“I think I’m gay.” The words came barreling out like a runaway train careening toward an unfinished bridge ahead, warning lights flashing, signs pleading to stop or turn back.
But there was no turning back.
I sat across from my husband of almost 30 years, over filet mignon and twice-baked potatoes, on a long-awaited date night and watched the shock and fear register in his eyes.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to die. I wanted to take everything back, rewind time and start again, pretend nothing had happened. But the words hovered above the table and reverberated through the crowded bar, echoing in my mind. My mouth dried up and I reached for the wine, inhaling its contents as if it were oxygen and my life depended on it.
Needless to say, date night was ruined. The movie we were going to see, cancelled, and we both left in separate cars, having met after work and school, hoping to enjoy this rare opportunity to escape from responsibilities and children and just enjoy an evening celebrating us.
He drove home, and I drove around for an hour until I found myself parked in the dark corner of a church parking lot, gasping for air as tears broke me while I collapsed under the weight of those words.
That was Wednesday, March 6, 2019. The day my life changed forever.
If you’d like to read my story from the start (as they follow a sequence) please click on the category ‘My Story’ and explore Episode Two. If you’d like to read my everyday reflections and thoughts, hop over to Everyday Ruminations.
In gratitude,
Marissa xo