J
JayHeart
Guest
My mother and I sat across from each other at Starbucks. While I sipped my latte and chatted about mundane things, I tried to think of the best way to tell her I was living with a man. “I have to do it, there’s no backing down,” I thought to myself. “Just don’t say the word ‘gay’ – you can use the word ‘boyfriend’ – but you can’t say the word ‘gay.’” I didn’t want it to be some profound declaration. I just wanted to simply share with my mother (with whom I confided everything – except this) that I was in a relationship, and that my relationship just happened to be with a male. How hard could it be?
Despite the fact that William had cheated on me earlier that year, I decided to give him a second chance. Not only that, but I also decided to move in with him. After setting a list of ground rules (including having a fully committed relationship with complete disclosure), I felt that we might have a serious future together. Which meant that it was definitely time to let my parents in on this part of my life.
I had just purchased a new car and wanted to register it in my hometown, so the quick trip home seemed like the perfect opportunity. It would only be a day or so, nothing more. I didn’t want to answer a lot of questions or defend my choices in a long, drawn-out discussion. I just wanted to deliver the news in person and go – rip it off like a Band-Aid.
After registering my license plates and showing off my new car, I found myself delaying my news until the last possible moment. Eventually, I had procrastinated it until the morning I was due to drive back. It was now or never.
That’s when I found myself sitting across from my mother, latte in hand. I had purposely waited until my father left for work. I knew from the beginning that this was news my mother would have to deliver to my father for me. I imagined the disappointment that would cover his face, and I knew I couldn’t bear to witness it. My mother had always been the one that was easier to talk to, especially about something as serious as this.
I started to ramble. “The new place I just moved into is great. My roommates, William and Jesse, are great. William has been doing well at work. He helped me so much in getting a great deal on my car… Mom…he’s my boyfriend.”
My hands were freezing, even as I held my coffee. I started shaking as I looked for a response from my mother. She looked up at me with an expression that I will never forget. It was as if her best friend had just moved away forever. There wasn’t a look of disappointment, as much as “something lost.” I waited for what felt like an eternity for her to respond. When she finally did, her first instinct was to comfort me. “Did you think I didn’t know?” she whispered gently. The uncertainty in her voice made me wonder if she had only said it for my benefit. She continued, “How long has this been going on?”
“Almost two years,” I replied.
I got up from my chair and signaled for us to head out. It was time to get on the road, and I still had to drive my mother home. As I slowly backed out of the parking lot, I tried to elaborate. I began making excuses for why I hadn’t told her sooner, and kept repeating how the situation was “difficult to explain.” My mother remained fairly subdued during the short ride home. “I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly. Once home, I ran into the house to get my stuff, hoping to abandon the uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible. I said a brief goodbye to my mother as I headed out the front door. She called after me from the living room, “Wait, aren’t we going to talk about this?”
“I have to get on the road. I’ll talk to you guys when I get back to Texas.”
As I drove onto the highway, I pictured my mother sitting all alone in the living room of our big empty house. Three boys, all gone, and one of them had just dropped a bomb and left the scene. I imagined her carefully choosing the right words to say to my Dad when he came home…how best to break the news that his youngest son was gay. Driving down the interstate with this picture in my head, I cried, overcome with the guilt of my selfish behavior.
Reflection:
In a single day, my parents received information about my sexuality and lifestyle choices that had been years in the making. My delivery to them was regrettably insensitive and poorly thought out. I was so terrified of their potential negative reaction that I didn’t stop to think about how it would emotionally affect them.
My inability to tell my father that morning stemmed from the distance I felt from him most of my life. I was always closer to my mother, who I could share my feelings with. She and I had more in common, being creative types that like to express themselves. We could easily be open with one another. My father was more reserved, and for a long time, I think I took his silence as disinterest – or even disapproval.
Joe Dallas talks about the relationship between parents and their children in his bookDesires in Conflict. I was particularly intrigued with the section in which he describes how our perceptions as children can affect our personalities as we grow up. He says:
In your early years you may have had parents who loved and highly valued you, but for some reason the communication of that love got blurred. You may have perceived your father to be disinterested in you, when in fact he cared very much about every part of your life.
My father is an incredible parent. Even though my Dad and I didn’t have as much in common as I did with my mother, that didn’t stop him from making every effort to be a part of my life. We built things together, went camping, and he sat through oh-so-many embarrassing monologue rehearsals in our living room. Still, I kept him at a distance, misinterpreting his lack of expressiveness toward me as some kind of rejection. Looking back, I now understand that he just showed his love in a different way than my mom did. But he didn’t love me any less.
Today I am closer to both of my fathers – earthly and Heavenly. As I’ve pursued God, I’ve come to understand my earthly father better. And as he’s gotten older, my dad has become more affectionate with me. My parents recently lost their home to a tornado, and came very close to losing their lives as well. I think the experience taught all of us how important it is to show how much we love one another on an ongoing basis. I’ve also repented of a lot of the selfish choices I’ve made that put my parents in difficult positions through the years. I’m happy to say that I have developed a stronger bond with both my parents as a result.
