When the bomb drops.

So, I'm in Utah... Staying with my friend. Putting in applications and resumes all over the place, attending interviews. I was also networking with Reiki masters, building a group of gay friends off of grindr for my husband, scoping out the gay bars for him. I was getting Korbin's school stuff in order for the upcoming year. I was also taking notes from my friend on how to shop more effectively and be more organized. I talked to my husband and kid everyday that he was home via video chat. During the weekends, the hubs always took the offspring to my mom's house. There were some long weekends the month I was gone so the kid spent a huge chunk of his time with my mom and dad.

 I found someone (a guy) to engage in the open relationship agreement with and got the hubs approval before proceeding. The hubs said he finally understood how I felt. He said he must feel about me sleeping with guys the way I felt about him sleeping with guys. He also said it kind of turned him on and he wanted to watch a guy fuck me. So it felt like we might have a plan.

I spent every night in bed crying. Hoping and wishing for my husband to miss me.

During the time my husband told me that he would be coming up to be with me on June 1st. He said that he just wanted to go to his mom's 50th birthday party and get Korbin finished with the school year. That weekend he spent with his family at his sisters up in the metroplex. I told him that I wanted to video chat with everyone. When the call was placed at first I had a cold reception and everyone scattered the moment they saw my face. The mother-in-law was especially chilly. I questioned the hubs on what had happened and he continually made excuses and would not let me talk to his family. After this weekend my hubs said that he didn't know if he wanted to come or not. I was worried. I'm sure it had nothing to do with him spending time with his family and mother (cue sarcasm font and eye roll please). His responses to some of my texts became sketchy and well worded... his silence after certain things I said on the phone were becoming more and more unnerving. I dismissed it as my anxiety and fear of abandonment.

Not long after this happened I had a positive phone interview and was invited to a second interview. The company was one that if you got a second interview, you were pretty much golden for the job. I was super stoked. Finally!!

I also had a weird experience. One of the reiki master's I had been talking to met me in the park. He told me all manners of things about myself that he would have no way of knowing. He also said that the next 3 months of my life were going to be a living hell. Excuse me? A living hell? He added that I would survive, be stronger than ever, and would be better able to help others.

I was in shock. I asked him what he meant and Reiki Master told me that I already knew what was going to happen but I didn't know how to wrap my head around it. He talked about my intuition and said I needed to learn how to trust myself. Immediately I knew what he was implying. He was saying that my husband was leaving me. My stomach turned. I immediately told myself that he didn't know what he was talking about. I went home and spoke with my husband on the phone and he assured me that he loved me and missed me. See, I told myself, he isn't leaving me. My gut still didn't feel right. I was still uneasy...

Not many days after this, I felt like I needed to come home. My husband said he loved me and missed me and wanted to see me. His responses were funny and he acted weird when I asked if I could come home. I had to see him and make sure that Reiki Guy was wrong....

The next day, my husband called early in the day. His call worried me as soon as I saw his name on my screen. My stomach churned as I answered. He made small talk and asked when I would be coming home. I told him that I would be leaving in the next day or two.

And then he said it....

When you come back you need to go stay with your mom.

Excuse me?

You cannot come back to the house to live.

Crushed... that's how my heart felt. And I was in disbelief. The tears automatically came. I was in public. And I was crying and blubbering on the telephone.

The hubs then began to tell me that I had left my home and abandoned him.
I reminded him that I did not abandon him and he promised me he would not feel that way.
He said he knew that but he's had a lot of time to think and he now felt like I ran away and abandoned him.

He also said things like I deserve better than he could give me. He said I was a force to be reckoned with. And a whole bunch of other things that would insinuate that he was in fact, breaking up with me.

He told me that he had made the decision a week ago and had already informed his parents.

I noted how unfair it was that he just made that decision and didn't care to tell me about it. I also noted how weird his explanations were. He also went back and forth between blaming me for it and then telling me how awesome I was and I had nothing to do with it. I asked him if we were getting a divorce. He said he didn't even want to go there. I was so confused. He said we were unhealthy for each other and he just wanted to be healthy.

Utter devastation. How could this happen? Why was he blaming me? He knew he could have told me to come home at any time.... He knew that.

I packed up my things and got ready to come home. Tearfully... I had to go home and save my marriage.

On my way home, I met someone that I refer to as Master.... I'll tell you all about him someday. He deserves his own blog post! hahaha!



I also had to not die.... my worst fear was coming true and my fear of abandonment was surging out of control. I would be lying if I didn't feel like death may be better. I rationalized that if I were gone, then the hubs could go and be gay without worrying about me. I could make it okay in my brain that everyone would be okay without me.... except for one... my son. My son is the only reason that I made it through the darkest time in my life.


I was hopeful... but deep down I knew it was over. I just hadn't accepted it yet.

Word!

April Fools!!!

 It was April 1st. We were departing the next day. It was going to be awesome!


My parent's had come over to say goodbye. The time was growing in which I had not heard from the hubs. My stomach swirled with anxiety. It texted and texted. And called and called. I texted his mom to make sure he had made it. She didn't respond the first time. I messaged her again. She seemed put out but did say she had eaten lunch with him. Her message wreaked of negative juju... which only fueled my anxiety more. Son of a bitch... something was seriously wrong. I could sense it. The worry was seeping into me from all around. The universe was warning me. I made believe that it was all in my imagination.

My son and I went to DQ with my parents. When we had gotten into the restaurant and found a seat, that is when my hubs silence was finally broken. It had been over 4 hours. He says he's home. I invite him to DQ. He declines. Then I ask him what is wrong.

"I'm not going."

"Is this some sick kind of April Fool's joke?"

"No, I'm not going. But I think you are ready to go."

Meltdown in 3.....2....1.....

The world doesn't work anymore... I'm no longer able to control my anxiety.... I can feel my pulse surging all over my body. My head goes swirly and and my chest tightens. My kid is talking to me but I can't really understand him. My mom and dad are talking to me... and I just flip out. I can't be here anymore... I have to go home. I have to go home. My mom suggests I go outside for some fresh air. I do... but then my legs just carry me towards home. I'm bawling and I call the hubs. I am telling you now. If ever I have had a freak out moment... this was the mother of them all. I asked hubs to come get me through the tears and boogers. It was bad, y'all... and ugly. I'm sure the passing cars were cringing in horror. WTF is wrong with that girl. Perhaps some calls were made to the local law enforcement. Who knows... I was devastated. And it showed.

We get back to the house. The hubs appears to be both distressed and put out that I was bawling. The hubs was cut off from me. He had denied me access to his inner feels. This feeling always makes me feel even more uneasy. He started telling me about how he wasn't ready to go. I asked him if he would ever be ready. He said that he didn't know. I asked if he was leaving me. He said that he didn't know.

