Growing Old Together

I love to spend late afternoons in my kitchen. When the sun begins to dip just low enough to shine through the kitchen window and the stove shimmers in dancing waves. It’s the perfect place to let the irritations and heaviness of the day slide off my shoulders. As the oil splutters its welcome to the garlic and onions in the cooking pot, my soul does its own little dance and in that golden light, lightness becomes a little more possible.

The other day I grabbed my kitchen shears and made my way to my front garden plot to snip the first of the chives. Sometimes, when we least expect it, we bump into the sacred. This time it was in the form of a young woman, walking past on the street at the precise moment when I needed to cut chives. And while her story is not mine to tell, I will tell you that being present to my own grief and trauma was my only hope for being present to this woman as she struggled to navigate her own grief and trauma.

At one point in our conversation, our talk moved to marriage. She was surprised to learn we were celebrating 23 years of marriage. I told her it wasn’t always easy. But somewhere along the way, we had decided that we wanted to grow old together.

growing old together

I recall that once in the days immediately following his coming out to me, that Austin turned to me and said, “Marita, I want to grow old with you.” At the time, I was too hurt and confused to know whether or not I wanted the same thing. In fact, it took me a long time.

I can’t point to a particular moment and say, “That’s when I knew”. I do know that I did not try to convince myself or believe that I needed to grow old with him. That I had to stay, no matter what. Given my religious upbringing, this was a little shocking, and yet looking back, that freedom to figure it out was an invaluable gift.

It’s hard to believe we have been married for 23 years. Our gray hairs and wrinkles are only a small part of the map that tells the story of us. We have a castle full of memories, stories born of crazy adventures. A past that binds us together because we want a future filled with the same.

From discovering watermelon shakes on the beach in Thailand to climbing a volcano in Bali with our boys. Sleeping under the stars in Nepal to balancing the 5 of us on one rickshaw in Dhaka. From remodeling a little house in Ohio to birthing a business together. We have traveled the world, literally and metaphorically.

And we’ve come home, in the best way possible, to each other. It’s been a long walk from that spot 23 years ago where I stood with tears rolling down my cheeks, promising to love him forever. To the place where I can’t not love him forever. Because when I look ahead and imagine the future, there is only one pillow I can see myself laying my head on when my hair is completely white and my steps have lost their spring. It’s on the one beside his.

help with the sifting

While I think this question can be helpful for anyone in a relationship, I think it can be especially helpful for those who find themselves in a mixed-orientation marriage and are wondering if they should stay together or not.

Do I want to grow old with this person?

Wherever you find yourself today, whether a mixed-orientation relationship or heteronormative one, the question begs an answer. It can be helpful to sift through the highs and lows that are normal to any relationship.

Can we grow old together? Do I want to grow old together?

If you don’t know the answer right away, it’s okay. Give yourself time to figure it out. Keep being honest with your feelings, even when they are in conflict with each other. Eventually, the answer will make itself known to you.

Find me on Instagram @maritajmiller and Facebook Beyond The Cocoon.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

No Label Says it All

Last week, Two Bi Guys aired their latest podcast called Three Bi Guys, (with wives)! in which Austin was interviewed. I am so grateful for the work Two Bi Guys are doing, calling attention to the largest but most unseen portion of the queer community. Not only are bisexuals often unseen, but they are also likely the most misunderstood.

Since Austin came out, I have been astounded by the assumptions, gossip, and slander towards him, and the bi community as a whole. Often coming from people within the faith community. This is wrong and needs to stop.

What I appreciate about this podcast, is the honest glimpse into the lives of three different bi guys. Bisexuality is a mystery and there is no box to easily put bi people into. No label says it all. While hearing from three different bi guys will not give you a complete picture of what it means to be bi, it will certainly give you a much better understanding of the complexity and fluidity of what it can mean to be bisexual.

levels of coming out

The night before the episode was due to drop, I was a mess. I don’t sleep well at the best of times, so I certainly did not sleep well that night. I was worried that I might discover something new, some new level of coming out.

In the episode, Austin mentions how he came out to me before we were married. Suffice it to say that whatever he said was so subtle that I did not pick up on it. At all.

If you have read my blog from the beginning, you will know there have been various levels of coming out. To the point that sometimes I worry that there may be more. Sometimes I’m afraid that if I make peace with the way things are, something new will come up.

learning to verbalize

Part of being a survivor of childhood trauma means having learned to survive by always expecting something terrible to happen. It’s what gave some of us the skills to scan the room and read body language. The only way we could survive was by always being ready, always having an exit strategy or a hiding mechanism.

