Tag Archives: coming out

My First Girlfriend

I met my first girlfriend well after my marriage was in shambles.  She was beautiful and funny.  She knew how to read a person’s emotions and help them find peace and balance.  People were naturally attracted to her and she had a lot of friends.

She and I are both adult volunteers for an all girls group.  We both attended a leader weekend where we were supposed to be getting educated and focusing on learning what we needed to learn to be better leaders for our girls but we always had a party at the same time.  She and I ended up sharing a bunk and we spent the entire weekend having fun together.  I teased her relentlessly before bed the second night so much so that she held my hand while I fell asleep to make sure that I wasn’t going to climb down from my top bunk and “do something” to her.  I thought nothing of it, she wanted to kiss me.

We started talking and texting a couple of weeks after the leader weekend and became fast friends.  I felt like I had known her for a thousand years.  When Steve questioned my relationship, I was combative and insistent that he needed to let me have this friendship.  I started going to her house after work, finding reasons to drop by.  She would come and spend my lunch break with me.  Within a matter of a couple months, she told me she was bi-sexual and wanted to kiss me.  I was floored. That was gross and wrong.  Girls shouldn’t want to kiss girls.  But I wanted to kiss her too and I was thoroughly confused by it all.

I spent the next few weeks pondering this revelation that I wanted to kiss a girl.  I was energized and excited but totally scared shitless at the same time.  Then one day during a lunch break visit, I let her kiss me and it was amazing.  As soon as I left her to go back to work, I realized I had just cheated on my husband but I wasn’t upset about it.  I was done with him I just hadn’t let go yet.  I went home that night and told him that I had kissed her and I wasn’t sure why I had but that I wanted to have a relationship with her.  He asked me a ton of questions but then approved letting me pursue it.  He told me he thought it was hot.  But, six months later he confessed he didn’t think I would take it past kissing and regretted letting me pursue her.  Within a month, we had sex for the first time.  It was amazing.  I had no idea sex could actually be enjoyable. It didn’t take long for me to realize I shouldn’t be married to a man because I was a lesbian.  Steve knew we were having sex and he also realized that I had stopped wanting anything to do with him.  I never hid any details from him. He frequently allowed me to go to her home and spend time with her or go on dates.  He would smile and wave goodbye as I headed out the door.  I only found out later that he was calling my family each time I left, telling them lies, and permanently damaging my relationship with them.  But that story is for another posting.

My girlfriend was also married and her husband became my best friend.  He knew that we were in love.  She loved us both equally.  She told us both that neither of us was enough on our own and that she needed us both.  We stupidly fell for it and stayed in the lopsided triangle of a relationship for almost a year.  When I crashed my motorcycle, I stayed in their home where they both took care of me in every possible way.  They helped me pick up the pieces, heal, and survive.  I would not be here, the way that I am now, if it weren’t for their compassion and dedication to healing me.  They were my everything.

Near the end of the relationship, we traveled to a resort destination and had a wonderful week and a half as three adults on vacation.  Their treat as a gift for fighting so hard to heal and survive.  The first six or seven days were amazing and wonderful.  The last five were awful.  There was a night where I chose to let them have the night.  I wanted her badly and had spent the majority of the day turning her on but he was feeling jilted so I gave him the night.  At some point in their night, she came to check on me and we had a passionate few minutes before she went back into the bedroom with him. The next morning, he disappeared early to have some alone time while she and I enjoyed each other’s company.  When we found him, he was crying uncontrollably and suicidal.  I tried to reach him but realized that I was the problem, not a solution, and walked away from the two of them.  We spent the next four days like this.  He would cry, she would comfort, and I would hide.  It was awful.  I asked if I should find an early flight home but was told no – everything was fine.  I couldn’t drive yet and who would pick me up from the airport.  We flew home in silence.  I put on my headphones and tried to hide in my window seat.  He was due to go on another trip for work almost immediately after we got home.  I had a new place to live, and was finally cleared to drive within days of getting home, but didn’t want to move out until after I had the chance to be with her while he was out of town.  She had been reassuring me that they would figure this out and I just needed to stay with her.  She loved me and we were going to last forever.  Two days into his business trip, he called at midnight and ended their marriage.  She immediately ended our relationship in a cold and careless manner and I felt so completely stupid.  I moved out like a thief in the night, never getting to explain to their kids why I was leaving so unexpectedly.  For the next couple of weeks she sent mixed signals telling me that she needed to focus on her marriage but that she loved me.  It was painful.  I wanted her to be my future and realizing my mistake in falling for a married woman was not an easy road to accept.  It took some time but my heart let go and all of a sudden, I was no longer in love, I no longer wanted her in my life, and she was just a memory.