FREAK ATTACK

What do you mean you don't know?!?!?! (my heart is racing and i can feel my blood pressure rising. I know it is rising because of the way my backbone starts pounding.)

"There have just been certain patterns that I've noticed over the last 10 years of our marriage..."

"Are you talking about my housekeeper skills? Are you seriously going to leave me because I'm not a good house cleaner?!?!"

Ok... so this is something you should know. I've never been a good housekeeper... Like ever. I had improved over the years but I was still extremely lacking in this area. Any time we fight about anything, this is where we always come to. Because I have no defense what...so....ever... I mean... I have cleaned but I cannot ever seem to keep it up to the standard. The laundry is never done all the way and typically ends up in baskets for the family to pick through. I did the dishes, but I didn't keep up with the details. I was good at decluttering. And if I cleaned that's what I did. I decluttered. But... alas anytime my husband became mad at me, I never did anything ever in the whole history of my existence.

"Well there is that and other things," he explained.

"What?!?"

He then began to say how I was emotionally manipulative. Which... let me tell you.... how dare I cry when I'm sad or upset. Because you know, that is totally just me being manipulative... (can you hear my eyes rolling? Because they're rolling pretty hard right now). You see... he couldn't possibly feel guilty because he had done something shady. He was incapable of doing wrong of course and so any implication that he had caused a negative emotion in me was apparently absolutely insidious.  He had been on this kick for some months now. You know... since I'd been crying for months because I was sharing my husband with countless others while I felt neglected.  But you know.... I'm manipulating him so he'll feel guilty. You see where I'm going with this, right? My kingdom for a sarcasm font....

My parents come back... I'm still bawling... and you know being that dastardly manipulator that I am... (OMG YES>>>> I AM STILL ROLLING MY FUCKING EYEBALLS... GET OFF ME!!!)

My parent's do not stick around long, because the tension is thick. But I relay what is going on to my mom. They leave. I am left crying in the living room. I hear my husband on the phone telling someone that I am bawling over the telephone. Probably his mother.

You see, what happened is he went to see his mother for lunch. She got him alone and manipulated him into staying. She can play him like a fiddle. He even admitted it to me, while holding firm that even though he had been manipulated he was still making the best choice for him. Now that I look back, it is possible that he was just using his mom to deflect some guilt of himself so that he didn't have to feel guilty. Of course now I am just making speculations. The world may never know...

I had to go. I went to my nearest bestie's house and she helped comfort me. I had to run this by someone. I had to know that I was not absolutely insane for feeling the way I felt. I had to know what someone else thought. She soothed me and gave me some balance. She said she totally understood why I felt the way I did. I went home. The fact that I spazzed out was held against me. He had shut down and no longer wanted to talk to me.

I sat in the bed trying to silently cry to myself. Then I wanted to talk. I wanted to be held.

I literally begged him to hold me. I begged for comfort. He gave me none. He said he had nothing to give me. He told me that he could only do for himself. I asked him where that left me and he said that he did not know. He could not deal with me or my bullshit. He had his own shit to deal with. I went outside and bawled facedown in the grass for what seemed like hours. I don't actually remember how long I was out there. He did not come check on me. I don't exactly remember, but I probably cried in the shower too that night. It had become a regular practice at this point.

The next morning there were more discussions. I asked him about what I should do. I asked him what he thought.

He said, "I think that it would be good for us for you to go, but the decision is yours, I can't make it for you."

"You're heart is in Utah"

"I just need some time to wrap up some things."

I was also told that I was up his ass and always in his business. That I was always around.

He assured me that he wanted to be with me. He assured me that he would come up to Utah eventually. I made him promise that he would. I told him that I did not want to go unless he was coming. I made him promise that he would not feel abandoned. Several times.

He agreed to watch Korbin for me so it would be easier to find a job.

I decided to go. He was tired of me being around, and we had to start making money. I hoped that he would miss me and want me around again. I got my things ready to go. We explained to Korbin that we weren't all going together and that I was going on ahead. He was upset but he understood. And he was super pumped when I reminded him that he got into that awesome new school.

My husband stood up from the bed, finally, and gave me a hug. He looked me in the eyes and said he loved me and said goodbye. The words sent a chill through me and as I looked into his eyes it felt like he was saying his final goodbye. I shook it off as a feeling and my fear of abandonment.

I pulled out of the driveway and bawled all the way to Albuquerque.

I texted my husband on the way.... told him to tell me to come home if he doesn't want to come. I said I'd turn around right there and come home. The husband told me he wanted to be anywhere but there and reassured me that he just needed time to wrap things up. He said that he would tell me if he didn't want to come and tell me to come home.  Remember this....








Afterthought: Here would have been an excellent time for the hubs to tell me he was done. That he needed to be free. I could never prove it, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this was all orchestrated so he could lay the blame on me for everything. I could be wrong... but I really don't think I am. Take note of the details in this post. They are true and what happened. The details of this post will be called into question at a later date and it will cause me to question my reality and sanity.

The beginning of the end

I came home to my husband. And I had said plainly, that I'm going back to Utah. Of course, when I said that I fully intended it like I would be going back with my family... or at least they would be joining me there.

I commenced getting ready. With my husband's consent, I began selling things so that we could have some money. It was emotional for me selling things. But I knew it was for my family. I began to get rid of things that I loved because the possessions were not as important to me as making sure my family made it to our final destination. 

I had entered my son's name in a lottery system to become part of a charter school. It was a school that had a hands on approach to learning. Well, my son got in. He was ecstatic because we had visited the school. He loved it so much he left the building that day skipping with joy. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

Then it happened. My husband walked into the bedroom and said, why don't we just go. Just go and leave the house and worry about the renovations to rent it out later. He said let's go next Thursday. Let's go. I said, ok let's do this mother fucker. Not much longer after this conversation I received a phone call for a job interview. After this phone interview I was invited to a face to face interview. I had been putting in applications for jobs in Ogden. It was on Monday, April 4th. So, it was time to go. We all planned on going together. The three of us. 

We talked about it. We were excited! 

I had mentioned to one of newly found gay grindr friend's that we were moving. Well let me tell you... the gay grapevine is quick to spread the news. Before I knew it my husband was getting inquisitive texts about when he was going to tell them he was moving. I had assumed that he was telling people. Come to find out... he had told no one. And it was my fault that they had found out and I had caused him drama. I felt bad about it. I didn't stop to ask myself at the time why he had not told anyone. It is curious to look back on now. 

