To describe the journey my husband and I have shared as anything less than a fairy tale would be an understatement. I first met Alex in the fall of 1996 when he was 11 and I was 12. We connected over our mutual love for cartoons, the Yankees, music, and Stephen King. We often sat together in art class, where he always found a way to make me laugh during science class. When the Halloween dance approached that October, I mustered the courage to ask him to be my date. We shared slow dances to songs about love.
Our romantic journey began in 2001, at the start of our senior year. By 2003, we decided to move in together, both attending college in Philadelphia. Living in our own apartment meant freedom from RAs and rules—we could do as we pleased. We tied the knot in the fall of 2007, and our family grew with the birth of our two children in 2013 and 2019.
While our relationship has always been rooted in friendship, a change occurred in my 30s. By my 36th birthday, I realized that my feelings for Alex had shifted; I no longer loved him the way I once did. I found myself yearning for connection with women, feeling a need to explore that part of my identity.
This realization was not something my wedding vows prepared me for. Standing before our family and friends, I believed in the promise of being together “for better, for worse, ’til death do us part.” When these new feelings emerged, I suppressed them, convincing myself that they were just part of the “worse” I had committed to endure.
However, the more I tried to ignore my feelings, the more they consumed me, leading to anger, depression, and nights spent crying alone. I felt trapped in a life that, on the surface, looked perfect: a loving husband, two children, and a home without the traditional white picket fence. I dismissed my identity as a lesbian, labeling myself as bisexual instead. In March, I finally shared this with Alex just before the onset of COVID-19. He wanted to know how this would affect us, and while I assured him it wouldn’t change our relationship, I felt like I was lying.
Eventually, I recognized that I was not bisexual; rather, I was a woman who genuinely loved women. Today, I identify as queer. Yet, that knowledge doesn’t provide comfort. I still live largely “in the closet,” presenting as a heterosexual woman while grappling with my identity. I don’t want to lose my children or my best friend, but I feel as though I’m losing myself each day. The shame weighs heavily on me, and I feel isolated, knowing that my husband is hurting because of my struggles.
I find myself in a painful position: choosing between my happiness and that of my family, which is one of the most challenging feelings I’ve ever faced. The atmosphere in our home feels suffocating, filled with unspoken tension.
On a brighter note, I have a supportive therapist and psychiatrist, as well as a few friends who understand what I’m going through. Their support is invaluable, reminding me of my worth and that it’s okay to be who I am. As for my marriage, the future is uncertain as we navigate these uncharted waters together. I would be dishonest if I said I was fine; I’m scared—more than I’ve ever been. But we will continue to communicate, even when it’s difficult. After all, I married my soulmate, my best friend. Though my desires have evolved, Alex remains a crucial part of my life, and I know we will face whatever comes next together.
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Summary:
A woman reflects on her life as a queer individual married to a man, sharing her journey of self-discovery and the complexities of her relationship. As she grapples with her identity and the impact on her family, she finds solace in supportive friends and professionals while navigating the challenges of love and desire.
Keyphrase: queer woman married to a man
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