I carry the trauma of a thousand women

“I carry the trauma of a thousand women”

That phrase appeared in my head this morning as I was doing a yin yoga class. The instructor, a wise and talented friend and therapy colleague, was talking about protection and vulnerability. As I breathed into the pose, shoulder blades “sliding down my back,” those words emerged as if watching them being typed onto a screen:


 I carry…the trauma…of…a thousand...women.


As a therapist, I’ve been a container for trauma for over thirty years. And as a straight spouse whose focus is helping other straight spouses, the trauma of my former husband – a man I loved dearly – coming out as a gay man gets mixed in the emotional soup. 


There are times when I am so triggered that I want to scream. Not triggered by my clients and fellow straight spouses so much, but rather on their behalf, particularly when talking to people who don’t/won’t/can’t understand the straight spouse experience. “NO!” I say, “It is NOT just like other divorces!” The invalidation is a dull knife to the heart; not a clean incision, but rather a painful jab jab jab


**Note: Before I continue, let me make clear my compassion for the LGBT spouse’s experience, which, although differently painful, is just as real. In this moment, though, I need to write about me. And Us. The “left-behind spouses,” as one divorce attorney very indelicately put it.

Even though I’m thirty years out and happily remarried, I can return to my own despair in an instant. That exact moment that I knew…which was decades beyond when he knew. The smirking faces of people out in public, like old girlfriends and other gay men. Crying quietly in bed beside him as the minutes to our inevitable separation ticked away. The nights of waking up to find myself wandering around my apartment, looking for him, then remembering he was gone.  


But every day, I carry the trauma of a thousand women. And men. The broken-hearted spouses in my office. The thousands of straight spouses on Facebook with our many secret groups and private rooms. The people who email me, usually starting with “I just discovered…”


I carry the trauma of a thousand women, just as they carry each other’s. 

And mine. 

My Most Sincere Condolences for the Loss of Your Marriage

Yesterday, the New York Times published a story called "The Art of Condolence," about how difficult condolences can be to express. How it can be challenging to find just the right words. How awkward it can feel to comfort others in times of loss. 

*From NYTimes.com October 1, 2016 

Straight spouses are often on the receiving end of awkward condolences...if they receive condolences at all. "How did you not know?" "At least s/he didn't leave you for another wo/man!" "You're so lucky you didn't have children!" "So does that mean you're a 'fag hag?'" (I was personally on the receiving end of that one.)

Insensitive comments and intrusive questions are part and parcel of the straight spouse experience. 

As Jean Schaar Gochros wrote in her 1989 book, "When Husbands Come Out of the Closet," straight spouses experience a profound sense of "unique isolation." One aspect of this isolation is what we call "disenfranchised grief." That is, grief that others -- society, our families, our ex-spouses, the LGBT community, the church -- don't feel we're entitled to. Because perhaps we're somehow complicit in the deceit. Because we stayed. Because we didn't know. Or because we loved and married a closeted LGBT spouse, we deserve ridicule, not compassion. But just as our exes deserve compassion for their struggle, so do the unsuspecting spouses who are left devastated by the lie. 

You can simply say, "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what this must be like, but I'm here for you. And I care that you're hurting."

To schedule a face-to-face or FaceTime session with Kimberly Brooks Mazella, LPC, please go to my website at www.kimberlybrooksmazella.com.

Modern Family: Married...and Trans

Friday night's interview with Bruce Jenner by Diane Sawyer was a turning point in our collective understanding of the struggle of transgendered people. To know that this All-American hero, the perfect specimen of handsome masculinity and fitness, has been tormented by gender identity confusion since childhood, was painful to hear. Reading Twitter and Facebook posts during and after the interview revealed expressions of compassion and encouragement. His first two wives and the majority of his children offered their unconditional love and support, with sincere wishes for his happiness. 

He's out. The burden of the secret has been lifted. He can finally move forward with his transition into Her. Pictures taken of him yesterday morning revealed the smile of a man who was free at last. And the morning after, we celebrated his courage and feel empathy for the years of pain. I, for one, am genuinely happy for him. Everyone deserves to live an authentic life.

