Roger talks about coming out to his wife: "I feel lighter than ever before."

Hi guys. Great to join you in this adventure.

I've read a handful of stories on the website, and of course they all sound exactly like mine! So I'll spare you the overlapping details and give you the high spots.

After 29 years of marriage, 52 years of suspecting I'm gay, and 7 years of a gay affair with another married man, I finally decided that I needed to come out to my wife. I made this decision very slowly over a number of years, for all the reasons you guys have been debating. For me, the need to spend the last decade or two of my years on earth being honest about myself finally trumped the pain I'd be causing my dear wife, family, friends, church, etc. It also became clear that I was causing myself a great deal of internal strain by living almost entirely in other people's expectations, not actually following what my own heart was trying to tell me all these years. (And I fully appreciate how debatable all these points are, and how differently many people may see the balance for themselves.)

Being a detail-oriented guy, I planned carefully for a date that would disturb our family and my wife the least -- and give her the most time to deal with the fallout before her job's busy season. I even met with her counselor of a few years back, to let him know that he'd probably be getting a phone call from her. See? I try to be kind to her!

I told her one weekend this last summer. We cried in each other's arms all night as she dealt with the pain of having her future plans torn apart and out of her control. Then she left to be with friends, and I staggered around the house the rest of the weekend like a dying man. It felt awful to do this to such a nice woman; I kept questioning whether I'd done the right thing. But then I realized that there was simply no question in my mind that I was gay -- so I really had no choice. That was my lifeline for those painful days.

My married lover, of course, couldn't sneak away from his wife to comfort me, and I knew few other people to whom I could talk, so I was pretty much alone. This was very likely the most painful week of my life.

But I had been warned about this by those who had done it; and also told that although the pain would be acute, the benefits could be also real. (I am learning that avoiding discomfort is not always as good a strategy as I thought it was.) The key for me was to know that I had little choice but to do this if I wanted to bring myself back to integrity; and to simply allow the pain to happen without panicking.

Now five months later I'm in a condo of my own. We're working on divorcing, as I expected, since my wife's morality won't tolerate some sort of "open" marriage. We're civil; she's hurting but has a great support system. I'm out to nearly everyone, and this has changed a number of relationships. My grown sons are coping in different ways, but seem to be OK. Even my mother is trying to come to terms with her revised son!

Amazingly, though, I am mostly happier than I can remember ever being. Despite the difficulties, I feel lighter than ever before. The huge burden of living a double life, a weight that I have carried as long as I can remember, is largely lifted. I can see who I want, do as I want, and become the real me. I think I may actually like myself for a change. This may sound selfish, I realize. But then again, real integrity and wholeness for me means that I have to stop all that lying.

I deeply regret having fooled myself and my wife before I married about the extent of this issue. Had I been more alert to the signals, I would have realized that I was more gay than straight, and I might have prevented myself and my family a lot of pain three decades later. However, the atmosphere of the '70s and the morality of the circles in which I traveled prevented me from seriously thinking this through. I married at age 22, too early for me to have much wisdom about myself.

Yesterday, my lover's wife gave voice to her long-held suspicions about him, and delivered an ultimatum; so he's going to stay with her and cut things off with me. I know him well enough after 7 wonderful years to realize that this would happen eventually, and that my coming out was the beginning of the end of my relationship with him. As a married man, he cannot offer me the quantity of companionship or the level of integrity I want in my partner. Still, you can imagine how much this hurts: I love him deeply, and I have come to many of my own realizations as a result of what I've experienced at his side.

Once again, I just need to let the pain happen. And take this as the kick in the pants to take the next step in my life. He and I will remain on the best of terms, but not in each others' beds.

The holidays will doubtless prove tricky. But I've got a great counselor, and more cheerleading from friends from my past life than I expected. I think the story will probably have a fairly happy ending!

I'm looking forward to meeting many of you at an upcoming event, and to sharing our stories and supporting one another.

-Roger