Momma, If That's Moving Up, Than I'm Moving [On]

I was watching this amazing show called POSE the other day. The main character's mother died, and she found out through a phone call from an old friend. Her mother and she hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in many years because the mother disapproved of the main character being trans. Even though the main character still had grief and anger over it, she wanted to attend the funeral and forgive her mother for throwing her out onto the streets. She went to the funeral, faced mass adversity from her family, and did what she needed to do to heal.

Since I stopped speaking to my mother, I’ve been told I need to forgive her. Sometimes it was said kindly, and sometimes it wasn’t. I don’t believe that forgiveness is the only answer, but I do think acceptance is important to my personal healing.

I’ve been told that forgiveness doesn’t have to be about her—not a way to wipe the slate clean, but a way to make myself feel free. I couldn’t see that philosophy in the past, but I kind of understand it now.

The thing about grief is that it doesn’t run in one cycle and then you’re healed. It’s messy and hard, and just when you think you’ve moved past the anger or sadness, it hits you again out of nowhere.

For today, I am in a place of acceptance, and I am letting go of my mother’s many transgressions. She wasn’t the worst mom you could have, though definitely not the best. She had her flaws, and she made really bad decisions. Though, there is no excuse strong enough for getting back in touch, I believe she did the things she did because she was desperate for unconditional love—no worrying about what would happen if she stepped out of line. Just love that’s genuine and real. That’s kind of how everyone feels in an enmeshed family system. They just all handle it differently.

The thing is, I was looking at my mother’s life compared to mine since we stopped speaking. It seemed like her life was better than mine, but honestly, I don’t think that anymore. The most important piece of life is love, and I am loved immeasurably. I have a husband who loves me unconditionally and will do anything possible to make me happy. I have lifelong friends who check in with me, and I don’t have to make them love me with gifts. I have a community I built of people back in Florida and another I’m building here in Indianapolis. My community accepts me as I am and expects nothing. I’m very happy to have these people surrounding me. I even still have a few family members who check in from time to time to wish me well, and vice versa. I am surrounded by love, and none of it had to be manipulated or bought.

To my mother—
I think you did what you could with what you had at the time, and you just didn’t have the emotional intelligence needed to be a mother. I don’t think you should have had children, but I don’t think you really knew that when you did. I think you chose to keep me because you were desperate for that love, and what better way to get it than from your own flesh and blood?

The thing is, I don’t have to be shackled to someone who affects me mentally by constantly testing my love with abuse—flesh and blood or not. Maybe you didn’t realize that when you wanted me. Maybe you had no idea that I would not grow in your image, but in my own. Maybe you had expectations that a kid just couldn’t keep. Maybe you made bad choices and put bad people in our lives because you couldn’t tell who was bad versus good. Maybe you were blinded by wanting that love.

I "forgive" you for what you felt you had to do to get the love you needed—not for you, for my healing. This doesn’t mean I want to reconnect. I probably never will—especially not after not even getting a check-in text when I thought I was dying, living in a motel. Those wounds are still too raw. This doesn’t erase the hurt and damage you did throughout my life, but I feel like I’m closer to fully moving forward with a lighter heart.

I won’t be at your funeral—or anyone’s, for that matter—because I hate funerals. But I forgive you now, while we are alive, and continue to stay estranged. It’s better for us this way.

I’ll probably get angry again at some point, or sad, or whatever. But this is the first time I’ve ever felt ready to start forgiving you—for my healing journey.

To anyone who is struggling with a similar story—
You are under no obligation to forgive your parent for any of it. Grief has no obligations. Feel what you feel and embrace it. No one’s path to healing looks the same as another’s. I hope you have or find the love I do—no strings, just love.