Then we went to the in-laws. This was the Thursday before we were to leave. We were going to leave on Saturday. My husband had said that he told his father that we'd be leaving. Well, when we arrived and told his mom... she was not aware. And that's when all hell broke loose. We went to eat out. His mom crying and carrying on in a public place. I tried to reason with her and say that we both felt it was beneficial and I spoke to her in her language. She is very insistent on being positive and energy vibes in the universe vibrating at certain frequencies. Well, she is much better at preaching than practicing. She let me know very quickly that she had every right to be upset and she could do pretty much as she pleased... Though I might add, if I or anyone else had been upset like that at the moment she would have gotten on all philosophical and telling them how they should be responding and why. And probably trying to get them to consider looking into getting just one more vagina egg. 

On the way home, my husband said that he needed to get away from his parents because he had an unhealthy relationship with them. He was quite outspoken about his need to leave and his excitement about our journey. Little did I know, how very... VERY.... quickly that would all change.  

The next morning... the DAY before we were to depart for Utah, I began making final preparations. We hadn't really packed much... but we really weren't going to take much until we found a place. We still needed to find our animals a caretaker while we were gone until we could return to fetch them. I went to Korbin's school and unenrolled him. I went to Brownwood and said goodby to all my friends from work. I was ready. I was as excited as any girl could be. Yay!! I was finally getting to move. I was finally getting something for me. I needed it. I needed something for me. I had sacrificed so much of who I was and what I envisioned my marriage to be. I had very little to give. I was drained and ready for a fresh new beginning. This was it! We were going to make it!!

Meanwhile the hubs had gone to town to have lunch with his mother and then go see his counselor. 

That's when my hubs stopped answering his texts... and his phone calls.... I had a funny feeling that something was terribly wrong. And it was.... but how wrong I had not prepared myself for. 

Let's Move to Utah

Amid all of the chaos and such, I planned a trip for our son and I to go to Ogden, Utah to visit my good friend.

It was amazing. I loved it. There was so much there to do and see. I knew that the hubs would love it too. There was skiing, hiking, camping, and all kinds of activities. It was also an area that had gay bars. It was a bigger city with a small town feel. It felt so right. There were jobs too... and the population was very diverse. I knew that is where we needed to be. I had no anxiety about it either... and if you know me, you know that I can kind of be an anxious person. 

I called the hubs. I explained to him how awesome it was and said let's move here!! The hubs said ok, let's do it!! I then told him not to shit with me because I was as fucking serious as I could be about anything. He said, Ok... let's do it!!! 

I am not sure that I had wanted anything so bad in my life! Even before we got married, I had wanted to move away. Actually, as funny as it might sound, we had originally planned to move to Africa to be missionaries. Something that appalled his mother and she diligently prayed against it. So, as time went by I knew that we were less and less likely to ever leave. I tried and tried. I longed for the day that I could move away and see more of the world.... experience being out and about away from everything we always knew. I felt like the two of us could accomplish anything. The longer we remained in the same place... the more he began to say he wanted to stay. I had resigned myself to be a wanderlusting gypsy that would never spread her wings. 

I felt like I had endured so much. The hubs had struggled though a few existential crises since we had started dating. Before we even got married. He struggled through college and decided to quit. He worked at Chic-fil-et awhile. Then he was a computer tech for a family friend's computer business. I got pregnant and we had a baby and we had to move in with my parent's for awhile. I got a job baby-sitting so we could move out. 

Then he tried to be a police officer. After being refused from police academy for his lack of life experience due to being home-schooled (which is ridiculous if you ask me) he had another mini melt down and couldn't figure out who he was supposed to be. He got laid off due to the economy and decided to be a paramedic. During this time, I pretty much felt like a single mother. He did odd jobs for his mother while he attended school. I was still babysitting during this time. I managed to provide a decent income to help support the family while he was going to paramedic school. 

I began work on my master's degree during this time, which I finally obtained in 2013. That's when I started working as a QMHP for MHMR.

He worked in one county decided he hated it, moved to working in a different county, then decided he hated that and moved back to working at the original county he had began at. All the while having a hard time emotionally over this or that. All of which I thought were mostly understandable. I always try to give people the benefit of the fucking doubt. It was stressful and he was angsty... but I always told him whatever he needed to do would be good with me. 

He then became very stressed and could not longer work as a paramedic and had to quit that. He went back to school and worked part-time for minimum wage while he attended college courses to see how he would do as a physics major. This did not end successfully either. He got a job with the state fixing computers and he seemed to like it, for awhile. He began having troubles there and could not attend without having major panic attacks.

Then there was the heart scare. Where he couldn't be in the heat and would have episodes. I had to rush him to the ER. We found out that he had some heart damage from a unexplainable rapid heartbeat.

And then there was the whole coming out as gay thing.... which pretty much sent my life spiraling out of control.

I spent a great deal of time holding him while he cried. Doing things to support him through his time of crisis. It was okay for me to be the strong one. I knew that he could be the emotionally strong one sometime. I had to be there for him. I loved him. And I did not mind.... But you see.. the last spell lasted over a year and I had become quite exhausted. He was having really good days, but also really bad days. I did everything I could to help him. But it seemed like nothing was working. And he seemed to be getting more and more distant from me.

In my heart of heart's, I felt that if I could get my family up to Ogden... everything would be better. It felt so right. And he had given me his blessing. We were going to do this. I was so excited!!! There were reiki masters there for him to network with so he could work as a reiki master as well. Which would have been perfect, since he never really did well with authority. 

I originally intended to meet my hubs in New Mexico to give him the kid so I could go back up to Ogden and start the job search. When I met him there, he asked me to come home. So I did! He said he was overwhelmed and needed help. So, I went home to help.... Little did I know this would be the last span of time that I would be welcomed to my home..... 

A letter from the past

I'm going to call this a guest posting because this is the letter my husband wrote after he came out to me. It is one of the reasons how I knew he loved me and would stand with me. I am going to share it now.

"If you’re reading this letter, it is because I have decided to include you in a very personal journey in my life. I’m sure you are shocked, confused, and probably have lots of questions. I too have dealt with my own confusion and still have lots of questions. This hasn’t been and isn’t an overnight thing. From the outside looking in, I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you. Most importantly, I need for you to understand that this wasn’t a choice. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to try something new. 

My journey to where I am now has been a painful one. I can’t begin to write down in words what I have gone through to get to here. I know with every fiber of my being that this was not a choice, it is just who I am. I know it was not a choice for any person who is in this position. This path is one of loneliness, self-loathing, self-doubt, fear, rejection, and pain. The decisions I have been faced with have been difficult. No person would willingly choose this path. No one person or experience in my life has made me this way. It is not anyone’s fault, not even my own. A person’s sexuality is too complex to be decided by only a handful of factors. It is greater than the sum of its parts. 