I still wonder from time to time if their marriage is working out.  I hope they find each other again.  They were a good team and I was simply a distraction.

My Accident – I survived

Here’s a little back-story to the back-story.  I wrecked my motorcycle a few months ago and this info plays an intricate part to the story I’m here to tell.

I was traveling down a highway during commute traffic when the semi directly in front of me slammed on it’s brakes and I hit it square on, face first, going 15-20 miles per hour.  I remember the semi hitting it’s brakes, then I remember the semi two inches from my face, then I remember waking up on the side of the road.  I don’t remember attempting to stop or being thrown from the bike.

The police report says I was unconscious for about 5 minutes.  I had broken both of my arms, sustained a concussion, suffered whiplash, bruised up both of my legs, and sprained my jaw but I survived.

The EMT confirmed that my gear saved my life.  I was wearing a full face helmet, full body leather, a spinal armor insert, proper boots, and gloves.  Due to the leather, I had no road rash just bruises.  My helmet took the brunt of the impact and my spinal armor saved my back.

I had to have surgery on both arms and ended up with a plate in one arm and an external metal bar on the other.  It sucked.  I couldn’t use the bathroom or take a shower without help.  I had to sleep sitting up with pillows all over my body to protect my arms.  I took a lot of high powered narcotic pain medications that made me nauseous and crazy.  It was a second level of hell but I survived it.

After the fog of the narcotics cleared, my caretaker and I noticed that I was still suffering from cognitive issues.  I couldn’t articulate as well as I used to, I was using wrong words – a lot.  I would forget things that had just happened.  I’d have horrifying migraines, vision issues, I couldn’t eat food some days, I was pretty messed up.  So I went to see a neurologist who ordered some tests and we did some online research.  What I learned was that time is the only answer and I just had to wait the symptoms out.  It was like being trapped in my own partially healed/still in pain body and it was horrifying.  I became suicidal and often considered how easy it would be to down an entire bottle of the narcotics I had so many of.  My relationships had fallen apart and my body wasn’t healing – or so I thought.  I had to have friends come and stay with me for the sole purpose of being on suicide watch.  They would look at me with scared and pity filled eyes as I struggled to find a reason to live.  Often telling me to focus on my children and how it would affect them.  Even they weren’t enough some days.  A few times when alone, I lined the pills up on the counter and had a large glass of water right there just ready to take them but a phone call or text or visit from a friend would stop me in my tracks and talk me down from the ledge.  I started seeing a therapist who helped me realize that I was worth something and my life started to turn around and my head started to clear.

The accident taught me many things.  First, life is potentially shorter than you want it to be.  So don’t keep doing things that make you miserable unless there is a clear purpose for that misery.  Like going to school – do it because that degree will help your career.  But don’t stay in a terrible relationship because it might maybe someday get better.

I’m better now. I’m not totally healed but I’m better.  I still struggle with eating food.  I still have moments where I can’t articulate or remember something nominal.  But I get better every day and I’m no longer suicidal.  One day, I realized I was healing and my suicidal thoughts just disappeared.  I survived.

The Ex-Husband

I’m going to post a series of blogs to lay a foundation of the people in my life.  This is the first – The Ex-Husband.

