"My dad told me she went to a special spa," the man says of his mother's departure. He doesn't resent his parents' merciful lies in hindsight
In an interview published on LUI last week, we talked about your taste and how you are perceived by your surroundings when you are yourself and when you look like yourself - for example, that you like to have your nails done and painted or that you wear jewellery, often women's jewellery. We talked specifically about my mother's engagement ring and agreed to talk more about family. How do you remember when your mom was still with you?
We were a really normal family. Lately, I feel like everyone grew up with some kind of parental squabble, but not me. If my parents fought, I didn't know about it and they dealt with it in private. I'm an only child, and a prodigy to boot. All my life, I've listened to the story over and over about how my parents tried to have a baby for twelve years but couldn't. Then suddenly, after they gave up, I showed up. And they say that's what's stayed with me to this day, because I'm really late for everything. (laughs)
I come from a family that never had debt - or again, maybe I didn't know that. My parents didn't burden me with adult problems as a child.
Did you feel like you weren't missing anything? Materially or emotionally?
Exactly. For example, when classmates talked about someone being grounded or parents "killing" them for a grade, I knew it didn't concern me and it filled me with an inner peace. When I failed at something, I never got in trouble in the sense of being yelled at at home or punished in any way. And I wasn't even a naughty child, I didn't go through a rebellious adolescence, so I have to say that I grew up really calm and peaceful.
Still, you've had some challenging times. You hinted at some existential thoughts. What makes a child or a teenage boy ponder the meaning of life?
I've been thinking a lot about some of my role, my purpose, what I'm doing in the world and why. I felt weird and different. I didn't talk about it for a long time because I didn't even know how. It was like I was faking almost every situation. Like when the boys and I were hanging out before school or when my dad took me swimming or my mom took me shopping: everywhere I went I felt out of place, like I wasn't me, like I was playing a role to get through a task, but I wasn't present.
Did you think this deeply about it as a pupil?
I didn't know how to put it that way. I was rather sad quite often, but I laughed because it seemed appropriate. I wanted to fit in and I wanted to make my parents happy. So I was involved in activities with my classmates and did whatever was planned for me, but there was something dead inside me. I often couldn't sleep and the older I got, it got worse because the thoughts became more and more complex.
Do you know where the roots of this inner struggle were?
I'm sure it was that I didn't understand the concept of who I was. When I was growing up, the word gay was a slur, and I used it too. In various permutations. And when someone was said to be gay, everyone said and thought weird things about them. Even me. I remember at one point it was said about our teacher and the kids started acting weird towards him. I was kind of wary of him, too. Whether that was true, I still don't know. Maybe it was just a childish rumor. But these are the things that created more of a fear in me about who I was and how to actually put it together in my head.
I know your mom left when you were in high school. Do you feel up to telling me more about that?
My mom was sick. When I was little, I didn't know. To this day, my dad and I haven't talked about it, so it's possible I'm interpreting something differently than how it was. But I guess she must have gotten over it once or twice in the meantime. It was in waves. She would go for treatments sometimes and my parents said it was like a spa. That she'd rest there and then she'd have to go to sleep. She used to get tired. And then there were quite long periods of time when she had strength and seemed happy.
I thought she was just busy at home at different times and that's why she slept a lot and was tired. That's how my parents explained it to me. That my mom does a lot of work on the house when I'm at school, that's why she sleeps then. I still remember a situation where I followed my mom into the bedroom because my cousin was chasing me. And Mom was putting on her wig. I was so scared. I didn't know she didn't have hair. I ran away crying. I was afraid to come back. I can't explain it, but I was so scared and I dreamt about it for a long time. Until then, I was sure my mother had her own hair.
Did you ever talk to your parents about it then?
Not really. My mom just told me that her hair was falling out because she was always worrying about something. She was always checking the locks, the stove, everything... She told me then that it was from that and not to worry. And I didn't say anything. It was very uncomfortable for me and I didn't know how to react.
You mentioned that your mother knew about your orientation. How close were you? What were all the things you talked about?
It's hard to put it that way. We never talked about the disease. Neither did we talk about my conditions, because I couldn't describe them and I was ashamed of them. But in about eighth or ninth grade, my mom came to me and started explaining that it was okay if someone liked boys. She said it's the same as if you like girls, and it's normal. I remember not getting a word out of myself. I just nodded or shook my head to questions. That's how she learned that I was looking at one guy and that I wasn't interested in girls. And then we went to the garden to get strawberries for pancakes. It's like nothing happened.
We continued to talk about relationships. And especially about the essential, painful and toxic one, we did an interview together, which you can read on LUI in exactly one week.
Mom left, so to speak, out of the blue. A grown-up and informed person might have expected it, but you never got all the facts. Would you have preferred to know the details in advance?
I don't really know. Sometimes I think I'd like to know, and it bugs me because I could have said goodbye. I didn't see my mom for two months before she left. My dad told me she went to Italy to some special mountain spa. I realize that because my parents shielded me from the truth, I have most of my fond memories of Mom. I could have had more trauma instead. I don't know what's right. Just that it's wrong that Mom's not here anymore. When she suddenly wasn't, it was strange. I was used to her absence, but not to the feeling that she wasn't coming back. It was completely overwhelming. If I had known everything, I might not have made it, so I don't blame Dad for making things up until the last minute. I'm sure my parents didn't tell me the truth about a lot of things. For example, to this day I still don't know what role Dad's friend, who spent most of her time with Dad and me when Mom was at the spa a lot, really played. I don't think I want to know. If I'm completely honest, on some level of consciousness I probably knew everything, I just decided I'd rather not take it in. I don't know what I'd tell my kids myself, if I ever have any. It just hurts a lot that they won't know Grandma. Because my mom would have been a great grandmother
