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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.

Want to hear more?


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.

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Happily Ever After

I spent my childhood outdoors, as much as possible. Making imaginary homes under the pine trees or tucked into a hillside. When the heat became too much to bear, my friends and I would spend long afternoons inside. We would raid my mom’s lingerie stash and dress up. There was a long flowing white gown with a matching robe that was perfect for playing bride. I spent hours imagining what it would be like to get married. Like most girls, I couldn’t wait for some prince charming to sweep me off my feet and live happily ever after.

Austin certainly did sweep me off my feet but the happily ever after part is still working itself out. Don’t get me wrong. We have many moments of happiness. But a good marriage takes a lot of work.

Studies show that nearly 50% of all marriages end in divorce. For those in Mixed Orientation Marriages, (MOM) only an average of 20% stay together.

Austin came out to me just before our 12th anniversary. That was nearly 11 years ago and we are still together. Not because of cultural or religious obligations. But because we wanted to make it work. Despite the pain, confusion and all the unknowns, we wanted to grow old together.

I’ve been working on a list of ideas. Things that have helped us do more than just survive these past 11 years. And I can’t wait to share these thoughts with you.

But it would all be pointless if I didn’t start here.

With Honesty.

Without honesty, there can be no happily ever after.

Before we were married, Austin struggled to decide whether or not to come out to me. Many he went to for advice said the same thing. That it would be best not to tell me. That it would just make it harder for me.

So we married and I was in complete ignorance. I feel at times that the whole world knew he was queer before I did. My gaydar was nonexistent, thanks to my conservative religious upbringing. I was led to believe that it was impossible for queer people to be Christians. It didn’t enter my mind that anyone around me could possibly be queer.

before

The early years of marriage were quite good. We had lots of fun. Didn’t fight. Traveled the world. I felt seen and loved in ways I never had before. We had a couple of babies. Settled into life. For a while it felt like happily ever after.

But unbeknownst to me, Austin was Bi. That part didn’t go away when he got married, as he had hoped. If he brought it up to a friend or counselor, they still gave the same advise. To not tell me. So he kept it to himself, cordoning off a very real part of who he is. Stuffing it deeper into the closet.

So much energy was being spent on hiding that he didn’t have the energy to truly live. Or love.

Here’s the thing. No matter who you are, how adept you are at stuffing and hiding, it takes its toll. So much energy was being spent on hiding that he didn’t have the energy to truly live. Or love.

Eventually, I picked up that something was wrong. I just didn’t know what. Couldn’t put my finger on it. But I knew that whatever it was, we were in trouble.

after

I’m glad Austin finally decided to come out to me. To bring his whole self to our marriage. But I have to be honest. The weight of hidden truths and in-authenticity grows over time. The cost of honesty grows the longer it goes. It was crushing to realize that the man I thought I had married was not who I had been led to believe he was. Everything we had was built on an illusion. It was a blow to my self-esteem and it tested all of the painstaking work I had done to heal from my own painful past. And now we had 3 little boys to think about. There was no way to just hit the pause button and figure things out.

If you’ve read my blog from the beginning, you will know that we found our way. Bit by bit. But it was difficult. Many straight spouses decide not to stay and I get that.

It’s not easy to realize the person you love the most has been hiding something from you.

I know that Austin had his reasons. But this is not a post about him. This is a post about how those reasons ended up hurting me. How his decision devastated me.

If you are in the closet, wondering whether or not to come out to the person you love, this post is also for you. If you love someone, that person deserves your honesty. They deserve to see the whole you. And you deserve to be able to show them the whole you. It’s true that they could leave you, scattering pieces of your broken heart in the mud. Yet, wouldn’t you rather be seen and loved for who you really are than them loving a fake version of yourself that you have to work so hard to keep up with? If it is meant to be, you will both find your way through and will have a love story of the century.