I’m going to call him Steve but we all know that isn’t his real name. Steve and I started dating just after high school.  We’d known each other for several years but hadn’t really hung out in the same crowds.  We had a mutual friend who was going away to college and we started dating after attending her party.  Steve was a chivalrous gentleman in the beginning and he made me believe that he was a good match for me.  Frankly, he could tell me NO and no one else could.  After almost a year, I dumped him for being an ass.  We didn’t talk for eight months.  I spent those eight months looking for any guy that could possibly be a long term partner and failed miserably.  I didn’t like men except as friends but I kept searching because that’s what I was supposed to do.  After we’d been apart for eight months, my dearest best friend ran into him and convinced him that I wanted to date him again. She then called me and let me know that I wanted to date him again.  She really didn’t like my string of boyfriends (and neither did I).  We went out on one last date and I knew I was going to marry that boy.  We dated for nearly two years before getting married.  I was showered with gifts and fancy dinners, promises of a happy life where we worked together and trusted each other implicitly.  And, I wanted out of my parents’ home so this made sense and I would make it work.  In the beginning he was a hard working, fun and charismatic guy but within six months of our nuptials, I no longer trusted him to tell me the truth about most things.  He had started lying.  He was using tobacco and lying about it.  He was drinking at work, then at home, and lying about how much it had been.  He spent money and lied about how much it was.  He created trust issues right off the bat.  He was also a profound introvert and kept me from the experiences that I wanted out of life, like a circle of friends who hung out regularly and did “stuff” together.  He never wanted to go anywhere so when I found out about an event I had to beg and plead and bribe, even more so if I wanted him to join me. When we got there he would sulk and pout in a corner far away from everyone else, drinking himself silly, and wanting to leave.  So eventually my friends quit inviting us over.  I was unhappy and unsatisfied but because of the way I was raised, divorce was not an option – I was told by my mom, who rarely wanted to get involved, that I just needed to work through it and pray about it.  I was taught that you get up every day and pretend nothing is wrong putting on a mask that says everything is peachy while lying to the world around you to give an appearance of happiness – so I did for 15 years.  We had two children together, first a girl now 12, then a boy now 9. They are the light of my life and my greatest treasures.

Steve and I had a fairly healthy sex life.  Yup, I’m going to talk about sex…  After all, it is a coming out journey.  I had always known that I was not a fan of male genitalia.  It flat out disgusted me to touch it but it’s what I was supposed to desire (right?) so I did what I was supposed to want to do.  I married a boy and after a few years we started a family.  I talked to friends and heard how exciting sex was for them and I just couldn’t ever understand how someone could enjoy sex that much.  After all, it was gross but that’s what I was supposed to want so I kept having sex with my husband hoping for better results each time.  For the first couple of years, we had a lot of sex but after having my daughter that all changed.  We would go for months without sex and it wouldn’t even phase me until he pointed it out.  I’d give in and we’d go a few more weeks or months before he begged again.  I tried new positions, pornography, and online advice. Nothing made me want to have sex and it was still far less enjoyable than the sex my friends were having so I played the sex when I had to so that he was happy game for nearly 15 years.  I now understand why I didn’t enjoy sex with my husband – I like girls.

About five years ago, I decided to move our family to the Portland, Oregon area after realizing our finances couldn’t sustain us where we were at.  Steve was told to find a job but never did.  His family berated him relentless for being unemployed and it clearly hurt him when they did.  So I never admitted to anyone other than Steve that I wanted him to get a job.  I told everyone else I was happy to be the bread winner and that I liked having a stay at home husband.  I lied and it later bit me.  (Don’t ever lie, it’s not worth it no matter how small the lie seems.)  Steve and I were a pretty decent team for the most part until I realized how deep his lies were running.  He had a habit of drinking when and where no one would see him.  Then having a drink around me letting me think it was the only one.  I had no idea he was drunk for most of our marriage.  Shortly after our son was born, I had to ask him to stop drinking after walking into the kitchen and seeing him holding our infant son in one hand and a double scotch in the other at 6am on a work day.  And he did, for awhile, but at some point he began drinking in total secrecy. I would call him from work and have a lengthy conversation about something detailed and important I needed him to do and he would claim we hadn’t talked.  He would pass out on the couch as soon as I got home from work, most nights I couldn’t wake him up until I went to bed myself.  He would have fits where he would stumble around the house and yell at the kids.  He would have rambling incoherent conversations that made no sense but were sometimes funny.  I started researching brain tumors and other neurological impairments – there was no way he was drinking, he had reassured me a thousand times.  When I would ask if he’d been drinking, I would get an emphatic no.  If I searched for alcohol or asked to see a receipt, he would act repugnant and hurt, so I quit looking or asking. And somehow I was stupid and naive enough to think he was just really tired and not drunk.

