It's a little earlier than I normally post...but today is sadly rife with material. So buckle up.
If you read my post last night you know that I was feeling a little at sea...wistful was what one friend said. I woke up feeling much better.
Then I got a text from my mother. She has read my blog.
Now I guess I knew this might happen. I truly didn't think a lot about who was going to read this. I just thought it was for me. I had talked to a few friends about it, but that was it.
Needless to say...my mother was not pleased with me. She might be reading this right now. I honestly don't know.
I love my mother ferociously. I think most of us do. She gave birth to me. She literally gave me my life. We are also very similar. She is by nature an introvert. She is the baby of her family and I am the baby of mine. I have vivid memories throughout my life of her taking me to the library (she is an even more voracious reader than I am), trips to Aldi (woot!), many morning rides to school. It is largely because of her that I got to go to Webster. She was at all of my theatre performances that she could be. We love to watch movies together and sit under blankets and be cozy and all of those things. I talk to her on the phone more than I talk to anyone.
I just needed to say all of that.
I have been gay all of my life. God made me this way. He also gave me to a conservative and deeply spiritual Midwestern family. Not just my parents - my entire extended family; ministers.
I remember being in kindergarten and other very young and vulnerable points throughout my life and seeing guys whether it was a classmate's older brother or a guy who worked at a shoe store, and feeling intensely.
I remember when I discovered gay porn for the first time. This is hard to admit, all of it. I was in the fifth grade (I was an early bloomer). I would look at it fairly often over the next three years. And every single time after I would hate myself and would pray to God to take those feelings away. I would beg him to not send me to hell. I was absolutely terrified. Then in eighth grade my father discovered that I had been looking at it. And the shame and such piled on even more from my family. And I still went about looking at it and there were periods throughout high school where it was discovered as well. And I always felt this deep, relentless sense of hatred for myself.
Then my junior year I fell in love. We both agreed that we weren't gay. We just loved each other. We were still going to vote Republican and all of those things. This was in September. The next six plus months sent me on a quest. I was still grappling with the fear that I was going to hell. He helped me with that.
Then one night in February while I was taking him home my mother read my journal. Now I shouldn't have necessarily divulged those things and left them laying about for anyone. But she shouldn't have read it. She gave it to my father. I came home and things were not good. I had to call my boyfriend on the speakerphone and tell him that I couldn't pick him up in the morning and why and all of that. My mother was crying and said she was mad at me and threw a Kleenex box at me. My sister's got home and they were told. My sister, Kristine, who I am extremely close to and always have been told me she thought I was disgusting and didn't want to touch me. I was in shock. I didn't cry I didn't yell. I did nothing. My car was taken away from me, my phone, everything. My mother drove me to school the next morning and I just assumed that he and I were over. Then I saw him and we sat in a back hallway behind the theatre and he said we weren't over. I remember sneaking the phone into my room at 2 in the morning and calling him sobbing and he was there. And for that I will always be grateful.
Over the next few months I read a lot and talked to one of the dearest friends I have been blessed to have in my life. I remember a spring day sitting day a gazeebo in a park in my hometown with her. And I fully admitted to myself that I was gay and was proud of that. The next year passed without much remark. My family was dealing with bigger things to focus on me potentially being gay. And people see what they want to see. So they didn't.
Then I graduated high school and was going to be going to college. Three weeks before I was to leave for school I told my parents I was gay. And they told me that they couldn't pay for my college. I could live with them and go to school there, but they would not support the gay lifestyle. That night laying in bed I made the decision to tell my parents I was going to make the decision to not be gay. Because that is what it is to them. They said that didn't necessarily mean that school was back on. My dad left for work and before my mom and I went to run errands she told me she wanted me to go to Webster. She said that she knew how hard I had worked and how big of a deal it was and that she was going to talk to my dad and make it happen. And it did.
They dropped me off at college and were there for part of the weekend. My two worlds were colliding. Webster, one of the gayest places in the world, and my parents. I didn't want to be with them. I wanted to be with my new friends who knew I was gay and didn't care. When my parents said goodbye to me they were both crying and said they didn't know if they were making the decision and I basically didn't care. And for the first while I didn't talk to them too much. I wanted to just live my life. And I felt guilty about it. I still do.
College passed unremarkably. I went through a breakup, I fell in love again, my family met him as my friend. He totaled my car, he went with me to a wedding, he took me to the hospital at 2 in the morning when I had kidney stones, he spent Christmas day with us, he spent the forth of July with us, he was there always. And my family chose not to see it. And I didn't tell them. And it was always financial.
Then graduation rolled around and we spent a couple weeks together before I was moving to New York on the 20th of June. On the 18th I came out to them. I told them I was gay. I told them I was in love. I told them I was going to get married. And that it wasn't changing. The next forty eight hours were terrible. My mother didn't speak to me and my father kept on telling me all about God and saying things I have heard all of my life. I didn't fight, because I knew he couldn't make me see his way so how could I make him see mine. And in time I was off to New York to again live MY life. And the next few months were fraught. My relationship with my father became more and more strained. Letters were sent, books were sent, lots of Bible verses. And I one point I said I couldn't handle it anymore. All the random texts and such. It was too much. And so he stopped. He and my mom started seeing a therapist and they were working through it.
I am getting tired of telling all of this, because it makes me oh so weary. Cut to this Christmas when things came to a head again. I haven't spoken to my father for almost a month. And I don't know how I feel about it. Not good, obviously. But when I was home I had a breakthrough. I have told friends this story for many years and they always say I'm so sorry this has happened to you, I hate that your family has done this to you. And I have always stood firm saying that they are loving me the best way they know how. But when I was home I realized...I deserve better. I am worthy of more; of support. And I would say that this feeling of worthlessness has manifested itself in some very ugly ways in my life and in my relationships.
I had no intention of telling "my story" as it were in this post. Heavy stuff for a Saturday evening. But it all comes down to this. My mother and I sent texts back and forth today. She doesn't want me to cut her out and I have no intention of doing so. I was made to feel worthless again. My mother told me I don't know how it is affecting my family. But they have each other. What do I have? Nothing...or so it feels like at moments like that one.
I am a very good liar. I lied to my family for six years about being gay, about boyfriends, about friends being gay, about friends and professors having partners, about everything. I did it so much that it was closer than second nature. And lying is a bad thing. And leads me to be the bad person. But you know, I shouldn't have to lie to my family. The people that are genetically predisposed to loving me.
I almost thought about giving this blog up, because of that response from my mother. I didn't want to hurt her, because I love her so much and if I could spare her from a second of hurt I would. I know she has spent her life trying to do the same for me. But I was texting my friend from last night. And I guess it was his turn to be the wise one. I will share what he said here, because then it is easier to hold onto than scrolling through my phone. This is reminder for all of us. I don't think he'll mind...
"Well so it sounds like your mother loves you very very much, and is desperately clinging on to whatever part of you she can get. So give it to her! There's so much more to you than who you're dating. Give her all of those things too!...She's grasping for anything she can take. So give them to her! You love her too! And you want this to work! So the gay thing obviously can't be reconciled now. Fine. But, Michael, there is so much good in you that is a product of HER raising. And all parties are losing sight of those things. Remind her of those things. You're an incredible human being, my friend. Remind her of that. I think that's where you start."
I have awesome friends.
This blog is about working things out in my life. And I guess I am already doing that...directly. This part of it is painful, but I have to believe I'll come out on the other side.
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