I've just registered, and am new to Mumsnet although not new to the trans spouse/ trans widow experience. I apologize if this summary is long, but I'm three and a half years out from my ex's declaration, and I'd like to at least give an outline of my experiences.
My now-ex declared out of the blue in March 2015 when he was 58 that he was "a woman in a man's body," intended to transition, and began regaling me with his demands ("I don't know why you can't help me with this; gender is what you do!"; "Should be be intimate again, I want to be punished. I'm a masochist. I want to play the part of a woman; I want to be penetrated."). At the time of his declaration, he told me that he had been "exploring" this possibility for three years, including with a former student, a woman, one with whom he'd long had what I considered an improper relationship (at one point, for instance, she asked if he would obtain an online minister's degree so he could marry her and her fiance, a wedding that didn't take place).
At that time, I told him then that I didn't want to be married to a transwoman and that I wanted to divorce. I also told him he needed to see a therapist and stop using me as one. He went to a trans therapist who was moving him toward his stated goal of transitioning.
Meanwhile I was in shock, trying to process the information, looking back at our life together wondering how I could not have known, etc etc, all the usual reactions, and grieving the end of my marriage and the future I'd work so hard for (we'd been married 32 years at that time).
About two months after his declaration, he came home from therapy one day, lay on the bed, clutched a pillow, and said, "It's going to be so hard. Won't you lie down here and comfort me?" Instead of telling him what I now know to be the right thing to have said, which was "We're divorcing and I am no longer available of the proper person from whom to solicit wifely care" I lay down and held him.
Huge mistake. This "comfort" led to more in the next few weeks, and then sex. And suddenly we were at the "how can we salvage the marriage and make this work" point.
At two and a half months after his declaration, I was due to leave town for two and a half months (I'm an academic, as is my now-ex, and had spent my summer breaks away for some years, with his blessing--another one of those "oh, now I know why" realizations).
Over the summer instead of working on my writing project I combed the internet looking for information on transness, while fielding sexts and unwanted selfies from my then-husband, as well as his over-the-top declarations of love. Eventually I found the work of Bailey, Blanchard, and Lawrence on autogynephilia, compared my then-husband's "symptoms" to Bailey's typology, and Bingo! They all fit. I emailed my then-husband to say "I think I've found an explanation for what you are." He responded in a fury (displaying exactly the "wounded narcissism" Lawrence describes), but eventually decided that yes, he was an autogynephile.
I now think he did this because he had realized that he was never going to pass as a women, and did not want the experience of living as "an ugly woman" (his phrase); nor did he want to give up his prestige and male privilege at work. So he decided that because autogynephilia is a sexual paraphilia, he could confine his urges to the bedroom with me and wouldn't come out but remain closeted to all but me. (I should add that in his phase of a rush to declare himself trans and begin living as if he were a woman, he had asked me to begin telling our colleagues at the university...I refused.)
He visited me for a few days in the summer, and at that time we had sex. Lots of it, with him living out his sexual fantasies. He seemed to vacillate between a vision of himself as a hetero sexpot passive "I need you to f*ck me" womanstockings and garter belts, shaving (he asked me to shave his legs), dildosand as a lesbian. He actually had two names for these two female personas.
Before he returned home he declared that he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I was skeptical, as for the three years before his declaration, he had made it clear that he was unhappy and "things needed to change" for us to remain married. I told him I wanted to try, but it would require transparency and communication, especially as he would not rule out any future changes to his person, like hormones, and I needed to be able to make decisions about my future.
I returned in the fall to house/cat-sit for a colleague who was living abroad for a term. He stayed in our house, but came over, almost every night, to indulge his sexual fantasies, which as time went became less and less satisfying to me. He also began acting out behind my back, although I'd said that a condition for me was that
When I returned home at Christmas-time, I saw just how complete his home masquerade had become when I was not living there. His behavior and dressing was not confined to the bedroom, and he began trying to accustom me to that His thinking had also become more bizarre, too, and he expected me to accommodate that as well: "women are short," he declared (shades of the "women are smooth" claim I'd heard that summer when he wanted me to shave his legs), and he was tall, so I had to stand on the stairs to kiss him; and because "women are short and men are tall" when a woman tilts her head back to kiss a man she is exposing her throat, being vulnerable." Everything, that is, was gendered.
Any question of mine, any discomfort, was met by him as an attack, and eventually he clammed up and refused to talk at all. Communication ceased, to be replaced by his acting in secret behind my back and by attempts to manipulate me into acceptance of more and more.
It took me about a year and a half from his initial declaration to know that I couldn't stay, and about another year and a half before I finally said I'm done, and moved out. Our divorce happened eight months after I moved out, and that was a year ago.
That's enough, I guess, although as all of you who have been through this know, I've only skimmed the surface of my experience.