Grown-ups Should Not Have Access to Facebook

Nothing ever happens the way you plan it. It seems that the more you want something to happen a certain way, the less likely the event is actually going to occur that way. I'd been working up the courage to tell my family this whole time. I've been laboring over all the things I wanted to let them know and preparing for any questions they could throw at me. At the same time, I was preparing for the worst. It always seems to happen for whatever reason, so it's become a habit of mine to at least be ready for it. I was in bed with her, just lying there being lazy on a Saturday afternoon, so happy to be where I was. We had just come home from a two-hour long interview with a girl doing a project on the life of a drag king. I was feeling so contented and affirmed as a human being. Then out of nowhere, I get a text from my mom saying that we haven't talked in a while. I sent her a message back in agreement, along with a little sad face icon, trying to lighten the mood. I knew I would be in trouble when I got her next text: "I don't even know you anymore." This is one of those phrases that sets off all the alarms in my head. It's one with which I'm very familiar, and I just knew it'd be used against me in this particular circumstance. I had to play it safe, though, just in case she had no idea. So I asked what she was talking about and if everything was alright. I don't know how it happened, and I have no idea why my mom was snooping around, but she saw my facebook page. She noticed that my name was different. But I really don't know how much else she was able to see. The only thing I could do was call her. That conversation lasted for somewhere between two and three hours, I think. I barely remember any of it. I was panicking the whole time. It took me a lot to get my brain and mouth to function together, and I don't think I would have had enough left in me to pay attention to myself anyway. She hung up on me once. I waited for her to call back. She hung up on me a second time. But she didn't call back that time. She wasn't screaming. I know that I just broke her heart. But everything she said to me was so accusatory. She started blaming my friends. "Which one of your idiot friends talked you into this?" It just seems that she can't fathom that I can make decisions by myself or that I actually take the time to think about the things I am doing before I do them. She really is the one who never changes her mind, who never grows as a person. I guess she just doesn't get that other people do. I swear that Fox News is the worst thing that has ever happened to my family. She kept saying that she's lost her daughter--that all she has left are memories and that I just obliterated her daughter. She started talking about things that she'll never get to do with me, like shop for a wedding dress. I almost wanted to scream at her that it's not like I'll be able to get married anyway, but I used my better judgment. She talked about not being able to do girl things together anymore, like shopping. That was the only example that she gave, and I just flat out had to tell her that I would still love doing that, and there is nothing about me that's going to change. She kept accusing me of trying to be a different person and pretending. She started saying that she must be a really horrible person for all of this shit to happen to her. Like I haven't heard that before. Like I haven't said that myself before. I screamed at her at that point, saying that she couldn't use that excuse to guilt me into anything anymore. "How can you think that this is a good thing?" My mother is a woman who adamantly refuses to understand the distinction between sex and gender, even though I have explained it before. She also said something about having her heart broken finding out that I'm a lesbian. I flipped out then too because I am not a lesbian. I have never once used that word to refer to myself, and I just kept wondering if she was even paying attention when I came out to them for the first time. She talked about my trampling all over her thoughts and beliefs, and she wouldn't even explain that further, so I have no idea what that was about. She said so many things that hurt me. She said so many things that do not bode well for the future. Well, the first thing she did was accuse me of ruining her holiday, with something like "Happy Fucking Holidays, right?" She talked about how the whole fucking situation blew up last time, and I pointed out that maybe it wouldn't have if she would have just let ME come to her about it when I was ready to. Silence again. There was so much silence. The awful kind. She was just refusing to say anything. Or maybe she had nothing to say. When I asked her if she would consider talking to someone who knew more about it, she said no. When I asked her if she would like to look something up on the internet to learn more, she said no. When I asked her if she wanted me to send her something or give her something, she said no. She has no interest in understanding what is happening. "Do whatever you want, alright. I just don't care." That's perhaps the worst thing you could say. She kept asking me why it was so important for her to understand it or talk to me about it or accept it. I gave the same response that I had given numerous other times in the conversation: "You're my mother! ...And you're my friend." I just can't help but think that it's all about her. She admitted that she's worried about what other people will say. She admitted that she doesn't want to change her mind and that she wants to pretend that it's not happening. The first thing she mentioned about it when I asked her was how uncomfortable it made her. She talked about losing her daughter and her memories. HER. It just doesn't matter to her if this is what's going to make me happy. She asked me what I wanted from