November 22, 2010

Thanks for your faithful service...

I recently went to a friend's military retirement ceremony. As I sat in the back row and watched my (soon-to-be ex) husband give a speech, I blinked back tears. I realized that when MY (soon-to-be ex) husband has his retirement ceremony, there will be some other beautiful woman sitting in the front row in a pretty little dress, and he will thank her for all of her love and support.


That was supposed to be me, dammit. Divorcing him means erasing the ten years of support I gave him. Divorcing him means that all the sacrifices that I made were all for nothing.  Moving all around the world.  Never having my own support system of friends who become your family.  Starting over every two years.  Being defined as a military wife.

Even though I told my husband I was gay months ago, I am still haunted by questions.  Am I really gay, or did I just fall in love with this woman? If she and I were not together, could I be with a man again?  (Can you ever overcome that ick factor?)

Mostly, I struggle with the loss of the dream. The dream of the "perfect" family. The dream of two parents for my children.


I struggle with the loss of most of my friends who couldn't see me through my journey from married mother to single (gasp!) lesbian.

I know I can justify it. I'm now living my authentic self, sexual orientation isn't a choice, a happy mother means happy children, blah, blah, blah.  But sometimes I just want to stomp my foot and have a tantrum.  This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

For most of my marriage I wasn't particulary unhappy. Luckily, I chose a partner who is a wonderful person, and he gave me enough freedom to not feel trapped and yet still feel loved unconditionally.  I could have lived like that forever.

Certainly, other women looked at my "perfect" marriage and were envious.  They told me so.  One time, a friend of mine said how pretty she thought a mutual friend of ours was.  I asked her, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Shit, girl, you have the hottest husband out of all of us!" she laughed.  I smiled smugly because it was true.


In the meantime, what no one could see from the outside was my authentic self, my gay self, knocking on the door and tapping me on the shoulder.

"I'm still here," my gay self said, "and I'm not going away. Please open the door. We have fun over here. You can be yourself. Rainbows! And great sex, too!"

Such contradictory emotions, and trying to stop them is like trying to stop ocean waves.  Grief combined with bliss.  Disgust mixed with yearning.  Contentment and disappointment.

I'm just going to hold onto my little life raft and ride this one out.

3 comments:

  1. You know when I came out I had the same kind of situation. It was really hard. Years later I was angry with my ex-husband. It burned. His wife got the comfy rewards of my hard work. I had to struggle for everything I had. It bites.

    You hang on though, because only time will show you what I learned and continue to marvel at. I am not even one quarter the woman I was then. Yet, he has stayed the same. The same status quo space. That life, as well as him are strangers to me now. Who I was with him was a mere mouse, compared to the muse I am today...

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  2. My feelings exactly, your entire blog could´ve been written by me. But, you and I made the right decicion. Of cource anyone could live the perfect family-life forever. But deep inside, would we be happy? Would we be honest to ourselves? It´s just not an option, no matter how sad it is.

    hugs

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  3. I was a military wife too. My story is a little different, though. He had an affair and we decided to divorce. I was crushed and mourned and cried for two years. Then one day I thought, "Hey, now I'm free to date women!" All of a sudden (that's how it feels) I'm not sad! I'm excited to start exploring this part of me that I've ignored for so many years.

    Like many women in our situation, I'm reflecting on my whole life and recognizing the attraction I've always had for women.

    Thanks for sharing your story

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