This post was edited by senoritazhao at 2017-4-28 14:18|
From the Guardian
When you first told me, you were upset bymy reaction – or rather, I think you were upset that I didn’t have a reaction,as if you expected me to process it all in an instant. How could I? You hadtold me something that shook the foundations of our marriage: the man I loveddidn’t exist, you said, and the woman you had found inside yourself hated thatman.
I’m glad you figured it out, and starteddown this path. I have always wanted the best for you. Our relationship endednot because you were trans, but because as you explored this new side ofyourself, it felt as if the only person who mattered to you was you.
You told me you spent years trying to denythe truth to yourself. I think that’s why it was so hard for me to face yourhurt when I said I needed time to come to terms with it. If it took you yearsto accept something that “felt right” to you, how could I instantly accept it?I asked for time, and you refused. It felt like a battlefield: you would makedecisions that affected us both and lob them at me like grenades, unspoken ultimatumsthat told me I needed to shut up, or leave. “I’ve decided to start hormonetreatment,” you said. “I’ve decided to come out publicly next week.” I hadthought we were a team, and now I was left behind.
No one knows what to say to the partner ofa person who has come out – we tend to get forgotten
Your friends surrounded you with love, andI’m glad of that. But the more they told you exactly what you wanted to hear,the starker the comparison with me. You told me you understood that it wasdifficult for me, but it never seemed to extend to your actions. Eventually,you stopped telling me things, and let me find out by accident; your lies ofomission hurt me deeply.
I worry that no one is telling you thetruth, now. Many of your friends err on the side of unquestioning support, incase they are seen as unsupportive, and I think that’s dangerous: being transdoes not make a person brave or “right”, and it does not make them a goodperson. Nor does it make them a bad one. You were always a little self-absorbed,and I understand why this process exacerbated this – it is, by definition, avery self-focused thing. Yet you needed my support, and I tried to give it, butI needed yours, too. No one knows what to say to the partner of a person whohas come out – we tend to get forgotten, or held to unreasonable standards.
I am sorry I hurt you. I hope you are sorrythat you hurt me; I hope that, with time and distance, you will see I tried mybest. I don’t know if we could have made it work, had things been different, oreven if that would have been better. I hope you learn to communicate,compromise and be more compassionate in your next relationship (and ingeneral). I hope someone in your life is not treating you like a fragilebauble, and is willing to call you on your actions; trans or cis, we all needsomeone to do that. But I’m glad you have people in your corner: the world willbe cruel to you sometimes. I’m sure it already has been.
I wish nothing but the best for you, but Idon’t want to stay in touch, not because I’m angry and unhappy, but becauseI’ve worked out that I am a better person without you. I don’t regret our timetogether, no matter how awful those last few months were, but I’ve moved on,and this letter is the capstone: this is the end.