Now, I've been faithful to my wife since the day we met, lo, these twenty-three years ago, and I have no intention of changing that by acting on any same-gender attractions. For that matter, those attractions aren't always, or even usually, physical in nature. It's not a desire to go out and do something, just . . . if only.

I tend to be introspective, almost to a fault; I can spend way too much time trying to puzzle out the little details. Due largely to this trait, I was consumed for much of my adult life by what I call the "if only" game. Everyone has, at one time or another, thought, “If only I had changed majors,” or “if only I'd married so-and-so, it would all be different.” Lord knows, I've made enough mistakes in my life to provide ample fuel for that fire.

Eventually, I realized that I wouldn't be who I am or where I am today if it weren't for the experience gained from those mistakes: it is said that we are the sum total of our experiences, and I largely agree.

I am content with my life as it exists today. It was this realization that helped propel me past a major sticking-point in my life. (I like to say that I never had a mid-life crisis, I just spread it out over 20-odd years.)

At first, I thought this was nothing more than that old habit popping its head up again. Further discussion, though, revealed a larger view of this particular puzzle.

Suppressing my true orientation for literally decades was bound to cause some damage. Dishonesty never leads to good, and that's just as applicable when applied to self-deception. It has taken a considerable amount of time to break the old habits of denial, and face reality. This brings us to the point: It's more a growing awareness of what it could cost than a yearning for what might have been.

Put into that context, this sadness makes sense. It is part of a natural grieving process. In accepting my orientation as bisexual, I am giving up the “safe” status of many important parts of my life – family, friends, my church – any or all could reject me when they find out. Likely some of them will. I am choosing a road less taken; one that is not as easy, but in the end it will be more rewarding. It may be a bitter pill to swallow. Taking the next few steps will require a conscious effort, and I must look to Him for strength and direction. He has brought me this far; He will not abandon me now.

I realize that there are many who must face this path alone. I have indeed been truly blessed to have such an amazing wife, my life-partner in the truest sense, standing with me as I work this puzzle out. Since the initial (understandable) travail when I came out to her, she has been very open and understanding, and is traveling this path with me as well.

"All who wander are not lost."

Gandalf the Grey said this, and it applies here. Grief is a natural part of our existence; we all face loss to varying degrees throughout life. We often wander through the wilderness for years before moving on in our lives, and we never move on without being changed. We must choose whether we will toss the puzzle aside in frustration, or solve it; whether the change in us is bitterness, or growth. The ball, as they say, is in my court.

". . . I have set before you life and death . . . Now choose life!"

- Deuteronomy 30:19-20