I’ve always known I was different from the others. That is a feeling that has been with me for as long as I can recall. I always felt like I had to strive to find commonality with my heterosexual male counterparts. I never liked the same things they did and I was never into sports. I never had a fascination with the female form and aside from only a handful of relationships I never had any kind of meaningful connection with other women. While I knew I was different, my peers in grade school sensed it. They made sure to exclude me and bully me further confirming those feelings of dissimilarity. 

Life went on, I grew and developed. I knew I was different, but I didn’t know how. Rather, I rationalized in my mind that while I was different, I wasn’t that different. I didn’t and still do not identify with the “gay” stereotype involving pride parades and a loud effeminate lifestyle. Because I didn’t identify with that scene and because of other deep ingrained morals and values, I denied who and what I really was. I conveniently packed that part of myself away and ignored it. 

When I met Starsha and developed a friendship with her, I discovered that we had much in common. I loved her for who she was and the friendship we had. We married and started a family and our lives together have been wonderful. We’ve never faced a problem together that we couldn’t get through together. Everything has been seemingly wonderful. However, there’s always been something amiss for myself. That other part of me that I had always tried to keep packed away, out of sight out of mind, was pushing itself further and further into the forefront of my mind. 

I never imagined the consequences of denying a part of who you are. The last few years have been rocky for me personally. I found myself becoming increasingly unhappy and unsatisfied with life. Episodes of depression that have always been common in my life became more frequent and severe. I found myself in a very dark place emotionally and spiritually. I was coming into a place where I could no longer continue to deny who I was. I had built this heterosexual identity that took an immense amount of energy to personify and protect. I sought counseling to deal with this and other issues I was facing. It was not until this point in my life that I had to be honest with myself. After much introspection, many tears, and raw cold hard truth was I able to answer for my therapist and myself what I was. “I am gay”, I answered in response to her probing question. Up until this point I had rationalized for myself that I was just a regular heterosexual guy who had this other little quirk that I could just ignore and not really worry about. 

For months following this first admission I struggled with my identity and true sexual orientation. I questioned everything. I knew deep down what was true, but accepting it was a different thing. I knew I needed to tell my wife and be honest with her. Through this whole time she had sensed the separation between us as I continued to desperately try and conceal my true self. I had so many fears of how she might react and how she might feel. My biggest fear was losing her. My second biggest fear was hurting the person that I loved so much.

I wanted to take everything I had discovered about myself and stuff it back into the recesses of my mind. I often thought about the easy way out of it all. I felt like I was stuck between a rock and hard place. I felt like my only two options where continuing to live a lie or hurting and possibly losing someone I loved. I wanted the pain and confusion I was feeling inside to end. I considered on several occasions taking my own life to escape the reality I was facing. I spent months trying to work up the courage to tell my wife, looking for the perfect opportunity. 

I finally took the chance and told her my deepest darkest secret, allowed her to know a part of me that I had scarcely allowed myself to know. It was scary and painful. It was one of those raw moments that are frozen in time. We spent many hours hashing out everything that each of us was feeling, revealing our fears to each other, holding each other, and loving each other. Through it all, Starsha made sure I knew that I was loved, supported, and accepted. She made sure to tell me that she wanted me to be the real me. The barrier I had built up over the years came crashing down. We drew close to each other and saw new life breathed into our relationship. We began to feel closer to each other than we ever had. 

I married Starsha for all the right reasons. We were young, we were in love, and we wanted to be with each other forever, and still do. I have always loved her, everything about her. I have always loved her body and I have always been genuinely attracted to her. But as I mentioned earlier, I still felt that something was missing, that a part of me was missing. There are a multitude of reasons why I did not fully understand my sexual orientation and identity when we married. Chief among them are my religious upbringing, young age, and societal norms. 

I’m sure you have many questions still. The answers will come in time. Right now, all we ask for is your love, support, and understanding. Our love for each other is strong. Our marriage and our relationship is much larger than sexual orientation. You may wonder why this even matters. I hope that my journey to this point in my life helps you to understand why this is important to me, why it is important for me to be honest with myself about who and what I am. We don’t know what this is supposed to look like or how it is supposed to work. But we have each other and a strong love and know that we can get through anything together." - The Husband. ... If he wants me to use his name I will get back to you with it. But for now... I shall leave it at that. 

Grindr, Deceit, and Emotions.... OH MY!!

It has been awhile since I have added to my blog. It's because we are starting to get into the deep shit that is soul wrenching. You may be like... "WTF, Starsha!!! All this shit has been pretty hard to deal with!" Yes, Yes, you would be right... but not nearly as hard as what is yet to come. Yeah, I will tell you now... I am emotional as fuck (I've probably already mentioned it a time or two haha)... but it gets worse... much worse.

So, I find this app called Grindr. It's a gay hookup site. I showed it to my hubs and he basically took that bitch and ran with it. Full speed ahead!

Gotta love the Golden Girls!!!

The first few hookups were a no show, which he acted deeply wounded over. I was secretly relieved but still held a certain kind of sadness for him. I knew he wanted to experience it. But all I could do was bawl.... 

Then his first night out happened... he went to the gay bars and had a little fun and then he stopped responding for awhile. My imagination had me thinking about what if he met some kind of serial killer. Maybe that proverbial Antonio has a dark side? I cried and cried and cried.... my face was so swollen I looked like an down syndrome Asian kid (so not PC but it is the only way I can think to describe it. Don't judge me!). I couldn't feel him anymore. He disappeared off of my empathic radar. I threw up, I stayed horizontal in the shower for over an hour bawling, and I texted him over and over... desperate for an update I wouldn't get until around 3 or 4am. Turns out he found himself a threesome. I finally passed out... emotionally exhausted. When he got home, I cried even more. 

Each time he went out to be with a guy, it got a little easier. But with every new exploit, I was a nervous wreck. I'd beg him to go while I was bawling. Sure that I was doing what was best for him... and not even considering that I may need to be true to myself. 

All I wanted was cuddles when he got home. I needed physical reassurance that he still loved me. He became loathsome of my requests for physical affection. His touches were cold and empty. He was cut off from me. I will admit, I still got some good ass smackings here and there... but I became more and more desperate for a loving touch. 

I sent him the following heartfelt email on 3/7/2016. I titled it Warning: Feelings Ahead:

I know this is a new and exciting time in our lives. I know you still have a lot of things you need to think about and figure out and it can be quite overwhelming at times. I'm always here for you to help you and be a sounding board for your ideas. I love how happy you are when you come home from your newfound exploits. It makes me feel good to know how good you feel. Equally, it makes me sad to see you suffer. 

