Family is Hard

I haven’t posted in a while, and admittedly that’s pretty sad because this blog is for me. It’s for me to feel things and express them because having conversations is really difficult. I’m a communicator at heart, but not everyone is a fair communicator, so…conversations face to face are difficult. Messy. Sometimes even more trouble than they’re worth.

Now that I’ve grown up some, I’ve realized that communication doesn’t have to be face to face to be valid. It takes maturity to acknowledge that some conversations will only make things worse if both parties aren’t capable of keeping their explosive reactions in check.

So, yeah, it’s easier for me to express myself through written words. Where I can’t be flustered into losing my argument, and I even if I’m sobbing my words are still concise and no one can claim that they don’t understand what I’m saying.

What I’m saying today is that family is hard.

I found out last night on Facebook that my older sister is trying to adopt a child from South Korea and is taking donations because she can’t afford the home visit. And you know what, I have a lot to say about whether or not I believe my older sister is capable of raising a child from a different culture, but I’m not here to talk shit about her. I could talk about how she outed me on my 21st birthday and cut me off from her, or any of the emotional manipulation tactics (yes, that’s what they were) that she used on me growing up, but honestly I’m really freaking tired of giving her the time of day.

What she did to me is water under the bridge. The effects of her actions, are definitely still relevant.

I’m really, truly hurt that I found out that my older sister is trying to adopt by reading it on Facebook. No one told me. No one. And yeah, I get that I posted that I’m gay online and you felt betrayed but there’s a difference. I was a child figuring myself out and posting in a safe place while I prepared to lose everything and tell you. You threw me out of the closet and didn’t even have the decency to do it in front of me. This, you cutting me out of this, is just you being petty. You’re 26 years old, aren’t you a little old to be doing this type of thing?

Why, sister, are we even doing this? What’s in it for you? Why are you tearing apart our family because I fell in love with a person and didn’t care that their gender is the same as mine?

Better yet, why are our parents letting you?

Let’s be honest, older sister. I’ve given up on you. But, why, god why, are our parents letting you do this?

So, yeah, Mom and Dad. This post is about you too.

And if I’m honest, I have a lot to say to you and I actually wrote you a letter, so here it is.
Mom and Dad,

If you’re reading this, I’m not sorry that I’m gay.

Really, truly, I am sorry about a lot of things but definitely not the fact that I’m gay. But this isn’t about me being sorry, because all I’ve done is made my own decisions about how to live my life. This about the fact that I really hope you’re sorry too.

I should have handled the confrontation about my sexuality better, I admit that. And I should have told you myself, I wanted to tell you that myself, but I didn’t get the chance to do it myself. I was ambushed, and that was not fair to me. That was, in no way, fair to me.

I was just a kid. I was 6 days past my 21st birthday, came home to spend a weekend of my birthday with my family. I wasn’t prepared, and I was in no way mature enough to face you yet. But you made me face you. You, who had over a week to prepare against me, a kid who was still reeling from betrayal and shock.

What you did was unfair. The things you said, were cruel.

You told me that the reason my arms were injured and I was incapable of lifting them myself was because God was punishing me for being gay.

You asked me how I was supposed to teach if I was gay, because who would want their child being taught by a lesbian.

You said that I wasn’t really happy, and everyone could see it but me.

You told me that you were heartbroken and my sister was heartbroken that I was gay.

Well let me tell you this, Mom. You may have been heartbroken, but you will never understand what a true broken heart feels like after that. However hurt you felt in that moment, multiply it by 500 and that’s how heartbroken I am today, 2 and a half years after the fact.

You threw me out of a closet, stripped me of my security, attacked my happiness and the source of it, and then you ripped my heart out of my chest and you can never, ever take that back.

I will never, ever forget that.

Maybe I disappointed you by turning my back on the beliefs you raised me under, but I never turned my back on family.

That was all you.

You let my sister throw me out of our family. I don’t get to come home for Christmas or any other holiday or birthday because S will be there, and I’m not allowed to see her family. I don’t find out if I can come home or even when until right before the event, depending on what S wants to do.

Are you really so blind that you’re unaware of the consequences of your actions?

I wanted to kill myself after what you did. After what you let my older sister and her husband do to me, say to me. I wanted to kill myself.

And it didn’t even matter because I was gay.

I want you to know that Arlene is a great person. You would be thrilled for me, if only she was a man. But you can’t even talk about her without getting mad at me, and it’s not about you.

All of this, everything that has happened, it’s about me.

It’s about who I am, and the choices I’ve made, and the things that have been done to me. I haven’t made any decision to hurt you in any way, every decision I’ve made has been for myself. Some of them, I’ve even made for you. Not that it matters.

So I’m sorry that I’m not the daughter you thought I would be. I’m sorry that I disappointed you, and that I’m everything you never thought I would be.

But really, I’m mostly sorry that you can’t see past the gender of the person I love to see me. To see how I feel. To see how much you hurt me every single day.

I love you, but this is not okay.

I do not forgive you.

P.S. If you’re wondering why you had to read this on the internet, it’s because you asked me how the hell you’re supposed to take me seriously if I’m crying. Well I’m sorry, Mom, but when you hurt people they cry. And you have hurt me irreparably.