You must learn to love your whole self before you can truly love others. There is no happily ever after without honesty. Without stepping into wholeness and authenticity. You deserve it. The person you love deserves it too.

to the gatekeepers

My final thoughts are for the larger community, especially religious communities. The shame that keeps people in the closet starts with you. I hate to break it to you, but you are the gatekeepers that lead to much pain. Sometimes broken marriages. Or depression. Sometimes even suicide. There are more mixed-orientation marriages among you than you will ever know. So much unnecessary pain. Hiding. Betrayal.

Imagine, instead, being gatekeepers of authenticity. Honesty. Thriving. Imagine creating a community where no one has to hide a part of themselves in order to be accepted. The love and life that would flow from a place like that just might be enough to heal the broken world.


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.

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Will I Ever Be Enough?

I thought it would get easier. And in many ways it has. But that underlying, nagging feeling that I don’t have what it takes. That I will never be enough. Rejection is surely just around the corner. Those feelings and fears I’ve had from the beginning are still are there.

It wearies me. After so many years. So much internal work. So many therapy sessions. Endless conversations. Countless tissue boxes and tears.

Yes, I see growth. Beauty. A depth that wasn’t there before. Wisdom emerging from the ashes. So much that is good.

But do our oldest and deepest wounds ever go away? Are they the ghosts of past, present, and future? Perhaps not visible, yet hauntingly and deeply felt.

I want to feel as if I’m the love of his life. The missing puzzle piece. But I feel like I’m only half of that missing piece. A love but maybe not the love.

That’s not what I want. Not what I signed up for.

It’s like fate has dealt us the best and worst of hands all in one. To walk away from the pain would also be to walk away from the deepest happiness I’ve ever had. How does one even begin to process that, much less live through it?

To quote Daniel Levy’s character, David Rose, in the show Schitt’s Creek,

“I’ve been burned so many times, I’m basically the human equivalent of the inside of a roasted marshmallow.”

David Rose

Deep inside I carry a weight that, whether I’m consciously aware of it or not, tells me I’m not enough. That I don’t have what it takes. One too many rejections leaves one feeling like the next one is just around the corner.

I mindfully breathe in the golden color of this fall day. The birds singing welcome to sunshine dripping on green and gold leaves. It strikes me that the earth is letting go of one season while fully waking up to a new day. Embracing and releasing at the same time.

I always thought it was either-or. Death or life. Acceptance or rejection. Sorrow or joy. But what if we are able to be enough and not be enough at the same time? What if I’m not his everything but still be the love of his life?

Maybe life is best lived when we figure out how to hold our grief and our happiness in the same hand. Not either-or, but both. Not enough, yet still enough, at the same time.


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.

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Happy Pride!

June is Pride month. Sparked by the Stonewall Riots in June of 1969, many cities across the US have special activities to celebrate the LGBTQ+ community. But Pride month feels strangely quiet this year. Many parades and events have been canceled due to the pandemic. Racial tensions have sparked protests worldwide and the focus of many has been survival.

Survival. Of the virus. Isolation.

Survival. Of being Black in America.

Survival. Of being Queer. It’s still a thing.

Living colors

Last summer I walked the streets of Pittsburgh in awe as the city came together to celebrate. Moms, Dads, siblings, co-workers, friends. Coming together to support those who were waving their flags and wearing their colors. A living rainbow that is felt even more than it is seen. Unstoppable life. Unquenchable authenticity.

A few weeks later I watched as Austin sat in front of our booth at a local Pride event. He set up a free face painting station and must have painted close to a hundred faces. Rarely stopping from morning until late afternoon.

Queer. Straight. Young. Old. Male. Female. Non-binary. Some wore their pronouns with confidence. Others were still figuring it out. Face after beautiful face, held up to the light, waiting for the brush.

Sometimes those who have suffered repression and hate – but choose life anyway – are the only ones who can show us the light.

My husband painted and passed out glitter. He offered the unstoppable life and light that he had found and accepted the light of others in return.

I just stood there and watched. Toes quivering as the ground shivered from a holy breath that wrapped us all in the breeze.

Sometimes those who have suffered repression and hate – but choose life anyway – are the only ones who can show us the light.

Unquenchable authenticity

I stood in the back of our booth, selling rainbows and unicorns and other fun toys that made people smile. But I kept watching the glow coming from the front, as the light danced and the brush dipped and swirled.

