To mom with love

This year I didn't post a picture with my mom on Facebook for Mother's Day, and mom noticed.  When I called to say Happy Mother's Day, she let me know she was looking for that picture of us, like she has seen for many years before.  And seeing everyone else's pictures made it more obvious.

Well, I have a confession.  It has been a really hard year for me with my parents.  While I have spent my entire life trying to get to this point where I can live authentically, it has been 2 years since my parents formally and emotionally heard from me that my name was KB -- that although I was assigned female at birth, that didn't define me and I had been living as a man. I was still their child, but I was their son.

That didn't go well.

It still isn't going well.

I am still called by my birth name or other things I won't mention. She/her pronouns are still used. I have tried to understand from the time they told me two years ago that they already knew but didn't accept me that this was no longer something they could avoid -- it was real, it was scary and it was going to be hard. I have tried to accept that this is how they love me.  No matter how much pain I endure, no matter what is said to me or about me, this is what love looks like for them.

I have been advised to do all manner of things: not to talk to them, act as if everything is okay, just love them through it (whatever that means), forgive them and move on, etc. I decided after much thought, therapy and prayer that I would stay in contact, but limit that contact for my own mental and emotional health. I went from calling them every single night to calling them once a week. It was a major adjustment for me since I had always stayed so connected to them, but it also gave me a chance to breathe and focus on me, something I haven't always done. My guess is that it has been hard on them too.

It has been difficult to act like things are alright when facing such pain and what feels like disregard for my humanity.

As I reflect on Mother's day this year, I am conflicted.  I know deep down that my parents care for me. I have to assume they are trying their best at what appears to be something very difficult for them to handle.  I am trying my best to have compassion for them, to
love them through this so that one day there will be healing. I am not sure what that looks like, but I am working towards that everyday.

 So here is my message to mom:

There is no picture on facebook,
but i'm writing to you,
looking for healing.

Every single time I am misgendered
or called a name that I no longer use
or made fun of
or laughed at
or told you wish I would have waited until you were dead
I am in pain.

Pain that wishes I wasn't here writing this letter.

But I AM here.

And despite feeling really sad,
I want to say that I miss the warmth in our conversations
I miss coming to the house and eating all your good food
I miss having a genuine relationship with my mother
rooted in respect, honesty and trust.

When there is something to be healed,
the Rabbis tell us to do three things
teshuva,
tefilah,
tzdakah.

G-d knows I've been doing my fair share of tefilah and tzdakah.
I'm going to do my best and work on teshuva.
I feel like this is the hardest part.

I will breathe deeply.
I will have compassion.
I will try to remember that you are doing the best you can.
I will let you know when I am struggling and listen to you when you do the same.
I will hold on to all of the times you were there for me, comforted me and cared for me.
I will not lose my human dignity, no matter the outcome.
I will remember that you too are human.
And you are my mother.
And for that I am grateful.