April 5, 2017
My first letter to you! I know you may find it weird, but I’ve never had the courage to look at you and share my most deepest thoughts, as I always feared the judgement and malice in your eyes. My truths remained lost in the hallways of my heart – lonely and fighting to heard – as I avoided the sound your tongue would make, sliding across your lips, before you form aggressive words to beat against the innocence that I have left from years of pain and anguish.
What would you say to a child with a broken heart? You may find this a silly question as you’ve always seen a “man” standing before you; a “man” who was called to this new life at 12 years old, a “man” who functioned in the capacity as a parent when you grew so weary and needed a day off, and a “man” who watched as his mother bear the garments of abuse and depression as it was all she knew. You saw a MAN when all I ever wanted was to be a little boy; your little boy.
I’ve watched as you saved the world, and your children, while always denying yourself of happiness. But, the truth is that after all the bridges we’ve crossed and through all the waters we’ve swam, you’ve never met your son; you do not know him. I hope you do not find me ungrateful, as you know my heart towards you, and I have stuck by you through everything. But, this letter isn’t to explore the things I’ve done for you rather it’s simply to provide an opportunity for you to meet the boy you raised; the boy who is learning to truly be a MAN.
Mom, your son is different! LOL (please note that it’s read as L.O.L, and it means “laugh out loud”. So, I’m showing a little humor here – something I inherited from you).
Anyway, I suppose so many mothers will make the claim that their child is different, and I know it’s completely cliché, but it’s true. I know you know. I’ve watched you tossed many words in aim of understanding my uniqueness, but you never seemed to figure it out. Well, this is me:
I am the little boy who cried when he heard his mother told him to leave her house that rainy, December night, two days before his 18th birthday. I am the little boy who stood, gazing at the stars in the sky, hoping and wishing that death would come and that it would come quickly. I am the little boy who spent over 10 years trying to understand his purpose, and who attempted to take his life – too many times to count; battling deep levels of sadness and inner turmoil (which were later identified to be depression and anxiety). I am the little boy who never found a place to fit in. I am the boy who felt that he was never good enough or of any value – to anyone! I am the boy who wore labels such as “ugly”, “nasty”, “disgusting”, “sick stomach”, and “battyman”. I am the little boy who believed all this, especially after he was sexually abused – once by a homeless man and twice by members of the church. I recall each man forcing himself on me, and as tears streamed from my face, I questioned if this truly was my purpose and then I would wither away from this earth, leaving a legacy only to be compared to excretion.
What would you say to a child with a broken heart? Mom, for years I prayed for the day you would allow your heart and lips to agree for a moment to say, “Son, I love you!”. So, I could no longer feel like a motherless child. And, finally, I wouldn’t have to cry so much for a family that loves me.
It wasn’t all bad, mom. I know it seems pretty dreadful, and it was! But, I am also so much more. I am the free-spirited, wacky, little boy who fell in love with poetry, and she guides my every step. I am the little boy who has dedicated himself to being a servant of humanity. I am the little boy who intentionally makes people feel loved and comforted, despite their situations. I am the little who now understands that he loves all people….ALL PEOPLE. I am the little boy who is obsessed with art – especially dancing. Mom, you son can really dance! And, I am the little boy who now understands that it’s okay to date anybody I choose and there isn’t anything wrong with me. I can proudly say that I’ve been in love with a few amazing guys, girls, and other people who see themselves as different and more that these classifications. I am Pansexual. I know it will be very difficult for you to understand, but just remember that you’re finally meeting your son.
I wish I had the courage to write this sooner as I know that I won’t see you for a couple of years, but I hope you will see this letter and just……….just understand and love me. I hope we will be able to finally have a conversation, where you learn all there is to know about me. And, don’t worry about crying! I want to cry with you. I want to be closer to you – my mother, and I still want to be your little boy.