging part of me. I chose the name because it's my mom's sister's name. She was a lovely woman...died a few years ago...who was as kind and warm and loving as my mother was cold and uncaring. I’d like to think that if anyone would accept this part of me, it would be her. Some of you have noted that you like what I write because it helps you feel like someone knows you. I've wanted that for myself for as long as I can remember. Claire certainly wasn't born the first time she put on her mother's clothes, but also she certainly didn't die the day she was rejected by her mother either. I hope that is true for you as well...that you somehow find acceptance from the ones you love and who love you. It's really about love and acceptance and relationship anyway....it's really not about the dress. Thanks for reading ...Claire

Jeannie looked blankly into space, wondering what the future held. Her crying had subsided only just a little and she found herself wiping her face with her sleeve. She was still angry and hurt. She was confused and a little scared. She didn’t know what she was going to do…it was too painful to even imagine how things would work out. But she knew what she wasn’t going to do. One brief prayer in the midst of all the tears…

”What do you want me to do? Tell me, oh God, what do I do?”

One thing became clear. No matter how painful or difficult it was going to be, she would not stop loving Todd…ever.

My Confession as sung by Josh Groban
Words and music by Richard Page
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4BOqdeaOsk