A good wife.

This transition, leaving, changing stuff is hard under any circumstances. Sometimes I think it would be easier if my wife and I hated one another. But we don't. I need to sing her praises some.

She has been very, very angry at times, and with good cause. But she has never been vindictive or out to get me. She has some strong control needs (shall we say), but she has never tried to stop me. She has always wanted me to be a part of arrangements for separation, etc. By many standards, one might expect her not to want to speak to me or see me or do anything with me. But she has not pushed me away. At least, not much. She has been the soul of discretion, understanding, and patient. She is a good woman.

She knows that I love her and am not doing this because of "her". Truly, she is loving me enough to let me go. She wants me to be happy. And I certainly want that for her.

How are my feelings for her different now? I'm not sure how to answer that. I still love her, in much the way I think I always have. That seem a little sick to me. Have I never loved her "enough" or "the right way?" What do I know about relationships? Much of my life has been spent avoiding them, I think. I've always run from them. Always I've kept myself in check, never getting too close..... to any one!

Ugh. I've started talking about me, again. Whatever the limitations of my understanding of love, whatever shortcomings I have in regards to relationships, I know it may be no more than seeing through a mirror, dimly. But I love her and am so grateful for her love for me, loving enough to let go.

Promised Land - Land of Promise

Thanks to those who commented on my last post. Many helpful and supportive things were said, and I am very grateful. This weird electronic world is something that has kept me going. I don't feel so alone. Posts and emails and even calls are wonderful but can't fully substitute for actual person to person, face to face contact. A good, long bear hug would be sooooo nice. Just some cuddling. One of these days, soon.


Aside from too dry, the weather here is absolutely wonderful. Not too hot, not too humid. I got out for a walk this week, which was sorely needed. Getting out in the woods and playing in a creek are things that soothe my soul.

In our part of the Appalachian mountain chain, one of the taller peaks is Mt. Pisgah, at almost 6,000 ft. I know that's not tall by Western standards, but for us it certainly stands out. The name comes from the Biblical mountain from which Moses saw the promised land. Many other mountains and hills bear the name, along with many congregations. It is a name that signifies moving into a place of promise. Moses, however, did not cross over into the Promised Land. That was left for Joshua.


Since I can see Mt. Pisgah, I reckon that I must be in the Promised Land. Though it the journey is difficult at times, I look to the Promise. As you've heard it said, God did not promise to make it a painless journey; God's promise is that we will never have to be alone. God is with us.


With that in mind (and heart), I am looking forward to feeling more and more in the land of Promise, the life of Promise. Thomas Merton said something like this: "To be born again does not mean becoming some one else; it means becoming yourself."


My search for self is a becoming. Many of you have graciously helped me remember that. Thanks.

(That really is a picture of our Mt. Pisgah. My 50th birthday present was a ballon ride! So, I even snapped this picture my self.)

Quo vadis?

My time off just hasn't worked at all. Every place I tried to go for retreating was unavailable for one reason or another. Bummer. And so, the weekend was real downer. I did pull a muscle in my back and took some muscle relaxers. That, combined with depression, caused me to sleep most of the weekend. Today is better.

My moods seem really up and down. The antidepressant isn't working so well? or is there more going on? Who knows? At least today is a good day, in most ways.

Planning for the separation is so sad and depressing in and of itself, let alone the unknown of what comes next. Today was spent in not-so-useful activities that lead me to wonder more and more who I want to be, or maybe, who I am.

All these years I have tried to be straight, there was no conscious effort "not to be gay." I thought I wasn't really gay, and I have gone along being (what I have presumed is) me. I am aware of some urges (sex with men), and behaviors (too much leering) that I felt I should not be engaging in. But I don't think I've tried to put on a more "masculine" front than I already have (assuming I have one).

I know all the sexual fantasies and porn stories, etc. are about fantasy. Though in a heated moment I may imagine myself in the midst of such (as the short strokes take hold), I don't actually want to be like that. Do I?

I'll never have the six-pack abs (we must settle for a keg). I'll never be a Jack Radcliffe or such. But whom will I be? Who am I now?

I want to sit and think about this one a while. Suggestions or ways you have worked through this are welcome.

Hope to be back soon with The Answer to it all. Then, I'll go on Oprah and hawk my book.

Time off

I'm taking a few days off and hoping to spend some of it on retreat. The praying kind. Some time to read, maybe write, pray, sleep. Whatever. Of course, it's the "whatever" that both worries me and excites me.

The weather here in the moutains is so wonderful, I can't imagine living anywhere else. The prospect of that is more than a little disconcerting, yet I know that I well may have to re-locate because of job stuff if I want to come very far out of the closet. Oh, what a wonderful thought!

Many have written about the death of Jerry Falwell. I don't really believe in "hell" as he would have preached, so I'd better be prepared to meet him in the next life. I do believe in a merciful and just God. So, I can only hope Mr. Falwell is dwelling in paradise with lots of queer, black, hispanic, democratic, liberal, left wing saints and angels. I'll bet he will be surprized!

Addendum: I've read that Falwell had already planned for a transition of power in his "empire:" to his sons. Now that fits with "American values," eh? What a sad, controlling gesture.

Up or Down ?

The pain of others at the expense of "what I want" is about the hardest thing for me to bear. In a few weeks we will tell our children that Daddy is moving out. And then it happens. No words about why dad is moving out, not just yet. But in time. It is all becoming very real and very close to happening. My feelings are so very mixed up that I've felt paralyzed at times. Just making day-to-day decisions seems impossible. But, we soldier on.

My head acknowledges that I have a right to "what I want," and that this is not about some whim of desire but something at the core of my being. When you've been a co-dependent caretaker as long as I have, it's hard to make a switch and admit my needs.

For some bizarre, guilt-ridden reason, I don't like to admit it there is an up side to my moving out: greater freedom for me. Freedom to do what? That is the question for me.

God, I hope I am doing the right thing.

Because of my job, I still must remain largely in the closet. Though I might have the chance to build some (discreet) friendships, I must be very circumspect. To be outed would be disastrous

And in other news . . . .
My PA piercing is healing quite well. I have to say I'm enjoying it. Just knowing it's there is a boost, a reminder that I am (in process, at least, of) coming out. Now I'm anxious to gauge up a bit, but I want to make sure there has been plenty of healing. Right now, I've got a captive bead ring in. I want to get a circular barbell and maybe a bent barbell, too. Any ideas?

In the midst of a lot of sadness, there is still much for which to be grateful. If only I could remember that. . . . . .