It was as perfect a day as I will ever have. Because I witnessed a space where people did not have to pretend. Authenticity was celebrated. No one was different, only unique. Beautiful. Brave. Real.

If I had to sum up any Pride event in one word, it would have to be “love”.

I grew up in a community that celebrated conformity instead of uniqueness. So I’m still quite taken by the spectacle of unquenchable authenticity. The sheer joy I see in those who have chosen to love and live out of who they are is gloriously scandalous.

Instead of being afraid of them, I find I am drawn in. Because at the core is love. And like the ancient text says, there is no room in love for fear.

If I had to sum up any Pride event in one word, it would have to be “love”.

I close my eyes and try to imagine the whole world this way. The whole of humanity more concerned about being real than about fitting in. Polishing their own lights instead of blocking others. You don’t need to grab the mic or control the stage when you have found your own glorious inner light. You just need to be. Unstoppable life. Unquenchable authenticity. Painted with the purest of love.

New to this site? Read the beginning of my journey here. Feel free to reach out by email here if you need a listening ear or would like to continue this conversation.

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Why Stay?

Many wives, upon discovering their spouse is not the straight partner they thought he was, decide to leave. I get it. No judgment. Mixed orientation marriage is hard. Sometimes the marriage that was built on an illusion cannot be rebuilt. There are so many reasons why some stay and some go. After years of working through this myself and of hearing the stories of others, I have come to the conclusion that there is no black and white answer, no manual guaranteed to work. There is no script to follow, no map. No way to pray the gay away. There is only the journey of the soul and each person must undertake that journey for him or herself.

In my journey towards wholeness, I have come to realize the importance of knowing my worth. The ability to stay well or leave well all comes down to knowing my worth. For those struggling to discern whether to stay or not, I believe the answers will reveal themselves as the journey shifts from finding the right answer to the journey of moving towards wholeness.

Knowing my worth

In the beginning, when I felt my marriage was all a lie, I stayed because I had no energy to do anything else. I did not know my worth, and, in some ways, stayed because I felt I had no worth. No one else would have me, or so I believed. I had no career path. Surrounded by 3 little ones, barely functioning myself, I could not begin to think about anything but survival.

As I began to do my work however, my self-worth slowly began to solidify. Out of the ashes, my true self began to emerge and I realized that I like my self and truly believe that I have something special to offer. I am still on the journey, for it never truly ends, but have come far enough to see a vista I wasn’t able to dream of in those early days.

Why I stay

I stay because I love my husband. I mean, really, he is pretty amazing! But there is another reason that, to me, is equally important.

Now I stay because I know my worth. And my worth is honored in this marriage. I am seen and valued. Not perfectly and not without a fight sometimes, and I’m still learning how to let him know when I am not feeling seen and valued. But for any of that to happen, I must first experience my own worth.

Knowing my worth enables me to keep my head up, on the days when I look at statistics and am afraid things will someday change between us.

Being confident in my own value means I’m not staying because I have to. I am staying because I want to.

Knowing my worth has given shape to the boundaries I set for this marriage. And where I set those boundaries is nobody else’s business.

Knowing my worth also gives me a solid container to both grow love and to share it generously.

In short, you can’t give away something you don’t have. To give love and value to another, it must first grow deep within you.

So if your relationship is in shambles, please stop trying to fix it. Look in love’s mirror until you see yourself reflected, until the self you see is someone you can embrace and honor. You are worth it.


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.

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Searching for Normal

Sometimes I long to return to the days when life was normal. Those early days were so rich and sweet. It was just the two of us nestled away from the big world. When this shy girl with so many wounds was being healed by a love so beautiful, some days she thought she would die from its depth.

While I would never, ever, tell anyone to hide their sexual identity from their significant other, I sometimes wish to go back to that former naivete. I wish I could look at my husband and believe that I was enough for him. That our love satisfies so deeply that he has no other longings.

Reality of duality

Sometimes there are no words to really describe the ache, of knowing the reality of duality. I am loved. I am desired. Deeply. Unconditionally. Yet I am not the only longing.

