We both knew how much we had to lose: our family, our home, each other. It felt like an ultimatum: I could either accompany him on this journey or split. She concluded that my ideal was to remain monogamous-something my husband could not do. Within 20 minutes, she accomplished more than we had in weeks of talking. We found an awesome psychotherapist who asked tough questions.
It was then that we realized we needed professional support.
I felt unsure about our future and often shut out of what was really going on in his mind, but we told no one.Īfter months of discussion, he disclosed that he thought he might be bisexual.
We decided that we’d keep this to ourselves-it was something we needed to figure out without the judgment of others. We talked about it all the time: after the kids went to bed, when we got to work and on the streetcar on our way out to meet friends.
Now, I was completely underwater, trying to help my husband figure out his sexuality. I was already exhausted from trying to keep our kids (then 7, 3 and 1) alive, not to mention fed and clothed. I cried so loudly that our eldest child opened the door to ask what was wrong. But they were there, and they were getting stronger. He was adamant that he didn’t want to lose me-he wanted to make our marriage work and make those other feelings go away. Two years earlier, while our two youngest kids were napping, Mike told me on our back porch that he had recently discovered that he was also attracted to men. I didn’t even know what a “mixed-orientation marriage” was until I discovered I was already in one. I did my best to focus on what we had and reminded myself that we were separating because of love-not for lack of it. He was my Thursday-night Yahtzee opponent, my social wingman (as he was usually the life of the party), my best friend.Įlvira Kurt: “We ended our relationship, but we didn’t end our family”Now, we had a new challenge: We had to find a way to forge new lives apart with the same love and respect that we’d shown each other for decades. Together, we had navigated so many life changes: a year in Japan, multiple careers, infertility, a near-death experience and three kids. We’d known each other since junior high school and started dating in the first year of university. After all we’d been through, to accept that this was the end of our marriage and almost 21 years together left me heartbroken and numb. We had spent the past two years on an emotional roller coaster, discussing (oh, so much discussing) his burgeoning attraction to men, trying to incorporate it into our marriage. Deep down, some part of me knew it would. “Did you brush your teeth?” I asked them. I went on autopilot and focused on the imminent gathering of 10 kids that we were taking on a field trip to the Children’s Book Bank for the next few hours. But as to what I said? It’s a complete blank. I can vividly recall the defeat in Mike’s face and how he could barely look me in the eye. I wish I could tell you what I said in response, but I can’t. As our kids stacked breakfast dishes in the kitchen, my husband, Mike, looked up from across the table and said, “I’m gay.” Our three kids were clearing the table-an onslaught of nine-year-olds were arriving any minute for my daughter’s book club. One Saturday morning last fall, my marriage ended before I even had a chance to finish my coffee.