When Dreams Die, And Hope Lives

one more piece of my past.

Remember your words

As if

They were engraved

On both arms

An inch thick.

 

Asking me

Do I want to

Be "cured"

Of my transsexual nature

While going out

For brunch.

 

Mentally

Sighing to myself

Before responding

"Yes mom".

 

Except

In a different way

From her thinking.

 

I think

Mom believed

With the right therapy

And medication

She'll have her son

Back again.

 

Not a freak.

 

(Never told her

Until later

Of the multiple suicide attempts

Before 12 years old

Or the crippling bouts

Of depression and anxiety.)

 

Scared

She'll play

Her "shame" trump card

Accusing me

Of not being

"The dutiful son".

 

By placing

My needs

First.

 

And yet

For seven years

Her needs dominated me

To point

I loathed any contact

With her.

 

Each day

Her son died

A painful mental death.

 

Until

Only the physical shell

Remained

For the world

To see.

 

As the light clicked on

Freedom will never exist

While placing my life

On permanent hold

For the whims

Of a selfish person

Like mom.

 

Mom

Your support and love

Isn't worth the price

It costs me

Mentally and physically.

 

To live out

Your dreams

As your son

When I am not.

Reviews

[Tina Louise UK]

It's not easy for some parents to accept change, but love for a child should cover everything unconditionally. I am sorry it is not that way in your case xx

[therisa]

Thank you, Tia. It's her lost and my gain.