But Jenner's somewhat tidy ending misses a huge chunk of the story, because his life overlaps so many others'. Although life can't really be neatly depicted in a drawing, I think my Venn diagram (below) pretty clearly lays out important relationships that are now being or have been affected by Jenner's gender identity struggle. And it's not just in his case, of course, but is true for every LGBT person who comes out during a marriage. Every circle has an equally important story to tell. 

First, let's look at the kids. It's not unusual for a child to sense that something is "off" in the family. They may find evidence that Mom or Dad is LGBT; it might be a photo, a text accidentally read, or maybe one parent has a new same-sex friend that they're spending more time with. Or in Jenner's case, being "caught" wearing women's clothing. And for the child(ren), the internal dialogue might sound like this: "Who do I tell? Can I ask my parent(s) about it? I have this secret and it's too much for me. I'm so mad at my mom for marrying him! I'm so mad at my dad for being gay! I'm so embarrassed! What are my friends going to think? Does this mean I'm gay, too?"

The second circle represents the "straight spouse." Or, as one attorney I worked with so indelicately put it, the "left-behind spouse." That spouse just had his/her world turned upside down. Sometimes it happens abruptly, and sometimes there is a growing suspicion that reveals itself over time. There are often years of a sexless marriage. We wonder, "Am I not attractive enough? Sexy enough? Manly enough?" We buy satin sheets, sexy lingerie, her favorite flowers. We make his favorite meal. Sometimes we even directly ask, and get a defensive denial in response. It is crazy-making and self-esteem shattering. 

The strongest punch to the gut for the straight spouse is finding evidence of infidelity. The genitalia close-ups on Craigslist's M4M page. The sex toys discovered in a suitcase after a business trip. Love letters left out in the open. For your LGBT spouse, it's a new life. For you, it's the death of everything you thought you knew or thought you had. 

As you can see, there is a lot of overlap between the kids' and the spouses' internal experience. The description I hear most frequently is feeling like Alice in Wonderland after falling down the Rabbit Hole. Things you thought were real aren't, and beliefs you had about life are blown to smithereens in an instant. And if no one is talking about it, it's all that much more discombobulating.

The final circle is the person who is coming out as LGBT. Bruce Jenner's description of his years of internal conflict was heartbreaking. Although times are changing, the truth is that historically being gay or transgender has been more than just "not OK"; people are rejected by their families, kicked out of churches, denied jobs. Even killed. I know one person whose mother threatened to kill herself if he was gay. So he's married instead. And miserable. As Bruce Jenner has shown us, it can take decades to come to terms with one's gender identity and/or sexual orientation, and the process for some is agonizing. And lots people get hurt in the process, even if that was never the intent. Some LGBT folks truly believe that if they can just find that right person, they can create a "traditional" life and tamp down those authentic-but-unacceptable feelings. Too many of us know, of course, that it simply doesn't work that way.

Every person in that Venn diagram has a story to tell. Some experiences and feelings are the same. Some are different. And all of the stories are valid and true.

Let me say that again: All of the stories are equally valid and true. My truth doesn't negate yours. And the LGBT person's truth doesn't negate the straight spouse's.

Which brings us to the heart in the middle of the circles, that place where all of the lives overlap. It's the place of communicating and understanding one another's experience, one another's feelings. Understanding does not mean forgiving; it may not even mean you're less hurt. Less angry. But seeking to dwell in that heart space MUST be the goal if we're ever going to heal as family members, as individuals, as a society. That heart is the place where four things must happen:

•  Allow your partner/child to tell his/her story
  
•  Listen and hear without interruption. (It should be no surprise that this is the hardest one.)
•  Validate their experience. Or, to borrow from Harville Hendrix, say something like, "It makes sense   that you feel that way." And mean it! (Note: Validating is different from agreeing. Remember,          every story is valid and true)
•  Express genuine remorse. "Dad, I'm sorry I ignored your calls and texts. I just didn't know what to say to you."   "Honey, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before we got married. You deserved to have known."   "Dave, I'm sorry I called you those terrible names."
  

What does your Venn diagram look like? Are you firmly planted in your circle, certain that yours is the only story that counts?

Or are you moving towards your heart?

To schedule a face-to-face or FaceTime session with Kimberly Brooks Mazella, LPC, please go to my website at www.straightforwardcounseling.com. Or contact me at kbmazella@gmail.com.