This is a tough one. I am sitting waiting for the train that will take me to meet my kids for our all too brief time together this weekend. A feeling of real dejection is doing its level best to keep me company. I didn't come out until after my marriage ended - my homosexuality rad not a big suprise to my wife, but it was to nearly everyone else. Even as a young man I was seen as "the marrying type" and I was proud to be seen that way. To me that ment reliable, trustworthy, loving, and in it for the long road. That was what I convinced myself I gave to my wife, and our childreren. Today I find myself missing that lie, and feeling awful for it. I need to let go of the life of the closeted me - it is proving harder than I thought. Why would I want to hold on to that l? It is all I knew how to be. Who am I now? I don't much like this half a life I'm living, it is not hard to know that it will not always be like this, but it is easy to lose sight of sight of that too. I didn't want to be gay - it was a thing you do or don't do. But I wasn't straight, but neither had I explored my honosexual nature. Yet, I miss that life I had, no matter how much it hurt. I wonder how long it will take before the me I am will be as familiar?
I suppose it's almost inevitable that thoughts such as these will occur when you are going to see your kids. Seeing them will remind you of how it was and leave you with a sense of longing for stability and security that marriage brought (even if there was a lie at the heart of it). As it stands you don't have that same feeling of security and stability and you don't see it on the horizon, so you will miss it. The rational part of you knows that you are not destined to be in this place forever, but you are only part way through your personal journey. Unfortunately, your journey has begun later in life after marriage and kids and that does make it more challenging and complicated, but it's certainly do-able. Maintaining hope and refusing to give in to feelings of despondency is a fundamental part of the journey Viator. It's not easy, but you can and will do it. It's hard to put a timeframe to it, of course, but now you have the opportunity to explore that part of you that was impossible to explore while you were married and in so doing you have a chance to realise who you really are. Remain strong and lean on us when it feels heavy going.
Somehow today it is sitting with me more than usual. I suppose with the holidays coming, I might be feeling the separation more. I remember the first year after my father passed away; every milestone was its own separate unhappiness; the time after the passing away of this life seems much the same. I think, if part of this season will bring some unhappiness, the passing away of that year might be something to look forward to. As it is coming to that time of year, I will think about this quote from Dickens: “It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour.”
Viator - I really relate to what you're saying and how you feel. This is true despite the fact that I have sole custody of my kids and my life in straight suburbia continues much as it was. What I miss is the partnership of marriage and the bond of raising a cohesive family. Those things were a huge part of my self-identity and will never be replaced - my wife and I are not getting back together and any guy I meet will never come close to filling her old role. (Not that I'd want that.) Essentially, what I strove to achieve and maintain for my entire adult life has disintegrated into something I never wanted and certainly never expected. Yes, letting go is difficult. My way of coping was (and is) to accept that I cannot change the past. What's done is done and cannot be undone. What CAN be changed is the future. I therefore have tried to invest in people and activities that give me things to look forward to. Thankfully I've found a terrific peer group of similar men and we have bonded in a brotherhood that I always wanted but never had. I think if I hadn't met those friends I would have tried to assimilate into gay culture and failed. As a single parent living and working in the suburbs, my life doesn't naturally overlap with urbanites with no kids. Failing to assimilate would have made me feel even worse about what I "lost" so I'm extremely grateful that I found my "tribe" among formerly married men. Based on my experience, the best suggestion I can make is that you spend time creating a solid network of friends. Not as a replacement for your old life but as enrichment for your new one. Sort of like other major transitions: high school to college, college to the working world, or moving to a new community. Letting go of a happy past isn't easy but there's no reason why you can't find plenty of new joys in the years ahead.
