​Thank you for pointing out if I did get answers, they’d probably be lies anyway. Which is a very valid and likely true. He was a gaslighting, lying man that likely hasn’t changed one bit. I’m thankful to be away from him and to see life for what is really is. 

You know, this page has been the best thing since finding out about my GEHID. I was completely devastated and could talk to only a few about it, but they didn’t understand. Here, you all get it and have provided me a place to be open and honest, and I always got back sound advice. 
 

Hi, Tiggerslife,

I’m pretty new here—only about three weeks post-disclosure—and I just wanted to say I really relate to what you’re feeling. I keep coming back to the same thing: I want an apology. I even asked my wife to listen to the OurPath podcast episode for friends and family, especially the part aimed at LGBTQ spouses. It took her a week to find the time—which honestly felt like a gut punch.

Twenty-two years together, and she couldn’t carve out an hour during a commute?When she finally did listen, she just said, “I listened to it.” No follow-up, no acknowledgement, no reflection.We went to our first couples counseling session this past weekend. We're not trying to reconcile—just figure out how to co-parent and eventually tell the kids. But the level of gaslighting, even in that setting, was surreal.

Since I made the appointment, I suggested she start by sharing her perspective. She opened with: we’re ending the marriage, the focus should be on how to move forward, not on the past. The therapist gently pushed back, saying that sometimes you have to look to the past to understand how you got here.So my wife continued—talked about how long we’ve been together, how we’ve had communication problems, how things got hard when she stopped working after we had kids. I asked if she wanted to add anything else. Only then—after being prompted three times—did she say, “I also realized about 10 years ago that I have repressed feelings, and I came out to him a few weeks ago.”That’s the kind of revisionist narrative I’ve been dealing with.

The story she tells is: He was too needy. He wanted too much. I never felt like I could do enough. Then, oh by the way, I’m gay, and I’ve known for at least 10 years—but that has nothing to do with the rest.Really?What about all the times I told you I felt unloved? The years of no intimacy? The way I felt like I was just a provider? The girls' nights and weekend plans you could always make time for—while a simple date night with me never happened? The fact that when we did have sex, you wouldn’t even look at me?And somehow none of that had anything to do with your suppressed identity?I was relieved that the therapist actually called it out.

The therapist used the term gaslighting before I even had to, and told my wife that I had a right to know about her sexuality as soon as those feelings surfaced. She also addressed how my wife was shifting blame—minimizing her actions while amplifying mine.

For example, my wife brought up two times I read her texts: once a few weeks ago during the chaos of all this, and once 12 years ago. She focused on those as evidence that she “can’t trust me,” even though those messages confirmed my worst fears. She said we should just “call it even.” The therapist interrupted and told her that those were isolated incidents, and that she was unfairly using the present tense—he does this, he does that—to frame me based on two moments across 22 years.Meanwhile, she’s barely acknowledged the decade of dishonesty—at best, omission—that has shaped so much of our relationship.

I’m not trying to “win” therapy. I just want to feel seen. And for the first time in a long time, I did. Still, I don’t expect an apology. I don’t expect her to own the full weight of what she’s done. But it hurts to watch her rewrite our life together into some neutral “we both made mistakes” narrative—when everything was poisoned by a lie she kept buried for years.

Som I don't think i will even get the apology I want. I don't think I will ever even been seen by her. If I do, it will be years from now, I think...

Last edited by Netjer (June 16, 2025 10:59 am)

Hi Tiggerslife:  You are asking the same questions that so many of us have asked.  It's horrible.

I came to the conclusion that for our in-denial spouses to do what they did, they had to be people with highly deficient moral characters and psychological disorders.  People who are wired normally don't pull this type of intimate deceit upon others.

