Last year started off with so much promise. It is hard to believe it has become some sort of internal hell. I was about a month into HRT, about to start a new job as myself and just been published for the first time after being shortlisted in a writing competition. O Professionally and internally, things were looking in January, and even for the first few months of the year, it all seemed like I was continuing this upward trajectory. This was perhaps greatly assisted by the positive impacts of starting HRT which while physical changes in those early days are slow the mental boost was amazing, there was this level of calm which I had never really felt before that just added this new level of validation.

However, things are unfortunately never as good as they seem. Perhaps the success and HRT induced bliss were blinding me to the extent of problems in my relationship. I knew things weren’t good and that my wife was not happy about HRT, but part of me hoped that she just needed time to adjust and would potentially realise the positive impact it was having. Yet, the issues ran deeper than that, and realistically, there was probably nothing except detransition that could have saved things. Even so, I think that would not have prevented things from ending up the way they have as the journey had revealed a lot of competing values and issues which we had been papering over for far too long. After the bliss of the the first couple of months of the year, the hell that followed hit especially hard.

The decent into hell

In my mind, looking back, I would say that November 2023 was the beginning of the end, but the moment it all seemed to unravel was April. Some pretty big family news hit hard and served to drive a wedge between us as it highlighted an existing issue in our relationship and brought it front of mind. I remember lying in bed thinking that it was probably over as I was unable to comfort the person I cared about and was reduced to tears wondering what the future held. A couple of days of silence really just reinforced what I thought was coming, and when she blasted me with accusations and guilt, it was clear that we were never going to get past this blame game. It would be whether I could accept taking responsibility for our unsuccessful attempts at IVF. No matter what I said or sorry facts of our attempt for a second child, it seemed our failure was always going to be tied to me and my transition. Yet, deep down, I think we both knew that was an oversimplification to help deal with the situation. Even so, I had been waiting for 6 months for some sign that we were moving past this, and it seemed her position hadn’t changed at all.

The whole thing left me pretty empty and fairly uncertain about the future, but nothing more was said, and it seemed neither of us wanted to take any action, so things limped on for another month. It wasn’t until a week after my Uncle’s funeral sometime that it seemed the knife dropped. It caught me by surprise, perhaps because I doubted that she would take action but also the fact it was considered and disconnected from any specific moment or argument. I was like a deer in the headlights sitting there as she asked me to move out for 4 days a week so she could have some space, at least for the next 7 weeks. I felt like an odd request to be living between two situations, and I really never understood how this was going to really help her sort things out, except potentially as a trial separation. However, I felt like I didn’t have another choice. I had been blindsided by the request, and part of me was done being so alone in the same house that I relished the escape. So after crying myself to sleep, I reconciled myself with the likelihood that my marriage was over.

Purgatory

It took a week with a few delays and a couple of complications, but I partially moved back in with my parents. Thankfully, I had somewhere to go, even if it was less than ideal. This next couple of months, though, were a real low point and a struggle, filled with uncertainty, a few attempts to reconnect, and a disastrous couples session that felt like the final nail in the coffin, the arrangement just destroyed my mental health to a point that I started having some very desperate and dark thoughts. There were no plans but definitely an urge to do something drastic, which was really only prevented by my awareness of the impact that such an act would have on others. Seeing two different psychologists and putting a safety plan in place helped me to deal with these feelings and give me the push I needed to try and resolve the situation.

So, in August, we sat down again to discuss our relationship by the end of the month. We had mutually decided to part ways and started talking about the next steps. I felt like we had both reached the point where we couldn’t see a way through or potential hope that it would get better. She missed the person I was and felt like she could not love the person I am. This was a deal breaker for me as all I needed in a relationship was love . It is bizarre that in the end, these things sort of resolve in such a way, a simple conversation with the focus on our future, and it’s decided. No great argument, no desperate attempts to try and save the relationship. Perhaps that was just where we were at and we both realised it was for the best.

Like a bat out of hell

The rest of the year has been dominated by the practicalities of going our separate ways. Selling our house, starting to work out the separation of asserts and sadly the necessary discussion around custody. Not all of this is resolved yet with some things still to work out but so far things have been fairly civil and it looks like we are both on the same page as we strive to maintain some form of family connection for our son. It has been a difficult juggling act at times, especially with outside interference as people, including family members, all seem to have a specific view of what separations look like and are only too ready to get involved. This has led to some unnecessary conflict between my ex-wife and members of my family, which has been an added challenge to navigate, especially in the led up to Christmas.

This added stress, the impact of living at my parents, and of course still trying to work through everything, threatened once again to ware me down. Thankfully, this time with the sale of the house, I was now in a position to start looking towards the future and try to retake some control in a way that would remove some of these factors. In a rush, even before we had access to the deposit, I found a place. I was anxious after 6 months of being displaced to have somewhere that felt like home, and that could provide the sort of nurturing environment I wanted for my son. It meant for a very intense end to the year and has left me pretty wreaked both emotionally and physically as I juggled moving around the Christmas and New Year period but it has meant that I have finished the year in slightly more positive outlook. Looking towards a future rather than stuck in the uncertain hell I had been living for so long.