Hi guys. Great to join you in this adventure.
I've read a handful of stories on the website, and of course they all sound exactly like mine!
So I'll spare you the overlapping details and give you the high spots.
After 29 years of marriage, 52 years of suspecting I'm gay, and 7
years of a gay affair with another married man, I finally decided that
I needed to come out to my wife. I made this decision very slowly
over a number of years, for all the reasons you guys have been
debating. For me, the need to spend the last decade or two of my
years on earth being honest about myself finally trumped the pain I'd
be causing my dear wife, family, friends, church, etc. It also
became clear that I was causing myself a great deal of internal
strain by living almost entirely in other people's expectations, not
actually following what my own heart was trying to tell me all these
years. (And I fully appreciate how debatable all these points are,
and how differently many people may see the balance for themselves.)
Being a detail-oriented guy, I planned carefully for a date that would
disturb our family and my wife the least -- and give her the most time
to deal with the fallout before her job's busy season. I even met
with her counselor of a few years back, to let him know that he'd
probably be getting a phone call from her. See? I try to be kind to her!
I told her one weekend this last summer. We cried in each other's arms
all night as she dealt with the pain of having her future plans torn
apart and out of her control. Then she left to be with friends, and I
staggered around the house the rest of the weekend like a dying man.
It felt awful to do this to such a nice woman; I kept questioning
whether I'd done the right thing. But then I realized that there was
simply no question in my mind that I was gay -- so I really had no
choice. That was my lifeline for those painful days.
My married lover, of course, couldn't sneak away from his wife to
comfort me, and I knew few other people to whom I could talk, so I was
pretty much alone. This was very likely the most painful week of my life.
But I had been warned about this by those who had done it; and also
told that although the pain would be acute, the benefits could be also
real. (I am learning that avoiding discomfort is not always as good a
strategy as I thought it was.) The key for me was to know that I had
little choice but to do this if I wanted to bring myself back to
integrity; and to simply allow the pain to happen without panicking.
Now five months later I'm in a condo of my own. We're working on
divorcing, as I expected, since my wife's morality won't tolerate some
sort of "open" marriage. We're civil; she's hurting but has a great
support system. I'm out to nearly everyone, and this has changed a
number of relationships. My grown sons are coping in different ways,
but seem to be OK. Even my mother is trying to come to terms with her
revised son!
Amazingly, though, I am mostly happier than I can remember ever being.
Despite the difficulties, I feel lighter than ever before. The huge
burden of living a double life, a weight that I have carried as long
as I can remember, is largely lifted. I can see who I want, do as I
want, and become the real me. I think I may actually like myself for
a change. This may sound selfish, I realize. But then again, real
integrity and wholeness for me means that I have to stop all that lying.
I deeply regret having fooled myself and my wife before I married
about the extent of this issue. Had I been more alert to the
signals, I would have realized that I was
more gay than straight, and I might have prevented myself and my family a lot of
pain three decades later. However, the atmosphere of the '70s and the
morality of the circles in which I traveled prevented me from
seriously thinking this through. I married at age 22, too early for
me to have much wisdom about myself.
Yesterday, my lover's wife gave voice to her long-held suspicions
about him, and delivered an ultimatum; so he's going to stay with her
and cut things off with me. I know him well enough after 7 wonderful
years to realize that this would happen eventually, and that my coming
out was the beginning of the end of my relationship with him. As a married man, he
cannot offer me the quantity of companionship or the level of
integrity I want in my partner. Still, you can imagine how much this
hurts: I love him deeply, and I have come to many of my own
realizations as a result of what I've experienced at his side.
Once again, I just need to let the pain happen. And take this as the
kick in the pants to take the next step in my life. He and I will
remain on the best of terms, but not in each others' beds.
The holidays will doubtless prove tricky. But I've got a great
counselor, and more cheerleading from friends from my past life than I
expected. I think the story will probably have a fairly happy ending!
I'm looking forward to meeting many of you at an upcoming event, and
to sharing our stories and supporting one another.
-Roger