Don't Look Back in Anger

I can't stand this volatile relationship my mother and I have. I just plain can't stand it anymore.

As I get older I'm able to piece together and reflect on the damage she's done to me over the years (being a psychology major only makes my introspection worse).

A few weeks ago she accused me of not liking Naveen, which she does on a regular basis. I love Naveen, like a brother (or at least I did before the whole dabacle on my birthday), and so naturally I defended the fact that I do like Naveen, it's their relationship I have a problem with. I'm sorry but my 50-something year old mother should not be doing a 20-something year old man's laundry, giving him her brand new laptop, making his lunches for him, etc. etc., it's not a friendship it's her babying him, but that's a long story for another day.

On this particular occasion I guess my mother decided she needed to get a good jab in and take me down a few pegs, so she said something to the affect of "you don't like him because he is Indian (obviously I'm racist, and if that wasn't offensive enough), or maybe it's because he's a man. The only people you care about are gay people and the only things you care about are gay issues."

It's taken me some time to reflect on this, because it cut me REAL deep. If my mother bothered to get to know me, she'd know I'm not really big into gay issues. I'm more of a big picture kind of girl. I'm really into human issues. I care about everyone who takes a minute to talk to me, if I've met you there's a good chance I care about you. I don't really have any gay friends, most of my friends are straight (by choice for the most part, because gay kids in college are filled with drama, and I, clearly, get enough drama at home). My first best friend from college is a guy, he's a great guy and I love him a great deal. Almost all of my friends are girls, but that's only because my school is predominantly female. But I guess the fact of the matter is I shouldn't have to justify myself in terms of my mother's hurtful remark. She wanted to get a good jab in, and she did. I'm not sure if she can even comprehend the amount of damage she did to me by saying that.

Ever since she said that I've been wondering to myself about being gay. Do people assume that since I'm gay all I care about are gay things? I can't care about anything other than being gay? I mean, I started the GSA at my school, but I did that honestly because I firmly believe that the school is better off having a safe and welcoming outlet for GLBTQ students rather than having to deal with depressed/suicidal students who have no outlet and no way of expressing themselves. It's all about student retention. But I'm not all about being gay. I'm all about being me, and doing well in school, and getting into graduate school and figuring out what the heck I want to do with my life. I'm pretty normal and boring when you get right down to it.

But what if people think I'm just gay? What if they don't see that I'm Rachel too, and I like to play the violin and I'm happiest when I'm surrounded by my friends laughter. What if they think all I am is gay, and they don't know that when I get cut I bleed too. That's the scariest part of all of this. Does my mother think all I am is gay? That I'm nothing more than a gay kid now and I am so uninterested in the rest of the world that it might as well not even exist to me.

It makes me so sad. To think I might mean nothing. To think I might mean nothing to the woman who made me something. It helps me understand why so many GLBTQ kids kill themselves. When the people you love the most in the world make you feel worthless, what else is there?

I wonder if she'll ever know how much she hurt me, or if she'll ever care.

Just have to keep moving I s'pose. Chin up and all that good stuff. Hope everyone else is having a safe, happy and productive week. This weekend is the family reunion, wish me luck.