And while I know it is not about me or my enoughness or lack thereof, it brings me pain. I could work on my issues all day long, every day, but I believe there would still be some pain regardless.

I do not know how to reconcile this. Is it enough to stand tall in my worth, to set boundaries and have conversation after conversation?

That’s just it. Sometimes I am tired of the conversations. I just want to be. To be in love and rest in love. Holidays are never just holidays and sometimes I just want to go back to those normal days. Sometimes I just want to go on a date with my husband, to dress up and be noticed and admired by him. To go and sip drinks without having to think. Normal conversations and nothing else. No testing the waters to be sure he is still with me, that the longings for another are not more than he or I can bear.

It exhausts me. As much as we love each other, I still sometimes have moments of wondering if we will make it.

This is my life as the wife of a bi guy. So much love but so many questions. Such depth of commitment yet such mind-boggling duality. After all these years, I still feel like I am a yo-yo.


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.

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Passing as Straight

My husband can pass as straight. People often wonder why he would choose to openly label himself as bi when he has a wife and can pass as straight. You may be wondering the same thing.

It’s a simple question with complicated answers; answers that he did not come upon easily. While I have talked about this briefly throughout previous posts, I will attempt to bring a bit more clarity today.

But first, let me tell you about a dream I had.

The trickle and the geranium

I dreamed our city had been hit with an apocalyptic-like devastation. Power was out, no one had water, and vegetation had all dried up. The earth was brown and barren. Outside of our kitchen door, in the exact spot where our compost bin stands in real life, a natural spring opened up, bringing a constant trickle of water to the surface. Though it was just a trickle, it was enough to provide drinking water to our entire neighborhood. What was even more astonishing was the red geranium growing beside the spring. When everything else was dead and dry, water for the body and color for the soul came from what before was rotting bits of discarded life.

A trickle, when shared, is more than enough to sustain. Sometimes I think the world heals more when we share from the little we have than when we give out of our abundance.

In my dream, the neighborhood knew it was welcome to come share our trickle 24/7. We didn’t hide it or hoard it, afraid it would dry up and we would have nothing left.

For us, staying in the closet and passing as straight would have been a bit like keeping that trickle of life-giving water to ourselves.

One of the reasons…

Some years back, a friend of Austin’s, who was also queer, took his own life. This friend had come out to Austin, and to Austin’s knowledge, no one else. Raised in a very conservative community, this person did not see hope of ever being able to live authentically. Unable to live with the shame and despair, and seeing no way to reconcile the religious teachings of the community with the reality of his inner world, life became unlivable. Isolation, sadness and despair drove him to end his life.

This particular story has sat heavy on our hearts. When this happened, Austin was still hiding under enormous shame and despair and yet remembering his own suicidal ideation as a teenager. He sometimes wonders if the story could have had a different ending if he had been able to speak into his friend’s life from the place where he is at now.

While we will probably never know that, we do know that we can make a difference in the lives of those who are still with us.

For those still in the closet, especially for those in communities where it would be unsafe for them to come out, loneliness and isolation are devastating reality. By allowing others to know his truth, Austin has opened the door a crack for them, so that they know they are not alone.

Passing as Straight

Being a safe person for those still in the closet is important. By coming out publicly, Austin is signaling to them that they are not alone and that he is an ally. This is especially important for those who are passing as straight and see no other alternative.

There are many men and women passing as straight, who have chosen to marry a straight partner. There are many reasons for this choice. Some do so out of religious and/or cultural pressure. They know they will be cast out if they show their true colors. Some want a family and biological children. Others believe that marriage will cure them of their unwanted attractions. Some genuinely love the person they marry and cannot imagine life without them. There are many reasons for these mixed orientation marriages, and they work for some people.

But there are many queer folks who know they will take their secret to the grave with them. Married or not, they do their best to pass as straight because they see no other option.

We want them to know they are not alone. That they are precious. Enough life has been lost.

Signal for change

While this is not the only reason Austin chose to come out publicly, it certainly is a very important one to both of us.

