FROM THE MAIL BAG
Bonnie,
I read with interest your newsletter on anti-depressants. Let me give you my story about to go and I (we were not married, had, however, lived together for several years - we both have children, but not with each other - my child is grown, his are with his ex wife):It was during the time that I knew "something" was wrong ...there WAS an elephant in our living room.. of course, he knew it wasn't an elephant, he knew it was his secret lover. "I" was the one with the problem, all was well with him...he couldn't "understand" why I felt something was wrong...it must have been in my head.That's when I started to feel like I was losing it. Looking back, it was a "Gaslight" situation, but I didn't know that, then. I just knew I was losing it and I had the hole in the gut feeling that something was wrong, yet I couldn't put my finger on it.That's when I started to snoop. That's when I found "the love letter".That's when I hightailed it to my doctor and fell apart in the office.That's when I started on anti depressants.I didn't tell him I knew.... and I didn't/wouldn't let him touch me.I left, making an excuse that I needed to live with my dad for awhile,because he needed help (it was less than 2 miles away) .. and I wouldstill see him every night .. I just wouldn't sleep there.That was a hellish time... it only lasted about 6 weeks... 6 weeks of me knowing the truth, hinting at the truth, driving by on nights that I told him I 'couldn't make it over' to see the that strange white car in the driveway... wanting for him to tell me, but not wanting to hear it.
Hoping I was so wrong. Hoping that it was not at all what it seemed. I remember borrowing a friends car, putting on a man's coat and hat and a pair of big glasses and following the 2 of them ... they just went to Lowe's, but dammit, "THEY" picked out the kitchen wallpaper border and put it up that night ... I could watch them as I drove by ....the car was there until the next morning, and the guest bed hadn't been slept in... I booby trapped it so I would know if someone slept there. The next day, he "surprised" me with the wallpaper, saying he did it all by himself just for me.
Every time I looked at those stupid little apples, all I could see was gay sex.
By then, I guess the anti depressants had kicked in, it had been over a month and I did not drive my car over a cliff or into his gay face, so they must have worked. (Joanie without the anti depressants would not have been so kind.)I finally broke him down into admitting the truth to me 6 weeks after I found the love letter. Then, I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to await my test results .. I wanted him to see me cry. I wanted him to know that I thought he was a liar and a snake and that he had lost any ounce of respect I ever had for him.I wanted him to feel the pain. I would go there every night and make him admit all the times he lied and told him in EXPLICIT words what I thought of him. He had to sit there, shut up and take it, or I would out him to the world and he knew it. I wanted him to feel my pain, which of course, he never could. After about 2 weeks of this, I had said all that needed to be said, and told him never to contact me again or I would 'out' him to his family and the world.Things were fine .I stayed on my meds and started moving on...even dated someone wonderful.... even had real straight sex... got back mygroup of friends, and started living again. Life was good.A few months later, he called... he said he "knew he was risking everything"but it was worth it to him because he loved me and it was a "mistake" and it would never happen again, blah blah blah. Well, I think that at this time, the meds had made me so complacent, that I fell for it. Without the meds, I would have taken the telephone to his house and put it where he probablywould have enjoyed it.Anyway, for several months, okay, over a year, I started seeing him again.. I did NOT move back in with him, but we did resume a sexual relationship (I know --- duhhh) and I guess we had what you would call the honeymoon stage. Slowly, the nasty side of him started reappearing - not the gay sex thing - I would have killed him - meds or not. But, his frustration started coming out in many ways and he started treating me like dirt.. I was taking it and didnt know why ... I knew better. So, I went off the meds (under doctor's care) and a couple of months later, I had the strength to finally tell him "ENOUGH" of his abuse, lying and gayness.I finally found my strength again.. the complacency was gone ... and so was I. It has now been almost 6 months. I have changed my home phone number, blocked his email and threatened him with a restraining order and his face on a billboard advertising butt plugsif he ever even THINKS of contacting me again. We live less than 2 miles apart, and I have changed the grocery storeI shop in, and have avoided being anywhere near his house - have notdriven by once (YAY!) because I do not CARE what he does now.He is not my problem, anymore.But, I had to respond to your letter, because the anti-depressants helped me to SURVIVE in the beginning ... but, they also allowed me to foolishly GO BACK and "try to work it out" - because, at the time, the meds made me unable to realize the sheer futility of this. (I always wonder how much farther ahead I would be had I not dumped the great straight guy I was seeing and gone back to tgo) ... Stopping the meds finally helped me LEAVE at the end.So, in the beginning they saved my life, (and his) but later on, they prolonged my letting go and moving on.
Hope this makes sense. Keep up your amazing work!!!! I wait for your newsletter every month!
Joanie
The next letter is from Sherry, who wrote in response to the August newsletter. I received a large response to that newsletter, more than usual. The subject that I am referring to was about gay husbands loving their wives when they got married and for many years throughout the marriage. I think women needed to hear this to validate the good years of their marriage before things fell apart.
Sherry writes:
Your newsletter came at a perfect time. My husband and I have been separated since April, yet still have a close bond between us, primarily due to our 2 children and our business. Since April he has been living with his lover.
Two weeks age he called me at 1:00 am and asked if he could spend the night, I said sure. He got up the next morning and went to work, nothing was said, nothing was asked. I went into work about 2:00pm and he left. About 2:20 he called and said the reason he stayed last night was him and his partner had a big fight, he had been trying to get out of the relationship for a long time. When he got home he found his partner dead on the floor, he had committed suicide.
