I learned a mantra a long time ago I regularly pass on to my college students: you can't work your way around problems; you have to work your way through.
I was reminded of this life truth again early this morning. I woke up, yelling out and crying from a terrible dream. My partner, Jason, just held me and calmed me down, and I eventually fell asleep in his arms.
What led to this dream was the broken relationship with my parents. More specifically, the iciness by which my mom treats our current communication. Before I came out in 2009, I never had a good relationship with my father, so the fact that he stopped talking to me was not a great loss.
My mom on the other hand hurt my feelings. Although our relationship has always been conflictual, I very much am my mother's son, and was always the closest to her of me and my brothers.
Last year, my former university's newspaper did an expose on previous students, administrators and faculty members that have since come out gay. I agreed to be interviewed, and my parents cut off all communication. I didn't even receive so much as a card for Christmas.
Last month, we were forced into the same space by my ex-wife because she tried to impose mandated supervised visitation (that's a whole other blog...she failed and the judge found her forcing me to have my parents along was not legal).
Anyway, after zero communication since last September, I was suddenly thrust into an environment with my parents. For the sake of my daughters, I resolved to make it as positive as possible.
It was good to see my parents. The last day of our forced confinement, we actually had a good time and it felt like "old times". We took the girls to a flea market and had a good day.
I started talking to mom on the phone again, but one of the conversations turned ugly when she stated she would side with my ex if I tried getting more visitation with my kids.
My birthday was this last week. I got a cheap card in the mail from parents, but no phone call. This was its own message, of course. Since moving out at age 18, my mom has always called me on my birthday. It really upset me she didn't call.
Last night I dreamed I was home. I was helping my mom in the kitchen, just wrapping up dinner and washing dishes. She started in on my life, and my choices, and started saying hateful things that were a collage of hurtful things she has said since I came out.
She became increasingly angry, and in my dream she grabbed my throat and took me to the ground. As I type this, my pulse is racing and I am sweating because of the memory.
I don't need psychoanalysis to analyze this dream. Hundreds of miles away, without very much communication, at my age of 39 years old my mom is choking me.
I now need to take the advice I give others. I have to work through this problem.
I can't change my mom. We will never find common ground as long as she believes I am going to hell and am somehow less of a person and man for being gay.
But that is HER problem, and I cannot own her issues.
If you have never asked me, I am a big believer in therapy. It's time I get back to my therapist. Even though it was a dream, when I went into the bathroom this morning I still looked for hand marks around my neck.
The hands of my mother were an illusion, but the pain is very real.