I hope to write more about other reasons some other day, but suffice it to say that it takes an incredible amount of energy to pretend to be someone you are not. Austin was tired of hiding. I was tired of him hiding. It was time.

When someone like my husband comes out publicly, it’s a bit like a thorn in the flesh to the straight community. He no longer fits the narrative they are familiar with. By breaking molds and being bold, he is calling out long established norms that are hurtful to the queer community. He is a fresh voice, calling for change, fighting for inclusion and challenging long-held biases.

In honor of the friend who took his own life, we are going to keep talking, keep pushing the conversation forward. We are not going to stop raising awareness because it’s time that no more lives are taken over this issue. By coming out, Austin has chosen life for himself and many, many others, who are not free yet to do so on their own.

No matter your views, you can be an ally for life instead of death. You don’t have to completely agree or understand in order to be an ally. Anytime someone chooses death because of the narrative of those who say they are for life, something should trouble us deeply. It’s time to be brave enough to admit we may have been wrong. It’s time to look at things with fresh eyes and truly be pro-life. For all. Period.

How will you choose life today?

If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, or know someone who is, The Trevor Project has someone available 24/7 to call, text or chat with. PFLAG also has links to other support groups. You are important. And you are loved.


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.

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Listen to the Suffering

Because my husband chose to marry me, a woman, he can easily pass as straight. And he did, for many years. We settled into our life together, raised our kids and grew our business. Whenever I would bring up the issue of his orientation, he would sort of shrug it off. He was okay with his life. We both worked on our stuff and made great strides toward wholeness. The depression from earlier years diminished and life was almost good. As good as it can be when you are starting a business and raising 3 wild boys in a small house with very little money. But we made it though every crisis that threatened our existence and it felt as if maybe life was almost normal. Whatever that means.

Then, out of the blue, we hit a rough patch. Tired of hiding, Austin started coming out of the closet to more of his close friends. He was always very candid with me about these conversations. While I was grateful to know, I was also puzzled because I sensed depression growing in him again. Something had changed and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The Painful Truth

The more we talked, the more I began to realize that he hadn’t been as happy all these years as he had led me to believe. Though he said he was fine, things were not always fine.

Once again, I felt the rug being yanked out from beneath me. This time, though, I wasn’t just shocked and scared, I was angry. I had believed him when he said he was doing okay. I trusted and thought we were in a good place. But obviously we were not in a good place if he was feeling miserable.

While my brain knew it was not about me, it still was another blow to my self esteem. The healthy part of my self knows it’s not my job to make him happy and I can’t change his orientation. It just is. But I also feel terrible if my partner is unhappy. It’s pretty hard to be a feeling person and not take it at least a little bit personally.

I was sure this time that we were headed for a divorce. As a big-picture-carry-the-world-on-my-shoulders kind of person, I turned every scenario over in my mind. Who would raise the kids? Who would stay in the house? Would we sell the business? What would I do for a job? On and on my brain churned and my broken heart reshaped itself into tears dripping down my cheeks.

It’s pretty damn hard to see suffering in another and not be able to do a single thing to ease that suffering and bring happiness.

I was still angry too, that he let me think he was happy when he wasn’t.

It’s a weird place to be in – broken because you see the suffering of another and can do nothing but suffer with them. Yet to be so angry you kind of just want to walk out the front door and never look back.

Tired of Hiding

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering. Something began to emerge and slowly make sense as we did this.

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering.

Austin was tired of hiding who he was. He had long reached the place of no longer fighting against who he was or trying to change his orientation. He had accepted his bisexual identity but was still passing as straight. And he was not alone. 26% of bisexual adults are not out to anyone important in their lives, while 54% are out only to a few people.

It takes a heck of a lot of energy to pass as something you are not. There is a longing deep within us that wants others to see us and love us for who we really are. We all get tired of hiding and want to leave our masks and molds at the door and bring our true selves to the table. The dream of finding a place we can both be real and celebrated is in all of us.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system. One can only survive toxicity for so long before dying from the poison. Rather than die from the inside out, Austin was slowly bringing his whole self to the table.

Receiving the Gift

When someone takes off their mask and shows you their true self, they are offering you a priceless gift.

