I Hate Feeling Weak

I just had to leave 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes' because the scenes of community and family were giving me such severe panic attacks- I couldn't stay in the theatre.

I feel like a different man.  Like the first 17 years of my life I was controlled and told who to be and what to do by my mother.  I spent the next 13 trying to get her to love me, or kill myself in the process.  Now that I have begun owning to these things- I'm free to be who I choose, and while that's empowering- it's also quite unnerving at times.

My mother decided that she was tremendously threatened by men. She decided that all heterosexual sex was a man attacking a woman.  Her life became about defending that attack, and fighting her own heterosexuality- to the point where she is just beating up herself and everyone around her.

I grew up in this late 90's unbridled man-hate of my mothers.  I grew up being taught to hate and shun my masculinity and heterosexuality.
I remember being very young, and being praised by my mother for acting like a girl.  I remember consciously knowing that acting like a girl was better in our house.  I put on a cover, wearing my hair long, acting, camouflaging myself in femininity to spare myself from my mother's wrath.

Later, I got my first video camera.  I enjoyed getting my mother's full attention and praise for whatever video creation I had come up with- and so I set about making movies for fun... a lot of the time.  While there were many successes, I recall one particular disaster quite vividly:

I took a Barbi and a Ken doll, and made a video of them having sex.  I showed the tape to my mother- rolling in laughter... attempting to grasp sexuality.  My mother exploded with fury.  She sat me and my brother down, and told us how sick and awful of people we were for doing such a thing.  She waved the tape in front of us, and threatened to show the therapist what awful children she had.  I was taught to feel shame for my gender and preference.

I wore my camouflage well... I wore it everywhere.  The other boys called me "faggot" a lot.  It hurt to be called faggot, but not as much as it hurt to be denied my mothers acceptance.  I hid my sexual preference for women, and buried myself deeper.

I remember the first time I was caught looking at porn.  Back in those days there were no free video sites.  Instead- you had to browse images REALLY slowly over a 48.8k modem... each image was highly compressed, and pages took forever to load.... I remember eagerly awaiting to see the next beautiful woman body.  I couldn't believe that I'd found a way to get this stuff in my house for FREE! (12yr old early adopter... you're welcome world)  My mom found the image cache on the computer, and I was in DEEP SHIT.  Not only was this days and weeks of being shamed, and told how wrong and bad we were for this; but my brother and I were also forced to write 10 page research papers on the adult sex industry, and how it abuses women... curiosity meant looking- looking meant objectifying- and Mommy dearest refuses to see it any other way.  That is the ONLY reality she is willing to accept... Stubborn. Hateful. Vicious.  Violent.

I desperately don't want to become her.  I cannot stay alive swimming in this sea of insecurity and loneliness she has been treading water in so many years... It's a choice to stay in that trauma.  It's a choice to not force yourself to learn and grow- better yourself for your own sake.

I feel weak today.
I couldn't sit through a silly movie without panic attacks... I WORK WITH MOVIES! I STUDIED MOVIES! Yet today- I have to surrender to this weakness.  I have to let myself feel what I can, and learn what I can today.  Strong comes with each tomorrow, and each better decision.