Mom

So, last post I was all geared up and ready to come out to my mother.  I really thought it was gonna happen, honest.  But… it hasn’t happened yet, mostly out of fear of how my dad will react.  But even though my mother doesn’t officially know… she knows. Her asking my best friend.  Her buying my best friend’s baby a lot of stuff and giving them money because “she’ll never have a grandchild.”  (Which, btw, my fiance (I now call my girl my fiance because we are very committed to each other and are only waiting for the day gay marriage is legalized in our state to officially marry) and I do plan to adopt one of these days; so I think she’s wrong!)

I honestly believe my mom looks at me as a gay woman now.  She’s just waiting for me to officially tell her.  And even though I’ve been sooo worried about how she is going to react to my revelation, I know that she has been coming to terms with it by herself.  And I, personally, think that’s wonderful.  She can hopefully go through all the terrible feelings of loss and anger parent’s normally feel when a child comes out at her own pace.  In other words, I didn’t throw her there.  She’s decided by herself to go there.

And I’m seeing progress towards her acceptance in how she treats me.  For instance, in high school and the beginning of my first college endeavor, she used to bug me all the time to dress girly so I could attract guys.  You know, wear something besides a random band t-shirt, old jeans, and skate shoes.  Wear some makeup!  (My mom is a makeup freak.)  She used to hurt me all the time by the way she’d tell me to look better, basically.  I didn’t even know I was gay then; I just knew that I felt absolutely ridiculous is “girly” clothing.

But yesterday, she actually came to visit me, and I took her to the mall since she never gets out.  I wore a random Nirvana t-shirt, my favorite pair of jeans, my new sneakers, and as always, my hair pulled back in a ponytail.  We were walking through the mall, and my mom started to say, “You know, maybe if you wore some girlier clothes…” and I, already offended, cut her off and said, “But mom… I’ve had this shirt for years, and I love it.”  And then she finished.  “No, no, I don’t care how you dress.  You are you and it’s fine with me.  I’m just saying maybe you could get a job.”  I then proceeded to tell her how I wear outfits I absolutely loathe to job interviews, and it still doesn’t help.  But mom’s statement about how she doesn’t care, that I’m just being me and she’s fine with that… maybe I’m reading too much into it… but it felt like an acceptance of me as ME, gay and all.

That made me feel really good.