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My relationship with my parents is, to me, hard to explain. To certain friends, it is rocky at best. The truth is, we got along swimmingly until I was 15. That’s when my whole world seemed to fall apart. I realized my feelings for other girls bordered on the romantic side…and I met the girl who would become my first girlfriend, Sara. When my mom found out, we argues for hours. She told me it was a phase, something all girls went through. She yelled “my daughter is not a fucking lesbian!” and didn’t speak to me for a few days. I was “grounded” from Sara. No internet, no phone calls, nothing. The way she handled my initial “coming out” severly damaged our relationship. On top of that, my parents’ relationship started falling apart.As my parents grew further and further apart, my relationship with my dad was strained. I’d thought the world of him. He adopted me when I was 2, when my biological father didn’t want me. He chose to be my dad. But the more they argued and the more I learned of his infidelity, the more I hated him. The final straw was the day before Easter 2001. y mother had just had her second back surgery and could barely bathe herself. He told her that morning that he wanted a divorce. I remember waking up to her laughing at him. I went in their room and they told me. At first, it didnt phase me. It finally hit me when they sat us all down and told us the news. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t want to be a family man anymore. He wanted his freedom. My youngest sister started crying. My middle sister sat there, expressionless. And I was in shock. All I could do was ask, “Why?” He was leaving me, just like the other guy. The next month was pure hell. They fought when he came over, my mom’s friends were constantly bad mouthing him, and my current girlfriend and I had been found out and “grounded” from each other.

Finally, six years later, my mom and most of my family came to terms with my sexuality. My relationship with my dad was on the mend. Things were starting to be okay. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I’d started accepting that my mother had been emotionally and verbally abusing me since I was 15. I was trying to forgive her. Though we were skating on thin ice, things were looking up…kind of. Things coasted along like that for another year and a half. We still argued somewhat frequently–big, nasty arguments. I was trying to make her happy. If she was happy, we didn’t argue. My therapist tried to cure me of that obsession but it just didn’t work. I knew I had to get out of the house.

When I met my wife last November, my mom fought it. She said I was rushing. My dad, on the other hand was instantly accepting. When we planned to get married, I didn’t tell my mom. She found out by accident. She says I robbed her of the joy of seeing her oldest daughter get married. Looking back, I probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. When it came time to move, she fought it. She picked fights. She tried everything to break me down and keep me there. I moved anyway. I’m only an hour and a half away but I’m free. My relationship with her is at an all-time high. We talk now, for hours. We don’t fight. Still, nothing can erase those years of abuse. And now, I’m scared she’ll start on my sisters.

But despite all that, I admire my mother for so many reasons. She’s a single mom. She has done everything she can to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. She’s bailed me out more times than I can count. She came from an abusive home. It’s a cycle, I know. She did the best she could. Even now, I make excuses for her.

My dad, on the other hand….we’re not on speaking terms. He is in Iraq and has been for 15 months. He’ll be coming home soon. In February he took two weeks of leave. Instead of coming to see his kids, he spent two weeks with a woman he’d met on the internet. I found out through email. He asked that accept her the way he’s accepted my wife. In anger I wrote him back. I said I wouldn’t accept her. I can’t. How could he take leave to meet a woman when he hadn’t seen his kids in two years? He wrote back “You’ll never hear from me again.” A few moments later he sent another email, whining and trying to justify why he didn’t come see us in February. That happened the night before I moved out. My two sisters were just as hurt as I was. My mom was infuriated. She emailed him and said he isn’t welcome in her house. If there’s one good thing about my mom, she won’t stand for someone hurting her kids. I guess that’s something reserved for her alone.

So yeah, my relationship with my parents has its moments. I hope in the future that it will improve, at least with my mom. I know I should be the better person with my dad and apologize. That’s the only way I’ll ever hear from him. Knowing that hurts more than anything. He’s on speaking terms with my sisters. He’s supposedly going to visit them around Thanksgiving. I wonder if he’ll even ask how I am. The past 8 years have shaped who I am today and who I will become. I will succeed despite my past. I won’t let those years of depression, anger, self mutilation, and self-hatred ruin my life. I won’t let my parents ru