Looking back on my “coming out” experience now, I can see how well my parents dealt with it as Christians. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but they clearly taught me the difference between “acceptance” and “approval.” While they never approved of me being gay, they were quick to assure me that it didn’t mean they would ever stop loving me. They not only continued to give me their time and affection, but they would show warmth and hospitality to boyfriends that I would bring home for dinner, as I tried to sway their decision. Their support for me has never wavered, regardless of my choices. The fact that I’ve left the gay lifestyle and re-committed to my faith is in no small part due to their loving example.
http://comingoutofthechristiancloset.wordpress.com
Despite the fact that William had cheated on me earlier that year, I decided to give him a second chance. Not only that, but I also decided to move in with him. After setting a list of ground rules (including having a fully committed relationship with complete disclosure), I felt that we might have a serious future together. Which meant that it was definitely time to let my parents in on this part of my life.
I had just purchased a new car and wanted to register it in my hometown, so the quick trip home seemed like the perfect opportunity. It would only be a day or so, nothing more. I didn’t want to answer a lot of questions or defend my choices in a long, drawn-out discussion. I just wanted to deliver the news in person and go – rip it off like a Band-Aid.
After registering my license plates and showing off my new car, I found myself delaying my news until the last possible moment. Eventually, I had procrastinated it until the morning I was due to drive back. It was now or never.
That’s when I found myself sitting across from my mother, latte in hand. I had purposely waited until my father left for work. I knew from the beginning that this was news my mother would have to deliver to my father for me. I imagined the disappointment that would cover his face, and I knew I couldn’t bear to witness it. My mother had always been the one that was easier to talk to, especially about something as serious as this.
I started to ramble. “The new place I just moved into is great. My roommates, William and Jesse, are great. William has been doing well at work. He helped me so much in getting a great deal on my car… Mom…he’s my boyfriend.”
My hands were freezing, even as I held my coffee. I started shaking as I looked for a response from my mother. She looked up at me with an expression that I will never forget. It was as if her best friend had just moved away forever. There wasn’t a look of disappointment, as much as “something lost.” I waited for what felt like an eternity for her to respond. When she finally did, her first instinct was to comfort me. “Did you think I didn’t know?” she whispered gently. The uncertainty in her voice made me wonder if she had only said it for my benefit. She continued, “How long has this been going on?”
“Almost two years,” I replied.
I got up from my chair and signaled for us to head out. It was time to get on the road, and I still had to drive my mother home. As I slowly backed out of the parking lot, I tried to elaborate. I began making excuses for why I hadn’t told her sooner, and kept repeating how the situation was “difficult to explain.” My mother remained fairly subdued during the short ride home. “I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly. Once home, I ran into the house to get my stuff, hoping to abandon the uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible. I said a brief goodbye to my mother as I headed out the front door. She called after me from the living room, “Wait, aren’t we going to talk about this?”
“I have to get on the road. I’ll talk to you guys when I get back to Texas.”
As I drove onto the highway, I pictured my mother sitting all alone in the living room of our big empty house. Three boys, all gone, and one of them had just dropped a bomb and left the scene. I imagined her carefully choosing the right words to say to my Dad when he came home…how best to break the news that his youngest son was gay. Driving down the interstate with this picture in my head, I cried, overcome with the guilt of my selfish behavior.
Reflection:
In a single day, my parents received information about my sexuality and lifestyle choices that had been years in the making. My delivery to them was regrettably insensitive and poorly thought out. I was so terrified of their potential negative reaction that I didn’t stop to think about how it would emotionally affect them.
My inability to tell my father that morning stemmed from the distance I felt from him most of my life. I was always closer to my mother, who I could share my feelings with. She and I had more in common, being creative types that like to express themselves. We could easily be open with one another. My father was more reserved, and for a long time, I think I took his silence as disinterest – or even disapproval.
Joe Dallas talks about the relationship between parents and their children in his bookDesires in Conflict. I was particularly intrigued with the section in which he describes how our perceptions as children can affect our personalities as we grow up. He says:
In your early years you may have had parents who loved and highly valued you, but for some reason the communication of that love got blurred. You may have perceived your father to be disinterested in you, when in fact he cared very much about every part of your life.
My father is an incredible parent. Even though my Dad and I didn’t have as much in common as I did with my mother, that didn’t stop him from making every effort to be a part of my life. We built things together, went camping, and he sat through oh-so-many embarrassing monologue rehearsals in our living room. Still, I kept him at a distance, misinterpreting his lack of expressiveness toward me as some kind of rejection. Looking back, I now understand that he just showed his love in a different way than my mom did. But he didn’t love me any less.
Today I am closer to both of my fathers – earthly and Heavenly. As I’ve pursued God, I’ve come to understand my earthly father better. And as he’s gotten older, my dad has become more affectionate with me. My parents recently lost their home to a tornado, and came very close to losing their lives as well. I think the experience taught all of us how important it is to show how much we love one another on an ongoing basis. I’ve also repented of a lot of the selfish choices I’ve made that put my parents in difficult positions through the years. I’m happy to say that I have developed a stronger bond with both my parents as a result.
Looking back on my “coming out” experience now, I can see how well my parents dealt with it as Christians. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but they clearly taught me the difference between “acceptance” and “approval.” While they never approved of me being gay, they were quick to assure me that it didn’t mean they would ever stop loving me. They not only continued to give me their time and affection, but they would show warmth and hospitality to boyfriends that I would bring home for dinner, as I tried to sway their decision. Their support for me has never wavered, regardless of my choices. The fact that I’ve left the gay lifestyle and re-committed to my faith is in no small part due to their loving example.
http://comingoutofthechristiancloset.wordpress.com