After 14+ years of marriage, I came home early from work on a Friday and found Steve stumbling down the driveway getting into his truck.  He was intent on picking the kids up from school.  I managed to get into the passenger seat before he drove away.  By the time we reached the school, it was obvious to me that I had been a total fool, he was severely drunk and now driving in a school zone. We had a 45 minute wait for the kids to come out so I convinced him to come clean and took the keys away in the school parking lot. When we got home I put the kids into another room with a TV and some snacks, hiding Steve’s problems from them, and called Steve’s mother.  I had been through this before but this time was different.  I had no desire to fight for my marriage any more.  I wasn’t pissed off or hurt, I was done but that wasn’t a choice because divorce is not an option.  So after he sobered up, we talked.  I let him know that I wasn’t okay with this and that he needed professional help, that I couldn’t be his source of stability because I was struggling to stay in the marriage and needed time to heal my own wounds.  He chose to use me as his only source of support and it only managed to push me further away.  We went on some get-away weekends, I prayed a lot, and we tried to go on dates but my heart was just not in the marriage and I knew I wanted out but I wasn’t allowed to consider divorce.  It was hell.

Soon after, my friends noticed a drastic change in me.  I wasn’t as carefree, when he was around I was angry and bitter toward him. He clearly could do no right in my eyes.  I hated him.  I hated my marriage.  And I was trapped.  They started to confide in me one by one that they didn’t think my marriage was healthy and that they could see that I was unhappy.  Most often getting told that I became a different person that they didn’t like when he was around.  More friends started going away, they didn’t want to be around the cancer that was my marriage.  Steve increased his verbal abuse to a level where I hid from him most of the time.  My daughter confessed that she was scared of her Dad.  My son just cried a lot with little provocation.  My marriage was over, my kids were brokenhearted, and my husband blamed me for everything that had gone wrong.

And then I met a girl who changed my life forever…

Who am I?

You found yourself suddenly on my blog and are thinking – what the hell am I reading.  Right?  I have a story that just keeps going and most of my friends have encouraged me to write it down.  Possibly turn my story into a book.  We’ll see….  I’m just going to start here and see where this goes.

I want to start by saying I’m a lesbian, a former Christian, and a Libertarian.  I know some of those contradict the others but hey, when you’ve lived the life I have, opinions and what matters changes – A LOT.

I’m going to start with some background but I know it’s boring so I’ll keep it as short as I can.  I was born into a fundamentalist, racist, homophobic family and now I’m an orphaned lesbian.  I was raised in Michigan by a Baptist minister’s son and I spent every Sunday in church from the moment I was born until only a few years ago.  My mom made me wear pretty dresses and tights and I hated it with a passion.  I never considered that I might be gay because it was so unacceptable and the way I was raised, it was considered unnatural.  It wasn’t an option, it wasn’t even something I could reasonably fathom, until my marriage fell apart and I fell in love with a woman.  I look back now and think how did I not realize it sooner.  My friends tell me they’ve always known and thought I was purposely suppressing it.  I would have been so much happier in this life if I had figured it out sooner.  Not that it’s too late to be happy, I just would’ve caused a lot less grief if I had.

Coming out was hard on my family, losing my marriage was difficult at best, finding the new me made it all worth it in the end.