Okay so today is Mother's Day. And my mother (who I am not out to) is staying in our house. This is an ideal situation given the stress C and I are under (he said, dripping with sarcasm). To make it more interesting, I revert and withdraw when she is here. Indeed, right now it feels that the anti-depressants aren't working at all. Well they are in the sense that they seem to have removed all libido among other things!! At about 4pm today I thought it was 8pm. C then has to pick up the pieces. Well she doesn't have to, but she does.
Then to make matters more interesting we're out at the local Target and my mom is walking next to me. Out of the blue she asks, "Was your childhood happy?" Again, this called for a "Yes, mom, it was so happy and supportive that I repressed being gay for over 40 years." Or, "sure mom, alcohol, emotional neglect, with a modicum of poverty makes for an idyllic childhood." Instead, I gave a more appropriate answer, perhaps it was a Mother's Day gift, and said, "of course it was."
And no childhood wasn't miserable, but somewhere around 11-12 years old I withdrew from the world around me in a big way. This was in conjunction with first realizing that I wasn't like all the other boys, but did like boys. That too was repressed for 40 years. Marriage, kids, a life later - whoa and behold he's gay still.
I know - whine, whine, whine. But right now that is where I am - feeling whiny and sorry for myself. Saying and writing it makes it less. It makes me grateful for the mother I do have, who loves us all greatly, especially the kids. And given her circumstances does quite well.