drive by guilt trip

I'm hosting a big event for my program this week and I've been crazy-busy lately trying to get everything ready in time.  This means long hours at work and no time for me.  Last Thursday, another day that I stayed late at work, I was waiting for a bus at the Pentagon.  Because it was way past rush hour, there weren't too many people waiting for a bus at that time.  I was in the middle of texting the bf when a woman said something to me from a few feet away.

Me:  I'm sorry but what did you say? 

Lady: I asked you if you just got off from work.

Me: Yes, I did.

Lady: You're so lucky.  Must be nice to have a job to get off from.

Me: ????

I was the victim of a drive by guilt trip.  I had no idea who this woman was and had never seen her before but the last thing I expected to be subject to while waiting for the bus is a guilt trip by a complete stranger. 

What she doesn't know is that a key component of my program is case management and my case managers have done an excellent job in finding jobs and job training for the participants that are unemployed. 

What she doesn't know is that I am completely aware of how lucky I am to have a job.  I honestly do think about this every day.  I realize that unemployment is high and I'm certainly fortunate to have a job in this economy.  I'm lucky because I have the capacity in this job to help people who need it.  I'm especially lucky because I love what I do. 

Upon realizing this, I decided to just go about my business.

Guilt trip over. 

the biggest secret I’ve ever kept

For my birthday, I have decided to put myself out there (even more than I usually do) and reveal a secret that I’ve had to keep for the longest time.

I’m not a virgin.

I know you’re all shocked.

Keeping with the honesty theme here, I should probably tell you that everyone in my life knows that I’m not a virgin except for one, lonely soul—my mom. My poor mom thinks I’m still as pure as freshly fallen snow. And frankly, I’m not prepared to burst her little hopeful bubble.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how it is that my mom doesn’t know I’m not a virgin despite the fact that I:

• Work in the sexual health field
• Have blogged about sex
• Have blogged about getting paid to talk about sex
• Live with my boyfriend where we presumably share a bed
  

Luckily for me, my mom doesn’t know because:

• I’ve lied to her about it
• She trusts me
• She’s computer illiterate and has only seen this blog once
  
• My brother and sister haven’t told her anything.
  

My mom is very conservative. She is extremely religious. She doesn’t question much. She has lived in this country for over 40 years and still has the thickest accent. She primarily watches Spanish-language TV. She is old-school traditional and probably will always be. I’ve come a long way in helping her come around to keep up with the changing times. I’ve informed her of many things to keep her in the know (like how AIDS isn’t a gay man’s disease, why we haven’t won the war in Iraq, how a virus causes cervical cancer, how important it is to get a mammogram, etc.). I encourage her to keep an open mind. But with some issues, I know she will not be open-minded about. And sex is definitely one of them.

I have never talked to my mom about sex. I imagine that she’ll finally tell me about it right before my wedding night. She has no idea that I’m pro-choice. She’s not quite sure what I do for a living. One day at work, I was translating into Spanish a patient ed. brochure on contraception methods. I called her because I wasn’t sure of the proper sentence structure to use. It just so happened to be the blurb about diaphragms. When I read her the sentence I came up with, her comment was, “Well, you know the best form of contraception is the rhythm method.” I smiled to myself and said teasingly, “Oh isn’t that what you were practicing when you had me?” (actually it is)

I love my mom dearly. And I am very honest with her about other aspects of my life. Despite that, I’m planning on taking this secret with me to the grave. If I told my mom that I’ve had sex, she’d be angry at first. She’d probably make some comment about all the money she spent sending me to good Catholic schools and if I had ever learned anything from that. She’d probably ask how I could possibly disrespect the Lord and my body like that especially after taking me to church every day when I was a kid. And then she’d cry and be sad.

But what’s worse is that she would be so disappointed in me that she would never look at me the same way again. The whole religious concept of being “pure” until marriage is so important to her. With her whole heart, she hopes that my sister and I will stay virginal until marriage. If I told her the truth, she would be devastated.

Sure, I could tell her someday. But what would be the point? It would be selfish of me to unload my conscience only to hurt her immensely.

