There’s two things that have been top of mind the past week that I wanted to share on here. The first is the subject of a larger post that I wanted to make but was knocked off my groove recently because I’ve started going to therapy again. The second is not just the fact that I’ve started to go to therapy again but the discomfort and perhaps even depression that it has provoked, to hear the sadness echoed back from my therapist and to confront what happened to me when I was a young person. I had gone so far as to outline my next post regarding queer representation in the media and would have been great timing given that Disney’s Loki is their chance to flesh out a queer character, whose queerness is not some modern invention but mythological storytelling. I owe myself to do whichever ends up dominating the conversation, but I don’t want to wallow in the sadness either.

I had known for some time that I needed to go back to therapy, to talk to a professional about what I had been feeling. I already mentioned it although perhaps more specific to dating. Generally though, I could tell that I had not been coping well with the grief I felt from losing my cousin earlier in the year, the grief from my breakup, and have generally been struggling to transition from a time in my life when I had nothing and needed to constantly be hustling, to now when I’ve become somewhat established in my career. I often mention to people that if I wanted to, I could work at this same agency through retirement. I haven’t quite made up my mind on that point, don’t think I need to actually. When I’m in a good mood and working, I do put effort into it. I believe in the mission of our agency and understand its importance to public health, that does more than enough to motivate me to work. But it is far from what I love, which is why I never say I’ll surely retire from it. If tomorrow I won the lottery, I would likely quit.

Part of the reason I’ve been so down post therapy sessions lately is because in these first sessions the focus has been heavy on childhood trauma. I’m not a psychologist, so I’ll trust that we really need to talk this much about what happened. However, there was a distinctly disheartening moment when my therapist confirmed that my parents would have faced consequences had I spoken to the child therapist when I was young. My mom wasn’t completely blind to the things I was going through as a kid, how I always seemed depressed or troubled. I haven’t been able to ask her about this though, because she asked how I had been feeling and I told her I had restarted therapy and that I was feeling something from just the first session, going over the rules surrounding mandated reporting. They included child abuse, I told her, and I asked her if she had considered what would have happened had I told that therapist about the ways she and her mom were whooping my ass. Because of Covid, we had been seated separately from the family and I didn’t feel the need to hold back, although I was polite still, wanting her to hear what I was saying without defaulting to the excuse that she didn’t want to hear the message because the delivery was rude.

She listened to me explain that the excuse that it’s part of our culture, that Mexicans believe using physical punishment as a form of discipline, was not valid in her case. I pointed out that she wasn’t trying to discipline me in any of these situations, stating a consequence to my actions and following through when I broke those rules. Rather, what happened was she would come home sad, angry, frustrated, or stressed out and if I so much as looked at her funny she would hit me. Then I reminded her what I have always maintained, that if my own mother beat one of my kids the way my grandmother beat me, she would not still be alive, much less being defended when her own family pointed out that they did not like her either. I pointed out that she herself was a victim of abuse and while I acknowledged it, I didn’t want to continue having to butt heads with her because she was so preoccupied with defending her abuser from criticism. She didn’t have much to say except to cry and say she tried her best, which I unfortunately believe she has. I had mentioned some of this in the last post about my family and therapy. 

I don’t recall when my mom started talking about her own abuse, besides the clear emotional abuse my grandmother put her through while we were growing up. Perhaps it was after my last prolonged bout with therapy. In grad school, around 2016, I finally caved, I had been listening a lot to Loveline with Mike Catherwood and Dr. Drew Pinski. So many of the answers to their calls involved some sort of therapy. I won’t deny it was helpful to hear a straight, Mexican man, one who presented as masculine, also be advocating for therapy. I walked into a school counselor’s office with a list of issues I wanted to cover and explained that I needed their help finding a therapist since I didn’t have insurance. The school counselor was very sweet, I let her finish explaining to me that she was equipped to help students with a range of issues involving anxiety around the education process. I remember the way her cheeks blushed when I explained that I appreciated everything she had just said but once I read the list of issues, she quickly came to agree with me that we needed to contact a therapist and, somewhat surprisingly to me, she wanted us to contact Child Protective Services as well. We did call, they noted what was said, but as I was no longer a minor they agreed that they would not be opening a case. I suspect now that it had to do with the same rules regarding mandated reporting… after all, she was just a counselor, she was there to offer general services. I haven’t talked about him on here, but I believe I was with my college boyfriend at the time.

That bout lasted two years and it helped immensely. I spent two years with the same therapist, a gentleman who had switched from computer science to psychotherapy. I really enjoyed that we shared a similar enough background, science and engineering, that I could talk about optimizing feelings, strengthening foundations and reactive forces. If it hasn’t been obvious, I did not grow up in a household that had detailed conversations about feelings, my parents had rather encouraged me to repress mine. So having a common ground from which I could initiate conversations was immensely helpful. During that time, I spoke out about the abuse I had experienced to my parents, how actually, if my violent outbursts were not proof enough, I hadn’t forgotten anything. I suspect that my speaking out about what my father did contributed to his early retirement and decision to return to his hometown in Mexico. It is not correct to say that my relationship with my parents improved through therapy, I actually think it has gotten worse, but they are not so draining anymore as I’m less inclined to prioritize their feelings over my own safety. And, with our relationship less draining, I’m able to stand up for myself without using swear words. It’s not that I don’t enjoy swearing, it’s just that it gives my parents a false sense of the moral high ground and they try to avoid the conversation by saying I shouldn’t swear.  

It’s worth noting that I have felt less angry and less tense. Perhaps the therapist is right and it was all childhood trauma that I still need to process. I don’t know what the end result will look like at this point. I don’t think I want to end the relationship with my parents entirely, not so much for their own sake but because I want to continue seeing my sisters, some who live with them and generally have a better relationship with them. I know my therapist would disagree with this part, but I also intend to help take care of my mom in her older age, when she is ready to stop working. I am aware enough that at this point, it shouldn’t be me taking care of her alone, but perhaps I’ll get to a point where it doesn’t eat away at my soul like it would now. At this point, I firmly believe the path to forgiveness depends on her also going to therapy, but time will tell.