A glimpse inside UK divorce court as a litigant-in-person

I have to say that the absolute highlight of my divorce hearing was contained in the closing summary of my ex-wife’s Barrister. 

“Throughout these proceedings we have heard of the intense mental and emotional strain of Ms. X (me) regarding coming out and her transition.  We do not dispute that this has at times brought her to the edge of suicide, and that she faces an uncertain future in a world ringed with bigotry.  But what we have never heard is a word of remorse from Ms. X (me) about the incredible negative impact her transition has had on Ms Y (my ex) on an emotional level.  It has quite simply ruined her life and severely damaged the family, the children.  Not one word.  Ms. X has expressed not one iota of remorse for her transition, for being transgender, for coming out, and the damage it has caused to this family.”

You can’t make this shit up.  A couple of days ago, I turned on the television, something I never do, but I needed to take my mind off the trial.  And it was the moment of Donald Trump’s acceptance speech.  I am not joking that the moment the sound came on was the moment he uttered the words, “from this day forward there will be only two sexes in America, male and female.”  I think he left out the gender bit.

But what words like the President’s or words like my ex’s Barrister do for me is make me feel strong.  The more insane bigotry I see, the happier I am with my “decision” to transition. All I can say is thank goodness my paperwork is in order.

I often fantasize about being accosted by some Karen in a women’s bathroom and shouted at or some similar.  I shall simply turn on my camera and ask her to call the police. I shall enjoy the spectacle which ensues.

While there is a lot of back and forth in a court case, and lots of nitty gritty demands and arguments, the real doozy is that my wife “doesn’t see why I should have to pay for half of your surgery.  She wants the money back.  I understand that even if I earned the money, the money is also a “marital asset”.  Never mind that a judge ordered it be paid to me to support my surgery costs.

I don’t know yet what this judge will decide.  At this point, I can only hope for justice. The taxi driver who drove me home with my suitcase full of papers said to me, “that’s all just money. Doesn’t mean a thing. You have your integrity and your freedom.” It was so good to hear that. I realised that no matter what else happens, I am now finally divorced.

I do feel sorry for my ex.  She has clearly suffered from the “death of her husband,’ her words.  I don’t wish to dismiss her feelings.  My therapist describes her behaviour as classic narcissism.  Wouldn’t it be ironic if the two people in my lifetime who have called me a narcissist are the two people who suffer from the affliction themselves?

As for me, I feel a lifting of the veil.  The rest of my life is mine.  Not that it wasn’t before.  But the clarity of an imminent settlement is a profound liberation.  I do hope it will be fair.

In the magical way of things in my life, in the book I was reading at this time, was this quote:

“Since when is one person’s liberation another person’s loss?”

Argonauts, by Maggie Nelson

And somewhat randomly, on the morning of the final hearing a reading pal sent me a quote from the book she is reading, oblivious to its resonance in my life:

“…it was precisely this underhand act that gave birth to her vitriol, for people are at their least forgiving when they themselves have been underhand, as though they would exact their innocence from you at any price.”

Outline, by Rachel Cusk

That just about sums things up.