From the outside, it may have appeared to be a fairly normal upbringing. I have always been a bit of a loner. I guess being an only child will do that to you. Growing up I didn't have any real friends to speak of. There were no friends coming over to play, no sleepovers, no birthday parties. There were a few neighborhood children to play with, but no solid friendships there. It was pretty much me, in my solitary little world. I was the oldest grandchild on one side of the family and the youngest on the other, therefore, all my cousins were either a good deal older or a good deal younger. There I was stuck in the middle. I didn't even have a strong relationship with my parents. It felt like I was plopped into this family who had no clue what to do with me. And so it goes. I went through elementary school, junior high, high school, living my lonely life. By all accounts, growing up I was a good kid, and rarely got in trouble. The problem was that I lived with these people, my parents, for nineteen years, but they had no clue who I was. Then comes college.
College is where I realized just how dysfunctional my family was. I made friends, real friends, for the first time in my life. I met people who actually had relationships with their parents. What's up with this? What a foreign concept to me. These people genuinely held their parents in high regard and enjoyed spending time with them?!? School breaks were torture for me. I spent them mostly sequestering myself in my room, counting the days until I could return to school.
It wasn't until one cold evening in February, 1996 that I opened up a door in my parental relationship. It was on that night that I told my mother that I needed to talk. She came into my room, and I uttered the words I had been preparing to say for a very, very, long time. "Mom, I'm gay." I said, as the tears started to flow from my eyes. What followed was about three hours of the deepest conversation we've ever had, an overwhelming amount of love and support. She told my dad for me a day or so after I left. Things were going well for a few years. Then, something, somewhere along the way snapped.
Here's my confession: It's been nearly two years since I've spoken to my mother. I used to call every Sunday, but after a series of situations between us, I had finally had enough. There were issues related to my commitment ceremony, not cleaning the house for my partner's first visit, and finally the straw that broke the camel's back: after inviting her and my father down for a visit, she called to let me know they were going to have to postpone it by a day. The morning they were to arrive, I called and they hadn't even left for the 5 hour trip and they were supposed to be here in two hours. I informed her at that point, it didn't make any sense to come down because by the time they got here, it would be almost time to turn around and go home. In my mind, I was only speaking the truth. Months after the situation arose, I received an email from her asking what she had done to cause such a rift between us. I thoughtfully, over the course of a week or so chronicled my thoughts to her. I never heard another word from her. I've reached out with cards and letters, to no avail. I don't know what else to do. Maybe I've been petty. Maybe I should have a more understanding and forgiving heart. I don't know. What I do know is that I have tried. I don't know if we'll ever be able to talk again. I'm just not that strong yet. In some ways, it feels that my mother has died and I wasn't invited to the funeral. I'm working, but am I alone? Doesn't everyone have family relations issues and dirty laundry?
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2 comments:
I don't know if this helps, but I've spent my whole life trying to fix whatever I did to harm the relationship with my mom. The truth is that I never had one, and after much therapy I have come to realize it was never my problem to begin with. Since you've never felt that "special bond" with your parents, my guess is that she's doing to you what my mom does to me - trying to turn it all around so she doesn't have to feel badly. My advice, if you want it, is to just remain civil if and when you talk to her, and let her do the rest of the work. You did your part. It's her turn.
My guess is that she feels lost with the relationship, too. As a mother, I know how devastating a separation from my children would be-doesn't matter if it's called for or not-the deal is, you ALWAYS want to be right next to your children. 24/7 if it could be. She didn't know how to be a mother to you. You didn't get what you needed. She probably was brought up in the same way, so it's all she knows. You end up doing what you've been shown. I think that the efforts you've made have been commendable. I also think that emails and cards and letters are not as direct as face to face. When you came out to her, it was face to face. Remember how it felt to really be communicating to her? To be able to be honestly YOU right there in the room with her? Email and non-personal communication is second best. It is. Love the blog, but it's not in person. Never will substitute for it. I think that one of our HUGE lessons in dealing with the hurt of our upbringing is accepting our lot, and choosing to react to what we've known all our lives in a way that is different: that is true to US, not just what the parents and the familiar dynamic dictate. It's a big part of growing up-admitting that our parents can be total goobers, and not at all talented at their jobs as parents. They'll never admit it-at least my parents won't-I'll hear "We did the best we could" until they die. I'm having to forgive them, and I know that's my job, but it's been extremely difficult, and I can't claim success yet. There's a hardened part of my heart I'm trying to heal. I hope I can do the work and let it all go like some big red balloon...I'll have arrived then.
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