Since that day he has been staying in my guest room. I still consider him my best friend and I wouldn’t turn away a friend in a time of need. But in a lot of ways it has been difficult. I think I had just gotten used to living alone and was moving forward. I still am moving forward, but some old wounds were also opened. For many years we had a great marriage. It was hard for me to believe that he never loved me and I've thought I can never get involved with anyone again because I thought I was a good wife and it was all an illusion. Your newsletter made me realize that those years were real, we did have something special at least for a while.
And know, as much as it hurts and as much as I wish everything was different, I am grateful for what we do have - a strong friendship and we still do a great job parenting our beautiful children together. Thank you, I needed to know something was real.
Monday, September 1, 2003
CELEBRATING OUR 25TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, September, 2003
CELEBRATING OUR 25TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
On September 10, it was the 25th anniversary of my wedding to my gay ex-husband. Some people think that it is odd that my ex and I celebrate that day every year. After all, what is there really to celebrate? Our years together as a married couple were not good years. In retrospect, they were horrible years. They were years of battle, confusion, and mental berating. They were dark years that over-clouded the good moments like having our children. Those were the years when suicide or homicide seemed like a viable solution to my unhappiness. Thankfully, my ex left in time for me to avoid either one. And once he left, my strength returned in time for me to say “NO” when he came back suitcase in hand a week later. NO MORE. No more lies, twisted truths, or living in a twilight zone. I wanted reality and serenity back in my life.
In the years following our split, there were times when we went to war many more times. And yet, I was determined to make our divorce work out better than our marriage. If we didn’t have two children, it would have been a swift and final goodbye. But when you have children, you find yourself intertwined for life with the father of your children. I had the upper hand to some degree once he left when it came to what I would tolerate, or at least I thought I did. There were plenty of violations of my wishes on the occasions when he would be with the children, some leading to horrific fighting and verbal abuse. But I tried to always stay focused on the priority issue—the security of my children.
Sometimes it was impossible. Sometimes he went over the borderline of what was acceptable. And that’s when silence set in for days, weeks, or months. But inevitably, some problem with the children would force us to face each other, and we resumed life as a family unit under different roofs. It’s been a long and winding road with lots of twists and turns going in different directions. But our common bonds bring us back together time after time.
After our daughter passed away last year at the age of 22, my ex told me that he didn’t want to fight with me anymore. He really has made an effort to keep the peace and not let things blow out of proportion. When he sees that we are starting to move down that path, he changes the course so we don’t end up falling off track. After all, we still have our son who bonds us together. And when I feel like my temperature is rising, I quickly tell him that I have to go and hang up the phone. So we’ve been keeping the peace relatively well for a while. We both know if we have a problem, we are there for each other, and that’s the best you can ask for in a divorce situation.
When I look back over the past two decades of our separated and divorced years, I don’t have too many regrets over allowing my ex to be part of our lives. There’s a part of him that I love—like a family member, not as a husband. I still believe it is always best to try to find some kind of middle ground when you have children. Friendship is the best route when possible. But settle for communication if you can’t have the friendship.
On September 10, it was the 25th anniversary of my wedding to my gay ex-husband. Some people think that it is odd that my ex and I celebrate that day every year. After all, what is there really to celebrate? Our years together as a married couple were not good years. In retrospect, they were horrible years. They were years of battle, confusion, and mental berating. They were dark years that over-clouded the good moments like having our children. Those were the years when suicide or homicide seemed like a viable solution to my unhappiness. Thankfully, my ex left in time for me to avoid either one. And once he left, my strength returned in time for me to say “NO” when he came back suitcase in hand a week later. NO MORE. No more lies, twisted truths, or living in a twilight zone. I wanted reality and serenity back in my life.
In the years following our split, there were times when we went to war many more times. And yet, I was determined to make our divorce work out better than our marriage. If we didn’t have two children, it would have been a swift and final goodbye. But when you have children, you find yourself intertwined for life with the father of your children. I had the upper hand to some degree once he left when it came to what I would tolerate, or at least I thought I did. There were plenty of violations of my wishes on the occasions when he would be with the children, some leading to horrific fighting and verbal abuse. But I tried to always stay focused on the priority issue—the security of my children.
Sometimes it was impossible. Sometimes he went over the borderline of what was acceptable. And that’s when silence set in for days, weeks, or months. But inevitably, some problem with the children would force us to face each other, and we resumed life as a family unit under different roofs. It’s been a long and winding road with lots of twists and turns going in different directions. But our common bonds bring us back together time after time.
After our daughter passed away last year at the age of 22, my ex told me that he didn’t want to fight with me anymore. He really has made an effort to keep the peace and not let things blow out of proportion. When he sees that we are starting to move down that path, he changes the course so we don’t end up falling off track. After all, we still have our son who bonds us together. And when I feel like my temperature is rising, I quickly tell him that I have to go and hang up the phone. So we’ve been keeping the peace relatively well for a while. We both know if we have a problem, we are there for each other, and that’s the best you can ask for in a divorce situation.
When I look back over the past two decades of our separated and divorced years, I don’t have too many regrets over allowing my ex to be part of our lives. There’s a part of him that I love—like a family member, not as a husband. I still believe it is always best to try to find some kind of middle ground when you have children. Friendship is the best route when possible. But settle for communication if you can’t have the friendship.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
