When folks tell me being bisexual caused their divorce I feel two things: Joy & melancholy. I am an empathetic person who experiences others feelings most easily.
I’m happy for the person because I know the world just opened up to this person again and now they have the chance to meet someone who will love them entirely without judgement and they have a shot at true happiness now. Gone are the days of sexual oppression, arguments, tears, fears, anxieties and heartbreak. Now, they are free.
My divorce was not caused solely by my sexuality. There were many factors that contributed to the dissolution of our marriage. My sexuality did have a very large part of our troubles, arguments, fights and sleepless nights.
He was homophobic, tried to pray the gay out of me, gave me the hell-fire and brimstone lectures. He brought my sexuality up in marriage counseling and spiritual guidance sessions setting the stage for divorce should I be intimate with a woman! He even hit me sometimes because I’d scream and holler he was killing an entire half of my being!
I am bisexual. I can’t be straight and I couldn’t be straight for him despite how much I loved him.
I loved him with my soul-his good and his bad, and he surely wasn’t all good. Why couldn’t he love me the same? All of me, not just my straight side, my feminine side, just one half of me. I love women the same way he does, surely he could appreciate how tantalizing, enticing and beautiful women are. Who better than a man to understand the primal need for feminine companionship, feminine flesh.
God removed him from my life in the worst of times, in a not so nice way via a series of events that made it clear we had to divorce.
During/right after one of those events in an instant I found myself single, because it was time. It was time to let go and walk away. I initiated our divorce as my heart & soul felt like it was shattering into microflakes.
I thought I was dying. I couldn’t breathe in the first hours and days following the declaration of divorce and the call to our Imam. Literally. I had panic attacks every few moments between the wailing and the tears.
I slept. A lot. When I went to sleep, woke up and realized what my reality was the tears were instant, the pain was physical. I felt it in my heart, in my soul. Morning after morning I realized never again would we wake up to each other and each day it seemed harder to breathe.
I cried for almost 3 weeks straight. Locked in my bedroom with looooooooots of cigarettes & 420. Sometimes I’d send for snacks but most times I cried and slept. I went through the painful process of packing his stuff, deleting pictures, videos and music from my computer. Deleting contacts of mutual friends, in-laws, etc. The worst was deleting our wedding pictures, video and playlist.
I had to erase him. Sensing him anywhere around me in any item or image just broke me down. He had to be completely out of my life.
While doing all this I was blessed enough to begin to realize, my freedom to be me, to have the life I cried and prayed for was just given to me-but it hurt like hell. Oh it hurt like giving birth!
On the outside I was still a wreck. I was still crying constantly, hyperventilating and having panic attacks but inside I was growing.
My oldest daughter was my number one supporter. I had to go home to my parent in the weeks proceeding my divorce. When it went down my parent was supportive to say the least. He allowed me to go into my bedroom and stay there. He didn’t try to talk to me, console me or anything, he just gave me space I needed to cleanse myself. I needed to be home, I needed to know he was on the other side of my door, I needed to feel his love in my immediate universe. His love was silent but strong and he sent me energy through that bedroom door.
He knew I’d come out of it eventually. I’d emerge from my room washed up but ready to face the world. He patiently waited. It wasn’t my first divorce. This one was the most tragic and I wasn’t healing well and after a couple weeks he became concerned.
After weeks of crying my parent opened my door, tried to get me back to life. Didn’t work. I was still pondering, gathering my strength, cleansing my soul through audible wails and tears, ejecting him from my body and soul. We were one. I was him, he was I, we were so a part of each other the world around us was stunned and saddened to hear of our parting.
My oldest daughter motivated me to live again every time she sat on my bed, rubbed my back, tried to talk to me through the tears.
She suffered too. She’d just lost her Daddy but she knew it was better for mommy to be without him. She was 16 at the time and very attached to her Dad. We cried together many many days and nights…but she was stronger than me. She was my little cheerleader, she saved my life. Her little face made me want to live when I felt like life was over, her encouraging words gave me strength.
I knew I couldn’t fall apart, I had to come back. I was too beautiful of a person to let another steal my soul. I had to come back to spite him if nothing else! I had to come back just as glorious as I was when I met him if not better. If only I could get over him.
My baby girl secretly called my best friend. He did an intervention his way, as only he could do to bring me back to life. He is one of four people on this planet who has the ability to save my life with their love alone. He was the closest geographically and my ER go to person in case of crazy ish going down, lol. Everyone thought I would end up in a casket from a broken heart if I didn’t snap out of it.
What I realized through my family and friends was:
My true reality in that moment was I had been handed my freedom.
Freedom from his homophobic, stifling, controlling, abusive ways.
Freedom to be myself.
Freedom to reclaim my identity and be true to myself.
Oh, and I could finally experience fine dining again guilt free! lol.
I got on my knees and prayed like I never prayed before. For two weeks straight I prayed the same prayer. I opened my soul to the Universe and begged for true love like I hadn’t done since I was a little girl fantasizing of a prince coming to swoop me away.
A man who could understand me, entirely. A man who could love me despite my sexuality and alternative sexual tastes. A man who could enjoy the things I enjoy without judgement. A man who wouldn’t use my sexuality to hurt me or against me. One who could support me and truly love me as a whole.
The universe heard me.
God sent me an Angel who stood by my side, held my hand, held me as I cried, lifted my chin, loved & supported me through the finalization of my divorce, the beginning of the end of my parents life and other trying familial issues at that time. It was like my whole world was crashing in, and he was there.
We have been married for almost 5 years now, our families blended seamlessly, our children well adjusted and our marriage is growing well. Our sexual understandings are perfectly in tuned and I am grateful.
We are not mainstream in the least nor are we extreme, but we don’t fit the definition of ‘normal’ either. 😉 We share a love without judgement, we have our boundaries and limits but we are sexually free to be ourselves with each other (& others should we so desire). Everything we do, we do together and that’s the way we like it. Should I choose to have a girlfriend and wish for time alone with her, he has no issues or problems. He respects my relationships with women and doesn’t interject in my relationships.
I thought I would die in the weeks following my divorce. I was so mad at God and my husband at that time!!! I was a good wife in EVERY single way. Like I made my ex husband my life.
I did the home maker thing, tried to have a baby, got involved with his family, stayed at home cooking, cleaning, going to school, serving God. I was faithful and didn’t sleep with women behind his back but I begged him to allow me to be myself. He did a few times but always tortured me for it.
I asked God why was I being punished for bisexual by the man I loved so deeply hated a huge part of me? For loving women like I love men?
I began to think marriage was impossible for me. Nobody could ever love me because I can’t be with just one person. Because my being requires both genders to be satisfied at times.
My today is so different from the days of screaming, crying, dying.
Truth is I had to die to be reborn. Today I am free. I am happy. I am blessed.
Sometimes The One we think is The One, really isn’t.
Sometimes The One is still out there waiting for us while we’re with someone else.
Sometimes, the Universe shifts itself and adjusts your life properly, correcting that which you thought was correct.
I trust my Universe, it has proven to me it’s powers.
-Jay Dee, Founder