So instead, I'll lie.

i think there’s something wrong with my relationship

Remember when Jesse left me the first time (to work in Denver)? Remember the super bad separation anxiety I was feeling? I was all sad and mopey all week and I tried my darnedest to make sure that didn’t show in my blog posts but I’m sure it did. Remember the relief I felt when he finally came back?

Perhaps I’ve matured or something since then, because I’m not that depressed this time around. Ummm…ok, I doubt it’s maturity. Is it possible that I’m just used to it this time? I’m freaking out that I’m not more sad and depressed! After all, I should be all miserable and unhappy because he’s gone, right? A good girlfriend would pine away and desperately await her boyfriend’s return, right?

Don’t get me wrong. I miss him like hell. I look forward to talking to him. The butterflies I normally feel when I’m with him go into hyperfluttery mode when I hear his voice. I want to hear every detail about his day from what he did at work to what he had for dinner. And of course, I want to hear him say that he misses me. Also, it takes me forever to get to sleep at night. His side of the bed feels so empty, even though Manny the Manatee is keeping me company. I’ve caught myself trying to reach for Jesse during my midsleep movements. Instead, it’s Manny I have to cuddle with. It’s not like Manny isn’t a good sleeping partner. He’s just not Jesse.

I’ve decided not to cook dinner. Not because I’m lazy, but because I nearly had a breakdown last time when I tried to cook for myself and missed not cooking for the both of us. And because Jesse doesn’t like to eat pizza since it’s not good for you, I have been eating pizza the last two days. It kinda negates my workouts, I know, but it’s so good.

I’ve been reading a lot at night to keep me busy. I’ve even caught up with some friends I haven’t talked to in a while. And I got to watch Gilmore Girls and Project Runway without interruptions (there’s usually some hemming and hawing from Jesse when GG comes on; apparently he’s not a fan of Lorelai for “cheating” on Luke in the season finale). It has been really nice to have some “me” time. So then why do I feel so guilty?

Just because I’m enjoying the “me” time doesn’t mean that I love Jesse any less. Perhaps I’ve found a better way of coping with his absence. Or maybe I learned that things weren’t THAT bad the first time around and mentally prepared myself for this time. Whatever the reason, it can’t possibly mean that there’s something wrong with me and Jesse. I love him and he loves me. And I know that he misses me even though he’s going out and exploring Colorado (and Wyoming!) and having fun without me.

Well, “me” time ends on Friday at 10 pm when he gets back. Until then, I'll be totally looking forward to some “we” time.

i have hope that one day my mom will drop the guilt trip

Yesterday was my first night alone without the boo. I cancelled my appointment with the personal trainer since I wasn’t feeling well. Probably had something to do with the crying I did Sunday night (I’m sure the sleeplessness compounded by the Monday morning crying didn’t help matters). I came home and tried to clean up a bit. After cleaning, I started making dinner.

Before I moved in with Jesse, my dinners consisted of turkey sandwiches, always toasted with cheese and loads of mustard. My side item was usually a handful of baked Doritos. I rarely switched it up. It was my ol’ standby from college so I stuck with it. If I wanted a different kind of meal, I would just need to find me a man who could cook.

And boy can Jesse cook. Almost every meal he’s ever made for me has been mouth-watering delicious (well, there was that one time with the eggs that he’s still embarrassed about). Then one day, he told me that he had always wanted a girlfriend to cook for him. So, dinner became a group activity. Usually, he’d make a main dish and I’d prepare a side. But I learned so much from him. Not only do I know my way around a kitchen, but I can make some pretty good stuff too! At first my goal was “edible” but now I aim for “satisfying.” I cook for him quite frequently (whenever he doesn’t cook for me, that is).

So, I started to prepare some chicken (sautéed with a bit of olive oil and spices). I then moved on to some pasta to the lay the chicken on. During my preparations, I started to cry. I had never made a meal for myself that wasn’t a turkey sandwich. This was a meal fit for both me and Jesse. Except…Jesse’s not here. And he would’ve been so proud of my sautéing attempt.

