My mother died just over a year ago. When I was 17 and more or less living as a boy, completely ready to go away and start SRS, I came out to my mother. I found out much later that her impulse that day was to put us both in the car and drive us off a cliff. For the first time in a long time I remember the tension of that time living with her knowing that she hated who I was so much, that much. I think that is when most of my suicide attempts were. I also found out at that same time that she was starting a law suit that drove my shrink out of the country which in turn caused the next shrink I saw who was the gate to SRS to tell me that I just wanted to be someone else. The man I wanted to be died that day and my parents were sooooo happy, especially my mom. My friends that I had come out to thought I was some kind of attention seeking lesbian freak even though I fucked more guys than they did.
That man got buried so deep for her that I couldn't even start to glimpse that part of myself until she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. So, if I experiment with these feelings and find that I am happier being male, then my mom fucked up my life royally. I could have been happy at 18 or so instead of waiting until I'm in my mid-forties, but how can I be mad at her, she's dead? The guilt at being mad at her and the possibility of freedom because she is no longer in my life can be overwhelming.
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