Irreconcilable differences.

This is the reason my now ex-spouse cited when she filed for divorce against me several months ago.

As a couple, we had been each other’s best friend and had loved the other for about twenty years.

Regardless of the history we previously had together, the memories and good times we shared as a couple, and the ten year old daughter we parent, it wasn’t enough.

In the end, irreconcilable differences cropped up and inserted its disruptive head right smack in between my wife and I, and sucked all of the life from our marriage.

So my wife did what many others do when a marriage turns sour for at least one of the parties – she filed for divorce.

And earlier today, before a hearing in front of the judge assigned our case in family court, our lawyers got together and did what lawyers do when the parties involved are motivated – they worked out a deal that everyone could ultimately agree to.

With agreement in hand, we thereafter appeared before the judge, placed the agreement on the record, and requested the court accept the agreement and grant the divorce.

After consideration of abbreviated testimony, the judge was satisfied that the agreement was in the best interests of the parties and – most importantly to me – in the best interest of our ten year old daughter. As such, the judge granted the petition for divorce on the basis of what my wife had requested – that of irreconcilable differences.

Of course, in this matter, the legal term “irreconcilable differences” is exclusively defined within the context of my transition.

In this regard, but for my transition, irreconcilable differences do not exist within the marriage, and the status quo (along with the marriage itself) would otherwise have been maintained. So yet again, another marriage bites the dust and goes down in flames as a result of the treatment of severe gender dysphoria.

But that’s okay, because as difficult and painful as this has been, my now ex-wife did not sign up for this. I do not begrudge her the divorce. Sure, perhaps the two of us could have done things differently that could have made the process somewhat easier or less brutal, but maybe that simply was never a possibility to begin with.

Because the reality is that my wife was extraordinarily hurt, angry, and extremely bitter over the fact that her husband Greg was no more and had been secretly replaced by Folger’s Anne crystals. So in that regard, I think we both did well to get this behind us both so we can both move on and remain the best parents that we can be to our daughter.

And even though the true reality and significance of my divorce after a twenty year relationship has undoubtedly yet to hit me in earnest, as much as my wife needed to move on and take ownership of her life outside of our marriage, so did I.

The truth of the matter is that my womanhood, as I need to live and experience it through my transition, was simply incompatible with marriage as it existed between my wife and I. Like so many other marriages where one partner embarks on the difficult and rocky road of transition, my marriage was doomed from the very beginning. I just didn’t know it and couldn’t see it at the time, nor could my wife.

In essence, this is nothing more than Basic Tranny Collateral Damage 101. My story is far more the norm than the exception.

Still, for me, what it now means is that from here on out, my life is my own, and it’s my life to live.

Whether I succeed spectacularly or fail miserably, I will do so as the real and authentic me. And regardless of the outcome, this is exactly how it needs to be, and I would have it no other way at this point in my transition.

I need this. I need me. I need to be me. And I am me.

Now I have the opportunity to prove to the world that I am no joke, that I am a real, honest-to-goodness woman, and that I can make do and live MY life as I need to.

So it’s game on, my friends. Game totally f’ing ON, and I aim to win it!!!

Irreconcilable differences, though.

Damn. It’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow for some time to come I have no doubt . . . .

Sigh.

Oh, and just to throw it out there and give credit where credit is due, the family court judge did use the appropriate title (Ms.) and the appropriate female pronouns when addressing me and referring to me. Which was an unexpected breath of fresh air considering the jurisdiction and venue of the proceeding was located here in good ole West Virginia. But progress is progress is progress, and such a thing must surely evince at least some small modicum of progress, if not more. Still, it was a pleasant (and validating) surprise . . . .