Older straight wives with gay husbands react in their own unique ways after finally discovering that their husband is gay or even transgender. They may feel bereft and alone, mourning for the life and the man who is now a stranger. The grief is complex, layered with so many memories that are now tainted by this new, unwanted knowledge. And the anger! So much anger about lost years, deception, and betrayal. Maybe she’s tenaciously determined to get out of there ASAP and forge a life for herself in her remaining years. Or she’s holding on, because leaving is oh, so scary. Or it simply seems impossible.
Whatever your unique situation is, and however you’re feeling, is 100% understandable. There are no rules for how you should respond.
Did this happen to you?
Perhaps your husband waited until his parents died, or perhaps he was waiting for society to catch up and make it “easier” for him to be his authentic self. Whatever his reasons were, or whatever the circumstances were around this, you are left with a situation you could never have imagined as a young bride.
“It was different back then,” others tell you.
“It was too hard to come out back then,” he says.
He seems more focused on justifying his choice than understanding its impact on you. He may be upset with you for being upset!
And so you grieve for the lost years.
You ponder what could have been.
- The possibility of a marriage where you were deeply loved and desired
- The possibility of a life lived out loud, instead of hidden in his closet
- The possibility of a marriage built on honesty and trust
A shared secret, perhaps
Perhaps you knew his dark secret, but couldn’t speak of it. It was a secret shared between you. No one must know! His shame was real, and you stayed… hidden in the shadow of his closet. The risk of exposure was too high back then. Perhaps it feels too high, now.
As time went on, it was just “how things were”. And you stayed.
He suppressed his homosexuality or saw men secretly, and you put up with it because your options felt too limited. You made do as best you could, trying to find joy and fulfilment in other ways, knowing that this was your lot in life.
Until now…
Perhaps he is now gone from this earth. The truth can finally be told.
Perhaps he lives, still, but as an openly gay man now. He has finally emerged from his closet of shame.
Where does this leave you?
- How do you make sense of this?
- How do you find a new way of living?
- How do you recalibrate the memories of your life?
Your stories have been entwined all these years and now you must write a new chapter. What stories will emerge? What can you create with the years that lie ahead?
It’s frightening to think of moving forward as an older woman. Can you leave, or will you try to stay together? You may be financially vulnerable, worried about facing your older years alone. You’re finally free to live your own truth, tell your own story, but you’ve only known his closeted version of your life for so long. The thought of living free can feel scary, frightening, uncertain…
It happened to me, too
I know something of what you’re going through, as it happened to me, too. I was 48, which is younger than you, perhaps. I’d lived in his closet unknowingly for 24 years, which I’ve just realised was half of my life!
My husband was just a teenager when we married, which was unusual in 1989. Marriage was his “exit strategy” from the shame he felt about his same-sex attraction. But I could never “make the gay go away” for him. I didn’t even know I was supposed to.
I don’t think he was intentionally malicious. He was a scared boy, really, who hated the way he was, and desperately wanted to have a life that felt out of reach: that of a straight, happily married man.
I wish he’d told me. Before he asked me to marry him.
I guess he loved me in some ways, but he could never love me fully while withholding such a significant part of who he was from me. It was an “intimate” relationship with a massive secret sitting like a boulder that blocked true intimacy.
We had 5 children together, one of whom died after just 9 brief hours. We managed as best we could: him, with his dark secret, and me, with so much uncertainty and confusion about what was wrong, and why he was so unhappy, so angry.
It’s been quite a journey, returning to myself. I’d been out of the paid workforce while we raised our children (that’s another story for another day), and had a large task ahead of me. I had to reinvent myself, rewrite the story of my life, and reconnect with who I had been before all of this happened and who I was becoming.
I am more than a wife (not even a wife, now)
I am more than a mother
I am Me
Post-traumatic doesn’t negate the reality of the trauma. I’m not glad that this happened to me. But I am thankful for the lessons learned along the way:
- Learning why I was so quick to ‘forgive’
- Learning why I ignored the reddish flags
- Learning why I put up with a marriage that was far from easy
- Learning why I often sacrificed my own needs and desires to ‘keep the peace’
What about you?
As you walk along the precipice between what was and what can be, you have decisions to make about how you will move forward. Whether you choose to keep the secret to yourself, or disclose it to some loved ones, or shout it from the rooftops, your story is your story. Your life is yours to live. Whether you stay married or divorce.
If you would like some help in the process of working through your grief, rediscovering yourself, and creating a brighter future, please reach out. Counselling and coaching sessions are available by video, globally. When risks from the COVID-pandemic are lower, sessions will be available in-person in Melbourne, Australia. (Edited to add: I’ve updated this post, but I’m leaving this sentence here as a little piece of history, as the post was originally written in 2021 in the middle of the pandemic.)
You don’t have to go through this alone.
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