Uncommon Curiosity

Just a few weeks remain of 2009, a year that’s brought me to my knees with pain, fear and ecstasy.  I’m ready, eager to jump off into the unknown that will be 2010, eager to see where the maelstrom will drop me off, and eager to see how long the ride might last.

A little over a year ago I asked my husband for a divorce, and he refused me.  At the time I couldn’t conceive of myself as being powerful enough to pursue it on my own, so nothing came of it, except that that moment silently triggered an internal unraveling that even I couldn’t sense at the time – a movement away from him and towards myself.  Not long after that I met Kyle, glowing like the Fates had lit him up with celestial spotlights.  I was immediately drawn to him, but I had no idea how important he would become to me – my lover, my teacher, my support and my best friend through the difficult year to come.

It’s a hard thing to wrap my head around how I let myself arrive at the place I was a year ago.  I firmly believe that no one makes the wrong choice, that we each make the best choice we can with the knowledge and strength that we have, but I certainly would have made different choices if I knew then what I know now.  Because I believed I wasn’t ever good enough, I learned to believe I was always wrong, and that kept me from fighting against the circumstances of my life.  As Kyle and I grew closer, he gently led me toward a different perspective, toward finding my internal truths and fighting the rule of anger that had kept me small and powerless.  I would love to say I did it myself, or even that I ran towards strength, but that’s not the case.  I cowered, I cried, I fought to stay in denial, and Kyle stayed with me through the darkest nights.  More voices joined, as Val, Jesse, Nate and M all tried to help me through my fears and ignorance.

What can I say for myself?  I believed I couldn’t be right, and, in that, I was wrong.

I can see now that an overabundance of humility did not serve me.  Believing other people over my own internal voices was a crime I committed against myself and my family.  Bending to be the good girl broke me completely.

But there are no monsters in this story, no villains, just two people who were incapable of seeing the truth.  My husband struggled with anger, jealousy, fear, and arrogance, but he was always so much more than just that.  He’s also a loving, giving man who loves his children and wants to do the right thing.  That we allowed ourselves to lose track of what that was is a mistake we will not make again, but, no matter what we do now, we can’t change the past.  The reality of what he did has hit him like a sucker punch as he sees that he may have lost the love of his life to his blindness.

Last month I found my strength and insisted, after many failed attempts, that he move out.  It was heart-wrenching for me, but, with a lot of help, I stood, if not strong, then at least still.  Although he’s technically living somewhere else, he still meets us at school in the mornings, and attends scout meetings and family gatherings.  There are occasional sleepovers, but our sex life died out over the summer as I let go of the last of my hopes for us.

That I had to let go completely before he could see what he had done will haunt me for the rest of my life.  That he couldn’t hear me beg him to change until I stopped asking…that will forever haunt us both.

I hope that we can forge a friendship, a partnership, and perhaps, in the future, even more.  I hope that my children will forgive me someday for what I’ve done, for disrupting their lives now, and for not having done it sooner.

As for me, I’m not just stronger, I’m becoming a completely different person.  A long time ago I put half of myself away because a group of people said I wasn’t gay enough to belong to the secret club.  It’s an ironic truth that the straight world, with it’s ignorance of anyone outside the box, easily accepts me as straight, but I’ve been told, time and time again, that I wasn’t queer enough to play with the rainbow kids.  But I can’t just live half my life…and Kyle has been joyfully reacquainting me with my other half.  I’m feeling more myself than I’ve felt in 20 years.  It doesn’t take a degree in psychology to look at the year I’ve had and recognize the ripples that pass through my sex life.  Lately I’ve found myself more attracted to women, distancing myself somewhat from men…but I know that will ebb and flow as I pass through and overcome the storms I’m facing now.

It’s hard to explain, but denial really does keep you safe in many ways.  But the pain, the regrets, the fears and the darkness doesn’t pass over – it waits.  And so, now, I’m working through decades of accumulated pain debt…and my emotions feel like they’ve been stretched over the rack.  There are days I cry for hours…and days when I feel better and hope to god it’s done.  I haven’t felt much anger, just terrible sadness for the tragedy that was unavoidable, the future that won’t come to pass, the uncertainty I’m feeling now, and the agony of growing a new spine as it passes right through flesh and bone.

I still love him, and I always will, and I am impressed with the steps he’s taken to begin to make things right.  I love Kyle and owe him more than I could ever express for staying with me through everything.  I am so thankful for friends and the notes of hope and support.  I’m not accustomed to feeling so out of control, but I am so lucky to have so many voices helping me find my way.  Thank you to everyone who has posted support here.  There were countless times when words on the screen were my only night light as I struggled against my demons in the darkness.

There are good days and bad days…with plenty to keep me busy, but not distracted.  I’ve become much more appreciative of the good moments, when I forget everything but the now, and much more careful to express my love as often as I can.

I’ve been listening to Secure Yourself by the Indigo Girls today and it’s resonated with what I’m facing – not the end of life, but the end of life as I’ve known it.  The night has come for me, I’m holding tight, and just waiting, hopefully, for morning.