I just don’t want to use my social media pieces to dump on my friends.
It was suggested by quite a few people that I turn to blogging again. I am not sure how many followers I will have or how interesting it will be – but there is enough drama for three blogs, sometimes, I think.
I want to live with joy again. I want to be as carefree as I was – not before my kids were diagnosed – but back in January 2004. What was so good about that time?
- son #4, who has Down Syndrome was age 3 and had just had surgery to remove his tonsils and adenoids – there were some complications – but he came home – he was healthy, progressing and my sweet baby.
- son#3 age 5 was definitely NOT autistic – all of my daily hard work had brought him out of whatever maze he was getting lost in.
- son#2 who has Fragile X Syndrome was age 7 and was starting a new program that seemed to be moving in the right direction.
- son#1 who has Autism was age 9 and was working with a wonderful team who believed in him.
- we had just participated in a documentary on care giving it was called Circle of Love, A Caregiver’s Story: Children with Special Needs
- the Special Education PTA that I had founded was hosting a conference for over 200 people in early May.
Life was good, I was making a difference, touching lives and felt positive about almost everything. Everything, except my husband. He had been sleeping on the couch for more than two years. I had resolved that this part of my life was awful, but manageable. I took care of the kids, I took care of the inside of the house, I did all the minor repairs, all of the outside maintenance, paid bills, did the taxes, cooked, cleaned, shopped. The rest of my life though – my friends, family and children were enough. My marriage was in a holding pattern – “as good as it gets” and as long as we were in front of other people, my husband would be the most attentive, funny, loving man ever. At home it was a different story – at home he sat in front of the television until he fell asleep and slept on the couch all night. It was worse when he would ‘snuggle’ with the kids in bed and sleep with them all night. Despite begging him to come to bed, waking up every morning alone and thinking, wishing, hoping for something that told me we were connected – he just couldn’t make that choice. The fact that it became a choice instead of a loving, natural instinct – only broke my heart more. To me, though, I had made a commitment. Our marriage was a covenant, a living sacrament that I respected.
So, on May 18th, after he nearly had a nervous breakdown three weeks prior and had started therapy again, my husband came to bed with me. It was 11 o’clock. What a momentous occasion! I warm body in bed – a novel idea for my marriage. He looked at me deeply, turned a bright red and said “I have something I need to tell you. I sometimes see a guy – anywhere – at the park, in the store and I get feelings. I am attracted to men, sexually attracted to men and I am bisexual.” He emitted a little squeak and then hid his head in his pillow and giggled nervously. My head just exploded. I, I, I, I, couldn’t think.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew, but didn’t want to know. He admitted to lying to me for the past 14 years. At that time when we were dating I asked him if he had ever been involved with a guy. He said no. Actually, at that time he had already had at least 10 public sexual encounters with men he had just met. In other words, blow jobs in cars with strangers, who had picked him up off the street. He only had one relationship – in which he met a guy he knew about 3 or 4 times.
I cried. I threw up and then I cried some more.
That night it was me who slept on the couch.
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