Mom sat at the breakfast table signing her name with a birthday wish on cards for about a dozen sisters in her ward. She is the newly called Relief Society President, and as a way of reaching out to the women, she and her counselors send out a birthday card to each person who has a birthday in the respective month. This was January’s batch.
I stood at the kitchen bar stretching as I waited for my youngest brother who was changing. We were going running, and I had on my shorts and running shirt. My mom looked up from her writing and whispered, “Do you still wear your garments?”
“Why?” I figured she could tell I wasn’t wearing them since I only had on my running clothes, but I was running, so I wouldn’t be wearing them anyway. Maybe she had noticed before and felt like now was a good time to ask. Whatever her motivation, I was a little annoyed, mainly because of the tone of her voice. Like me, she me has difficulty in talking in a straight tone to camouflage her emotion when conversing on a topic that means something to her. “Why do you ask?”
“Do you?”
What’s the point in belaboring this, I thought. Keep it simple. “No.”
“Why don’t you?” Again, she tried to remain calm, but I could tell my disclosure displeased her. I paused, trying to figure out what would be an appropriate and succinct response. She dropped her head and continued signing cards, a probable distraction and emotional guard for my anticipated response.
I stammered. How do I quickly explain what took me months and even years to decide?
She looked up again. “Do you not feel worthy? Are you doing things that make you feel you shouldn’t?” Her questions were direct, but that’s not what caused my heart to sink. It was the way in which her head nodded in disprovement and the tone of her voice that communicated a bit a of anger and condemnation.
“It’s complicated.”
My brother bounded into the kitchen. Mom and I both quickly changed our demeanor and conversation so that it appeared we were only casually talking about nothing.
I wish I could have said more, even if I wasn’t able to tell her everything right then. Even a simple, “Mom this is a really important matter that took me a long time to decide. I’d be happy to share with you why I decided not to wear my garments anymore, but we’ll have to talk about it later when we have more time.” But the way the conversation unfolded, I felt like a four year old caught disobeying mommy.
It was an awful feeling. Most of all, it brought back my feelings of being a failure to my parents. It brought back feelings that I am not approved or validated as an individual or a person. These feelings were particularly sharp before I came out to myself and to my parents. Obviously they still linger. While this Christmas has offered me a much needed break from work, Cody, and life back home, I still feel this invisible barrier between me and my family. I don’t think it will dissipate until I feel like I can be myself and be accepted as myself by my family.
1 comment:
Enjoyed the post.
I totally understand the awkward mother-son conversations. They're the hardest for me. I'm at the point that I still really don't want to let my parents down, but don't know how I can keep up a false pretense. Usually my conversations are far less serious - like about dating and stuff.
As far as the whole garments thing, I'm not sure how to respond. I, like you, have spent some time debating my justification for wearing the garment. While I feel less and less like I want to keep wearing them, I can't take them off. Partly because I'm at BYU and that would evoke too many questions, but also because I still feel obligated to continue wearing them out of devotion to the church. I don't know exactly where I stand with regards to the church though. I used to believe. Now I'm not so sure.
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