That was hard...

It's been a very long and confusing few days.

It all started happening on Friday morning. I was doing my thing, getting ready to go downtown with a few friends for an overnighter at my new apartment (long story there...) and had taken some laundry downstairs where my mom was working.

She was standing at the washer, then looked over at me. I don't remember what she said before, but then she asked, "Can I ask you something that might sound silly?"

Immediately I got that gut-rush feeling, and I wondered what she was about to say.

I don't even remember what the first statement was about really, but it had basically come down to if I'd 'decided' if I was gay or not. She phrased it a little strangely, I guess avoiding the big 'G' word, asking if I'd completely given up on girls and the whole thing.

I told her honestly that I was more attracted to guys, but that I would never rule out the possibility that someday I might fall for a woman. I was a little taken back by the question, since I thought I'd made it pretty clear before that I was indeed interested in guys...you know, I thought telling her about dating one would make it pretty concrete. But she seemed to think that maybe I'd changed my mind. She said she'd been thinking a lot about it, but didn't know if she should talk about it or not. Since I always told her that she should ask me anything she went ahead with it.

The conversation flowed pretty strangely after that initial question, I can't recall what was said in what order, but the thing that really got her going was something she discovered on vacation. "People were all talking about their grandkids," she said, eyes starting to well up in tears. "I just realized I really wanted that too, someday..." And she started to cry.

I didn't know what to say. Sure, I could tell her that maybe one day I would adopt, but seeing as she thought I might have changed my mind about guys, I guessed she might not be ready for such news. I opted for the truth, that I had no intention, gay , straight or otherwise, to have children for a long time. Who knows when it would be, but it's something that I never intended for my immediate future.

"I know that, I wouldn't want you to have kids now..." she said. "But still, will you ever?"

She continued to cry, and I hugged her close. After a few minutes she got a little more composed and we kept talking about lots of stuff. She questioned my weight loss and renewed interest in my appearance as related to sexuality. She asked if anyone had hurt me, then started to cry again saying she could never stand to loose me. I hugged her again, trying to assure her nobody would hurt me.

Then she wondered who I'd told, and what their reactions were. I answered I had told almost all my close friends, and that everyone had been supportive and quite alright with it. She said it might not be a good idea to tell anyone else, because if I haven't decided if I was, "Gay or straight yet," I probably shouldn't let people get the wrong ideas. And how was I supposed to get a girl if everyone thought I was gay? I just said, as I believe, that if it were the case it would be between myself and whomever, and other people could think/say what they want, as they do naturally.

We then hit the most sensitive topic...telling my father. "Do you think we should tell him at all?" she said. Obviously, I replied, since I do plan on actually having a life, and he needs to know. "But I don't know how he'll take it...I just don't know..." she said, stifling another round of tears. I told her of course I've played through in my mind all the different things that could go really badly when telling him, how I'm terrified of his reaction. The hardest thing for me is the thought that he might not love me as much as he did the moment before I told him ever again, simply because. Then I collapsed into tears.

We stood there, in the basement with the washer door open, crying and holding on to each other. I haven't cried like that in a while, my body shaking and twitching as salt slid onto my lips. I tried to catch my breath, but couldn't stop. "Jesus," I whispered in her ear, "I'm so scared."

I asked her if she loved me still, and she answered, "Of course I love you, you should know that." I do know that. "But are you disappointed?"

She paused. "Well, yes, I mean it's not what I would have preffered..."

I don't really take offence to that. I think.

We talked a few minutes more about it, then moved on to other things. For the rest of the day I felt horrible inside, and I don't know why. I mean, here I was being pretty damn honest with her, confirming that I hadn't changed my mind, and talking about the future. But I guess it was the future part that scares me.

There are moments where I feel like pulling on the brakes and getting off this train. After talking to her, it felt like things were going to be so much harder than I had envisioned before, in all respects. How would my father react? And what about my life from here on, would I be segregated?

I also realized that afternoon that I just don't feel strong anymore. Before I had all that pent up frustration that just ended up channeling itself into inner strength. After crying my eyes out, I just didn't feel strength anymore. I'm sick of having to be the strong one in all of this. But I don't have anyone to lean on, since it's pretty clear that mom is still working through her own issues with it, and not really ready to help me.

At one point she asked if I had anyone to talk about this stuff with. I said my friends had been good about it, but no, really I didn't have any gay friends or people in my life who I talk to on a person-to-person basis. But I said I did have people. "Don't think this is weird..." I told her, "But I talk to people online. Not freaks and rapists, but bloggers and people who are in the same situations as me." Surprisingly she seemed alright with this.

I ended up recounting the story to my friends that afternoon, and had to bite my lip a few times so I wouldn't re-erupt into tears. They were good about listening, but of course couldn't offer much advice other than just being support for me.

Saturday I felt the flip side of the bizarre post-crying terror, and actually was really happy we'd had another conversation about it. I was closer to being out, and being clear that things weren't going to change. The world hadn't exploded after talking about it some more, and the ground we covered seemed to be a positive step forward. I wound up at a friend's birthday kegger in another city, so I didn't really spend any time at home until getting back Sunday night.

Today I don't know how I feel. I guess a mixture of good and bad, with the overwhelming sensation of, "Did that just happen?" thrown in for good measure. I don't know if I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, or the headlights of a train barreling down at me...