A year

Title sums it up pretty good. It’s been a year.

A year ago my husband of 22 years let know that he was transgender and was going to begin transitioning. This was the start of 2020 for me personally. At first, it was hard. But it was also OK and we were going to work it out like champs. We were going to fight for our relationship and make it happen and damn anyone who got in our way.

People got in my way. She was OK with the people getting in the way. And I stopped writing here because how to do you talk about living with someone who wasn’t even a shadow of who they were before. I didn’t know how to communicate that she was mean and cruel. That she would say things to me like, “Our entire marriage was a lie” and “I can’t pretend to do married things with you, so you need to move to the spare room” and worse of all “I’m moving to California to be with this other person and you aren’t invited. Figure your life out”.

How do you write that and accept it?

So, I do what I do best. I organized my shit. I cashed out my 401ks, moved back to my home state, found a place to live, found a job. I made things happen for myself.

She lost her job, lost a relationship and is now floundering. Without me to figure it out for her. I still do have a sense of responsibility for her but I know that I can’t help her much like she wanted to stop helping me.

And here we are, all caught up. I am in the process of filing for divorce. Starting over at the ripe old age of 47 going on 48. Dating is stupid. But the stories are awesome.

2020 was a bitch. I’m hoping that 2021 is a lesser bitch, maybe just a jerk.