I don’t spend too much time talking about things that bum me on on here (at least not lately), mostly because I don’t like to see them written out, but also because lately I can’t remain focused on the sad for long.  There’s too much good to explore and feel.

However, one point of constant hurt is my family.  I don’t like to complain because I feel like I’m pretty lucky in that regard.  They haven’t disowned me or been terrible about me being gay.  Things could be so much worse.  But…

My brother called today.  Granted, he has a lot of shit going on in his own life with his soon to be ex-wife.  That is its own source of sadness and hurt, and plenty of it.  But near the end of the conversation, I made the mistake of asking if the parents had said anything recently about my gayness.

Mom is in denial, as I suspected.  She seems to think that this is a phase, and I’ll go back to dating men at some point; that I’ll realize this was all a mistake and things will be back to normal.  Dad just doesn’t like to think about it, really.  He has a hard time talking about it, using the words to say what I am.  But he also seems to think it’s his fault somehow.  And my brother, the brother I have always adored and looked up to, also isn’t a fan–which I had suspected, but am apparently masochistic enough to ask for clarification.  I didn’t need an update on my sister–I already know that she thinks it’s bad, but, of course, like with all of them, still want me in her life.

The problem is it’s not the same as it was before I came out.  I was never close with them, but this is worse.  And the words they use…  Being gay is compared to mistakes, bad choices, sin, addiction, being a bad person, etc, etc, etc.  (This, oddly, in my defense when my brother allegedly was trying to explain to my dad how he can still have me in his life–there are people you are friends with, but don’t like all their life choices…)

It makes me feel physically ill.

My mom wants me to come over for Easter next week.  I can’t do it.  But I feel guilty about not going.  It’s so fucked up.  Part of my problem is that I do, for some reason, want them to stay in my life.  So then I feel a responsibility to make them see how happy I am now, how good it is, how right it is.  But they’re never going to see that, and it’s only hurting me.  Still, I can’t completely cut them out.  I just can’t.  I just need them in small doses, infrequently…

Fuck.

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