Archive | January 2015

An Open Letter to a Young Woman in Crisis

Dear Friend,

I am friends with your husband through an internet venue, and he’s told me that things are pretty rocky between the two of you right now. He’s also told me a bit about his past, so I feel so many things I wish we could sit down and talk about, you and I.

First of all, I don’t think anyone who hasn’t been through this scenario can even begin to guess what it’s like for us. Parents, siblings, best friends. . . unless they’ve been through and experienced our particular, warped dynamic, they just can’t understand. No matter how much they believe they do.

You’re a bit ahead of the game from most of us, because your husband told you, before you were married, what happened to him when he was younger and what a painful wound that has left in his sense of himself. Still, until you lived with him, you couldn’t be sure . . . also, as you told someone else, you felt coerced into the marriage, regardless.  So you felt cornered, then, and you feel cornered now.

So.  Right now you have two choices: to go, or to stay. Sounds and looks simple, but it’s not. No matter which you choose, you’re facing a frightening set of risks.  Let’s talk about those.

First of all, women do choose to stay with a gay/ssa spouse. Sometimes, it’s easier, especially for older women who are not emotionally up to starting from scratch, after years not having to be self-supporting, or who don’t want to see their families fractured into bits. There’s a bit of safety in hanging on to the hurts and disappointments and the unhappiness we already know, rather than facing the hurts and fears and risks we aren’t sure we can survive.

No one will blame you if you stay.

Also, if you stay, you might have a stabilizing and redemptive effect on Hubby, and that’s not a bad thing.

However, if you stay you are going to have to learn not to play passive-aggressive games with your husband to punish him for not being quite who you wanted him to be.  You’re going to have to take the initiative to grow up, to build a life of your own within the marriage that brings you a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.  You’re going to have to learn to live your life, not be a passenger being carried where you do or don’t want to go.  You’re going to have to take some risks, and some of your efforts will be disappointing and possibly embarrassing, and you’re just going to have to accept that.

You’re going to have to own your depression and face it and work to master it.  You’re going to need to make choices about independence and self-fullfillment even within the marriage that, so far, you’ve been hiding from making.

If you stay, there are things you will lose.  You will not have the sort of husband you thought you’d one day have; yours has too many scars in too many places, and he has cultural shaping that probably can’t be altered.  You will have to come to accept your husband for who he is, not resent that he’s not who you wanted him to be.  Give your disappointments a proper funeral, mourn them for a day or two, then get over it.  This is your choice, now; you are not a victim of someone else’s choices any longer.

You say you don’t want to have children with a man who has same-sex attraction, so you have opted for a celibate marriage.  You will have to come to terms with that decision, too; it’s a painful one for a woman who’s always dreamed of having a family. Frankly, I think it’s the only responsible choice you can make when you aren’t sure how the ground is going to rumble and roll, next, or what part of your life might possibly collapse around your head. But he’s not happy about it, and he also has rights for marital affection and intimacy — even if it’s only “of a sort.”  You’re going to have to face that conflict head on and there isn’t an easy resolution for it, even using Natural Family Planning diligently. Again, you’re going to have to be an adult, not a dependent.

Of course, many of these issues are going to be with you if you decide to go.

If you go, you can’t just go home and expect your parents to take care of you.  First thing you know, you’ll be finding yourself “coerced” into another marriage, and another man might not have as many good things going for him as DH does now.  Face that.

If you go, you need to prepare sensibly, build yourself up to be self-reliant, and then step out in courage and determination, and deal with things.  You’ll need to face and fight back against your depression.  Granted, SOME of it will probably evaporate when you’re no longer in the ssa-marriage; but some of it will haunt you for the rest of your life and you might as well start learning to get the mastery of it now, before you’re utterly and completely crippled by it.

If you go, you have to own responsibility for making this choice.  It is, after all, your choice.  Don’t blame him – don’t punish him. Simply own your choice as your choice and be done with it.  Because, Dear, face it: under other circumstances, you’d probably like your DH a lot.  There’s a lot about him to like. And to respect. And admire.  So look honestly at who he is and admit you’re going because you want a different sort of life.

No one who has a clue what you’re going through will fault you for going.

And the rest don’t matter. They can take a flying leap.

You’re going to have to be able to grow up enough to be able to say that, by the way, and mean it.  Regardless of your choice.

Dear, you were a child, emotionally, when you went from your parents’ home to your marital home.  You cannot remain a child any longer.  DH has in many ways treated you as a child – I fault him for this, but I fault you for playing into that role.  You’ve both got a lot of growing up to do.

But you can do it, and I want you to know, I am rooting for you. Whatever you choose.

Much love,
E.

Self-analysis – how did this happen?

How did I find myself married to a homosexual? What factors in my own background, my psychological make-up, leave me vulnerable to this choice?

I can claim extreme youth and naivete among my risks.  Back in the day when we were dating and got married, “nice people” just didn’t talk about some things, and homosexuality wasn’t being portrayed and lauded in all our media.  And TFP (The Fairie Prince) wasn’t effiminate; he possessed many masculine qualities.

But there has to have been more, things that blinded me to the warning signs I can recognize now in retrospect.  Was it my relationship with my parents? Personal fears? What drove me into this relationship so relentlessly?

Ineffible Grief

I’m not at all sure what has set it off this time.  I thought it was long since resolved. I thought I’d made peace with my losses, past and future, and with the alternative life I’ve seen stretched out before me.

But something has set it off.  Maybe it was seeing something from my daughter and realizing how badly damaged she is.  The sweet, gentle-spirited, loving girl has grown up to be a crass, defiant, almost-militant woman who, it is obvious, has embraced her daddy’s causes and still can’t get him to take her seriously.

Dear God! How long and how far must the hurt and the wreckage be flung?

It’s bad enough I’m damaged beyond repair. I know I’ll never be able to trust my own judgment about men, or the honesty or integrity of a relationship.  And, yes, I still have periods of grieving for the loss of the old dreams of a close (and large) family. Of love. I still resent having been used, reduced to being less than a person in my own right just so he’d have someone to hide behind. I resent the psychological abuses he inflicted on me so that when I needed help I trusted no one, not even for a long time my own judgment. I resent, still, that he had to be protected at all costs.

Because the cost has proven far too great.

Now that cost involves our children, who didn’t ask to be born, but whom he’s manipulated and used and abused to hide behind, even now.  Nothing is his fault, he will not face his own failures and responsibility – everything is “your choice,” said with a sneer and a look of utter contempt. He will always think of them as he has done of me: as idiots.  Useful idiots, perhaps, but idiots all the same.

And I can’t help my children, even less than I can help myself.  And I don’t know how to climb out of this pit of grief.