I'd figured out that I was gay by the time I was fourteen or so, but even though my mom had lots of gay friends and was a total fag hag, I was still terrified to tell her. I kept thinking, "Sure, she's okay with her friends being gay, but I'm her kid. It might be different when it's her oldest son." I'd resolved to tell her before I turned eighteen, but I kept putting it off. Terror can be a powerful motivator, especially knowing her deep grounding in the Mormon Church. (Though, to her credit, she always taught me to question everything, even in doctrine, and get the answers I wanted for myself. This, more than anything, saved me and actually led me to my lack of belief today. Of course, she always believed I'd go back to the church eventually.)
On New Year's Eve 1998, just over a month before my eighteenth birthday, I went into my mom's room and told her I needed to talk to her about something serious. In my mind, I was freaking out – asking myself just what the hell I thought I was doing, and trying to figure out where I'd go if I got kicked out of the house. But that's me, I'm crazy like that. It took a while, but I finally told her, “I'm gay.”
And she laughed! She burst out laughing at me, and I got furious! “This is serious!” I said, “And you're laughing at me!” And she said, laughing, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you, but you acted like you were telling me something so monumental, and I've known for years!"
My mind was blown. All this time, I'd been so terrified of saying anything, I'd worked so hard to hide everything – and she'd known all along! She'd been waiting for me to tell her for years! As it turned out, she suspected it before I'd even started to figure it out myself, and she had been asking her gay friends how to handle it since I was twelve years old, and had just been waiting for me to come to her. She'd even tried to bring it up a few times when I was older, but I rejected it (of course, to hide it), and she'd let it go. Her friends all told her, “Wait for him to tell you, and then tell him everything is fine.” And once she finished laughing, that's pretty much what she said.
She did tell me, if she could wave a magic wand and make me straight, she would only because it would make my life easier. Which is very true. She didn't tell me I was going to hell. She didn't kick me out of her house. She didn't send me to Evergreen or some other kind of "pray the gay away" therapy. She told me she still loved me, she would always love me, and that it changed nothing between us. She always supported me and accepted me for who I am, on this and so many other things. A mother's love should be unconditional, and hers was.
I was lucky to have her. So many others are not. So very, very many others suffer so much from those who should always love them.
For this, and for so many other things, I miss my mother every day. My mother knew the right decision, and she made it. For that, I will forever be grateful.
On New Year's Eve 1998, just over a month before my eighteenth birthday, I went into my mom's room and told her I needed to talk to her about something serious. In my mind, I was freaking out – asking myself just what the hell I thought I was doing, and trying to figure out where I'd go if I got kicked out of the house. But that's me, I'm crazy like that. It took a while, but I finally told her, “I'm gay.”
And she laughed! She burst out laughing at me, and I got furious! “This is serious!” I said, “And you're laughing at me!” And she said, laughing, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you, but you acted like you were telling me something so monumental, and I've known for years!"
My mind was blown. All this time, I'd been so terrified of saying anything, I'd worked so hard to hide everything – and she'd known all along! She'd been waiting for me to tell her for years! As it turned out, she suspected it before I'd even started to figure it out myself, and she had been asking her gay friends how to handle it since I was twelve years old, and had just been waiting for me to come to her. She'd even tried to bring it up a few times when I was older, but I rejected it (of course, to hide it), and she'd let it go. Her friends all told her, “Wait for him to tell you, and then tell him everything is fine.” And once she finished laughing, that's pretty much what she said.
She did tell me, if she could wave a magic wand and make me straight, she would only because it would make my life easier. Which is very true. She didn't tell me I was going to hell. She didn't kick me out of her house. She didn't send me to Evergreen or some other kind of "pray the gay away" therapy. She told me she still loved me, she would always love me, and that it changed nothing between us. She always supported me and accepted me for who I am, on this and so many other things. A mother's love should be unconditional, and hers was.
I was lucky to have her. So many others are not. So very, very many others suffer so much from those who should always love them.
For this, and for so many other things, I miss my mother every day. My mother knew the right decision, and she made it. For that, I will forever be grateful.
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