Growth = Grace or is that Vice Versa?

Part of my realization that I rushed into my second marriage way, way too fast has also been wrapped in a great rush of grace.  And that was realizing that in many ways, I've been able to work my way through the anger and bitterness I was carrying around after finding out I'd spent most of my adult life married to a gay man.

The bottom line of my relationship with this man is that we began as friends.  And now, that friendship has been salvaged, at least to some degree.

To me, that is grace.  We've had coffee together a few times this year and talked about his struggles and mine.  He's asked for my advice.  I've asked for his.  We celebrated our children's birthdays together, including his partner, and it was fine.  In fact, it was great for our adult children. 

But in realizing what I still have in common with this man (tons of shared history -- and herstory, too) I realized that I still love him deeply.  Not as I used to, e.g., as a wife.  But as a person.  He's really my oldest friend with the exception of my former roommate.  My inklings of how incredibly daunting and difficult its been for him to come to terms with his sexuality has created a new compassion, not only for him, but for other LGBT people who struggle with some of these issues.  And that, too, is grace. 

It's also been difficult to realize that my gay ex-husband "gets" me far more than my straight second husband.  But it's the truth.  That's a rare thing when someone "gets" another person. 

More grace: this doesn't mean that I don't recognize his personality and character flaws which I won't go into here.   It doesn't mean that the betrayal I experienced is any less.  It means that forgiveness is primarily to set free the person who forgives, not necessarily the one who has been forgiven.

One of my "she-ros" is Carol Boltz.  Carol was married to Ray Boltz, an acclaimed Christian singer, for many years before Ray finally came courageously and painfully out of the closet.  Carol, with an open heart, is a compassionate woman who is supportive and loving to her ex-husband and other LGBT folks.  And she does this firmly in a Christian context, without judgment.  When I first heard about Carol and corresponded with her via Facebook and email, I wondered if I'd ever get to where she is.  I still wonder, but I think I've made some baby steps.

And that brings me back to grace.  I heard from another woman friend yesterday who was struggling with how to confront a newly out male friend of hers who was still hiding much of his truth from his wife.  We talked about ways to do so without being harsh or judgmental.  Since he's a life-long Air Force officer, I suggested that she use the words honor and integrity.  This is because he swears up and down that he never was unfaithful to his wife during their marriage -- except once. The truth is he was unfaithful much of the 20-year-plus marriage which puts him and his wife at high-risk for a whole slew of STDs.  And his wife deserves to know this so she can get tested and have some peace of mind.  Where's the grace here?  Another closeted gay man in the church who has now been ostracized and judged.  And yes, he's in his 50s.  This man has struggled with his sexual orientation for 30-some years, gone through reparative therapy to (of course!) no avail and finally compartmentalized his life by having a series of male lovers while staying married to his wife.  Where's the grace in that?  I think the grace is that he's out, that he still loves God, and that he will eventually own his own truth fully.  And so will she.  Hopefully that grace will also keep her sane and able to eventually forgive him.  And in that forgiveness, she will begin to be free.

Wounds

Last night I had a very healing and hilarious experience, chatting online with a group of straight wives via Bonnie Kaye's support group.  I was struck by how so many of us use humor as a coping mechanism.  Last night's chat got a little bawdy, but for me, it was filled with belly-laughs which are so very healing.

I also learned about Misti Hall's blog, Straight Spouse Coaching and was very taken by her most recent post on the wounded feminine spirit.  Misti articulated something I've intuited very deeply for years and I'd like to riff on it a little bit this morning.

Years before I truly outed my gay ex, I ran across a book by Linda Schierse Leonard called "The Wounded Woman: Healing the Father-Daughter Relationship."  This was one of those books much like Alice Miller's "Drama of the Gifted Child" which was very emotional for me to read.  (In fact, I think it's time to pull out "Gifted Child" again and revisit it!)  So here it was, somewhere in the 1980s, and I finally owned that I was walking around with a gaping "father wound."  My father loved me, but he had difficulty with emotional intimacy and my mother had basically kidnapped me when I was young, taking me away from a very dangerous situation (physically and emotionally), but depriving me of any contact with my dad.  I contacted him when I was in my late teens and we then attempted to rebuild our relationship, something that was ongoing until his death in 1997.

I wonder how many of us straight wives have father wounds.  I wonder if that puts us at higher risk of getting into an unhealthy relationship with a closeted gay man.  I know for me, I didn't know what "normal" male behavior was, because I am an only child, raised by my mother and my grandmother.  I had no male role models or connections growing up except my distant daddy.

Early in my recovery process, I was an avid participant of COSA (Codependents of Sexual Addicts), basically an AlAnon program but with a different addiction going on.  And, while I no longer attend meetings, I do still cling to the philosophy of the 12 steps.  I noticed that the overwhelming majority of us in the COSA group had some sort of sexual abuse or violence in our past.  Many of us -- myself included -- are rape survivors.  That's another kind of wounding, which also creates post-traumatic stress issues.

Like moths drawn to the fire, are we drawn to these dangerous men?  I think that on some level we are.  Until we are able to really dig deep into our own woundedness, own it and begin to heal, we'll be attracted to the relationships that feel like "home."  And don't get me wrong -- a great relationship CAN and SHOULD feel like a homecoming.  But not like Dysfunctional Family Robinson kind of home -- the abnormal "normal" so many of us grew up with.

Misti talks about how during the straight/gay marriage, the straight woman begins to lose her sense of femininity.  I also lost my sense of self -- what my counselor called my "voice."  We sense on some level that our husband isn't truly attracted to us physically.  Even as a newlywed, this fed into my already huge poor self-image and my thoughts that I was too fat, too ugly, etc.  Eventually, I became anorexic.  (Hard to believe if you see me now!)  I asked my ex once why he didn't intervene with the anorexia and he said "I didn't know what to do."  Puh-leeze.  But that's another story.  If we had an argument, he'd say that I couldn't expect me to "perform" or be interested in physical intimacy after "how I had demeaned him" and "made him feel shut down."  Finally, in my late 40s, I added to the litany of my faults that I was too old.  

Interesting, isn't it, that part of this toxic tango is that we are more willing to blame ourselves and build the house of cards that is denial even higher than to admit the honest truth: he's gay.