It is interesting how trauma affects us. I lost my mom and brother suddenly in a car accident when I was 18. Here we are almost 25 years later. I am not sad all of the time anymore. I have learned to live with the grief for the most part. There are things that bring back the horrible grief. It can be the simplest thing, but if it reminds me of them, I can be swallowed by grief.
This week has been a triggering week, and I think it will continue on through the month of June. My mom was a lesbian. This was something she struggled with in a world that did not accept people with same-sex attraction. My mother never got to live in a world where people were accepting of and celebrating gay and lesbian people. She did not get to feel this kind of love. She was made to feel ashamed.
I remember the day my mom came out to me. It was the winter of 1992. She and I were living in a hotel in Indianapolis, and she was driving me to school. As we got on the highway, she asked me if I would still love her if she were gay. I did not understand why she would even have to ask that question. I was 13. She was my mom. My love for her was unconditional. It still is. Of course, I told her that I loved her no matter what.
My mom was forced to live a heterosexual life. I can imagine that it was difficult for her. She told me so. She did feel love for my father, but it just wasn't the same. She loved her children; she had a testimony of Jesus Christ; and she had a hard time fitting into this lifestyle.
I was the daughter of a mother who left our family to be in a lesbian relationship. I went through half of middle school and all of high school calling my mom's girlfriend her roommate. At a dance, a boy told me that I was pretty, and it would be a shame I were to turn out like my mom (meaning "becoming a lesbian). I punched him and walked away. After that, I would rarely tell people about my mom unless I knew them well enough to open up to them. In fact, I got to the point that I would not open up to many people about anything period. I became an expert at holding in my feelings and keeping my secrets.
I feel alone quite often. I know I created this bubble to keep myself safe, but it is a lonely bubble. I know my mom felt alone her struggles as well. The circumstances that she felt forced into have forced us both into a world where we feel alone. She had to feel she was doing something wrong by loving a woman. I have to wonder if I would even exist had she been able to come out as a teenager instead of in her 30s.
As I see friends and family celebrate their children who have come out, I can feel the love they have for them. At the same time, I wonder how things would have been different if my mom had felt comfortable to come out when she was younger. Would I have been born? Would I have been able to know the mom with the infectious smile that made everyone she met feel welcome and accepted? There will always be questions that won't be answered until I see her again. One thing I know for sure is that I love my mom. She had her struggles (there were many). I am thankful for the time I got to have her in my life, and the things I learned from her while I had the chance.