When I was a child, I loved to give gifts. There was one person I remember, that I could never seem to give a good enough gift to. No matter what I gave or how hard I tried, it was never a cherished gift. It stung my little heart but it also taught me a most valuable lesson. I learned to cherish the gifts I am given and to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift.

Are you able to cherish the gift of authenticity when it is given to you? Or does your religion cause you to argue and debate? Can you accept what you hear without trying to change the gift in some way? Are you able to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift even if it makes you uncomfortable?

I’ve kind of gotten a front row seat at seeing how people respond. Sometimes its beautiful – like the friend and mentor who got up from her seat and wrapped Austin in an embrace after hearing his story.

It can get ugly when people just want to prove how right they are or start hurtful rumors behind our backs.

Sometimes it is awkward when people don’t know what to say.

Sometime there’s a quiet “Me too” whispered back.

The gift of authenticity

So while you may wonder what happened next with us, I want you to sit here in this for a minute. I want you to think about how you receive the gift of authenticity. It’s a dying treasure, swallowed up by a toxic culture. But people around you are tired of hiding and long to be safe enough to show you who they are.

Sadly, some of you will never know the authenticity of those nearest you. There are doors that will always be closed because you have already shown that you are not a safe person.

We need to be safe receptacles for authenticity. We must create safe spaces where people no longer need to hide. If your religion has some folks preferring to hide than be real, maybe you should rethink your religion. If your God can’t love authenticity, maybe you are the one who doesn’t really know your God. When you must argue and convince the other that you are right, you show your own toxicity, along with a fear of authenticity.

It doesn’t need to be this way. There are many who are oh so tired of hiding. We can foster authenticity by living it ourselves and we can dismantle toxicity by being safe people.


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.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Human First

Everyone loves a good story, one filled with hope and redemption. All I need to do is follow the trail of likes, comments and extra visitors on my blog. I can see exactly what people like and want to hear.

Most of us are drawn to what makes us feel comfortable. Our whole lives we’ve been steeped in the lie that tells us life is supposed to feel good. That every story can and should have a happy ending and that bad things aren’t supposed to happen.

The truth is more nuanced and difficult to pin down. My life is much too busy and complicated to figure out what it is supposed to be. All I know is what is. Life is messy, disappointing, surprising, exhilarating, depressing, good, bad, beautiful, ugly all at the same time. It just is.

Many of you shared your love for last week’s post about the business we built out of the ashes of our marriage. Realize however that not everyone has this same story. There are many couples in MOMs who are exhausting themselves with questions and tears. They struggle to figure out whether or not they can and should try to remain in their marriages. Even for us, I still have days when I have doubts. It’s not easy.

Life is Messy

I’ve felt despair shake my body while tears squeezed their way from my heart onto my cheeks, feeling things too deep for words. There are other strains and stresses in my life that I have not shared with you. Years spent living so poor we were an inch from life on the streets. All this in the middle of the earthquake that defined our marriage. Life is messy and sometimes the pain is unbearable.

Perhaps the reason we gravitate toward stories of hope and redemption is because we want to believe that it will be okay in the end, for us. We long for the reassurance that the mud and muck we are wading through will be worth it. We listen to these stories and we share them with others because we want them to experience that same hope. This is not a bad sentiment, but the true test of friendship is when I choose to be present in the midst of the unending crisis. This kind of a friend stays present throughout the course of a disasters or a break-up. Staying for closet door openings and truth telling moments, whether we agree or not. It is not looking for an escape route as soon as the ending is not looking so rosy. True friendship sticks around when life is messy.

It has become clear to me this year that many Christians have a difficult time with this type of love. Loving someone different from themselves seems like too much work and self protection is given a higher priority. All I need to do is to talk about Pride events, the border wall or immigrants and the barriers begin to go up. This is all pretty ironic when you study ancient texts and read the words spoken by their prophet that they will be known (as Christians) because of the love they have for each other.

