62. Stuff

Did I ever tell you all about the therapist my mom and I went to to deal with our ‘stuff’? We had this two week fight, which I ended by saying “Okay, I’m done talking about this now, we need to see a therapist.”

Well, we found one who lived pretty much right in between us (2 hours away from me, 3 hours away from my mom) and we went to see her twice. She was quite sick then, she actually at one point cancelled two appointments because she was unable to see us. I was originally quite hopeful about the appointments but then, well, they sort of turned out to do more harm than good. Part of the reason was that we were only able to see her 3 times, which just isn’t enough to get through anything significant. Another reason was that during one of her private meetings, my mom told her that I was gay. This honestly, had nothing to do with our problems (we were dealing with communication issues that go back to pretty much preschool), but it of course became this huge issue. During one of our private meetings, the therapist talked all around the ‘gay issue’, until I just said “Just to clear the air, I’m assuming my mom told you I’m gay”.

She told me my mom had alluded to the ‘issue’, and so I told her that a)I didn’t think it had anything to do with our communication problems and b)I’m celibate so there is no way it’s relevant to any aspect of what I was there to talk about (ie: relationship issues). She actually seemed quite positive in that meeting, telling me that she had gay friends, one of whom had helped her a lot when she was going through a particularly low period (he took her in when her husband left her)… she also used the phrase ‘coming out of the closet’ to talk about accepting the reality of various situations in my life. I got the impression that she was ‘gay positive’, which I kept to myself because I didn’t want my mom to find out – she would have been quite upset to think that.

One of the things that kept getting brought up was my weight (not by me or the therapist, but by my mother). It was frustrating to say the least, I was trying to talk about our communication, and my mom kept just saying over and over again “I think she needs to lose weight.” It was like talking with a plant. And she’s right, you know, I’m what I’ve referred to as a “bigger black woman”, and I know I should lose weight, but again, it was irrelevant to the issue at hand. Anyway, the reason I bring that up is because my mom recently called this therapist and found out that she’s dying. Like I said, she was quite sick, so it doesn’t come as a surprise, but it is sad. She was sweet. Well, she and my mom spoke for a few minutes and apparently this woman’s last words of advice for me are this (as relayed by my mother, who I don’t think would lie about a woman’s dying words): “Tell JJ I’m not worried about her weight. I am worried about the gay thing. I worry about her going into a gay lifestyle. I’ve worked with people like that and those people will chew you up and spit you out. As long as she’s celibate I wouldn’t worry.”

I don’t want to speak ill of the almost dead, but what? Those people? Like the kind who took her in when her straight husband abandoned her? Like one of my best friends from high school, who has comforted me so many times when my mom was driving me batty, who has been with her girlfriend for 6 years now? Like one of my dear gay guy friends who helped me accept who I am and learn to not hate myself?

And that those were her last words to my mother? That sucks. I know that will come back and bite me in the ass at some point. I can hear my mother saying, “Even _________ knew that this was an unhealthy state of being. Do you remember her last words of advice to you? She knows about ‘those people’. She worked with them. Do you want to be like that?”

Argh.

Of course, she did go on to tell me how 'proud' she was of me for making the 'right decisions', saying that I have always done that. She mentioned an incident when I was seven when someone gave me a Smurfs game and I willingly threw it out because my mom believed that Smurfs were evil. I didn't really care about the game because I didn't watch the show so it wasn't the best present to give me. I was more worried about what the person who gave the present to me would think. I now think it was kind of ridiculous that I wasn't allowed to watch the Smurfs because, really, it was just a cartoon about little blue creatures. But my mom was apparantly really proud of me back then.

Oh, and I know I told you about that ‘healing week’ I went to, well my mom’s going to one. And here’s the really messed up part. They’re giving her the same counselors as they gave me. Isn’t that warped? The thing that’s annoying is that I was supposed to follow up with those women, but as I only really went to make my mom happy, and I kind of moved to the other side of the planet shortly afterwards, I didn’t bother. And now I have to figure something out, cause she’ll be pissed.

In other completely non personal news, have you heard about this? Faith in America: Religion Based Bigotry, Let’s End it Now and Forever. I think it’s a really cool idea, but I know what people like my mother would say. She will say it’s evidence of the homosexual agenda rearing its head in the church. That these people are obviously not real Christians, etc… You know what I would like to see? Some more moderate conservatives like Tony Campolo (even though I know some dismiss him entirely). I would like to see a Christian who believes that homosexual behavior is a sin who doesn’t feel the need to use that belief to trample on the rights of others. I mean, don’t most evangelicals believe that premarital sex is a sin? Yet they don’t try to make it illegal, because that would be absurd. Most Christians realize that they can’t expect people who believe differently from them to live according to our rules. Why do they find this particular issue so important? So vital to our survival as Christians?

Anyway, I’m exhausted. Willie Hewes asked me if I got an Easter Break, and I didn’t. Which is kind of funny considering that one of the first things my boss told me (really, he bragged about it) was how much more Christian Korea was than Canada, yet they don’t take a holiday for Easter… no Good Friday, let alone Easter Monday (although, to be fair, I’m pretty sure only Canadians have Easter Monday… we love our long weekends!) And the hilarious thing was that none of the kids had even heard of Easter… not even the Easter Bunny… they did have a missionary in, so I’m assuming he explained, but it was in Korean so I have no idea.

Well, I’m off to bed now. Night all!