My mom randomly texts me. It seems every time they get bad weather there she texts me. Maybe it makes her think of her mortality or mine. Or maybe she knows how much I keep track of the weather and that I am thinking of them secretly. I’m not sure. But in the last few months my mom has text me several times.
Last Friday she sent me a text. It just simply said
I love you. Mommy.
Normally I don’t respond because she has never responded to me. They just ignored the video that I sent them explaining why I needed space and had decided that I needed to take a break and stop speaking with them. How it broke my heart that my dad’s angry letter hurt Kass’ feelings and made her cry. How it hurt me that my mothers pedophile of a father walked her down the aisle even though he hated my dad and she loved him for that, but they couldn’t even be bothered to show up to mine. How I ache because they have just chosen to ignore the fact that I came out to them as transgender. But this day I decided to reply.
I love you too.
infinity & beyond
My mother commented back with something I always used to tell her as a child. Toy Story being one of my favorite movies growing up.
Yesterday she text me again. I couldn’t help but laugh. No matter how I try to show my parents who I am, I can never move them past 6 year old me.
Just felt the need to tell you baby girl how much i love you. Mommy
It took me a long time to be able to reply to her. I had to carefully think about what I was going to say. It pains me to correct my mother. Even as a child I have always seen how delicate she was. I never wanted to break her even at a very young age. Talking to Kass we decided to go with the ‘sandwich’ technique.
I love you too, mom. I do hope that you can begin using my preferred male pronouns like he/his/him and name Weston/Wes. But I do want you to know that I do love you and dad and texting you has been nice.
I didn’t honestly anticipate hearing back from her. I imagined her reading my text message at her desk in her back corner area in the basement she works in. The florescent bulb flickering above her casting light over her briefly and then washing her again in darkness while she broke into a thousand tiny pieces.
I was wrong however and she responded quickly.
You are my very, very beautiful daughter. When the doctors handed u to me they handed me my precious baby girl. U were created that way for a reason & purpose. I love you & texting you just to say i love you has been nice for me too.
At this point I began feeling upset. She was blatantly disregarding me as she always did.
It saddens me that no matter what you won’t see me beyond what you want. Did you view any of the links I sent you? Or see what Pat Robertson said? I know how much you like his views. It makes me sad that you both seem to be ok with the divide this has placed between us.
It saddened me that u created this divide yet feel that daddy & i r responsible 4 it. We have never changed & neither has our beliefs. I’m sorry we’re not what u want or expect as parents. Wendy.
I just want you to accept me. That’s all that I ask and I don’t think that’s too much to expect from one’s parents. I just need to be my true authentic self, and it’s unfortunate that is what makes or breaks us.
It is a rare occasion in my life where I can be very blunt with my mother. I believe that me taking a step back and taking care of myself and doing what I need for myself and living my life with the person I love has given me the new ability to do that.
Im sorry i do not believe thats who u are. Im sorry but i don’t. It was great to hear from u but b4 u hate me we best quit for the day. I love u so very much.
At this point I was shaking. I felt so much sadness and anger that I almost felt as though I would not be able to control myself.
I wish that you didn’t put that on me like that. But fine. I love you too. Tell dad that I love him too.
I read and reread my text & don’t know what i put on u. I guess a good sign that we stop for the day. I will tell daddy u love him. U can count on that for sure.
That I hate you. I don’t like that you put that on me. Why would I beg for your acceptance if I hate you. Thank you for telling him.
Honey thats not what i said. All i said was we need 2 stop 4 the day b4 u hated me. I don’t want 2 fight so i think we just step back & breathe. Thats all. Wendy.
I could not even respond after the last text. My mother, the Queen of Guilt, will no longer get to me. Not in the way that she wants. Not anymore.
I feel such sadness. I think that I am officially mourning the loss of my parents. Before now I always held out hope that if we spent enough time apart that they would see how much they missed me and realize that they didn’t care who I was with or what name I went by. That as their flesh and blood they would just love me and accept me because they actually did love me unconditionally. But I now realize that it is not true. My parents love the idea of me. I am now sure that they do not actually love me, though. They have not actually loved me as a person for a long time. Though this causes me great sadness, I can understand. Because I can honestly say that had I just met my parents as people on the street, I would not love them as people, either. Their narrow-minded values, their ignorance and their small town ideas are hurtful and unfortunate.
Some days I wonder how I came from that. How did I grow up to be such a different person with different values and ideals? Where did I learn to despise those that I came from? How did I evolve past the things that I was taught were right?
The conversation does make me question myself. And I hate that. I hate that decisions are always so hard for me that the slightest thing can strike fear in me and make me feel unsure. I know the feelings will subside just as they always do, but I hate that their unwillingness to see beyond themselves takes away my joy. Even if momentarily.
I think the thing that causes me the most sadness is that I am viewed as being wrong, broken, a mistake. That I couldn’t possibly have been ‘created’ just the way that I am, to be this particular person at this particular time.
As a teenager I felt so angry at a god that would allow myself, my mother and others to be sexually assaulted especially as children. My mother always told me that it happened for a reason. So that we could be strong and we could help others. That we could survive it and that maybe someone else wouldn’t be able to, but that we could be their rock. That it was ok.
But this, this is wrong. This was a mistake and was not supposed to have happened. This will not cause me to be strong for others. This will not help me save lives or change the world. I am a defect. I am broken. I am a monstrosity.
If there is a religion or a god that is fine with sexual assault but is against my authentic self, that is nothing I have a desire to be a part of.