Perhaps it wasn’t always this way. I hope not. But I’ve noticed a trend in the American church that has been painful.

some things i notice

These Christians feel the need to let us know they love us but they disagree. It’s a weird urge that doesn’t let them commence being friends until they have explained their beliefs. It is as if the only way for them to keep themselves clean is by putting this clarifying distance between us.

This type of Christian loves us but wants to influence us to change in some way. They offer their wisdom or the wisdom of another person who has chosen to live out their queerness in a different way. Perhaps they assume that we have never thought of those things ourselves and wrestled with those same questions.

These folks say their faith is for all people. Much of our experience proves otherwise. They like to surround themselves with those who look like them, speak their language and comply with their unspoken club rules.

Sometimes they are just socially awkward, preferring silence or small talk. They let their discomfort lead them. Instead of leading by doing the work to love all, they prefer to hold on to judgement, especially when life gets messy.

Another way

In February, I had the privilege of returning to Bangladesh. It had been nearly 9 years since I last pressed the soles of my sandals onto the land I had once called home. For 2 weeks I wrapped myself in her embrace. As I listened to her heartbeat, I remembered what my Muslim friends taught me. While the weeks were full of experiences that illustrate my point, the one that shows it best was the day I was so sick the earth felt like it was going to swallow me up.

excerpt from the Kahiniwalla blog –

Misery violently took over my night, pushed sleep aside and sent me rushing to the bathroom. The initial relief was short lived. I soon found myself fumbling in the darkness, desperate for the antibiotics the Traveler’s Clinic had sent with me. I gulped down the first giant tablet, determined to be ready for travel by morning.

Yet, morning still found me pasted to my bed, stomach swirling in unreasonable circles. Eyes squinted tightly shut to block out the light and hands grasping a plastic bag just in case. As we left the city behind and headed towards Dhaka, I laid back in my seat and willed myself to survive the journey.

It was awful, I’m not gonna lie. Our driver, Ramjan, who had been nothing but a gentleman since we left Dhaka, was now doing his best to maneuver his way home. It wasn’t long before I found myself squatting on the side of the road, upheaving the remains of my stomach. Ramjan hovered beside me, full of concern, telling my friend to hold my hand and pull my hair back. He even took a long look at my vomit to try to figure out what I had eaten that was causing my insides to have such a mutiny.

When I was finished, he motioned for me to hold out my hands so he could pour water into them. He showed me how to rinse out my mouth and wash my face. As I squatted in the dirt by the side of the road and cupped my hands to accept his gift of water, I felt the Divine tapping me on the shoulder and I knew I was taking in a holy sacrament. I saw my Creator mirrored so beautifully in the face of our Muslim driver who shared his water with this tired and sick American woman. Something inside came unglued and it’s a wonder I made it back into the van instead of catapulting down the embankment.

Human First

The water shared by our conservative Muslim driver was still wet on my face when I remembered what my Muslim friends had been teaching me all along – to see others as human first. Not once did they share their beliefs before deciding whether or not to be a friend. Though the ancient text they follow may tell them that I am an infidel, they showed me a depth of love and acceptance I rarely see people of my own background and faith giving to those who are, in some way, different.

I cannot count the times I have been shown love and grace by people whose beliefs were quite different from my own. I was a stranger, and they loved me. Though I was different, they accepted me. I was a foreigner and they welcomed me, giving me a seat at the table and the best of their food. Though I was an infidel they took care of me as if I were their own. I held their babies and they held mine. They saw me as human first and they treasured my humanity.

Life is messy and complicated but it becomes beautiful when we see each other as human first. We have so much to learn from those unlike ourselves!


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.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Rising From the Ashes

You cradle me in the darkness.
The palm of your hand a giant womb.
I curl my body into the stillness,
Breathing the air offered in this space.
Quiet, darkness, stillness.
If the darkness would not come,
I would exhaust myself with doing
and forget to rest.
But here in the darkness
the quiet seed splits and dies.
By learning to rest in this quiet darkness
beauty rises from the hard split shell and
like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
I find my life again.

The early days, after Austin came out to me, were an upheaval that came alive and breathed heavily down our necks. After a decade of being volunteers, traveling the world with our babies and immersing ourselves in the warmth and beauty of other cultures, we found ourselves back on the shores of our homeland. Ready or not, we were starting over once again.