Which is why the hope of ever receiving meaningful answers to the questions so many of us have asked is pointless.  In terms of asking for an apology (like the title of your post mentions), my assumption is because you might be willing to offer forgiveness.  However, I've redefined "forgiveness" as letting go of the awful past so it doesn't continue to mess up my present and future.  My lesbian ex-wife stole my past, and I'll be damned if I allow her to steal my present and future.

Hang in there.

Netjer wrote:

Hi, Tiggerslife,

I’m pretty new here—only about three weeks post-disclosure—and I just wanted to say I really relate to what you’re feeling. I keep coming back to the same thing: I want an apology. I even asked my wife to listen to the OurPath podcast episode for friends and family, especially the part aimed at LGBTQ spouses. It took her a week to find the time—which honestly felt like a gut punch.

Twenty-two years together, and she couldn’t carve out an hour during a commute?When she finally did listen, she just said, “I listened to it.” No follow-up, no acknowledgement, no reflection.We went to our first couples counseling session this past weekend. We're not trying to reconcile—just figure out how to co-parent and eventually tell the kids. But the level of gaslighting, even in that setting, was surreal.

Since I made the appointment, I suggested she start by sharing her perspective. She opened with: we’re ending the marriage, the focus should be on how to move forward, not on the past. The therapist gently pushed back, saying that sometimes you have to look to the past to understand how you got here.So my wife continued—talked about how long we’ve been together, how we’ve had communication problems, how things got hard when she stopped working after we had kids. I asked if she wanted to add anything else. Only then—after being prompted three times—did she say, “I also realized about 10 years ago that I have repressed feelings, and I came out to him a few weeks ago.”That’s the kind of revisionist narrative I’ve been dealing with.

The story she tells is: He was too needy. He wanted too much. I never felt like I could do enough. Then, oh by the way, I’m gay, and I’ve known for at least 10 years—but that has nothing to do with the rest.Really?What about all the times I told you I felt unloved? The years of no intimacy? The way I felt like I was just a provider? The girls' nights and weekend plans you could always make time for—while a simple date night with me never happened? The fact that when we did have sex, you wouldn’t even look at me?And somehow none of that had anything to do with your suppressed identity?I was relieved that the therapist actually called it out.

The therapist used the term gaslighting before I even had to, and told my wife that I had a right to know about her sexuality as soon as those feelings surfaced. She also addressed how my wife was shifting blame—minimizing her actions while amplifying mine.

For example, my wife brought up two times I read her texts: once a few weeks ago during the chaos of all this, and once 12 years ago. She focused on those as evidence that she “can’t trust me,” even though those messages confirmed my worst fears. She said we should just “call it even.” The therapist interrupted and told her that those were isolated incidents, and that she was unfairly using the present tense—he does this, he does that—to frame me based on two moments across 22 years.Meanwhile, she’s barely acknowledged the decade of dishonesty—at best, omission—that has shaped so much of our relationship.

I’m not trying to “win” therapy. I just want to feel seen. And for the first time in a long time, I did. Still, I don’t expect an apology. I don’t expect her to own the full weight of what she’s done. But it hurts to watch her rewrite our life together into some neutral “we both made mistakes” narrative—when everything was poisoned by a lie she kept buried for years.

Som I don't think i will even get the apology I want. I don't think I will ever even been seen by her. If I do, it will be years from now, I think...

This is a very commonly held view with lesbian wives. The years of hiding their true selves and desires leads to resentment of their husbands as being the problem with the relationship and the reason for its ultimate breakdown. In truth, the relationship evolves into the only male/female relationship they understand and have experience of. One where the man is representative of the father, providing support and protection up to a point where she will look to fly the nest and strike out on her own. The same can be said of wives to gay men, who can probably identify more with the role of their mother, over an equal and lover. The blame shifting mindset is common among those with highly vulnerable NPD. They do not actually have the ego strong enough to admit to failure and need to deflect this onto to someone or something else. In my experience, this dynamic holds true for most of the cases where the gay/trans spouse or partner hides what they feel to be a fault until either, the dam breaks, or they are discovered. At that point, the nature requires them to deflect blame from themselves and onto any available source. This can be any one of a myriad of straws to grasp for. All of which are needed to assuage the feelings of guilt that they simply cannot and will not bear. Waiting for an apology can be fruitless when the person in question is not throng enough to accept any blame. If they were this strong and secure in their ego, the chances are that they would not have put the straight spouse in this position to begin with.

