Now that the subject has been mentioned, I have a story of my own to tell. I have a wound to share, still raw and painful and ripe for everyone to
see. A wound inflicted and thoroughly salted by none other than my own mother.
I am adopted, by two mothers. A lesbian couple kind enough to open their lives to include myself and my sister. And over the course of my life,
various clashes have eroded the relationship I have (or had) with my adoptive mother. Just one of them. Skipping over all the long complicated
history, I just started reconciling with her last Christmas. She was so happy with me, so pleased to see me, full of compliments and free-handed with
the respect I'd wanted from her all these years. My sister wasn't so fortunate. After years of being the golden child, she started to make mistakes
and was severely judged by my mother for those mistakes. My mother barely tried to be understanding. As a result, my mother wasn't invited to the
wedding and doesn't recieve any letters or calls or emails from my sister anymore.
At the time, I was glad to be in her good books, glad to have my mother back with me in some sense. But then...Facebook happened. Yes, Facebook.
You see, if anyone were to walk into your
house, griping and moaning about your
activities in the confines of your
domain, you would tell them to take a hike, right? So I did. I told my mother to take a hike, that some of the stuff she posted and shared wasn't to
my liking either, but that I'd never made a big deal about it. And it's true. I'd never said a word - until she started with me. But then she gets all
huffy and stops talking to me. At the request of my other mother, I deleted everything and let the woman stew. Maybe she would cool down, maybe not.
Either way, I had to give it time.
Fast forward a few weeks. A family member dies, and I text my other mother asking why I wasn't informed sooner. It was apparently being kept secret to
avoid drama. But see, this was exactly the sort of thing my mother had always fought with me about. A lie is a lie, no matter what. You omit
something, you lied. You even mistakenly forgot to mention something, you lied until you convince her otherwise. So I turned it on her. And it
backfired. Immensely. Eight or nine texts, filled with nothing but contempt and invective. Terrible, terrible things. Saying she had never ever
trusted me, that I had caused absolute chaos in the family, that I had made her look bad, and that my immaturity and dishonesty made her question our
relationship to the point that she wasn't sure she even wanted one anymore. I asked her if she wanted me. She asked if I had anything to say regarding
my actions. When I pressed the question, she stopped answering. I mean, if she doesn't want me as a son, then why even try? Why even fight to be in
her life if she doesn't want me there?
Conclusion: I'm no longer certain if I am even considered her son. Few people in the family have any respect for me, and they really aren't concerned
if they don't hear from me for months at a time. I have done my best to reconcile, but my best isn't enough unless it includes getting on my hands and
knees and debasing myself for the appeasement of the one woman in my life who has infuriated me beyond reasoning.
The one woman who claimed to love me, but showed nothing but disdain. I appreciate my mother for everything she has done, but in the end, she has
proven herself to be a royal b****. And if she chooses her narcissistic ways over my relationship with her, then I have plenty of friends where I live
whom I consider to be far better family than she ever was. I was her pet puppy, and like a lot of dog owners, I just wasn't as fun after I grew up and
got a will of my own.
Sorry for the long rant, but it's all still fresh in my mind, and I often wonder what I could have done differently, what I was willing to do, besides
sacrifice every shred of self respect for her approval. It was either let her hate me, or hate myself. Because the whole time she was so pleased with
me, it was because I was behaving like Joe Schmoe, completely unremarkable, as bland and generic as the average factory model male walking down the
street in sneakers and jeans. And the reason she barked at me about my Facebook is because I was actually myself there. I wasn't filtering, wasn't
diluting. I was myself. And she hated it.
So I've come to the conclusion that she just doesn't like me for me. And that's the worst of it. The one person who is supposed to support me no
matter what, and she can't stand who I am. It makes me wonder who I really can count on. It's crap like this that ruins a man's ability to ever have a
relationship with anyone. Who can you trust? Who can you really be yourself with? How far can you let yourself go? How much do you let them in? Are
they going to hurt you? What signs should you be looking for?
I heard somewhere that you should never let anyone take away your ability to trust the people you love. But I guess the better question is - how do
you love when you can't trust?
Thanks for reading.
edit on 8-5-2013 by AfterInfinity because: (no reason given)