A close-up of my “Choose Love” tattoo on my left wrist in my husband’s handwriting
Today is Mother’s Day. It’s a pretty loaded day for a lot of people, both in good ways and in tough ways. I texted my best friend this morning to wish her a happy Mother’s Day, and she responded, “Aw, thank you so much. I'm not sure how this day is making you feel this year, but I hope your day is a peaceful one.” She’s right on that this day is different this year.
22 years ago, my mom did not handle the news of my being gay very well. For a very brief time, things were very strained, but then we made room for each other in our lives, and have gotten along well for about 20 years now. In the past couple of years, I’ve really come to terms with understanding who my mom is and the role she plays in my life, and I have felt so much less frustration and tension with my mom these past couple of years just by learning to accept her for who she is in the same way I’ve come to accept myself for who I am. I think of my mom a lot more fondly than I did for a long time. Even though we were getting along, I had a sense of tension around her that I didn’t ever know how to resolve but that was left unspoken, and as of these past couple of years, that hasn’t been the case. Still, I never expected this Mother’s Day to be as different as it is.
About 6 weeks ago, I had a conversation with my mom that completely changed my relationship with who she is in my head. My mom joined a women’s group in her city about a year ago (maybe more), and being involved in this group has been AMAZING for her. In mid-March, one of the women in the group invited my mom to go see a production of Considering Matthew Shepard, which is a spoken word and choral performance reflecting on the life of Matthew Shepard, a man who was killed in a hate crime for being gay in 1998. I’m not familiar with the show, but I’m very familiar with the story of Matthew Shepard. I never thought of my mom as a person who would go to a concert like that, but she did.
The day after my mom saw the production, she called me. I talk to my mom every day, but I’d say 99% of the time, I’m the one who calls her, so to receive a call from her is unusual. She was so moved by the performance that she had to tell me all about it. She talked about how it opened her eyes to what I went through as a teenager, how much fear and shame and rejection was involved in being a gay kid, and how hard it must have been for me. She told me how much she loves me and is proud of me. She talked about how she reacted all of those years ago, and how amazed she is that I’ve been as willing to have a relationship with her as I have. She said some affirming, loving things that I still get teary thinking about.
These are things I never expected to hear. I kind of thought that the way everything had gone down would just be a thing we never talked about, and that we just moved on from without addressing. But the things my mom said to me healed something in me that I didn’t know needed to be healed. It felt transformative. It let me breathe in a way I didn’t know I wasn’t breathing. It was the single most powerful conversation I can ever remember having. And the shock of it all is that my mom kind of felt like this was just a normal conversation for us. In the weeks since, I’ve told her how important that conversation was to me, and she’s pleasantly surprised that it was so impactful. I don’t think she knew how much I needed that conversation, and I think we’re both EXTREMELY grateful that the conversation happened.
So yes, this Mother’s Day feels different. And I am so, so glad that it feels the kind of different that it does.