Blackie563 wrote:

Sorry you had to go through this. I made it through 1 therapy session and at the start of the second, before my now ex joined, I simply told the therapist "I am done, she has been having an affair, but is still lying, but she doesnt know that I know". I too, had checked phone records and she blew up about how much of a violation it was. No acknowledgment of the affair, or that as a married joint account holder, looking at her texts wasnt really a violation, especially since she was lying. 

That started my path to recovery. Good your therapist saw it, but more importantly, that you did. There are a lot of bad therapists out there that fall for that BS. She clearly isnt capable, now, or perhaps ever, of having an adult conversation where she takes personal responsibility for her actions. Awful, and I can relate. Best to focus on yourself and move forward. Life gets very good over time.  

Wishing you the best.

Netjer wrote:

Twenty-two years together, and she couldn’t carve out an hour during a commute?When she finally did listen, she just said, “I listened to it.” No follow-up, no acknowledgement, no reflection.We went to our first couples counseling session this past weekend. We're not trying to reconcile—just figure out how to co-parent and eventually tell the kids. But the level of gaslighting, even in that setting, was surreal.

Since I made the appointment, I suggested she start by sharing her perspective. She opened with: we’re ending the marriage, the focus should be on how to move forward, not on the past. The therapist gently pushed back, saying that sometimes you have to look to the past to understand how you got here.So my wife continued—talked about how long we’ve been together, how we’ve had communication problems, how things got hard when she stopped working after we had kids. I asked if she wanted to add anything else. Only then—after being prompted three times—did she say, “I also realized about 10 years ago that I have repressed feelings, and I came out to him a few weeks ago.”That’s the kind of revisionist narrative I’ve been dealing with.

The story she tells is: He was too needy. He wanted too much. I never felt like I could do enough. Then, oh by the way, I’m gay, and I’ve known for at least 10 years—but that has nothing to do with the rest.Really?What about all the times I told you I felt unloved? The years of no intimacy? The way I felt like I was just a provider? The girls' nights and weekend plans you could always make time for—while a simple date night with me never happened? The fact that when we did have sex, you wouldn’t even look at me?And somehow none of that had anything to do with your suppressed identity?I was relieved that the therapist actually called it out.
.

 

Thanks, Blackie. I keep reminding myself that healing will take time, but I just want to fast-forward past the part where it hurts this much. One thing I’m noticing—and it seems to be a theme for many of us—is how much our spouses refuse to look back. They don’t want to reflect, or acknowledge what really happened, especially if it challenges the story they’ve built to justify leaving.My wife is no different. She seems visibly upset by anyone who questions her narrative. When our couples counselor said she’d been gaslighting me for years—emotionally detaching while pretending everything was fine—she was clearly uncomfortable. Her version is that we were unhappy for years, that the marriage was flawed, and her sexuality is just a side note. To me, that is more gaslighting.This weekend, I finally had the courage to ask her, “Why now?” Her response was honest—but cold. She said: “We were always going to end up here. But your pushing for more connection, and the kids getting older, made me decide it was time.” She may not realize how much that hurt, but what it tells me is clear: this was a strategic exit. She always planned to leave. She was just waiting for the most convenient moment to do it.The hardest part, though, is how emotionally avoidant she is. It’s not just that she doesn’t show emotion—it’s that she’s visibly uncomfortable with mine. Since this started, she hasn’t asked me how I’m doing once. She’ll talk about her coming out, or her experience, but never about my pain. It feels like I’m just something she has to tolerate until she moves out. And it’s awful.