Woke up this morning with a slight hangover. Myself and boyfriend went through three bottles of wine (between us) last night and a Gin and Tonic nightcap. That was so unusual for us. We rarely drink without company bar the odd glass of vino with dinner on an odd weekend. I don’t know what came over us. We chatted for hours and the infamous ‘family dealing with our sexuality‘ topic came up…
We had a wonderful day yesterday starting off with (mediocre) lunch in an Italian restaurant then spent the rest of the afternoon with my family. I’m getting on so well with my mom these days. Every so often I have to pinch myself and ask the question ‘is this real?’. My mom had a hard time coming to terms with my sexuality. In short, I went from hero to zero and back to hero again in the space of a year. As a child I did everything to please my mom. That’s what made me happy and content. That’s why I was born – my raison d’être as they say. As long as I was pleasing my mother, everything was going to be okay. (I was an optimistic kid too!) Looking back, I think my mom knew that I was gay – deep down, a mothers instinct – but she brushed it under the carpet and would not accept it. There was no way that I could have been gay. So the more I pleased her, the more heterosexual I became.
I came out to my mother about three years ago. She hugged me immediately after I told her, which makes me feel so proud thinking about it. Of course it was the right thing to do on her part but she did it. She didn’t have to do it and in a different moment, time, place she may not have done it. But she did. That one hug is so significant to our relationship to this very day. But it really cut her up, my coming out. She was distraught. I broke her heart. We didn’t speak about it for months. Life went on but the G word was never to be mentioned. An unwriten rule of sorts. Then about six months later, over a bottle (or two) of vino the G bomb was dropped. I asked my mother how she felt about me, my sexuality, my boyfriend, my life. She let it all out and it wasn’t nice. The tide had turned. Six months previously, I had broken my mother’s heart, now my mother had broken mine. All of her insecurities about my sexuality came out and I didn’t like it. Now I was the distraught one. My world had shattered right in front of my very own eyes. For the first time in my life I was knocked off the heavenly heights of my mothers praise. All those years of being her number one hero meant nothing, nada, zilch. I stormed off. I couldnt deal with it. I didn’t want to hear what I was hearing. I slammed the door, ran up to my room and cried…
A couple of days later my mother apologised to me. I apologised for my behaviour. I shouldn’t have stormed off. This was our reconciliation. And it was magic. It just worked – it was real. My mother (and myself) had been on an emotional rollercoaster ride and had survived intact…together.
Looking back, I felt guilty after my mothers apology. I kept thinking that I shouldn’t have put my mother in that position in the first place. But thats a nonsense. I know it is but I thought about it for a long time.
Roll forward three years and things couldn’t be better. My boyfriend is one of the family now. In fact, I honestly believe that my mother loves him. I mean, of course she does. Who couldn’t? He is amazing. A one off. He really is. I’m blessed. More about him later….
