Separation of My Parents (February College Softmore)
It was really hard on my sister and I when my mother gathered us up and told us dad wouldn’t be coming home anymore, that he had decided to leave. Dad had come out as gay and had been cheating on her with another man for months. My heart broke and I started to cry, just like my sister. Mother tried to keep it together, but seeing her girls upset made her cry more. I remember we sat there on the plum carpet of my sister’s room for a good five minutes just sobbing. Eventually my mother got up, she was going to go to her mom’s house for comfort, leaving my sister and I to do whatever.
My younger sister left to go to her boyfriends house as I drifted back to my own room. I didn’t trust myself driving to York college to see Ryan (even though it’s a twenty minute drive). I just texted him as I sunk into my bed; I didn’t trust myself to get coherent words out over the phone. He eventually arrived at my place and I proceeded to dump all the liquid out of my body through my eyes. After a while we left my house and Ryan drove me to his apartment on campus; a new atmosphere might help me feel better.
While I was there my heartbrokeness slowly turned to anger. That anger I felt wasn’t initially because he left; it was because he didn’t take me with him and get me away from the toxic environment that was, and still is, my home. Knowing, that he wasn’t going to be there to back me in a “fight” against my mother was what really upset me.
Understandably, my mother took this event the hardest of all of us, and started using my sister and I as outlets for her rantings and rages. I grew quite tired of this and started to resent my mother even more than I already had (that’ll be the next post in this series). I’ve never really been close to my mother as our personalities were polar opposites so her anger just made our divide grow even larger.
During the summer time my mother thought that I needed therapy to talk about my gay dad who had abandoned his family for another man. I’ve always been close to dad, as our personalities are similar; we’re both quiet and reserved people, but once you get to know us we can joke around and be really engaged. I didn’t care that he was gay, I have plenty of friends in the LGBT community, so I was very supportive of him. If being gay made my dad happy and comfortable in his own skin, I wasn’t going to stop him. In therapy I didn’t talk about dad; I talked about my mother. I had far more issues with her.
Due to my dad being away from my mother, it gave him and I the chance to talk about my childhood and how it may have shaped me into the person I am. These conversations lead me to understand myself so much more and brought me to a realization that shocked me to my core. This even will be the topic of next weeks installment.