Acceptance

22 Jun

I wrote a post a while back about not needing to define myself with labels. I still feel labels are meaningless. They aren’t a definition of who we are, just a generic way to try to explain ourselves.

I also talked in that post about how I had never felt the need to try to define myself to my parents, particularly concerning my sexuality. This has been on my mind a lot as of late.

I was recently blessed to be part of a wedding of two dear friends I have made since moving to Arizona. These ladies are committed and beautiful human beings who I feel enhance my life more than I would have imagined. They are those friends you meet and become close almost instantaneously and know they are important practically from the start.

Sharing in their special day was exhilarating for many reasons. First, because we live in an age where it is becoming more acceptable for anyone who loves each other to express that love how they choose (Side note, the day before their wedding ceremony which was to be held in Wisconsin and then legalized later that week in Minnesota, Wisconsin passed a bill which would allow same-sex marriages to be legal in that state. Cool, right!). Second, because this particular wedding was so life affirming, and on a more personal level, I was genuinely happy for them with no taint of any other misgivings.

A week later, I was skyping with my parents for Fathers’ Day and they asked about my trip. They knew I had gone to a wedding, but they also knew I had gone with Michigan, and we had made a detour on the way back to go to Chicago. Knowing my parents, I focused less on the wedding and more on Michigan and the rest of the trip.

My mother, however, had other ideas. She did not ask about the wedding itself, but rather posed the question, “So, why did they feel the need to get married?” To which my response was, “Why did you and dad get married?” As you can imagine this is going nowhere good. Her response was, “Well, hunny, because your father and I were a boy and a girl.” “No, mom you did not get married because you were a boy and a girl, you got married because you loved each other and wanted to share that with your friends and family before God.”

And the spiral continued until we were yelling at each other.

I take what she says personally. She doesn’t know why, because she doesn’t know me. I don’t need her to know me to be happy, but this week I have been mulling over whether I haven’t told them I am not as straight as they think I am because of the reasons I have written previously, or because deep down I know that if I did, she would never accept me and arguments like this one would only get worse.

It is an odd feeling to know on some level your mother wouldn’t love you as much if she really knew who you were.

I am almost 27 years old, shouldn’t I have already gotten past this life crisis?

In truth, it is not just my sexuality they wouldn’t understand, it is all of it. In analyzing how we interact, it is because they don’t know me that we are allowed to continue as we do. I move farther and farther away to avoid dealing with it. The farther I am, the less they need to know. I wonder sometimes if they even know how clueless they are.

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