her--what I expected from her in letting her know this. I freaked out. But I told her what I wanted: The love and support of my mother. And you know, even if you didn't agree with it, you could have been like I'm hurt, but I'LL TRY. That's all I really want from my family. I want them to try. I want them to be a part of my life. I love them. They mean everything to me, and how can they expect me to keep this from them or expect me not to want them involved in something that means this much to me and for me? How can I go through this without them by my side? I just don't understand her unwillingness. Is her love for me really conditional? She just kept yelling at me, "You're not a guy! You're not! You're just not!" I just don't know how to handle this. I'm not freaking out right now, though. I wasn't for very long. Part of me was prepared for this. A large part of me knew that this was going to happen. I don't feel like things are going to get any better. My family doesn't do that sort of thing. Except for my brother. Before my brother got arrested, all prisoners were evil, horrible people that couldn't be trusted ever again. They have a completely different view on it now and proclaim their message to the world. When it first happened, my mom was all over the internet looking for resources and talking on message boards and all that crap. Before I came out to them, the gays were always the other people, and though they never explicitly stated it, the way they spoke about them indicated that they were inferior and immoral. Well, after I came out to them, their feelings are still the same. At least, my mom's are. My dad seems perfectly okay with things because I just don't think he gives a shit. My mom didn't go on any message boards about that. She didn't try to learn any more about it from me or anyone else. She pretends that it's not there. But you know, that's really not going to work this time. There are things that she just can't ignore. At the same time, she thinks that those things are going to completely change who I am. I asked her what she meant when she said that. She mentioned my voice, the way I look, the hair on my body, etc. Not once did she mention a core quality of mine. Nothing about my personality or character or the person she raised me to be. She only mentioned external things that are visible to her and to the rest of the world. That's how she defines me. It seems that I'm nothing more to her than what she can show to everyone else. And that really fucking hurts. I know she's more worried about what this will do for her reputation or whatever. I just don't understand how she could have raised someone like me. I don't get how she could tell me to be so tolerant and tell me that I could be and do whatever I wanted. Maybe she didn't mean any of those things after all. I hate growing up. It's all about realizing that the people you admired as a kid aren't so great after all. My mother used to seem like the nicest person in the world who would do anything for anyone that asked. But now she just seems so hateful and cynical. I really don't know what to do about this. I love my mother and the relationship we have, or used to have, I guess. I used to be able to talk to her about everything. I never kept anything from her. Now I feel like she wants me to. I feel like she is forcing me out of her life because she can't deal with the person that I've grown into. I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm growing more comfortable with myself all the time, and I finally know what I want for myself. And she hates it because it isn't normal. She hates it because she can't brag about what a beautiful little girl I am anymore. I wonder how long it's been since she's even shown anyone a picture of me. I wish I could have supportive parents. I wish I could have people who really do love me for who I am instead of what I look like or what kind of trophy I can be for them. "Look what an awesome, smart, talented kid I was able to raise. Look what I did." As much as I understand this, I also need to point out that my musical talents didn't come from them, my grades were my own doing, and my athleticism wasn't just purely genetic--I had to work at it. What I wish they could see is the kind of person I am inside and be proud of that. I wish they could be proud of the way I treat my friends and the way I feel about humanity. I wish they could be proud of my desire to save lives and to heal. I wish they could be proud of the character they have developed in me. But you don't get diplomas or medals for those things. You can't hang them in the living room for all your annoying relatives and acquaintances to see. I have so much shit to rant about tonight. I'm sorry for that.
I had so many things planned for today. I was going to study. I was going to practice a lot and memorize all of the music, which I'm still going to do, but now I won't get any sleep. I was just about to go to the gym when I got that phone call from her, and when I got off the phone I was way too dizzy to get myself to the Pete and underneath a barbell. My whole day was thrown off course, and we all know what that does to people like me.
I want to know what this means for Thanksgiving. Are they still coming out here? But I worry that if they do, my mom is just going to be miserable the whole time and blame me for it. I don't need that. I really can't handle that right now. If that's what is going to happen, they shouldn't come at all, and I need to find a way to get to my brother. I need to send him the letter I've been working on. Maybe if I explain it to him in writing, he'll be able to talk to my parents. On the other hand, he could respond in exactly the same way. I'm really afraid of that. My brother is even closer to me than my mom. We seem like two parts of the same soul. I don't know what I would do if he never talked to me again.
