Sexuality Happens

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters endevor. As my father has been dead more than a decade, and fulfills other days, I’m going to write this to my mother.

Mother -

We have what many would see as a tumultuous relationship. There really are three parts of you that I get. There is the awesome part, that sends me news articles about gay marriage in other countries, that makes fun of John McCain, that sends Q and I fans for our cars out of the blue.

Then there is the side that has hurt me so much emotionally over the years; the side that convinced me that my family would never approve of/support me in what I do, that my relationships would never be welcome, that I would be ground in HS if I got a B. This is the side that plays BLATANT favoritism with my sister, to the point that people have pointed it out and asked me what I did to piss you off. This is the side that has caused countless tears, nights without sleep, thoughts of becoming a runaway, of emancipating myself in college, of disowning the family. You’ve gotten better in the past bit, but it’s still hard not to think of the acts you did that made me hate myself and regret living. Telling someone they tried to kill themselves because they wanted attention, or because they had a vegetarian diet? That’s just low.

And now, as you grow older into your 60s, there is the side that worries me. This is the part of you that tells me the same thing three times in one phone conversation, that has you confusing me with my sister, that has you tripping in the backyard, falling and hurting your knees. You live alone in a 3-story house, and I know you can’t even get down to the basement to deal with the cat litter (there is vomit and shit all over the floor). I keep trying to encourage you to sell and down size, offering to help you go through the stuff, and to move, but you reject it. I’ve offered to get my handy man friend to come over and put up towel racks that have fallen down for years, or lights that have been out for months. I get no response. It’s very hard to take care of someone who is slowly falling apart when they won’t accept your help. And it’s very hard to offer you help when I’ve been in dire situations, and gotten none from you.

I don’t hate you. I used to think I did, but I’ve realized that I don’t. However, it’s also incredibly hard to love you. I feel like I love you because I have to, not because there has been a growth of love between us. I hope this changes in the next few years, I do. I don’t want to feel this way. I can see that you’re trying; offering to pay for the cupcakes in our wedding is a HUGE step, especially since you don’t support the fact that we’re getting wedded. I appreciate that, and I give you my word that I will try to. Just know that this is all going to take time, and I don’t quite know how much of that we have, given the average life length in our family. But I will try.

I love you, in my own way,

-Essin’ Em