A Journey Through A Lie

A Journey Through A Lie

A journey through a lie.

It was 1991, just barely April in Georgia, yet already warm days greeted us. It had been a calm winter outside but storms surged throughout the interior of our home. My thoughts drifted to that time as I watched my husband buckle my child into her car seat. Our other two children were now old enough to do this task on their own. The children waved as they drove away. I didn’t know where they were going. I had no right to ask. We were officially separated. The reality of that fact was still settling in. It felt at once frightening and liberating. I was caught riding the down slope of a roller coaster. Perpetually in that moment when your stomach lurches and you cant decide whether to scream in fear or joy.

A war had brewed. We had moved through an agonizingly slow realization that we were living a lie. A pervasive silence had taken hold of him, which fueled a rage within me. I no longer wanted to look the other way. I wanted to matter to him again or strike out on my own. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. My vows had always been important to me. There comes a time when you have to sit yourself down and get real. It would be a failure against my children. Divorced parents would be their history. It was something I never imagined for them and I was the cause.

I had no fear of being a single parent. I felt confident every other day that I could do this on my own. I thought it was an acceptable percentage at that point. A separation is a death and the stages of that grief cycled through. Being the primary parent since their birth, proper child care was never an issue. My worry stemmed from my fear of revealing my truth. The heart of it all had to come to light. If not, then all of this hurt we all felt would have no reason or resolve.

As my soon to be ex-husband had worked late or went to company parties that wives were not invited to, I pined for the past. For the feeling of being home, of knowing without any doubt that your life is right. All the standard cliches apply. To live a lie no matter how noble the cause is to deny yourself honor. It can literally kill you. I had lost my self esteem. I had given it away to please my family. I offered it up reluctantly, but in the end I used it to leave a relationship that had grown toxic. A Lesbian relationship my family had disowned me for. I gained back their favor as I signed me away. I married and produced the expected children. My secret wish was fulfilled. I had always wanted to be a mother. I ignored the truth that I was miserable in every other aspect of life. An unfulfilling marriage would be my punishment for leaving my partner and becoming a wife.

Seven years later I stood watching my children leave for the first of many weekends with their Father. I turned from the window and sat down to cry. It would be years before I was ready to live my life openly. My days were filled with responsibility. Dating would come later when my children were old enough to understand the truth. I would not lie to them or myself. I would not jump into a relationship. I was well aware that I scarcely knew me.

Days flowed easily into years as the four of us became a tribe. As a force of four we encouraged expression in many forms. We sang out loud and painted with abandon. Honesty was our mantra. Being outspoken was celebrated. My parenting style was formed and applied. Truth meant everything.

And so it was, nine years later, that as I met a woman who gently tapped on my walls, I knew I had no choice. It was time to be brave and risk hurting my beloved tribe again. There was no alternative. To do any less would have meant I had not grown at all. I wanted that gentle woman to find a sledge hammer for my walls. It was time for me to be truly free.

Time had gentled society. I was fortunate in that my children knew what being gay was. We had several gay friends who visited often. Ellen had come out, others too. I bravely spoke the words I had feared saying for so long. Expecting the worse, I watched amazed at their maturity as few tears were shed. A few worries were expressed. In the end they knew nothing much had changed. Life continued as it was. Homework needed finishing, there was dinner to prepare. Lesbian was a word that had no merit at that particular time. Soon we would welcome my soft spoken admirer into our home and she would complete our tribe with honesty to match our own. It was as if we scarcely had a choice.

Today, 8 years later, we remain in our much loved home in the hills of Georgia. The children are grown. Soon they will venture out to start their own lives. We carefully guide them toward that goal and encourage each child to follow their dreams with honesty and respect for themselves.