The saddest part of this is that even if they never talk to me again--even if all they ever do is send cards and occasionally say hello to me, even if our relationship is completely fucking destroyed because of this--I know that I'll be okay. I know that I have the strength to go on. I know that I have a group of friends who love me and will never let me go. I know that I am wanted somewhere in this world. It just sucks that it may not be in my own home. I might lose my family. I'm terrified of it and would do anything I could to prevent it, but that's a very good possibility. But I can get through anything. That's what I've learned through all of this shit in my life. That's what THEY taught me, for Christ's sake. It's so terribly depressing that this might be the way I have to prove it. I don't know why this has to happen to me. I don't know why they have to react like this. I don't know what purpose it serves me. But I know that I will be okay in the end. I always am. As much as it sucks to know that and not be able to get to that point right away, I can see it in the distance, no matter how things turn out. It's 11:11. There's only one wish I can make tonight.
I was honest with her tonight. Completely. I couldn't dance around anything. She just has no idea what this feels like, and to have her totally dismiss and negate all of my feelings is painful. I tried to explain. She didn't understand. She's not willing to, and that's obvious. I don't know what I should do. I don't know if the next move is supposed to be mine or hers. And I don't even know if there is one. I might be spending the holiday by myself. It's not that I'd have nowhere else to go. It's that I wouldn't feel right intruding upon another family. I'd feel out of place. I'd feel like I'm spoiling quality time with the family. And I'd probably just have a break down in the middle of dinner anyway after realizing that the last time I had a Thanksgiving meal at home with my family was 5 years ago and that I may never have another one again. I don't think I'd be able to deal with that. It might be better just to spend the day catching up on some work or going for a run through the park. I really need to know what's happening with this.
Sometimes I feel like God doesn't want me to do well in my Functional class. First the flu, now this. I need to study. I need to do work. I need to look at my music some more. My head is in a million places. Why now?
Another example of my mom's selfishness: "Why can't you wait until after graduation so I can at least have that in my life?" I had no idea what she was talking about at first. She wanted to see her daughter graduate. And all this time I'm thinking: So it doesn't matter that I am going to graduate after completely raping the shit out of this academic system? It doesn't matter at all what I've done. It only matters that I did it while being a girl? It doesn't make sense to me. Am I just insane for not understanding this? Am I expecting too much of her in asking for her to TRY? Why can she only think about herself? And I really want to know why this had to happen tonight? Tonight was supposed to be easy.
I'm so annoyed with this. I don't have time to have a fucking crisis right now. I'd rather have my crisis during the break. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do with this. Is someone trying to teach me a lesson in life skills or something? Am I supposed to ignore everything that's going on in my life just to get this shit done? How the fuck am I going to do that?
I don't even know what I need right now. I'm sitting here quite calmly, though that pissed off feeling is lingering, mostly because of the inappropriate timing of this all. My head is kind of spinning. I got very tired a little while ago, but now I'm wide awake and full of energy I have nowhere to place. Sometimes I really hate being a soap opera. But I guess this life is better than anything else for me. I really just don't want to be the cause of my mom's mental breakdown. What do I do?
Not much is making sense right now. I'm not even sure I am. I have so much random shit going on inside me that I don't know where to turn. I don't know if I should head across Oakland to see my friends. I don't know if I should make a stop at the Crew House to talk to people that I should have talked to at the very beginning of all this. I don't know if they would receive me well. They'd probably not have time for me. But I can't just assume that. Assumptions always get me into trouble. I'm right a majority of the time, but when I'm wrong, the consequences are usually disastrous, and I can't deal with any more of that either. Maybe I should clarify something. When I say I can't deal with things, I usually mean that I am fed up with them and need something to happen to change them immediately. I don't mean that I'm going to fucking collapse or do something to harm myself or others. That's just not how I roll.
I don't know what else I can say. But I'm afraid of what happens when I stop writing.
Why does that song seem so much more appropriate now? "Don't Let Her Pull You Down"
I need to lose myself in music. I may end up in a lot more places tonight.
If only the rest of the world knew how fucked up any other random individual's life was...
Alright.