Don’t ask me why (because I’m still wondering) but I decided to call my mom. I just needed someone to listen (still not sure why I turned to mom). I call the house in Cali. No one’s home. I call my sister’s cell to find out where my mom is. My mom answers and sounds happy to hear from me. “So, you’re probably wondering how our flight went.” I think to myself, What is she talking about? Knowing me all too well, mom continues, “Remember, Linda and I are in Sacramento for the education conference.” “Oh yeah,” I said. I suddenly recall that conversation.

“You know, with all that extra security I thought it would be worse, but it wasn’t too bad.”
“Great, mom. You know, Jesse flew today too.”
“Oh yeah, where is he?”
“He’s in Denver for work.”
“How long is he there?”
“Till Friday.”
“So you’re alone.”
“Yes, I’m alone. And I’m very sad. I miss him so much.”
“Oh baby. Now you know how it feels to be me. You know, I miss you every day that you’re not here. At least you’ll see Jesse in a couple of days. I get to see you a few times a year, when I’m lucky. And the next time you’re coming home, you’ll only be here for one day. ONE DAY.”
“Well, looks like dinner’s ready mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Ok, have a good night. Don’t forget to lock all the doors. I love you.”
“I love you too. Bye.”

Yeah, that conversation was about as successful as trying to get Nicole Richie to eat a double-double from In-N-Out.

i love you, mom, but i've gotta be me

Recently, my mom’s guilt tripping has been a lot less frequent than it used to be. For the first couple of years I was in DC, she would ask me to come back because she missed me. The request was really sweet. I am the youngest and the ‘baby’ of the family. In fact, my mom still calls me ‘baby’ to this day (she calls Serena, my 18 month old niece, by the same name). It’s embarrassing, I know. But my mom would ask me to come back home every single day (because she called every day). It got old…quick.

My mom and I had a falling out right around the time that Jesse and I became serious (shortly after we initially said the I love yous). It was probably the biggest fight we’ve had since I was a teenager. She was upset that I was in a relationship that she suspected would keep me on the opposite side of the country forever. She said some things that I had no idea she felt and I subsequently shut her out of my life—for a short while. My heart needed the recovery time. We’ve made up, of course, but now the phone calls between us are every couple of days instead of every day. The guilt trips have not stopped. They're different now.

As I became more liberal, I stopped going to church. It’s not that I don’t believe in God, because I do, Ann Coulter. I thought it was hypocritical of me to attend. I am, after all, pro-gay rights, pro-choice, pro-euthanasia, and pro-contraception (you already know how I feel about sex before marriage). I realized that I was fooling myself 2 years ago when I attended a Saturday night service at a church in the city. The sermon was about abstinence only sex education and how it was the only way to keep kids safe. I walked out during the sermon. I could no longer support a religion that stood for everything that I am against.

My mom does not know that I’ve come to this conclusion about the faith that she worked so hard for me to learn and grow in. I don’t have the heart to tell her. Instead, I’ve put on the hypocrite hat whenever I go home and attend Mass with her. I’d rather lie than hurt her because she’s such a devout Catholic (apparently, I’m pro-dishonesty too).

Last night, when we spoke, she asked me if I had gone to church (it being Sunday and all). I told her no. She got upset and asked me why. Because the Church hates gays, because it’s unrealistic about sex ed., because it won’t support the use of condoms to prevent the spread of HIV, because it would prefer that an unwanted child be born to a rape victim. I replied, “I don’t know.” “Liz, you know how important it is to go to church. The least you could do to thank the Lord for all that He’s done for you is go to church once a week. That’s all He asks. And take Jesse with you. I know he’s not Catholic, but he should go too. Even though you don’t go, I pray for you at church.” Thanks, mom.

My mom will never believe what I believe—that everyone is entitled to their own relationship with a higher being if they so chose. They should have the right to challenge their faith and choose the path that is right for them. As my niece’s Baptism sponsor, I will do my best to guide her faith, support and encourage questions, and provide her with the information to make the right decisions for her based on what she believes in (I wish I'd had that). Mom, I’m sorry I’ll never be the kind of girl you raised me to be. But I think too much.