Beth, I never get tired of replies. I related so well to what you said. My mom chose my first college major for me. She was talking to the dean while I was auditioning for the music program, and somehow I ended up as a music major. I wanted to be a music minor. It worked out all right because I ended up getting most of my minor out of the way my freshman year, but it always incensed me that suddenly I was going to be a music teacher. I wasn't even certain I wanted to be a teacher of any sort. That was the profession my mother suggested I go into. I really wanted to do counseling or writing and editing of some sort. I dropped the music major and switched to English, but I was still in the education program. I'll never forget the day I dropped out of the education program to major in writing. My mom said "What the hell are you going to do with that?" You know what? It's actually been really useful. My employers have always liked it because most of them can't write at all, and I learned a lot of good analytical skills. I think I've been asked about my odd major in every interview, and I always get points because of my answers.
Oh and remembering shuttling me back and forth . . . M isn't really involved in too many things right now. I'm thinking about a couple of things, and he's in one club at school. I've tried to get him involved in stuff before and my mom complained so much that I finally dropped it completely because she would have had to drive him there. Oh and my mom "remembers" doing all sorts of things with me. It's really funny I don't remember doing things with her. I remember her promising things and never following through. Or else going out and spending a bunch of money to make up for it.
I haven't told my parents anything that really means anything for years. The one time I did talk about something that mattered to me, my job, my mom took it upon herself to start calling my employer and telling him how my job was making me sick from all of the stress. I had been trying to fight for the job because I really loved it. I was trying to get moved permanently to another building. I ended up having to find another job. She thought she was helping me.
I have never told either of my parents that I was stalked in college to the point that I was afraid to answer the phone or be home alone. I had done a guy on the street a favor, and he took it upon himself to follow me for about a month. I didn't tell them about the one guy I had a fling with. I didn't tell them about my second roommate who was into some very weird stuff and really scared me. I never told my mom that I came very close to committing suicide when I was pregnant. I still hadn't recovered from the depression I was suffering from in school.
Since I"ve moved, I've been very closed mouthed about things M's done in school. I've said nothing at all about IEP meetings, support services, or teacher comments. I don't talk about my job, other than to say I'm really bored. I certainly haven't told them that I made an appointment for M's yearly checkup just so I could talk to his doctor about his attention issues. Her comment when she found out he was going was, "YOU'RE taking him?" In the past few years she's taken him, but I used to take him all the time. I don't know when that changed. I'm not going to tell her that we were referred to a specialist to develop a treatment plan. She wants to put M in a box because "he's different" and "he has problems." I think that's cruel. It's time to focus on his strengths and not his weaknesses.
Bella, my mom is a master of using anything I tell her against me, so I've just learned to omit the majority of the truth. Even then she overreacts to everything. She'd been telling me that M is getting fat, even though he's at a normal weight. She'd told M that as well, and when I had the massive meltdown in April, he'd internalized that. He wanted to go on a diet. It was a red flag for me, because 10 year olds should not be having thoughts about dying or worrying about their weight. When he went to the doctor, he was still at a normal weight, but the doctor wanted me to make sure he ate a little healthier and got plenty of exercise because his BMI was normal, but a little high. He just wanted to keep it normal. I stupidly said something to my mom, and she started in about how she knew he was getting fat and that I shouldn't be feeding him junk and on and on. I kept trying to interrupt to explain that the doctor hadn't said that at all. He'd just wanted to point it out so I could take preventive measures not put him on a diet.
The only way, I'd ever come out to them is if they asked directly. I wouldn't lie then. I wouldn't lie to anyone who asked directly. Or if I was in a situation where I no longer needed their support, had a stable support system, not necessarily a partner, but at least friends who were supportive, and I was certain they'd disown me. I was always afraid that my mom would try to take M from me if I moved away. She'd made certain to tell me how I wouldn't last a week with him and that I couldn't survive on my own, so I was sure she'd try to take him away. Being gay would just give her another reason to try. She's certainly nasty enough to do that. It wouldn't surprise me if she wasn't having me followed, my phone tapped, and a PI snapping pictures at every turn.
