Why Don't You Love Me?

I went to see you at the hospital last night
I was feeling kind of guilty
For not visiting you since the week before
I thought it was a good visit until it was time to go

As I was putting on my jacket, I jokingly said
"I thought I had better come see you
Before you thought I didn't love you anymore"
You replied, "I love you more than you know"
Confused that you'd misunderstood what I'd said
I turned around to face you
But you were looking down, as you softly continued
"Why wouldn't I love my only daughter?
I just don't like how you're living"
Then you cut your eyes up at me
And suddenly your voice was filled with
Righteous indignation, as you declared
"But I made that clear from the beginning, didn't I?"
Shocked at the turn the conversation had taken
All I managed to get out was
"Yeah, I guess you did"

Even though I was standing
And you were sitting in a recliner
I felt as if our positions had somehow reversed

Suddenly, I'm a child
Sitting on my bed, in trouble again
For one thing or another
You're standing in the doorway
Trapping me
Allowing me no means of escape
Giving me some lecture or preaching at me
Shaking your index finger at me
While I sit there, completely shut down
Head bowed and staring at the floor
"Look at me when I talk to you"
I do, but only for a moment
And only because you tell me to
Then I go back to staring at the floor
You're mad because I'm just sitting there
In silence, in anger, in my defiance
You finally say
"Don't just sit there like a knot on a log, talk to me"
But I don't feel safe
You're actions don't make me feel
Like you really want to hear
Anything I might have to say
And you aren't talking to me
You're angry and it's more like yelling
Eventually, you get frustrated
And walk away, leaving me alone
Which was the mantra
I had going in my head the whole time anyway
"Leave me alone, leave me alone, just leave me alone"

As I stood there in your hospital room
I felt trapped all over again
Even though the door was only a few feet away
My chest was heavy and my feet were lead
I wanted to flee, but I couldn't move
Then you said, "I would've liked
To have seen you get married
Have a husband
And give me more grandchildren
But that wasn't for you
That's not what you wanted"
I replied, "That's not who I am"
I saw the look of utter disappointmenton your face
I closed my eyes quickly to shield myself
But it was too late, my heart had already broken
Then over the loudspeaker came the voice
That said visiting hours were over
You looked up at me and said
"Well, it's getting late, I guess you'd better go"
So, I leaned down and hugged
And kissed you on the cheek
And said "I love you"
You kissed me back and said, "I love you, too"
And I walked out of your room
It was all I could do
To hold it together long enough
To make it out of the hospital
I was totally crushed

As I drove home, your words
Kept running through my head
And all I could think was
Yeah mom, why wouldn't you love your only daughter?
My mind supplied the answers
Which hurt, and only made me cry even more
Maybe because your only daughter
Isn't what you wanted
Because she isn't who you wanted her to be
Because she is such a disappointment to you
Because she's gay
Because your God and your religion
Tell you that you can't love her
That she isn't worthy of being loved

I was so hurt and so fucking angry
And thought, you know what
I could walk away right now
Completely, and never look back
Kodi and I could move to Vermont now
There's nothing holding me here
Maybe a few friends
But certainly not my family
Not my family

I know you believe this is how
You are supposed to treat me
This is what your religion says
To do to a person to make them stop
What they are doing wrong
And come back to the church, back to God
They want them to feel alone
Without the love of God and family
They believe that one bad apple
Should be thrown out
Before it corrupts the whole bunch
So you feel justified in what
You say and do to me
I think you think it's tough love
That this is what you have to do
To try to save me
But I am sorry, it feels more
Like manipulation to me
Stop living in sin and come back to God
And the church and I will love you
But that's not unconditional love
I can't go back to living that lie
It was too hard and it almost killed me
I simply can't go back and I won't!

You'll never accept me, all of me
For who and what I am
And that hurts so damn bad
I don't think it's ever hurt this much before
But that's not true, is it?
It really hurts all the time, doesn't it?
As huge as I imagine all of my pain to be
There is no way in hell
That it wouldn't hurt all the time
I just can't feel it all the time
It would be too painful
Too intense, too overwhelming
And I couldn't possibly handle
That amount of pain
If I felt it all the time
No one could

Mom, I just had a terrible thought
And I'm sorry for it, but I wished
That you hadn't survived the surgery
Then I could grieve and move on with my life
Now, I'm not saying that it wouldn't hurt
If you died
Because I know it would
It would hurt like hell
But at least you wouldn't hurt me anymore
By constantly throwing it up in my face
What a disappointment I am to you
And how much I hurt you for not being
The daughter that you wish I were
If only you could see me
See that I am happy
Happier than I have ever been
But my happiness doesn't matter to you, does it?

So here I am at work
Where I'm supposed to be working
But I'm not
Instead I'm pouring out my heart to you

After rereading the beginning of the poem
The part about you yelling at me as a kid
I've realized that's where
My passive/aggressive behavior
Had to have started
With you and your bitch-me-out sessions
Where I sat there passively as you railed at me
The whole time, my anger and rage
Coursing though my veins
Like a wildfire out of control
But outwardly, you never saw a thing
Never saw how deeply you were hurting me
You wanted me to open up to you
But it was your actions
Your attitude that caused me to shut down
How could I open up my heart to you
Why, why would I

At times, I feel like I really want to open up
And get closer to you, I really do
I mean like now, when I came so close
To almost losing you again
And I can feel how much I love you
And how deeply I would feel your loss in my life
And then you go and say what you did last night
Which causes me even more pain
Than I thought was possible
Which only makes me want to run away
As far away as I can from you
Which I don't believe is the effect
You thought your little chat was going to have on me

I wonder if you felt better
After saying what you did to me
Is your conscious clear now?
That you said your piece
That you let me know
As if I could really forget
Exactly how you feel about me
About my life
Well, I hope you do
Because I sure as hell don't

I certainly do not feel loved
Instead your words, your love
Wounds me, devastates me, destroys me
Why do you hurt me like that?
Why in the hell can't you just love me?
Why is that so much to ask of one's own mother?
You say you do
You say you love me
So, why don't I feel it?
Why don't I believe you?