I didn't know how to bring this up because you don't seem to be feeling very well today, but I have to be open and honest. I was going to bring it up this morning... When I tell you that I need you to touch me or snuggle, I am not asking flippantly. I am telling you what I need. I need physical reassurance. Especially when you spend 3 out of 4 nights having sex with other people. It is fine that you do that... I really do not have a problem with it, but I really still need you to love on me, I'm not even talking about sexually.... though sex is nice. Emotionally I am still figuring everything out. It has not been a particularly easy transition but I feel like I am coping well enough. I need you to help me though by being extra sensitive to my needs too. 

When you disconnect and do not make an effort to connect with me, especially when I am making an active effort to interact with you... It feels like I am not worth the effort. I get anxiety. My mind starts playing tricks on me and I start feeling desperate. You are probably tired. You have been having lots of adventures and that has to take it out of you. You probably wouldn't believe how happy I am for you that you get to explore your sexuality with such verve. The only problem is that I have needs too.... needs which are generally met lately. But this last week, I have not really felt like you want to touch me...  as I have not noted any attempt on your part to hold me or touch me in a way that I felt like you wanted to connect to me.... And when I come over to you, I do not really feel welcome. I don't know if that is just my imagination. It totally could be. It could be a result of my anxious imagination... sent forth to aggravate my fears....  And I understand that if I ask and you don't feel like it, then that's ok. I can tell when you just don't have it in you. We just need to find a way together that we can meet this need of mine. 

Please know that I am not judging you... I am just trying to find a way to express myself in a way that doesn't come across as an accusation. I understand why you may not feel like being touchy feely, I really do. But I would be doing myself a disservice if I kept it to myself. 

As I read this in the present, I can't help but feel that I was being more than fair. And I was just expressing my feelings. My deep down, honest feelings. Right?

I was told that the more I pursued physical contact, the less he wanted to give it to me. He recognized that touch was my love language, stated that it wasn't his, and said that the more I asked for it the less he wanted to give it. He said I take too much energy. It was easy to fuck guys but I took too much and he simply did not have it to give to me. So what did I do? I tried to make sure I didn't ask too much of him. And I look back and want to kick my everloving ass. I did everything I could to make him happy. And I was miserable... 

I couldn't do my job anymore. I had become so depressed. 

I caught him lying about certain guys. One excuse was that he couldn't handle my emotions. Another was that he didn't want me to judge him. So he just wants to lay all the guys and not have any emotional repercussions. And when I did finally get to participate in a threesome with him and another guy. The hubs did not care to include me at all. The other guy tried. But my husband pretty much ignored my existence. I did note how completely blissed out he was during this sexual experience and I decided that if it made him feel that good, then how could I deny him that?

I had a moment of weakness one morning. I saw my hubs texting his regular booty call. Then he got up to get ready for his counselor's appointment way early. I had a very accurate suspicion that he was going to go meet up with his booty call and not tell me about it. I waited for him to get out of the shower and I tried to seduce my husband by offering him a blow job. He declined saying he just got a shower. I pointed out that he didn't have to leave for over an hour and he could get another shower. He was squirming. He didn't want a blowjob because he was going to see his man candy. Could he just tell me this? No... he couldn't. When I asked him point blank he denied it. Then he admitted it and then he said he was just going to tell me after. We had a rule. I always wanted to know before hand. It was our agreed upon rule. He said he didn't want to deal with my emotions. I was too much and he couldn't deal with me.... You know because he should really just get to do whatever he wants without regards to his wife's feelings.  Of course all of this got turned around and then I was the one who was in trouble for daring to offer up a blow job under false pretenses. Let's just forget about what a fucking liar he was and make it all about how I was insecure and trying to see if he would fess up to going to bone a guy... as per our previously agreed upon agreement. I'm evil... I know... (eyeroll)

This section has a trigger warning for self-harm... I would not want to harm one of my fellow self-injury survivors to be triggered because of a stupid decision that I had made. I put it in parenthesis... it's safe after that. 
(After he left for counseling, I did something I hadn't done in 14 years. I took my husband's straight shaving razor and sliced up the inner left foot towards the bottom. I sat there sitting on the edge of the tub, watching the blood drip and pool in the bottom of the tub. It wasn't enough. My skin crawled. My wrist beckoned the razor to come closer. My skin demanded something deep. Something dangerous. It's call was deafening as I silently watching the blood drain from my foot. I couldn't do that... I couldn't do that... I fled from the house because I could no longer be there with myself. I drove to the mall in Brownwood. And I wept wretchedly in the parking lot.  And I hid it from him. I didn't know how to cope. I just knew that he couldn't know that I had sliced myself up. Not after 14 years of self-injury sobriety. But at least he was getting what he needs. I was certain that he would reciprocate.... eventually. I did tell him eventually.... but it was much later after the wounds were healed.)

I tried to find my own side bitch too... but I wasn't as successful.... Got some kisses and naked cuddles though. I've always had a very monogamous spirit. One person was great for me. I was pursuing a sexual relationship with other people because I thought if I did it too, then I would feel better. I will add that this whole situation has changed who I am to my core. I'm still trying to figure out who I am. Thankfully I am in a much better place now. 

Surely my tear stained pillow would not be in vain. Surely this would make us stronger... Surely.....

Holy Fucking Shit.... was I wrong!!!

Afterthought: I gave up so much of who I am. I don't know if I will ever be able to trust again. I am hopeful.... but part of my idealist has died. I'm a bit jaded. 

Sincerely

I love my husband... soon to be ex-husband. I really do. I always will. I cannot unlove him. I do not know whether to classify this as tragically romantic or tragically stupid. Either way, it is as true as true can be....

We were going to renew our vows this year on our anniversary... or as close to it as possible. And we were going to do it at a gay pride festival. This is what I wrote with full intentions of using it as my wedding vow.

"To my husband: I love you. I love you from a place so deep, I cannot even explain it. I love you. I love all of you. I love your insides and your outsides. I love your flaws and your imperfections. I love your soul. I love your smile. I love your nerdiness. I love your gayness. You are my best friend, my lover, my husband, my soul-mate. I promise that I will never leave your side. I promise to have hot kinky sex with you until the day I die. I will always be there to wipe away your tears. I will be there to chase away the doubts and fears that linger in the darkness. I promise to always let you be you. Who you are is precious. You deserve to be exactly who you are. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed. I promise to help you put the pieces together. I promise that I will be there through all the pain. I promise I will share all the happy times. I know, in my heart of hearts, that we have something special. We have something that no one else has. It transcends everything we’ve ever been taught about love. Forgive me when I try to hide myself from you. I try to keep all my pain for myself. I’m greedy like that. You have my eternity. No matter where life and time may take us, I’m yours. I will follow you from this life into the other. If I go first, I will wait for you. Whatever you need, just ask and I will do my best to see it happens.  I look forward to our adventures of life. My love for you is infinite. Let’s do this mother fucker!!!!"

