Over the past month I’ve spent most of my time driving between Ford, Virginia and Sulfur Springs, Texas. When I first headed out to Sulfur Springs nearly a month ago, I was extremely sceptical of the outcome of the visit with my parents. My parents hadn’t seen or really talked to me much in over two years and the last time I had seen my mother the conversation had ended in a less than pleasant manner. Since that point in time two years ago I’ve changed a lot, not only in appearance but also in behavior. I’ve learned to let things go for the most part and I’m trying to reach a sort of zen state of mind so that things that I have no control over don’t bother me as much as they used to.
So, with a bit of caution I went to visit my parents in Texas.
The first visit wasn’t bad, it wasn’t exceptionally good, but what it showed me made me so happy that I felt like I could cry. Prior to the first visit, the last conversations I had with my parents had left me with the feeling like I could never be part of their family again. This was the deciding reason I had to change my last name when I did some two years ago. After all this time apart my parents were actually trying to use male pronouns and my chosen name. I know it’s hard on both my parents not only using male pronouns but also using my chosen name since it was nothing like what they named me thirty-one years ago.
Over the past two years a lot of things have changed not only for my parents but also for me, and because of this we have been able to move on from the past and work on our relationship with one another again, which is a very welcomed change from what I thought things would ultimately work out to be.
I’ll admit every time someone told me that my parents would “come around” I rolled my eyes and thought to myself that they didn’t know my parents like I did. My parents really haven’t just “come around” we’ve just been able to come to an understanding. My mother considers me her “saughter” (son and daughter) which I am comfortable with, because I can understand things from her point of view. She will reference me as my birth name and gender when we talk about things that I did or before I started my transition, and I’m okay with that. I was that person for nearly thirty years. However, when we are talking about the present day or things that I have done after my transition she uses male pronouns and my chosen name.
She slips up every once in awhile and I’ll poke at her or arch a brow and she’ll correct herself, but thus far we’ve the road has been more smooth than rocky.