11.12.05

CMT

Author's Notes

As I've written in the Author's Notes for several other poems, about two and a half years ago, my mother was going to finally have surgery to correct a hernia she'd lived with for most of her life. During the prep exams for that surgery, she found out she needed a quadruple bypass or she would never survive the hernia surgery. Everyone was afraid she would die from the bypass surgery, but instead, my mother came through it with ease. So, when it was finally time for her to go in for the hernia surgery she was originally supposed to have had, everyone was almost blasé about it, since it was only supposed to be "minor surgery" with an overnight stay. Instead, it turned into a month and a half struggle for her life.

I visited her almost every night after work and on the weekends and saw her say and do things from the drugs she was on that I don't think a child should ever have to witness from a parent. I think I was also exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of not knowing if or when I would be receiving a call telling me my mother was dead. So, when she was finally out of the woods and on the mend for the last two weeks of her stay, I started to avoid going to the hospital to visit her. Instead of going every night, I would call to check up on her and only visit once a week.

The night of the visit in the poem, I'd had a session with my therapist before going to the hospital. During my session, I had shown my therapist the photographs of Betsy and I that were taken at the restaurant when we'd gone out to dinner the week before. I'd also shown her some school photos of Betsy and myself that were taken when we were in our senior year of high school.

When I got out of the car at the hospital, I just grabbed the envelope with all the photos in it and took it with me, thinking that my mom might like to see the picture of Betsy and I from the restaurant. When I got to her room, my father was still there and asked to see what I had in the envelope. So, I just handed it to him and he pulled out all the pictures and looked at them. Then he handed everything to my mother.

It didn't occur to me until about a week later that it was probably seeing all those old photographs of me at seventeen and eighteen that caused her to initiate that conversation with me. One of the photos in the bunch was a portrait of my boyfriend and I at my senior prom. My mother made my prom dress. At the time, I couldn't figure out what had caused her to go off on me like that, when she hasn't brought this stuff up in years, but after thinking about it, I can see her mind making that leap, from seeing me all dressed up, and then remembering that he and I were engaged to be married after I graduated from college. But three months before graduation, I had a nervous breakdown. Soon afterwards, I called off the wedding and the engagement.

I wrote this poem the day after that visit with my mother. She was discharged on the following Monday. I haven't seen her since, but we have spoken on the phone several times, though never about what she said to me and how much it hurt me. She also hasn't asked why I haven't come to see her. I don't think she wants to know the answer.

The emotional content of this poem is extremely raw and speaks to the depth of pain that conversation with my mother caused, though part of me feels like I did it to myself by showing her the pictures in the first place.

However, through writing these Author's Notes, I've realized something else that may have been a contributing factor in both my mother's initiating that conversation and in my regression back to childhood confrontations with her. When that confrontation happened at the hospital, my father had already left for the night. My mother and I were alone in her room. He wasn't there to defend me from her, which is the way it's always been in my family. My father usually wasn't there when I was a child and my mother confronted me in my bedroom. We were always alone, just the two of us. My father may have been at home during the confrontations, but he never got involved in them. He'd always let her handle it, which also meant that I had to face her alone. My father never came to my rescue. Instead, I was all by myself, with no one in my corner for moral support, with no shield, no protection against my mother's wrath. So, I guess I really have both my parents to thank for my survival skills.

When Kodi first read this poem, she told me she had a fantasy about sending it to my mother (minus the death wish part) in the hopes that it might act as a sort of "wake-up call" to show my mom how much she's hurt me and what she's missing by not being a part of my life. Of course, Kodi also immediately promised she wouldn't do that, since she would never do anything like that behind my back knowing how much it would hurt me, but also because she believes that if anything is to change between me and my mother, I'm the one who needs to take that action, not Kodi. Also, she doesn't think it would change anything where my mother's concerned; it would probably only serve to hurt her, and I agree.

Unfortunately, my mother has the mistaken belief that I can actually change who I am. She thinks that if I had a husband and children that I would be different. That it would fix me somehow. But I would just be living a lie. I tried that for the first twenty-some years of my life, and it only got me a room in the psych ward of the local hospital. What really gets me about my mother's wish is what she wishes for me. I only see it ending badly for everyone involved. I can imagine how unhappy I would be, and in turn how unhappy I would make everyone's life when I'd eventually want out of the marriage. To me, her wish boils down to not only wanting me to fuck up my own life, but the lives of everyone else as well. Thanks, Mom, but no thanks.

She doesn't care that I'm finally happy with my life and myself. To her, all that matters are the hopes and dreams that she had for me, which I have managed to dash because I choose to be gay. She'll never understand that it's not a choice. I never chose this. I never chose to be a lesbian. I was born this way. It's who I am. And it's not something I can simply change because she wishes I would.

I know my mother loves me, but I believe she only loves me because I am her daughter. She doesn't love me and accept me for who I am. So, in all honesty, it feels as though she doesn't love me at all. How could she? She doesn't even know who I am.

Likewise, I know that I love her, because she is my mother. But I also feel that we are stuck at an impasse. We both love each other, but neither one of us can give the other what they need. She can't accept me for who I am, and I can't fulfill all the fantasies she has created for my life either. So we simply remain where we are and continue to perpetuate this cycle of pain.