I was ready... I was ready to do what I thought was going to be the hardest thing I'd ever do. Little did I realize that it was only the beginning of how hard shit would be. You know... when you do something just so you can have something you want? *Spoiler Alert* Sometimes you give everything and you end up with exactly what you feared the most.

"We often meet our fate on the road we take to avoid it" - Master Oogway (Psst: Kung Fu Panda, Y'all!)

So we have the discussions about how this whole open relationship thing will work. We open it up to women for me and men for him. Seeing as I am bisexual/pansexual (Surprise Folks!), even though I've yet to actually have sex with a woman. I could have lived my whole life perfectly satisfied with my man. Later on, the arrangement would be opened up so that I could be with men or women. Stay tuned! Anyways... we have to find a medium in which to explore this newfound relationship framework. This is where the discovery of Grindr comes into play.

I can't be the only one.

Of all the things I longed to do during the time of darkness, I longed to take the darkness away. I yearned to make it my own. I had battled that battle before. I had survived. I was willing to take up my sword and be the champion on my husband's behalf. I would be the heroic princess and he could be the prince in distress. I didn't mind that a bit. I was desperate to take on the proverbial dragon and drive it from our homeland. But alas, I could not. He would not release it to me. I watched helpless as the darkness grew darker and the day of his soul turned to night until he could no longer stand up beneath the burden of it.

"When you hurt I hurt. My love aches to make you whole. I know that I cannot hope to complete you. You have to put those pieces together yourself. I yearn to do it for you. Your grief and anxiety course through my veins. I feel it like ghostly fingers tracing along my vascular pathways. Tormenting spirits writhing within my blood.  Helpless to soothe their ghastly pleas, I sit amongst the plight of fear. You’ve come so far, though you’ve got so far to go. You are weary and weather worn from your struggles. Breathe. Breathe deep. Feel the air deep in your living soul. Fight for the freedom your heart deserves. Fight my love and know I am here. Feel me. Feel my love. Pick up those pieces. Do not fear the thing that will make you whole and lend you wings. You must jump and fly. The fall is fierce but the wind will fill your newfound ability for flight. Glorious flight into the endless blue. I’ll be here, right here and I’ll cheer you on towards victory." 

He reached out and found his salvational rescue. A retreat of sorts to help restore his weary mind. The darkness wasn't so dark. But he was still weak from the his battle scars. 

We spoke of our lives and of our time together. He said he did not know how we would make it, but we would find a way. He was speaking of his desire to be with men. I knew it. I could feel the ache in my heart overwhelm me. My mind raced at the prospect of losing him. I weighed my options. I could tell him I loved him, but I could not share him. I could make him choose. An expansive void filled my stomach as I imagined not being the route he chose. In my mind, the world fell in around me. I could also choose to have an open relationship. Of course that would mean I would also be free to explore also. I didn't want anyone else, dammit. I had the life I fucking wanted. Now, I faced one of the most challenging decisions I had ever faced in my life. Some of you may feel like the answer to this question is cut and dry. I couldn't lose him. I could not imagine a future where I would have to be without him. Hastily, I spouted, "You can sleep with guys!" I went on to explain that I knew he needed it to feel whole. I offered all of my support. Deep down I knew this would destroy a part of me. I painted on my smile. The show must go on. Oh gawd.... it hurts. 


Afterthought

I'm kind of like a widow, but not really. I mean... he's still alive and walking around free to bang all the dudes his heart desires. When I think of the fact that I could have been a widow. I'm glad that he's alive.... you know.... to bang all those dudes... Even though... yeah... I'm going to shut up now.

The Darkness

The darkness is something that some of you may be acquainted with. It creeps in slowly sometimes. Other times, it bursts in... taking you by surprise. Some darkness is darker than others. The darkest darkness had descended upon our house. I began catching glimpses of it here and there. Random thoughts and actions became apparent. Before I continue, I need to explain a few things.

I'm an empath. I know, I know... Don't roll your eyes! You're probably thinking about those cliche bullshit posts you see all the time on Facebook. Well, it is really a thing. When other people are having emotions, especially strong ones, I can feel that shit in my soul. I've dealt with my own depression. I've also experienced the depression of my loved ones. I can feel it as if it were my own. Sometimes it takes me awhile to sort out what I am feeling and what someone else is feeling. I can take people's pain and negative emotion away and trade it for my own. In my mind, I feel like I should suffer over others. I feel like I can tolerate it better than those I feel it emitting from. I take it, process it, and set it free with my tears. Especially chaotic emotions can drive me to lying in the tub in the fetal position with the shower going. I enter a catharsis and begin the daunting task of healing the pain. It can be quite exhausting. An individual can also choose not to release their pain to you. If you don't believe me, I get it. I would have a hard time believing something like this if I had not experienced it myself.

My husband is a believer. He believes because of the random texts asking him what was wrong at the precise moment he was having a bad day. He believes because I would ask him if he felt trapped, before he officially outed himself to me. He admitted that he believed. He told me I was  hot on his trail. I could feel when he began to cut me off. I could feel him cutting me off so I would pry harder, exacerbating his panic that I would soon discover his secrets. I look back on some of my writing and understand more than I had during the time. I realize that my feelings were more intuitive than anxiety based.

(Journal Entries Fall 2015: "Clingy," "sexually aggressive," "reading over my shoulder," "asking if I took my medicine," "smothering," "It has nothing to do with you." These are the words you spoke to me when I came to you for closeness and affection. Are these attempts to negate feelings of perceived abandonment? IDK, but I feel horrible. I come home in desperate need of an embrace, only to be met with someone who wishes the widen the gap between us. Communication is not wanted because I will be emotional. My tears are not welcome. I am not welcome. I feel unwelcome. I feel as though a space I once inhabited unrestrained and utterly me no longer exists. There is no room for me. No place for me to seek shelter. So depressed and trying to put on a happy face and be strong. I gave of myself when you were in need. You wept in my loving arms. No such luxury shall be afforded me. I'm not quite sure what's wrong. I'm just sad in general. In a melancholy way. I can pretend to be happy well enough and sometimes I genuinely am... There is just a persisting sorrow lingering just beneath my skin... coursing through my muscles. I'm concerned that I don't know myself... or that I am playing some character who is masking the real me. Who am I? Am I an imposter? How would I even find out?)

