Posted on by palmtreemomma

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.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Let Go

New Year’s Eve often finds me perched in my room. Away from the noise and parties. Just me and my thoughts. I sit and ponder the year gone by and listen to hope, as she whispers new lines for the year ahead. Eventually, a word or phrase finds me and I know it is to be my mantra for the coming year.

My word(s) for this year were slower to come, but no less real when they did show up.

Let go.

No way!

You’re kidding, right? I do not like that particular combination of words. Never have. Never will.

They have become synonymous with a certain kind of self-disregard that was subtly held up as God’s ultimate plan and pleasure.

Looking back now it seems clearly twisted. Equating Divine Love with the call to self-sacrifice and personal pain. As if the reason for my existence was to serve others and give up whatever dreams and hopes I may have had for myself.

It has been a long journey to come to a very different realization – that my hopes and dreams and wants are good things. My pleasure mirrors that of the Divine, rather than being in dissonance with it.

And while there is much that could be written about that journey, it would take us off topic. So back to that phrase.

Let Go

Almost as soon as the “what the heck?” thought entered my mind, I was given a picture of what a healthy letting go could look like. Like a stream that branches into two smaller creeks, each being connected to and a vital part of the whole, two things began to separate and lengthen in my mind.

First, honesty. Being honest with myself about what I really want. What I need. Desire. Passion. Longing. It’s a brave and utterly honest look at all I am feeling and needing. Admitting it. Owning it.

Secondly, it’s telling myself that I will be okay, even if I don’t get that thing that I really want and need.

It was a light bulb moment for me. Maybe I was never really able to let go of things in the past because I had not had the courage or permission to wildly feel and be honest about what it is that I wanted. You can’t let go of something you are in denial about. It will own you. Haunt you. Control you.

But raw honesty about all that flows and rumbles through this human body is a beautiful and freeing thing.

Within hours of coming to this realization, I began to have physical symptoms that would later be diagnosed as COVID. As the first aches began to take over my body, I admitted how much I wanted to feel good. How hard I had worked for a very long time to be healthy. To protect my own body and the lives of my friends and neighbors.

Then I told myself that I would be okay even if I did not have those things.

I let go.

And with it I found the courage to look at many more places in my life where fear was holding my fingers tight.

Yes, I want it very much. But yes, I will be okay even if I don’t have it.

2021 is here. and I am practicing letting go.

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

Choking on Niceness

Tree roots growing out of a crumbling temple in Cambodia.

I still think of the butterfly I saw in my dream all those years ago, right before my husband came out to me. She calls to me still, gently showing me the path towards wholeness. Her ripped, ravaged, and giant wings, refusing to stay in the muck, beating still and carrying her across the water. She beckons me on, silently flying towards freedom.

There have been many dreams since then. I have journals set aside just for them. Sometimes the message is instantly clear, other times a pattern may appear over time. While I once dismissed dreams that were not instantly clear, I have learned to pay attention to the ambiguous ones as well. Dreams have much to teach us.

In her book Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home, Toka-pa Turner, has much to say about dream-work and healing.

For survivors of neglect and abuse, the relationship to the instinctual life can be especially damaged. An instinct is injured when your responses are repeatedly overridden, dismissed, or ignored, often by adults who have a wounded instinct themselves. For instance, you may have been criticized for overreacting when you were having an appropriate response, or perhaps you were told to stay quiet when you knew you should speak. Maybe you had to care for another’s needs before your own. Whatever form the wounding of your instinct might have taken, over time the result is the same. It is the sense of distrusting your own responses, questioning the validity of your feelings and giving your power to another’s information over your own.

Toko-pa Turner

Letting the truth out

I recently had an opportunity to say some things that I have needed to say for a very long time. Things that I had kept bottled tight inside rather than risk being the one to rock the boat. But, when the words came to me, I knew it was time. I said what I needed to say. For me. I spoke my truth. And while I did not get the response I wanted, I am more than okay. It was in speaking my truth that I was set free, not in the other person’s response.

A few night later I had a very telling dream.

I spent the evening caring for a group of children. A 3 year old girl with blond curls was feeling unwell and had vomited. I thought she needed to sleep so I read her a story, thinking that if she held still long enough, she would fall asleep and then feel better. Her parents soon arrived to pick her up and I told them what had happened. As I was talking to them, we looked over to where she had been sleeping, only to find her on the floor, struggling to bring up whatever remained in her stomach. To my horror, she vomited up two large cobs of corn.

I woke from my dream with the realization that the little girl in my dream was me and that I had swallowed down things that were never meant to be swallowed. I had tried to keep in something much too large and the impossibility of it was making me sick.

Falling asleep while choking to death

The years of telling myself stories to soothe and put myself to sleep instead of speaking my truth was toxic. Oh, the stories we tell ourselves to keep our mouths shut and the truth trapped inside! For women who have grown up in a patriarchal culture, it is so much harder to recognize our truth and speak it.

I grew up in a sub-culture where it was expected that men dominate, women submit quietly and children obey without question. This may appear peaceful and yet it was anything but that. Time and again, it proves to be a perfect breeding ground for abuse and enabling.

Under the guise of niceness, I learned to hold much inside. I thought anything else would be selfish. Yet that niceness came at an enormous price. While I knew how to be nice to everyone else, I had no idea how to be nice to myself.

The cost of silence

When a woman’s voice is quieted, the lumps inside swell like cobs of corn, bigger than the throat. Ripping, choking and taking up all the space that was meant for breathing in air, taking in water to give life, and food to nourish. There is no space inside for her gifts to grow and the world suffers that loss.

Darling, you feel heavy because you are too full of truth. Open your mouth more. Let the truth exist somewhere other than inside your body.

Della Hicks-Wilson

The thing is, no one is going to speak our truth for us. No one is standing by to clear our clogged airways and hand us the mic. In fact, there will probably be a stampede to grab the mic out of our hands because the more we stand up and refuse to be silently compliant, the more uncomfortable life will be for those who are the most comfortable right now.

But, sister, you matter. No more falling asleep while choking to death. Enough swallowing down things that weren’t meant to be swallowed. No more being nice to everyone but yourself. Pick up a pen, or the phone, call a friend, admit your truth and let it out.

You will be amazed at how much space the silence took up. Fill it with breathing and living instead. Choose life. For you.


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.