After my husband’s revelation, I somehow picked myself off the riverbank. The rest of the week is a blur. Each morning we spent time at the counseling center before walking the city and and eating fiery Thai curry and gulping iced coffee. We took a Songtaew up the mountain and hiked deep into the woods. One day, as we entered the park near our hotel, we saw an elderly Thai couple enter the park ahead of us. Austin turned to me and told me that he wants to grow old with me. I couldn’t speak; it just hurt too much.

Emotionally I was a hot mess and could not stop crying. This had unsettled something deep inside of me and I felt a grief I had never known before.

Despite the fact that much of that week is a blur, it soon became crystal clear that Austin did not see this as the end of our marriage. In fact, he kept telling me that he still loved me. He was attracted to men, but he was also attracted to me. Austin wasn’t leaving me, he was right here, just speaking his truth.

What my shame told me

But here is thing, his deepest shame nudged up against my deepest shame and the result was a grenade blast to my inner being. It left me feeling like I was being shredded into tiny unrecognizable, worthless pieces.

Here was my deepest shame, which I believed was my truth –
I never had what it took to attract a normal, straight guy.

I carried this with me and wrapped it around me like a scarf until it became part of my identity.

My shame told me that I must be deeply flawed. I was never one of the cool, pretty girls when I was young; the guys I liked never liked me back. When I was in junior high, I was publicly humiliated and called disgusting. I carried this with me and wrapped it around me like a scarf until it became part of my identity. My experience told me I was disgusting and it was easy to believe because guys didn’t look at me twice. The first date I ever had was with Austin and I was 24 years old. I was sure something was wrong with me.

Austin’s love was so powerful and healing, and he had spoken so much truth into my soul. He helped me believe I was worthy and beautiful and he was a genuine agent of healing for me. But on that fateful day, it felt as if everything else was wiped away.

I had no bandwidth to process this and the questions kept forming inside of me. Was he gay? Could he be “healed” from this? Was this the beginning of the end of our marriage? How the heck was I supposed to go home and pretend that everything was normal?

Each day seemed to stir up more questions than answers. I longed to fly away from it all, like the butterfly in my dream. The reality was that I felt the mud and the muck seep into the deepening holes of my heart and wondered if I would ever fly again.

When clarity surprises you

Here is the thing – I lived smack dab in the middle of LGBTQness pretty much my whole life. It shaped me, even when I didn’t know about it. And when you know, you can’t un-know, so the shaping began in earnest nearly a decade ago. If you feel uncomfortable around LGBTQ+ humans, instead of justifying your discomfort, I challenge you to dig inside of yourself and find the source of your discomfort. Perhaps it has more to do with deeply buried personal shame than you care to admit.

For me, my husband’s shame quickly revealed my own deep shame. I figured out that the root of my pain had more to do with my own self loathing and insecurity than about my husband’s attraction to men.

For me, my husband’s shame quickly revealed my own deep shame. I figured out that the root of my pain had more to do with my own self loathing and insecurity than about my husband’s attraction to men.

So I sat in the muck for a while, with my questions and my tears. Once again I felt disgusting, sure that something was wrong with me and that I never was, and never would be, enough.

Hope in the grief

Guttural grief is like a grenade and when your soul is decimated by shrapnel seemingly beyond repair, just sit and breath in that space. It is not the end. The ribbons of your former self can be remade into something stronger and even more beautiful than before, if you surrender yourself to the process and unflinchingly face the shredding. You have an incredible journey ahead if you look for your truest self and choose life.

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.