When I speak of the darkness, I am not speaking of a literal darkness. I am speaking of a metaphysical emotional darkness. The darkness of which begs you for your life once it has you in its icy grasp. This darkness whispers in your ear and tells you things that draws you closer to the center of it's pitch black core. I am no stranger to this darkness. When I was younger, this darkness called itself my friend. That is how I recognized its insidious arrival. But it wasn't here for me. It was here for him.

Your Incomplete (A Poem)

You are my everything
I am your incomplete
There was nothing I could do
No way I could compete

I am yours completely
I know I'm not enough
I will love you with my dying breath
Though breathing can be tough

I'll stitch up my broken heart
And I'll stitch up your heart up too
I do not care how much it hurts
I want to be with you

Gall Bladder Diversions

So, I'm home from the awesomeness that was my birthday (we all know what happened then, am I right?!)... And I'm paying for my dietary indiscretions. My gall bladder has had enough. Now, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with her stubborn ass. This is not my first rodeo. I've tolerated her shenanigans for years. She seems to feel better with some pickle juice and lemons... But she's never satisfied for long.

I go get my scan done and go home and wait for the results. I'm sickly and feeling rather drained. At this point I'm not sure if the problem is singularly my gall bladder or if the emotional upheaval that is now my life has a lot to do with my depleted physical condition. Either way, drowning in a sea of blankets is how I shall celebrate along with the frequent offerings I give to the toilet gods. I eventually get my scan results and I need my gallbladder out. Yay! Is it bad that this excites me? Not only does the little bitch deserve her demise, I also get extra time to process current events.  When I'm not so sick that I can't even hold water down.

I go to the ER, and they give me pills for nausea and pain. Well at least now I can manage to hold down gatorade and crackers. I see my surgeon, get more scans, and finally gall bladder gets her final eviction notice. Of course the whole process has taken a couple of weeks and I've lost a significant amount of weight. It's okay though guys, I wasn't in any danger! I have plenty of stores to draw from.

Pre-Surgery Selfie: Still hot af! haha

I spent a lot of this time of my life worried about my husband. Worried about how he was feeling and what he needed most. I felt guilty for being sick and needing so much attention. We talked and talked and talked. I cried, he told me over and over that he wasn't leaving and that he would never abandon me. I assured him that I would always be there. I would be his #1 cheerleader. Though, I still had daydreams about being that classy trailer park slut with her bunny slippers. I could never get rid of that nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was going to end up away from the man I loved most. I could feel the end drawing near. I wrote all of this off as my fear and anxiety running away with my mind. There was no way that he would ever leave me. But I worried about it. I mulled over it. I had no idea what to do. I cried. I cried a lot. I'm emotional as fuck, people! It's who I am.

While I was recovering from my surgery, a darkness set itself upon our household. One in which I could feel and was helpless to defeat. All parties must be willing to cast aside the darkness. Unfortunately, I can only set my own personal intentions. The darkness came and the life and death battle would begin. 

My thoughts as of February 1, 2016

It is hard to be here. It is hard to know that your husband is gay. I know that he loves me and I know he doesn’t want to leave me. He says he thinks I am sexy and he likes by body and wants to have sex with me. But he says there is something missing. Something that I cannot even begin to fulfill for him. It hurts. It hurts on a very deep level. Here is the man I love with everything I am. The man who completes me. But I don’t complete him. And I can’t. I never will be able to. I feel the hurt down deep like a desperation that will never be satisfied. It isn’t fair. Not even a little bit. I don’t fault him for being gay. I know that is who he is. And this grief I feel is like mourning. I think that I must be mourning the part of the relationship that can no longer be. The part where we complete each other and give each other everything we ever needed. And there is nothing I can do to change it.  Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch. I feel helpless. So utterly helpless.

My heart is partially broken. I think it always will be. Whatever the future holds, I am helpless to it. He must make the decisions that are best for him. I must be the liquid that bends and wraps around that reality.  

What is best for me is what is best for him. I will ultimately do whatever I can to keep him happy. I cannot lose my person, this one thing is clear to me. I cannot lose the other half of my soul. It can’t happen. It would kill me on the inside.

I love him. I will always love him. That’s all. I hope that he can find the happiness that he needs. I sincerely do. It will always be my burden to bear… He is my everything and I am his incomplete.

The day after the day after...

Holy Hell! This sinking feeling in my stomach surges like some kind of sick and twisted carnival contraption designed to torment the masses..... We drove home the day after my birthday with tear-soaked intentions to make it through. I'm going to be sick. No, really... don't look. (wipes face).

Two days after the gay bomb detonated I opened my eyes to the not so shiny world. Gawd... my life now sucks ass apparently. I glanced over to the right to see the love of my life. My brain races with an array of possibilities. I envision myself old, living in a trailer park, covetously guarding my title of crazy cat lady. I'll wear one of those fuzzy pink bath robes and have curlers in my hair... I'll sit on the front porch smoking cigarettes while flashing the neighbor man a sneak peak of coming attractions every now and again. I'll throw in a wink here and there just to let him know I mean business. A smoochie face would add just the right touch, don't you think? I look back to my right.

I wonder what is going through his mind. I wonder what he wants. I remember the past year. I recall being so terrified that he would kick the bucket from a damaged heart caused by inappropriate sinus tachycardia. That was when I met my happy little friend named Prozac. I'm going to need more of that. I can feel it deep down in my cerebral cortex. My stomach churns. My gall bladder is furiously upset with me after all the delightful Cajun cuisine that had been forced upon it during my weekend festivities.

I'm going to need some medical attention, stat! I'm used to my gall bladder being a little bitch and have grown accustomed to my frequent trips to the bathroom to toss my cookies right into the throne of dietary redemption. I can get in today if I say I'm sick and puking... which was in no way an exaggeration of the truth. My intentions, however were to get a little more of that handy dandy serotonin re-uptake inhibitor. I was seriously going to need that. So I called and won an audience with my physician that very same day. After a friendly little chat, my wonderful doctor upped my dose... but she also referred me to have a gall bladder scan. I had a fever and there was some concern about the functionality of my glorious bile sack. Like I said, my gall bladder had been a little bitch for awhile. We've had a difference of opinion for some time.

Satisfied with the acquisition of my desired pharmaceuticals, I consented to the scan. What could it hurt?

Afterthought:
If I knew then what I know now, I would have sent him on his merry gay way. I mean, I didn't mean to tame a gay with my magical vagina. It would have been appropriate to return him to his natural habitat, right?