Austin had exchanged his dream job of designing under a development agency in Bangladesh for a graphic design job in Ohio. We both were doing the inner work of finding authenticity but that didn’t pay the bills. Our marriage was in shambles and we both struggled with depression as we navigated the inner landscapes of pain.

In the midst of trying to figure out if our Mixed Orientation Marriage would work, we did the unthinkable. We started a business. Together. We had no money, no business background, no sales experience and very little energy.

Ripple effects

The smoke was still rising from the ashes when the opportunity fell into our lap. A friend we had gotten to know during our time in Bangladesh, Samantha Morshed, was running a large and growing Fair Trade business that trained women in the rural areas of Bangladesh to knit and crochet baby items. The brand, Pebble, is characterized by an amigurumi style and features a variety of rattles, hats, blankets and stuffed toys.

Pebble grew out of one mamma’s heart who saw how so many women in Bangladesh leave their babies with extended family and move to the city to find work. Often they live in the slums and work long days in the garment factories in unsafe and poorly paid situations. Isolated from the safety of family, they are left vulnerable and are often taken advantage of.

A desire to keep babies with their mothers inspired Samantha to gather a few women around her and teach them how to knit and crochet. She started with 12 women in 2004 and, by the time we met her, it had grown to employ more than 2000 women. Today, more than 120 Pebble centers have opened throughout rural Bangladesh, giving fair wages and steady employment to more than 13,000 women. They can walk to work, taking their babies with them. Entire communities are being transformed by the ripple effects of women who are valued, given a voice, equality, and financial freedom. You can watch a short video here, to learn more about Pebble.

If you’ve followed this blog from the beginning, you will know how difficult it was for us to leave Bangladesh. The people in this beautiful country had captured our hearts and changed our outlook of the world. When Samantha asked us to be her US distributors for Pebble, we saw it as an opportunity to stay connected to this land where strangers are welcomed and curry constantly wafts on the breeze.

Building something new

We named our business Kahiniwalla, which means storyteller in Bangla. We started small, ordering one or two boxes of product at at time, shipping through the postal system. Austin would reach out to potential customers in the evenings or weekends, eventually cutting back his hours at his day job so he could put more time into Kahiniwalla. I did the book work and the fulfillment.

Despite the fact that we didn’t know what we were doing, it grew. Within 4 years we both quit our part time jobs and were working full time for Kahiniwalla. Together.

It was more than a little crazy while, for the next 4 years, a we worked out of our tiny home. The rooms were literally bursting with Pebble boxes, as we had now moved to importing partial container loads by sea. The kitchen, bathrooms and boys’ bedrooms were the only rooms not overtaken in some way with Pebble inventory, with the attic housing the bulk of the boxes. When shipments came in, we moved our dining table into the living room to use as a work station and we would fill the dining room, floor to ceiling with boxes. In the winter, we donned coats and gloves to do our work in our unfinished, uninsulated attic, filling orders for customers. Conversely, in the summer, we would drip with sweat.

No going back

After moments of shattering, it is impossible for life to get back to what it was before. After Austin came out to me, as much as I wanted to get back to the old normal, there was no going back. The choice was to separate and start over separately, or stay together and build something new. Kahiniwalla became our new tangible thing that we built together, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

It’s almost unbelievable how this new thing fit us each so well. Austin is a people person and loves to tell stories, so traveling to trade shows and interacting with customers is the perfect fit for him. His creative side shows in the ads he creates, photography he does, and instagram posts.

As an introvert, I love to be at home, fill orders and maintain the books. I enjoy writing blog posts for the business. When shipments come in, I love to organize everything. Our personalities and skills fit together like a glove. Despite the craziness of starting a business in our circumstances and living on very little income for the next decade, it served to draw us together and grow our love.

I would not advise another couple to start a business together when their marriage is rocking on the precipice of ruin. Not much about it made logical sense. All I know is that in surrendering to the journey, our hearts first led us deep into the darkness until we found something magical rising from the ashes.


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.