Changing, thank you for your kind words. I'm working hard. Tonight's nervewracking moment before I go to my T will be that M wants to talk to Grandma. I hate that, but I will allow it, within reason.
Iphi, you are right, even when I play the game, I don't feel like my mom loves me. She made a point of telling me the other day that she worries about me. She does? I don't see any evidence of concern, other than being guilt tripped into visiting her and my dad. They don't or won't visit me in my home. I'd prefer that they didn't. She has some things gathered up for me, that she's decided she's going to leave at my front door and hope no one steals them, because it's just too hard to arrange a meeting time. These things don't feel like worry, they feel like she's trying to find a way to check on me, to criticize what I'm doing. She can't just come into my home and have a conversation. We have nothing to discuss because it just devolves into criticism or silence. I don't talk to her about my work, and the only things she cares about that is how much of a raise I'm getting when my promotion goes into effect. I don't feel love. I don't feel concern. I feel pressured. I feel like my privacy is being invaded. I had to arrange for alternative childcare because the latchkey program at my son's school was full, so he ends up spend a couple of hours a day with kids younger than him. There's nothing wrong with this, other than I hear repeatedly, "He needs to play with kids his own age." My son has serious social skills issues. I think playing with kids younger than him is actually good because socially, he's at about the smae level, and my mom prevented him from having any sort of interaction outside of school with other kids. She didn't worry about him not being around kids his age then, but all of a sudden, it's a concern.
The reality of a parent like my mom is that there is no unconditional love. Either you are "in" or you are "out." Right now I am "out." A long time ago, I asked my mom what she would do if I were gay. I don't even remember why I asked the question, other than I was confused. I remember asking, but I don't remember what was going on in my life at the time. She told me she would love me anyway. Riiiiight. I didn't believe her then, so my confusion got bottled away for several more years, and now, when I've finally accepted who I am, there is no way I'd ever tell her. Why? Because she wouldn't love me, even though she said she would. I wouldn't fit her "perfect image." I'd be something hideous and disgusting to her, and why would I ever tell her when I hear so many bigoted comments come out of her mouth? I decided, when I finally accepted the truth, that she didn't deserve to know. But it hurts. It hurts so much not to have that support.
Sorry, Iphi, I didn't mean to digress. I loved your post, and I got to thinking that's all.
