4/6/15

The Surprise:

It was 2 a.m. in the morning, and I couldn’t sleep. One of the most important days of my life was about to start. I decided to jump in the shower because; there was no point in pretending to be asleep, or “rest my eyes”. I was impatient, excited, scared, hopeful, truly an amalgamation of feelings just bearing down on me. – I will not only surprise them, but I will also show them the prettiest version of myself – I thought. I finished showering, and started drying my hair. After carefully blow drying it, I started straightening it with a hair straightener. My face was blushed from the dry heat produced by the iron, as I looked at myself in the mirror. – Why are you doing this – a thought popped in my head. I carefully selected a pair of earrings that were pretty yet subtle. – You don’t want to shock them with too much at once – I thought. It’s getting close to 4 a.m. and I haven’t even had my morning coffee. I always drink a cup of coffee in the mornings; with milk and two tea spoons of natural sugar.

I packed the night before so, I was all set to go. All I needed to do was to run another checklist and I was going to be on my way. I made myself some coffee, and made sure I had everything I needed. I left home a little after 4 a.m. heading to Newark airport, where my one stop flight to LA was set to departure. I arrived without issues a little after 4:30 a.m. and left my car at the parking lot, and after a quick shuttle trip to terminal 1; I was on my way to my gate. No bags checked – I won’t need a big bag – I said to myself in a reaffirming manner, as I was only going for two days. I was hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. My flight promptly boarded a little before 6 a.m. and I was lucky to have an empty seat next to me which allowed me to rest in a semi comfortable way (it was a coach ticket… so, fully comfortable was not in the cards). The plane made one stop in Minnesota where I switched planes and; I was in no time once again, in the air heading to Los Angeles. The expected time of arrival was 11:40 a.m.

I had asked my brother the night before to pick me up at terminal 7 around 11:40 am. To which he agreed. Everything was running smoothly and my plane actually landed more than a few minutes earlier than anticipated, and since I had no checked bags, I was one of the first ones standing outside the terminal waiting for my younger brother. Shortly after 11:40, my brother showed up in his black scion Tc. I saw his smile as he recognized me through the windshield, and I approached his car as he pulled over, and quickly got in. He looked at me somewhat shocked and happy at the same time. We gave each other a little hug, and he continued driving to exit the airport. I told him I hadn’t slept since the night before and I was hungry. He also told me he was hungry and we started talking about places to eat. After a brief discussion we decided to check on our parents and see if they were hungry. I am about to go surprise my parents of my visit, and have a very important conversation with them.

After my brother spoke with my parents to make sure they were home, and hungry; he jumped on the 101 heading to LA. My heart started pounding as I was trying to hide my anxiousness. My brother started commenting on my look, and how it was not a good idea that my parents saw me in such attire. I was wearing skinny jeans, a nice blouse that gracefully outlined my perky breasts, and my librarian style prescription glasses – I look adorable – I thought to myself. I told my brother I was not in LA to “hide” any longer, and I was prepared to have a very important conversation with them if necessary. He looked worried and insisted that I had to change clothes. – It is too bad because I didn’t bring anything that is remotely boyish – I said to my younger brother. After driving for twenty minutes, we arrived at our parent’s apartment.

The Disappointment:

The main gate was open, and there was a good number of people enjoying what appeared to be a barbeque organized by a church nearby. Two nice gentlemen asked us if we were there for the BBQ but, we were there for something less tasty, and more important. We found our way to the elevator and I pressed the button for the second floor – Wow, these are really nice apartments – I said to my brother. To which he replied with a nod. As the door opened into the second floor and we stepped off the lift; a nice short lady passed us without even acknowledging our presence. – There goes our mom – my little brother exclaimed. – Hey mom! – I shouted. My mom turned rapidly to see her son and daughter, and as soon as she saw me; she burst into tears – Oh my God! You are a homosexual!!! – She said in tears. I was shocked, and didn’t know how to react. I said – Mom can you at least say hello first? – I didn’t know what else to say. To be honest… I wanted to run away. I felt rejected, kicked out to the curve. In seconds, hours and hours of planning how this was supposed to happen, just crumbled on me, and I found myself defenseless to her cruel words, as they cut me deeply in my heart.

She finally said hello while she was in tears. We walked into her apartment where she continued crying, as I sat on a desk chair they had there. My mom gets on her knees and continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I insisted that she stood up. She raised her head to look at my face, and continued crying, as if my face was the representation of everything she despised and feared; that one day one of her “sons” could become. I started to become aggravated by this situation. My dad was not in the apartment and my little brother went looking for him in desperation to get out of that situation. It was one of the single loneliest moments I have ever experienced. I finally managed to get my mom to stand up. She reaffirmed to me that God had given her boys, and not girls. I wished I could have had the words to reply, but my heart and head were numb. My dad opened the door into the apartment and looked surprised to see me, but he managed to keep his composure and hugged me; surprised by my visit. My mother left quickly into her bedroom where I could still hear her weep. I complained to my dad like a little kid, that my mom couldn’t even say hello before she started calling me names. Oh God; all my childhood memories came back in less than 2 minutes.

My mother came out of her bedroom minutes after, wiping her tears away, and told me she was happy to see me. The damage was already done. I had decided to not tell them about all the progress I have made to live the life I so wanted to live since I was young. – This went so differently in my head – I thought. My parents then proceeded to pretend the last 5 minutes didn’t happen. And I took advantage of that to steer the conversation in a different direction; complimenting their new apartment and asking them questions about their health and well-being. I invited them to eat with me and my brother. My dad suggested a Salvadorian place he knew not far from the apartment, and off we went to eat. Throughout the entire time I wanted to cry; I was hurt and needed to cry, but having no shoulder to cry on; I decided to be as strong as I could, and I knew that at some point I was going to be alone and, I would let it all out then. We ate, we talked, we remembered, we laughed. My parents kept looking at the window, only glancing at me from time to time, knowing that I wasn’t the same. I think in retrospect that, I have always been the same; they just have refused to acknowledge it.

The Doubt:

After coming back from my trip, I was in anguish. In fact; I still am. Doubting every fiber of my being. “Every good project is riddled with doubts throughout the way” someone once told me in support of my cause. You’re brave! I can’t get those images out of my head. My mom crying in disapproval, as if she failed me somehow. My father’s eyes wandering. Looking elsewhere but at his “daughter” who he neglects to embrace. Is it worth seeking my own happiness if that pushes away everyone I care for? Why did I need my parents to know in the first place? Wasn’t I relatively happy before they knew? How can I forgive my parents now? How can I convince myself this was the right decision? How can I move on? Is this the path to individualism? Leave everyone I love behind, seeking my own happiness as an individual… is that really necessary? Why can’t they love me the way I need them to? I can see how many people like me do not make it in this life. It takes a lot of strength not to take your own life, struggling to find some happiness, and acceptance. – I’m resilient – I keep telling myself…