and then?

So the conversation happened on a Saturday. We got into it again on Sunday, and it ended with them saying "we don't want to bring it up again for now". The explanation was so I can focus on my school. Looking at it, I look at it as a positive and a negative. It's bad because it really meant we didn't have any open line of communication, which meant they can deny it, and I can kind of bury it. The positive, I think I had a slightly more consistent mood, as I didn't have random blow ups in the middle of midterms or assignments. 

My friends were a great help. I was able to crash at one of their apartment so I didn't have to be alone, and morning after I was able to Skype with another in order to deal with it. This really metaphorically stopped the bleeding from the trauma. Their support really prevented anything seriously damaging from happening. 

It was a very difficult year. Just academically, it was one of the most challenging, with thesis, a heavy biochemistry course load (which I've never done well), and a big core course focus (It's the first time I didn't have any sort of elective to offset the core courses). This also was the first time where most of the people I study with are already graduated, and I really didn't have any academic support system at that point. 

For most of the early part of it, I either felt awful, or I didn't feel anything. It really was the first time I understood what people meant when they talk about depression. It's usually described as not about feeling sad, but about not feeling anything. I never went to get diagnosed, so I'm still hesitant to say it, but I was most likely depressed for a period. That was probably a stupid decision to deal with it my way instead of trying to seek professional help. But I did, got through most of it. 

My parents and I never returned to the conversation. This is probably something that'll come, but not in the close foreseeable future. Although before I left Vancouver, I had to deal with my nephew crying so much that he puked. I was very upset, and at one point my mom asked "if you can't even deal with your own blood and flesh, how're you going to be able to deal with someone else's?" I might've read way too much into that, but it seems like the first time she considered the possibility that I might adopt. 

So what happened?

A week after I moved onto residence in my senior year of undergrad, I came out to my parents. At this point, I have been playing volleyball with VGVA for just under a year. My mom, seemingly out of the blues, asked if the guys in the league are gay. I was going to lie, as I had to about my sexuality many times before. However, I decided to tell the truth, and said yes, knowing full well what the follow up question would be. My mom's face instantly sours; she asked the original question in joke, and the response got her into a dark place.

"Are you gay?"

"... yes"

She left the room. Minutes later I was summoned to the living room, facing both of my parents. They started with denial, and moved quickly into anger. Dad even briefly blamed himself for not being around enough. He said he wish I spoke up when this just started so he can steer me in the right path, since everyone has "brotherly feelings" growing up. Most of the rest of the story is not unusual; pretty much ever disapproving parent have said the same things. "What about kids?" "It's just a phase" "Why would you choose such a hard path for yourself?"

I want kids, knowing my career path I definitely won't have as many as I would like, in that even one seems financially challenging. Is it just a phase? I've now known about myself for more than half my life. I don't think at that point it can be considered just a phase. Thinking about it, recently, the only other thing I have done at that scale was being a Canadian, and a musician. I've been a Canadian for about half my life, and living in Canada for about 2/3rds of it. I won't stop being a Canadian any time soon. Two years ago was when I have played the clarinet for over half my life. Last year that was no longer true. It is unlikely that I'll pick up the clarinet again, but music will always flow in and out of my life. Music will never be just a phase for me, neither will being gay. Denial? that was a phase. Wishing I wasn't? that was a phase. Loathing and anger? that was a long phase. But now, it's over half of my life, and that number will only continue to increase.

The last point hit a little closer though. Why did I choose such a hard path for myself? Obviously it's not a choice. However, I get that comment a lot; "Why would you choose such a hard path for yourself?" I don't think that's the case. I don't choose to pick the path that's more difficult. I pick whichever path I think was best at my state of mind at the time. I could've said no to my mom with either questions. It would've been an easier way out. I might still be in Vancouver for school if I said no. I'd still talk to my parents more if I said no.

I don't think I physically could have said no though. A few months before that, I had bouts of insomnia. One day I felt a crushing feeling in my chest and I can't sleep. All I wanted to do was tell my mom. I always thought she knew or that she'd understand, and wouldn't care. That probably hit me the hardest. Looking back at it now, she probably knew a little bit - she wouldn't have asked the questions if she didn't know.

Now I will just need to wait. Either for closure and finality, or for acceptance. Either way, it will be years before anything is resolved.