I grew up in the perfect little family. A dad that went to work everyday. A mom that baked amazing treats. I was a honor roll student and captain of the soccer team. One brother excelled at sports, the other at theater. We took a family vacation every year (still do!) and church every Sunday. We lived in a perfect little "Pleasantville" neighbor with streets lined with trees and houses lined with secrets. Family dinners were a must and family game night was a regular occurrence. My parents were happy. They had the perfect life and three perfect heterosexual children.
Then I came out of that stupid closet and for the first time felt like I truly disappointed my parents. Hard not to feel that when thats all they told you. Standing on their side of the line I guess I can see how they felt. Gone where the hopes and dreams that every parent has for their daughter of her being swept away by a knight in shining armor and rearing two and a half children, adopting a dog, and living three miles away. You see, it wasn't just that I was gay, it was that I was masculine and gay.
To be fair my "coming out process" wasn't the easiest thing. If I had it my way I would have never told them. But they asked, rather cornered me one night. I mean, I came home from freshman year wearing boy's shorts, a short hair cut, and a new best girl friend...not really discrete. I resented my parents values and expected them to just fully accept me for who I was. They resented the "new me" and expected me to be the same person I had been pretending to be for 18 years. We fought incessantly that summer and into sophomore year of college. I felt like they were ashamed of me and they felt like I was just going though a phase.
Then I stepped back and looked at everything. There were my parents, products of the baby boomer generation, moderate political views, and strong Catholic values. There I was, a confused young person, with one sociology class under my belt, and demanding understanding from people that didn't know what they were supposed to understand. When I stopped yelling at screaming at them, and started talking something happened, they started listening. When I stopped forcing my beliefs down their throat, they stopped doing the same. I realized that I was asking them to go against their beliefs just as much as they were asking me to and I couldn't expect them to change their views if I wasn't willing to change mine. Many discussions ensued, and while most ended in tears progress was being made.
Is has been five years since I came out to my parents. And while I know (and accept) they will never join PFLAG, I also know that they will always love and support me no matter what. I have learned that they are trying and while they still do not agree with my "lifestyle"they no longer ridicule and tell me how disappointed they are in me. I'm sure there will be many more hurdles, but I'm also sure that as they approach we will all be ready.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
One fish, two fish, red fish, dead fish.
Hello blog world.
Pardon my absence these past few weeks. I have been in a weird place that I'm sure has been worsened by these damn hormones that flow through my body once a month and remind me that no amount of boys attire can delete estrogen. I never wanted this blog to become a pity parade of my life, and I have a tendency to be a bit dramatic, so I have been avoiding posting because I was afraid of what I would write. But alas, my good friend, red wine, has encouraged me to update my loyal readers on my so called life.
Well, I'm still single and poor. Actually, I'm singler and poorer than the last time I posted. How can a single girl become more single you ask? Easy, my fish died. Let me explain. Boo Bear bought me a fish. He said it would be a good test run to see if I could handle a cat. I mean how hard is it to keep a fish alive. Turns out, very hard. I had the little guy for just about a month before he croaked. I was devastated. I was sure it was some omen I was destined to be alone forever. I mean if I can't keep a fish alive, how am I supposed to take care of a cat...never mind a kid! Okay, I may be rushing things, but I told you, I can be dramatic.
Well the fish was really the start of a downfall. Since then I have questioned every decision in my life. In a recent discussion with a friend who is about to embark on a wonderful adventure working on a cruise ship I expressed how jealous I was. When she suggested I join her, I immediately went on the website in search of an application. Then two thoughts occurred to me: one, I should wait until I'm sober, and two, how can I leave the kids I work with? At 24 and single I should be free. Roaming the world. Having strange, wonderful nights. Instead, I'm looking at my crooked, pathetic christmas tree and drowning my day in a bottle of wine. What happened? Please don't get me wrong, I love my job, and I love the kids I work with. But I am becoming increasingly more aware of how close to settling down I am and that scares the crap out of me. My friend says I'm just in an, "in between place." I feel like I'm in the middle seat of a plane between two sleeping, obese people and I have to pee but can't move. I know, dramatic.
Is it just be or does being 24 suck? Its a scary world with decisions that are beyond my years and expectations beyond my abilities. I want to run away and settle down all at the same time. My head is spinning and I'm pretty sure its not just the wine.
Pardon my absence these past few weeks. I have been in a weird place that I'm sure has been worsened by these damn hormones that flow through my body once a month and remind me that no amount of boys attire can delete estrogen. I never wanted this blog to become a pity parade of my life, and I have a tendency to be a bit dramatic, so I have been avoiding posting because I was afraid of what I would write. But alas, my good friend, red wine, has encouraged me to update my loyal readers on my so called life.
Well, I'm still single and poor. Actually, I'm singler and poorer than the last time I posted. How can a single girl become more single you ask? Easy, my fish died. Let me explain. Boo Bear bought me a fish. He said it would be a good test run to see if I could handle a cat. I mean how hard is it to keep a fish alive. Turns out, very hard. I had the little guy for just about a month before he croaked. I was devastated. I was sure it was some omen I was destined to be alone forever. I mean if I can't keep a fish alive, how am I supposed to take care of a cat...never mind a kid! Okay, I may be rushing things, but I told you, I can be dramatic.
Well the fish was really the start of a downfall. Since then I have questioned every decision in my life. In a recent discussion with a friend who is about to embark on a wonderful adventure working on a cruise ship I expressed how jealous I was. When she suggested I join her, I immediately went on the website in search of an application. Then two thoughts occurred to me: one, I should wait until I'm sober, and two, how can I leave the kids I work with? At 24 and single I should be free. Roaming the world. Having strange, wonderful nights. Instead, I'm looking at my crooked, pathetic christmas tree and drowning my day in a bottle of wine. What happened? Please don't get me wrong, I love my job, and I love the kids I work with. But I am becoming increasingly more aware of how close to settling down I am and that scares the crap out of me. My friend says I'm just in an, "in between place." I feel like I'm in the middle seat of a plane between two sleeping, obese people and I have to pee but can't move. I know, dramatic.
Is it just be or does being 24 suck? Its a scary world with decisions that are beyond my years and expectations beyond my abilities. I want to run away and settle down all at the same time. My head is spinning and I'm pretty sure its not just the wine.
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