BrailleTogepi
They/Them
- Feb 6, 2023
- 60
Things have been strained between my family and I ever since I came out as trans, particularly between me and my mom. I know she loves me and that she cared for me for 2 decades which wasn't trivial, but from an emotional standpoint all I can ever remember her doing is worrying and throwing religious dogma at me. She's never understood me, and it would be naive of me to believe she ever will, at least in the way I need to be understood. I love her and she loves me but I'd be lying if I said she meets all of my needs as a parent.
I think this is a big part of why I find myself desperately wanting to ctb, or at least to make sure I have a ctb route in case I ever decide I'm truly done and want to leave. I'll only ever have one mother, and the one I got tries her best for sure but it's just not enough for me. Saying that about her sounds dehumanizing and that's the last thing I want to do to her, but at the same time I can't pretend that I'm fine when it's clear that I'm literally on this forum and have SN purchased and on the way for a reason.
Anyway... Over the past week I've been delving into my memories and remembering all of the little things she did for me, things that symbolize that she really does love me and never did see me as just one within a set of 12, designed only to serve the church she lives for. She put time and effort into me and I've been able to see that, which is important because I truly blinded myself to it when she didn't accept me upon coming out to her. So I started opening up to her a little bit over this past week and began to have a little more faith in her. Which was a mistake.
You see, she's perhaps just a little too attached to the way the church thinks, so much so that she's very judgemental toward anyone who doesn't obey all of the church's rules and teachings. That includes her children. I told her everything, everything. She told me that committing suicide is a sin, ignoring the principle of personal autonomy (which seems to be something in general that she doesn't really believe in). She told me that acid will mess up my mind and not to try it, ignoring that I perceive it as literally my last resort to see if I can find a way to make this life worth living. I told her I knew it was distressing to her but that I really just needed someone to open up to, to which she scoffed and went "pfft, okay, I guess so..." (Not exactly the words she used, but that was the kind of "okay" she conveyed). But I think the most damning thing was that I told her that she can call a welfare check on me in order to get me into a psych ward where I can't hurt myself. Luckily that detail seemed to fly over her head but I can't be sure that she'll never think back on what I told her and recall it. And now she's just more worried than ever, still understanding absolutely nothing about me. I know her actions are motivated by fear and there's not much she can do about that, but... did she really have to have 12 children? And did I really have to be one of them?
I wanted acceptance and support from my mother.
Instead, I got reluctant tolerance and visible judgement.
This truly is the only community I can turn to and be open with.
Thanks for reading.
I think this is a big part of why I find myself desperately wanting to ctb, or at least to make sure I have a ctb route in case I ever decide I'm truly done and want to leave. I'll only ever have one mother, and the one I got tries her best for sure but it's just not enough for me. Saying that about her sounds dehumanizing and that's the last thing I want to do to her, but at the same time I can't pretend that I'm fine when it's clear that I'm literally on this forum and have SN purchased and on the way for a reason.
Anyway... Over the past week I've been delving into my memories and remembering all of the little things she did for me, things that symbolize that she really does love me and never did see me as just one within a set of 12, designed only to serve the church she lives for. She put time and effort into me and I've been able to see that, which is important because I truly blinded myself to it when she didn't accept me upon coming out to her. So I started opening up to her a little bit over this past week and began to have a little more faith in her. Which was a mistake.
You see, she's perhaps just a little too attached to the way the church thinks, so much so that she's very judgemental toward anyone who doesn't obey all of the church's rules and teachings. That includes her children. I told her everything, everything. She told me that committing suicide is a sin, ignoring the principle of personal autonomy (which seems to be something in general that she doesn't really believe in). She told me that acid will mess up my mind and not to try it, ignoring that I perceive it as literally my last resort to see if I can find a way to make this life worth living. I told her I knew it was distressing to her but that I really just needed someone to open up to, to which she scoffed and went "pfft, okay, I guess so..." (Not exactly the words she used, but that was the kind of "okay" she conveyed). But I think the most damning thing was that I told her that she can call a welfare check on me in order to get me into a psych ward where I can't hurt myself. Luckily that detail seemed to fly over her head but I can't be sure that she'll never think back on what I told her and recall it. And now she's just more worried than ever, still understanding absolutely nothing about me. I know her actions are motivated by fear and there's not much she can do about that, but... did she really have to have 12 children? And did I really have to be one of them?
I wanted acceptance and support from my mother.
Instead, I got reluctant tolerance and visible judgement.
This truly is the only community I can turn to and be open with.
Thanks for reading.
