A Follow-Up Comment in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

I think I may have made my mother’s statements from the last entry misunderstood, she has always been like that and it wasn’t said with malice, it was said matter-of-factly. It’s just an acknowledgement that the family as a whole would not welcome my return to my hometown… they don’t wish me ill, but they certainly don’t want me in their lives with any kind of permanency.

And, as hurtful as that may be, I am mostly in agreement.

My mother and I don’t have strong emotional attachments. From the time I was five until I was seventeen, I lived with my grandparents. I only lived with my mother for a year and a half until I was kicked out for being gay.

It wasn’t said to me like “we hate you, we don’t care what happens to you,” it was said like “you’re 40, your grandparents are dead, so you must take care of yourself from now on”.

The fact that I’m still alive is very irritating, and I don’t say that in a suicidal sense, I say it as someone who was told I would die of my illness around this age and I’m still doing fine. I had been preparing for infirmity by this point in my life and I still ahve to wake up and get out of bed.

The joy of my job is much less than teaching high school, which I must say I find surprising. It’s much easier and I have much more free time, but having more free time once again sends home the fact that I have no hobbies or outside interests.

But I’ve written about that many times… enough is enough. There’s no point in revisiting that again.