The conversation came to screeching, gut stabbing halt courtesy of my mom...
"i would rather you not go to the parade to not be seen & potentially embarrass our family."
The latest zinger from my mom about her refusal to believe that I'm a lesbian shouldn't come as a surprise, as I have listened to her doubts ever since I came out on December 23, 2004. Nevertheless, it doesn't make it any easier. I will confess, Icried hysterically for nearly 20 minutes. It wasn't a pretty sight.
There's an overwhelming sadness when I think about how my mom refuses to accept my being gay. She just cannot seem to wrap it around her head that I could love another woman, that I have been happy with other women. Sadly, I must say her denial and refusal has caused me to have a bit of neuroticness in relationships. I have lost relationships - not necessarily women leaving me (maybe in part, Janice left for that reason - but Janice and I weren't destined to have the path we both felt we were originally destined for); rather, I have shut down in relationships due to the fact I was practically stuck. Quick sand. I was out, for the most part - working in New York; but I had to come home. Or maybe the women I was seeing weren't right for me. Regardless, I will be hitting the scene with a vengeance as soon as I move into the city that never sleeps. Hitting the scene with a brutally tight budget.
Returning to my mom's refusal - I have talked to my dad quite often about it. My dad was my champion supporter on that December day. "Love is love Lindsay, no matter what." I can still hear him say that - and I remember exactly where we were in the house. As the years have gone by, I have been hit with mind boggling reasons as to why my mom thinks I am not a lesbian. Perhaps most preposterous is, "You were hurt a lot as a kid, picked on and for once, you have found acceptance with a particular group." Yes, that's it. That's exactly it.
So when I was sitting in History class senior year in high school staring at Ms. Walsh's legs, thinking about what it would be like to kiss her, to lie in bed with her, while she wrote on the blackboard, I was finding acceptance?
Or when I did anything and everything to spend time with Kerri, my tennis captain in college - she always got to practice 45 minutes early - so I did too. Or when she invited me over for dinner and we sat on her bed drinking wine, when she started playing with my hair - I was looking for acceptance. Right. More like looking for my first real kiss.
I have tried countless times to explain my feelings for women to my mom but it always, ten times out of ten results in an argument. Arguments that lead me cry, to crawl up, plead with the man upstairs that somehow, someway it MUST get better than this and yes, for awhile I doubted my own sexuality. That maybe, just maybe my mom was right. I blame those feelings on my living situation, my work situation - not giving me more than enough time to be the twentysomething I was. I drank beyond the point I shouldn't have drunk anymore. I woke up hungover, disheveled and disgusted with myself. I put on the fakest smile at work and yet, somehow I found pleasure with my job. The glasses of wine decreased and the smile returned for real. I met women. I fell in love. I had my heart gutted and broken.
Last January when I was still in a rut with my break up with Janice (September 2008), I found myself drinking more again. I was a sad sack - listening to incredibly sappy music, wallowing in self pity, thinking I couldn't live without her (boy, was I ever wrong). I found myself talking more and more to my dad about how I wanted mom to understand that my being a lesbian wasn't a phase, that while yes, it seemed to come out of nowhere, was something I had suffocated within myself for over 10 years and the guilt of keeping that from them had caused me such terrible, unspeakable pain and shame. My dad encouraged me to write my mom a letter. And so I did. Alas, it didn't illicit a response - no response actually. Even when asked about it, I was met with refusal to discuss it. Oh the analysis I could unleash.
The following is part of the letter I wrote in January 2009 to my mother:
Dear Mom:
I wish I could avoid writing this letter, but i'm afraid I no longer have a choice. i think we both know by now any attempt to talk this out might result in yelling. quite frankly, i don't want to and I'm more than positive you don't want to yell either.
I know you have doubts about my sexuality and you are welcome to your opinion. However, it's quite hard hearing it. I do believe the change within me - the anger, the "retreating", the no longer letting you in on my life was a direct result of my feelings for women.
These feelings completely caught me off guard and they made me feel scared and ashamed. I didn't know who to talk to and more often than not, I got annoyed and angry with myself for having these feelings. I tried to ignore them, but they managed to constantly creep into my life. I realize that my lifestyle is foreign to you and in a way it is still foreign to me. I realize that they way I live and love is not the way you do and that might scare you; especially if you had a certain vision for my future. I accept your fear and I hope to one day show you that love is truly love, no matter the form it takes.
---I guess the only thing I can continue to do is believe in myself, love myself and live my life. I'll try to practice patience in the meantime. And guess what, I'm going to that damn parade.
Out and proud !
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