It was the 14th of April last year that I had to sit my mother down and tell her I was an apostate.
I was closer to her than anyone else.
My father and mother are still married, but he let her raise me as a Witness, and that meant it was me and mom.
Me and mom in field service for 100 hours in July because she had to make her time as a regular pioneer.
Me and mom fighting over what to bring for lunch to the District Convention.
Me and mom up late at night, when she would berate me, and then unload all her problems on to me.
Me and mom and our 4 hour family studies, where we discuss 2 paragraphs of a random book, and then she would browbeat me until early in the morning.
Somehow, through all that, I pretended to be a Witness for years, just to appease her.
Looking back, I don't know if I loved her, or if I was just afraid of her.
Either way, I tried to stay on her good side, and keep her happy.
I had to lie to keep her happy.
With her, there was no balance. It was what she wanted or nothing.
Perhaps that's why she's such a good witness- their ideals are as bias and binary and black and white as hers.
So I'm sitting here thinking and I think I've figured something out that I wasn't ready for.
What if my mother didn't love me, and I didn't love her?
I lied to keep her happy, so she would give me a limited amount of freedom, and stay off my back.
She only wanted a son who stayed in the Truth, because nothing else had ever worked out in her life.
When I became happy, and finally left the organization, she flipped out.
She lost the only thing worth anything to her- her Witness son.
She still had a son though, and in my opinion, a damn good one. But she didn't want that.
And when she lost that, she was pissed. She asked me to leave her home, and my last words were that I would see her at her mother's funeral.
I moved out the next day.
She's made no effort to contact me, nor have I tried to contact her.
And the only thing I miss is the bond we had when we were both Witnesses. But that bond was on such false pretenses its not even funny.
So I guess that means I don't get to have a mother.
And the only reasons I don't like that is purely selfish.
What will I tell MY wife?
What will I tell MY children?
What will I tell MYSELF?
I don't even know how to say it, but I guess just like I'm dead to my mother, she's dead to me.
What good is she to me when I only miss the superficial things we had, but non of the actual things that we were supposed to have?
How can we ever rebuild a relationship we NEVER had?
How?
We can't.
And at this point, I don't want to.
And I'm so pissed off that I allow myself to contort my memories to the "good times"- when neither of us were happy, and our relationship was built on something that didn't mean anything to me.
And I'm just done. I can't keep looking back and move forward. So I'm dropping dead weight.
So here's to my mother.
The woman, who, when I was learning to drive, punched me in the mouth for not stopping completely at a stop sign, and then was forgiven by me.
The woman who threw a reference Bible at my head when I was 5 years old and preparing for my first talk, which I didn't want to give.
The woman who spent MY entire $12,000 trust fund before I hit high school, and then refused to give me one cent towards even applying to colleges.
The woman who, on a whim, took all my pet lizards and sold them to the pet store and then pocketed the money. Because I didn't clean my room.
The woman who volunteered to help the older sisters at the District Convention, and had me running to get them ice at 5 in the morning.
The woman who told me that my father, who she's still married to, is a servant of Satan.
The woman who made me iron her clothes for the meeting.
The woman who made me do every chore in the house, including cooking dinnner, when I was in school and working 35 hours a week.
The woman who is more than likely smiling right now, as tears stream down my face.
I'm done. And I refuse to treat someone like a Saint who never gave me anything more than what common ethics says I deserved.
I'm not going to continue feeling pain for an injury I didn't cause.
I'm sorry. But you can't shun me anymore, because I'm shunning you.
I'm going to step on cracks, without consideration for your back.
I'm going to maintain a relationship with my father, and consider it an unfortunate circumstance that you are his wife.
I'm going to come to the memorial, and sit right behind you in the suit you made me buy.
And in that silence, I will speak my peace.
And from that chair, I'll take my stand.
At my wedding, I'll replace your presence with a single flower. Something of the roadside variety, more than likely.
And instead of telling people how much I miss you, I'll tell them the truth.
I'll turn the date of my death in your eyes into the date of my birth in my own.
Sadly, you've become a tumor that weighs me down. But on this day, I'm performing an emotional biopsy.
So I guess I'll still see at Granny's funeral.
If / When you come across this, please know that it is pure and raw and true. No amount of coercion could make someone feel so strongly.