Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Burning in hell, again.
OMG! I received a phone call from my parents last night and decided to answer it because I had been avoiding them long enough and yes, I avoid speaking to them on a regular basis. I have my reasons.
The conversation started out well with my dad, it always does. Then my mother got on the phone and surprisingly, it went well for all of 5.2 seconds. I think that was a record for us.
At 5.3 seconds, she asked me, “Do you go to a Messianic Synagogue?”
My answer? Plain and simple, “No.” And that’s all she needed to sideswipe me with a religious freight train, telling me that I was in the wrong religion because Jews don’t believe in Christ as their savior and that I was going to burn to hell. Yes. Really -she said that.
My mother has had no qualms in telling me 2 out of 3 times that I’m going to burn in hell for this or for that. Yadda, yadda, yadda. You’d think I’d be used to hearing it by now, she did start on her tantrums when I was only 13 and by my calculations, it’s only been what? 30 years that I’ve heard I’m going to burn in hell.
At first, it started because I’m gay, now it’s because I go to a Jewish (non-messianic) Synagogue. What my mother doesn’t know is that I consider myself more spiritual than anything else. Not Jewish, not Christian, not Baptist, not Catholic, not any fucking religion at all. Just Spiritual.
What’s truly sad is that she is so caught up in her own religious insanity that there is no reasoning with her. Believe me, the entire family has tried, for years. Her belief’s about religion and the fear of God’s punishment has driven a canyon through our almost non-existent relationship. And I won’t fool myself, either. Regardless, on the new reason I’m going to burn in hell, it all comes back to me being gay. I know this for a fact!
She will never know what I believe in, what I like, what makes me happy or sad, or who I am. I have lived most of my life knowing that I am her single, most, biggest disappointment.
To me, paying the price of being true to myself has come at a huge cost. It has cost me the luxury of having a loving, caring, nurturing and sane mother. Even to this day, her words cut through me as though I’m hearing them for the first time, again.
That being said, embracing who I am, doesn’t make the pain of what I’ve lost any easier.
I share my experiences, not to get sympathy, but in the hope that someone will find comfort knowing that there are others who bear the cost of being true to themselves, as well. You are not alone.