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The importance of grieving

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(@harriet)
Eminent Member     New Zealand, Canterbury, Christchurch
Joined: 3 years ago

Sisters! This is a post I made on CDH which (perhaps unsurprisingly) garnered little attention...
I thought it important to post this here as it may resonate amongst you , my sisters!

“I have only today realised how much grieving both my wife an I must do for out lost/dead selves! My wife was in a turmoil today as she hadn’t yet been able to grieve for the she, she lost her after her sub-arachnoid haemorrhage seven years ago… and for the husband she lost to transitioning!
I, on the other hand, hadn’t realised I’ve yet to grieve for the man I was! That man is dead and out of the ashes of the pyre… came Polly! We all have a lot of grieving to do so it I vitally important to do your due diligence and… GRIEVE!
After talking to my wife this morning about the lack of acknowledgment I have exhibited towards her grief, I was prompted to write more on this very, very important subject. A subject that we sisters ignore at our peril!
Have you ever considered that your SOs have a huge fear of losing the ‘man’ she fell in love with? Have you ever considered the idea of grieving for your former selves?
I am now faced with the stark reality of never being able to go back! My old (and dead) male self has yet to be buried or even acknowledged to be ‘fin’! However, the old ‘I’ is as dead as my fathers ashes I scattered on the hills surrounding Christchurch. It’s just that there has been no funeral yet.
My wife has pushed aside all of her grieving to look after me in my ‘extremis’ and now it is hugely important for her to recognise and begin to focus on that.
It’s all very exciting to be a new girl… the dresses, wigs, makeup, shoes (let’s not forget shoes) etc. but where and when do we make time for the grieving for the old self. I think we can get so caught up in our new selves that we tend to forget our old selves and more importantly, our SOs. These women deserve recognition for who they are… women who count! The women that refuse to recognise you as a woman may have their own grieving to do!? It must be a huge shock to them! I have come to recognise that I have been supremely selfish and many of you as well! I do not blame you as I too have been caught in the euphoria we all experience!
As I have been reflecting these thoughts back to my dear wife… she has come forward to say that, with thought and consideration, all is possible! She has indicated that my translation to woman has saved us in many more ways than I would go into today even if we have our own grieving to go through! We are building a different relationship because of this but a new, healthier and much more vibrant relationship we will have!
Grieve for the past but… look forward to the future!”

Love Polly ❤️❤️❤️

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Managing Ambassador
(@michellelarsen1)
Noble Member     United States of America, Virginia, Front Royal
Joined: 5 years ago

Polly, you are 100% correct in those sentiments. Grieving for a deceased person is a time for both joy and sadness. Joy in the fact that you have been privileged to know them, and in some cases, be close to them. Sadness in the fact that you will have that privilege no more. But joy is the rule of the day for the loss of your previous self during your transition. Joy that the previous version of you provided such a good foundation for the new you to grow on. Michelle

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(@Anonymous)
New Member
Joined: 1 second ago

Letting go of what we find the most dearest to us is one of hardest things for us to do . Without the grieving we get stuck in rut and will be stagnant within our lives .  But once we get past this stage ...the future is very bright indeed .

 

Alexis

 

 

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Posts: 26
(@reidurden)
Eminent Member     Canada, Manitoba
Joined: 3 years ago

Beautifully written Polly.

Not a week goes by where my wife and I don’t discuss ‘him’ often said with tears in her eyes.

I won’t pretend that at those low moments my resolve doesn’t waver and I catch myself before telling her not to worry it was a just a bad decision, I’ll take it all back.

Discussing the perceived selfishness in this situation with a therapist, her response was to ask me if my wife would be better off being married to a healthy happy person or an unhappy pretender.

Obviously the healthy happy me is the best choice, but at what cost? Cost to me? Cost to her? Cost to our marriage and children?

Is something dishonest but seemingly valuable worth the effort and sacrifice it takes to maintain the illusion? And to what end?

I think I went off on a tangent here, but everything comes back to grief so perhaps I didn’t lose my way after all….

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Posts: 1833
Ambassador
(@flatlander48)
Noble Member     United States of America, California, Cathedral City
Joined: 5 years ago

Polly:

I can see how it wouldn't mean much to the people over on CDH. The way their lives work, they go "away", but they always come back. There is nothing to really grieve about. Vastly different story over here where the path is usually unidirectional.

Grieving is about recognizing and confronting loss. I think it becomes a real problem if one cannot constructively move on as it is a difficult place to be. It is necessary to continue to confront that loss and over time the pain of it begins to subside. However, from my experience exclusive of transition, the pain never completely goes away. Maybe that is a good thing as perhaps it helps keep the memories close...

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Posts: 3
(@trishah989)
Active Member     United Kingdom, GreaterManchester, Bury
Joined: 3 years ago

Hi honey, I wrote a poem a while back when I was grieving for who I was.

He used to play games,

Sometimes until four.

He couldn't play the immoral one.

Even if he had the choice.

 

He used to be a wind up merchant.

So cocky and loud.

Make crude jokes and swear.

He'd only stop when at the line.

 

He used to wear blue,

Inside and out.

Happy on sight.

Eyes can lie.

 

He used to procrastinate.

Work, sleep and repeat.

Live as if he didn't matter at all.

If live is what he did.

 

He couldn't approach women.

Only one proper relationship.

A small blonde woman.

Started far too late.

 

He used to ride his bike,

Up and down hills.

Savour the the journey,

In England's back roads.

 

I used to play games till four,

And ride my bike.

I'd put things off career

and women alike.

 

Where'd he go,

When the pink fogs struck.

I'm blue no more,

But I miss his light.

 

 

 

 

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