The Surface

I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about my relationship with my mother. Things between us are not the greatest. Our relationship was mostly built off fear. My mom isn’t the nurturing type, but I do have to say that at least our relationship has been able to go past just being at surface level.

To a certain extent we get each other. We are both hardcore introverts that are misunderstood by my extroverted Father. We are not like him, but he can’t ever seem to accept that not everyone is like him… and if you are not like him then you are some sort of inferior species.

I was thinking the other day how a lot of my childhood memories involve my mom. Some good, some.. not so good at all, but despite all this I realized that I don’t have a lot of memories with my Dad because he wasn’t really there. He was working most of the time, but even when he was home he was checked out. He was in the garage working on his stained glass, or he was in the yard working on his garden, or his pastels or etc.

I’ve spent a lot of time and energy sad and angry about my past with my mom, but I have never truly greived my relationship with my father. He wasn’t there, and he is still not there.

I live in the same house with my Dad still, and our relationship is even more distant than it was when I was a child. I am sure my transition hasn’t been easy for him to deal wtih but its hard sometimes. The only time he talks to me is when he tells me that he sold a painting. “That’s awesome” I will reply.

I feel such a huge tug on my heart to put out more effort into talking to him, to deepening our relationship but at the same time I want nothing more than to be miles and miles away from him. I feel hurt, anger, and fear of rejection. I don’t know that we will ever be close… or that I am strong enough to try to build any sort of relationship at this point.

When I came out to him as trans, the first thing he said to me was “You are going to put yourself in a lot of debt.” He was right, but that about sums up his whole personality. He cares more about money than hapiness or risk. He makes practical decisions, not emotional decisions. The only emotional decision he ever made was marrying my mom and the deepest conversations he ever had with me were how he wanted to leave her.

I never want to sacrifice my happiness for money. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I became a chef. I might not make a lot of money but I get to create, and I get the pleasure or nourishing people.

I can only hope one day that my Dad looks at me the same way he looks at my brother. Of course I want him to be proud of me but at the same time I don’t know how realistic that is and might be better off greiving our relationship rather than continually be let down by some sort unrealistic expectations.

My heart is heavy today.

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The Surface