MOM, I’M GAY

It was fourteen years ago tonight that I uttered that phrase to my mother. It was quite possibly the scariest moment in my life. So, through tear-filled eyes I looked at my mother and said “Mom, I’m gay.” Her response was, simply, “I don’t have a problem with that.” The two of us spent the next two to three hours sharing stories. It was one of the first and only mother and son moments I can ever remember between us.

I remember being terrified to utter that phrase. But, I couldn’t allow myself to hide who I am any longer. It was something I’d known for a really long time. It was a secret that I’d carried throughout childhood, adolescence and the early part of my adult hood. Time came where I could no longer lie to myself or any of the people in my life. I had to admit that I am gay.

The next few years were good. My parents were both very accepting (mother told dad for me). I never once felt that my parents did not accept me for who I am. The biggest surprise to me was the acceptance by my dad’s side of the family and the turning of the back on me by my mom’s side of the family—when I expected the absolute opposite.

Fourteen years ago. It’s hard to believe. It’s even harder to believe that next month, it will have been four years since I laid eyes on my parents. There’s been a parting of the ways. I’m so thankful, grateful and blessed that I’ve experienced acceptance from my family.

Here’s my confession: It’s hard to really say what happened. What I know is that I’m happy with my life today. It’s not perfect, but I know while my relationship with my family of origin is pretty much non-existent, I have a family of choice who supports and loves me. I’m sure that somewhere, deep down, my family of origin thinks about me. Hell, they may even still love me. But, I’m a gay man in my mid thirties. I’m happy with where life is heading. I have good in my life.

“Mom, I’m gay.” Said I. “I don’t have a problem with that.” said she. Thus began a dialogue on a cold February night. And somewhere, a few years on down the road, bridges were burned and pain was caused. Today, m not exactly ready to make nice. I’ve extended the olive branch of peace for years. And, my friends who know what I’ve been though are very loving and supportive. I’ve tried to make amends. Now, much like “Dixie Chicks”, I’m not ready to back down, I’m not ready to make nice. Maybe someday.