Don't Mention The War

And, more importantly, don't mention the fact I'm a big raving lesbian.

Things are better now. Or, if not better, more bearable. My parents have entered into the ‘If we don’t mention it, it isn’t true’. Which, quite frankly suits me. Part of me is disappointed that they took it as badly as I always assumed they would, I wanted to be proved wrong.

Maybe I was right because I know them better than I know most people. Maybe I know them better than they know themselves. I know them well enough to realise that they are mainly upset that they didn’t know me well enough to spot this fully themselves.

I don’t presume that my mother will be embracing the gay community, I still expect to have to fabricate certain situations (like getting cash back in Canal Street at 2am). With time I expect her to get over it, but that’s up to her now. I can’t push her to accept something, or I’ll just dig her heels in deeper than before.

Harmony is hardly restored, and I’m not even sure if it ever will be fully. But she’s stopped smashing plates, and it’s a start.