My experience with Gender Dysphoria – Part VII

This is the seventh of a sequence of posts in which I describe my personal experience with concerns and confusion over my gender.  This was hard to write and even harder to put out in public.  Please be kind.  This part contains my the events from my wife’s plans to divorce to the present.  Part VI can be found here.

Though it was only a year and a half ago, I remember very well when my wife of over eight years informed me that she had started to file for divorce.  We were on our way out to a family Halloween party.  I spent the whole party going over the biting irony that my wife had taken the first steps to leave me unbeknownst to anyone else there.

I was heartbroken.  It had been four months since when she’d left for the week.  It had been nine months since I’d opened up myself and my long-held desires to her.  I had done my very best to be loving, kind, and respectful.  I had taken away all my expectations.  I was living for the family.  I was doing whatever I could to be good and to try and keep her from breaking our family apart.

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My experience with Gender Dysphoria – Part VI

This is the sixth of a sequence of posts in which I describe my personal experience with concerns and confusion over my gender.  This was hard to write and even harder to put out in public.  Please be kind.  This part contains my disclosure to my wife and the turbulent events over the next year.  Part V can be found here.

I had been silent for too long.  A few months after realizing that maybe I wasn’t consigned to the depths of hell after all for my constant desire to be female, I decided to tell Andromeda.  I had considered somewhat the ramifications of what I was about to tell her, but I hadn’t really put myself in her shoes completely.

I was also perhaps a little overconfident or at least unrealistic in my expectations of how she’d take it.  To begin with I was still completely overjoyed with this new understanding and insight I had gained.  A huge amount of guilt was suddenly lifted off my shoulders and I had more hope than I had ever had.  I also had felt like she might already suspect it, as in spite of my best efforts to appear normal, from my perspective little truths and evidences had started to slip out here and there over the past seven years.

I wasn’t confident to the point that I thought it wouldn’t matter at all, though.  I realized the gravity of this deceit, and I knew that she was under no obligation to stay with me if I wasn’t what she wanted.  I knew that by revealing this I could very well be initiating the beginning of the end of our relationship.  But I couldn’t go on any longer.  I had hope that things would work out alright.

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