Tonight I was soaking in the bathtub, thinking about things completely unrelated. I had just worked out and it was intense because I haven't been doing it regularly since last fall. So I was lying there, pondering various facets of life, and craved a cigarette. I haven't had one in months. I've had the same pack for about a year, which I keep in my desk to revisit for the occasional late night bath-time contemplation. At the top of my mind had been a friend of mine, who I dated and broke up with a few months ago, who has been strangely critical, rudely and presumptuously, in recent weeks. So as I normally do in times of intended confrontation, I incessantly overthink and rehearse what to say. I thought about what he said, the bulk of which was petty, unfair, and childish, and I think was done out of me having broken up with him, thinking there is something wrong with him thus pointing out things wrong with me, all of which are flaws I am keenly aware of.
The importance of that is what it led to. I thought about what my TRUE problems consist of, what is really holding me back. In this fully-relaxed and introspective moment, I felt exuberantly confident, as though I knew exactly what had to be done. In the past year since I came out to a couple friends, started dating men, and became the happiest I've been as an adult, it finally felt right: I knew I could come out to my mom.
2:30AM: I knew she'd been having trouble sleeping and would still be awake. I had spoken with here earlier in the day regarding family disputes she needed to vent. In the past year, so many times visiting and seeing here face to face, it always being right there are the front of my mind, fighting the urge to confess what I never did. But somehow tonight, I gained the urge to do it. To prove to myself that I am capable of fighting my ridiculous tendencies to avoid any and all confrontation. I knew that if I could tell her, I wouldn't care what anyone else thought. I knew I've had a gradually decreasing weight over my head for the past year that no longer deserved to be carried in the slightest. I decided it was time to let go of my fear of how others might perceive me as gay. Whatever reason I had to hold onto that, I lost right there, with that cigarette. I knew this so certainly that the most rational thought against it I could conjure was that I would never feel this ability again, not for a long time, and I would resent myself for losing it. There was no going back; tonight was the night.
I drained the tub, did some pacing. When first called, she didn't answer, but then she called me but it went to voicemail because I called her again... so we had something to laugh about at first. She was in a far better mood than she was that day, possibly due to the Paxil. We talked about many things first: my nephew, my sister, her dim-witted fiance, bills, taxes, other family, etc. When she started to end the conversation, I told her there was something else I wanted to talk to her about. Knowing she would expect the worst, "Nothing bad, nothing to be worried about."
"What's wrong? What do you have? What did you do?"
I explained it was nothing like that. I explained there was something I've been wanted to talk to her about for a while now, but just never could. Then I blurted it out.
"What!?", she sounded more dumbfounded that shocked.
"Why are you this way?... You like MEN!?...No one in our family is gay... You can get AIDS you know, do you know that?"
I told her I am very aware of AIDS and straight people can acquire it as well. I explained to her that I hadn't fully admitted it to myself until about a year ago but always knew I was attracted to men.
The conversation went on. She asked if it was because of her or something she did. I told her I don't know why it is the way it is. She assured me she wouldn't disown me and still loves me. "Well, if that's your preference... Thanks for telling me."
It was neither the best or worst reaction I had considered. She didn't exactly welcome it. I'm not sure how to feel now. For a fleeting moment, I felt there truly is something wrong with me, that I'm not gay or don't have to be. I almost regretted having said anything. I don't feel that way now, but it was just such a range of confusing emotions to deal with. Sometimes I feel my family is too damn ignorant to fully accept this the way I would like them to, as if such an ideal situation could possibly exist.