But you and I, we are not children anymore. For me, a very important step in healing and moving on, has been to verbalize instead of exiting or hiding.

So I verbalized. It seems simple but it took excruciating effort on my part. To tell him I had trouble sleeping because I was scared. Because I felt vulnerable. We talked about it. He saw me and his words comforted me.

It’s so easy to sabotage some of the simple steps to healing and wholeness. It may be a completely different set of circumstances for you. Whatever it is, keep showing up for yourself. You matter and you are worth it.

no label says it all

It was a couple of days later that I listened to the podcast. I loved it. I also loved him more for being so honest and real and funny. And I was grateful that I had faced my fears and been vulnerable with him about them. It freed something up inside so I could really sit back and soak up the podcast.

I hope you will take the time to listen to this episode. The fine folks in this interview will show you how beautiful, unique, and mysterious a thing it is to be bisexual. No label says it all so please, stop making assumptions, keep your heart open and take this opportunity to educate yourself.

Find me on Instagram @maritajmiller and Facebook Beyond The Cocoon.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

100% Absolute Surety

Growing up in an uber-conservative subculture of evangelical Americanism gave me the experience of needing to be 100% right. 100% sure. 100% of the time.

Sure…

…of God.

…of salvation.

… the afterlife.

…of what to do and not to do in this life.

There was no hint of mystery because 100% surety leaves no place for mystery. If something held mystery or did not make sense, it was whisked away or given answers that made even less sense. Instead of bringing relief, this way of living delivered a strange mix of anxiety. When you must know everything 100%, you must not stop. Never rest. Never be okay with anything less than 100% surety.

Instead of being filled with peace, I was filled with anxiety. I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake as a young child, so worried that I may have forgotten to confess one of my many sins. The fear that I would perchance miss the sound of The Trumpet and be left behind to suffer through the Tribulation and eventually hell itself. I lay there terrified that the house would burn down in the night and I would burn with it.

Eventually, I came to a more solid place in my belief where I was sure I had been forgiven and my soul would not be sent to hellfire. Yet, I still had much anxiety. Even in the knowing. Even in the so-called peace.

room for mystery

If there is only one formula for eternal salvation, and missing one aspect, even slightly, could negate that eternal salvation, then how could one ever really be sure? Especially when so many voices proclaimed their formula the correct one.

100% surety leaves no place for mystery. Yet the reality of life, as I live and breathe and look around me is that that there is so much mystery. There is so very, very much that cannot be explained.

I suppose that is why eventually I dropped the priestly robes I had acquired and found myself stepping into the mystical, mysterious role of prophet. Questioner. A believer who is also a doubter.

I found I could no longer put the Divine into a box, wrapped in neat and tidy answers. Nor could I follow a god that would kill me if I made the slightest misstep. I suppose, without even fully knowing what I was doing, I went on a quest to find the god of love. To see if he/she/they existed.

I like what I have found, even though I cannot fully explain what I have found. I do know that I have more peace and less anxiety now that I have embraced mystery.

holding holes up to the light

It takes bravery to admit the holes in one’s faith. Pull out the questions that have been shoved into darkness and hold them up to the light. Knowing the whole thing could crumble. I mean, really, who likes to sit in the rubble, surrounded by dust, ashes, and little tangible substance? But it was only in the empty spaces, held up to the light, where I could experience light. Only in the mystery that I began to see beauty in the questions and unknowns. 100% surety leaves no place for mystery. But once I made mystery my friend instead of my enemy, everything changed.

A couple of years ago I had the honor of traveling to Bangladesh with some friends. I no longer moved as one who had the answers that everyone else needed. And in one profound moment, that I will never forget, this question came to live in me.


What if we all have a piece of the puzzle of who god is?

I had spent 2 weeks moving nonstop. Heart open, taking in as much as I could. From reconnecting with the gentle Hindu woman who used to clean my house, to the conservative Muslim driver who cared for me and shared his water when I became horribly ill. From the refugee camp of the most unwanted people on earth to the home of a dear friend who shared her recent journey of going on the Haj. We heard the songs of women who used to work in the red light district, saw the smiles of their babies. I shared endless cups of tea and plates of curry. Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims. All of us rubbing shoulders. Laughing. Crying. Living. Loving. Each person I met unveiled a piece of the Divine I had not seen before. Unseen because I had not been looking. Because I thought I had the entire piece already.

But what if we all have a tiny piece of the puzzle of who god is? What if we never get a glimpse of the beauty of the whole because we are all so sure that our piece is the only piece that gives peace. The only piece that is right.

Can’t say that I know for sure, but I have a hunch that embracing mystery and setting aside our need to be right is where the journey to the Divine begins.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.