Love Doesn't Always Win

Love doesn't always win

Sometimes it breaks you down

Takes you to a hell that you've never been

Turns your heart into a ghost town

Love can be weirdly beguiling 

Then set you on fire

And walk away smiling

Leaving you scorched on a smoldering pyre 

Love takes you by surprise

Deception on its lips

While staring in your eyes

And tugging at your hips

Love was a promise

Now it's a lie

It started with a kiss

And now I just cry

I know that I loved you

With a love that was true

But now my love means nothing to you

My heart is shattered too.

So my love didn't win

It was turned into my shame

I've been kicked in the shin

You've dishonored my name

I hate that I love you 

So much that it hurts

But your love was untrue

I’ve been stomped in the dirt

You call me a friend

Then treat me like shit

I just want this to end

And get on with it. 

(Just a little something I wrote)

Ground Zero

Here we are, young and in love. No, he doesn't look like a potato... haha. 

My soon to be ex-husband of 11 years revealed to me that he was gay. This was something I wrote directly afterwards. I added on to it a bit here and there. But I want to share it here. The following writing is filled with hope of a future together... but it was not meant to be.

My Husband is Gay (Bourbon Street, Strippers, and Raw Emotions)

“I’m gay.” The words washed over me. He’s gay. What does he mean, he’s gay? I stare at the man I have loved for over 11 years. The father of our child. He’s gay. I’m drunk (very drunk). It is my birthday after all, why shouldn’t I be? We were fresh out of the strip club, where my husband had just paid a volumptuous blonde Argentinian girl to give me a lap dance. I was feeling quite homosexual myself at the moment (and I liked it). I can’t feel the weight of his words but I know they must be heavy. I’ll feel them in the morning.

I had been aware that this day might come. I actually would sit sometimes when I felt particularly insecure and imagine scenarios in which he told me he was gay and then left me for some sex god named Antonio. He used to be gay, before I married him, you see. That was back when we both believed that you could chase away the gay juju fairy with prayers. Turns out, you can’t.

The words began sinking into my alcohol soaked brain. The first thing I feel is afraid. I have to hide it though, because I don’t want to make him feel bad. He assures me that he has loved me and will always love me. He says he wants to be with me forever and was afraid he was going to lose me. He says he’s known for over 6 years. I feel an unsettled desperation deep in my gut. I love this man. Did he really still love me? Did he really still want a piece of this sweet ass? I just keep flashing back to those self imposed torture sessions that I dreamt up about that stud muffin, Antonio. I’m really starting to hate that guy. So, logically, what do I do? I buy my husband a lap dance from a guy at the Bad Boys club down the street. That’s the only logical thing to do, right? Turns out I wasn’t really ready for that…

My husband holds my hand and onto the back of my pants on the way home. He’s been so cut off from me lately and I welcome the physical contact. We get back to the hotel and the alcohol begins to wear off. We spend the early morning hours crying and reassuring each other that we are not going to leave. We reiterate our love. I admit that I feel a bit upset that he did not trust me enough to tell me sooner, but acknowledge why he did not. I wonder how we are going to move on from here. Where do you go from gay?

Fear. That’s the emotion that I feel the most. Fear that I am not enough. Fear that I will be left behind. Fear that somehow, his love for me will fade away. It’s hard to feel this fear. The fear is real now. Fear that he is still lying to me to spare my feelings. It took him 6 years to tell me he was gay. How many years will it take him to tell me he really doesn’t think I’m sexy? How many years will it take him to tell me he will only be happy with another man? I think of Antonio again… Damn his sexy, home-wrecking ass!

I also feel guilty. Guilty that I am so concerned about my own fear. Guilty that if I ask him to stay that I am being selfish. Concerned about my own needs and wants and scared to death that I am about to lose the one person in my life who I love enough to die for (besides my kid, which is half my husband so….).

I dwelled in that hotel bed next to him, bawling, long after he had slipped into an emotional and alcohol induced comatose. I get up and get a shower. The water washes over me and I try to give my pain to the droplets as they make their way down. I want to wash this all away. I want my pain to disappear down the drain. It doesn’t work, unfortunately, and I am left with it. I finally find sleep, and David Bowie finds his way into my dreams. Weird.

We wake up in the morning. My husband draws close to me and cuddles with me. He holds me close. We have sex, though I’m not quite into it. My mind is too full and I question the motive behind the love making. Is he forcing himself? I hope not.

We make our way home. We laugh, we cry, we cry some more. I’m sad, scared, angry, and a little bit relieved. I’m glad to finally know what the thing between us has been. I’m not sure what to do with it now and my brain is reeling with questions.

We spend the next few days trying to sort out our emotions. I’ve thought about killing myself to free my husband from his bondage to me. I learned that he had thought about killing himself. A fate worse than him leaving me. I don’t want him to die. I’d rather see him doing the mattress tango with Antonio than bury him. Because, I love him. It would hurt like no other pain in the world to see him move on, but it would be better than the alternative.

Then we have the talk that sets my heart at ease. He says he loves me. He promises me he will never leave. He says he loves my body. He says he is attracted to me. He says it over and over and over as I wipe away my tears. He will never leave me. i believe him. Deep down I believe him. We’ve had some pretty amazing sex during our time together. I guess you can’t argue with that.

I know I will still be waging a war within myself. When we have sex there will always be the thought that I am not enough. I want to strangle that thought like the son of a bitch it is. Stupid ass mother fucking son of a bitch. I hate myself for having this constant battle inside of me. I just want to be ok. I’m so afraid that he will get tired of reassuring me that he loves me, wants me, and will never leave me. I’m annoyingly needy. An emotional leech, if you will. All l can do is reside in the safety and peace of his promise that he will be there with me forever. I believe him. I will have a hard time with my own insecurities. Because I fear that I am not enough. I have always felt like I must be the luckiest woman in the world to land such an awesome man. And I am. But I don’t think I deserve him. But I lucked out. And I can always giggle at the irony that the only man to ever make me feel like a beautiful sex goddess, is gay. Eat your heart out Antonio, he’s taken!

In the beginning....

In the beginning there was a Starsha... well in the beginning of the 80's there was a Starsha... There are lots of things that have happened to Starsha since then. She has lost herself a few times. But there has always been an adventure in finding herself again. Most recently she has been sent on a catastrophic spiral of tumultuous proportions and she finds herself in a foreign land. Not a geographic foreign land, so to speak. Starsha has been catapulted into a new realm of emotional and spiritual upheaval. She must now navigate through this new land and rediscover the things she has forgotten... and unlearn some of the things she has learned.


If you haven't guessed it, I am Starsha. I am starting a new journey in my life. It is time to turn the page and embark on my journey. There will be ups and there will be downs. There will be lefts, rights, sideways, and upside downs. The joy is in the journey. This will be the greatest rediscovery of my lifetime.