Glass Houses
By T.T.S.
I grew up in an interesting household. I had a mom, a dad, a dog and a cat. Around age seven, a friend of my mother’s moved in with us. By eleven, I had discovered that my mother was gay and that this friend was actually her lover. I wasn’t oblivious; I could tell that my parents were unhappy with each other. The constant fighting was a great indicator of this fact.
My father is not a perfect man. He’s human. I know that he didn’t always fulfill what my mother expected in a husband and provider. But he is still my father, a truth which my step-mother did her best to make me feel bad about. Every time I did something that she didn’t like, she’d point it out in this way:
“You’re just like your stupid f__king father!”
It didn’t matter what it was. It could be anything from her belief that I had no common sense to a simple personality trait. She’d say that she didn’t want me to hate my father and then could never stop herself from proclaiming how much she despised me for being like him in any way. The worst thing was that my mother never stopped her. Often she’d join in on this with moans belittling me for upsetting my step-mother by not just giving into whatever she said or demanded that I do.
Funny enough, I found myself analyzing this and even sympathizing with their feelings a little. After all, my mother’s marriage to my father had kept her and her wife apart for a number of years. My mother had been unwilling to just take off with me without seeing if she could get the marriage to work. In the meantime though, she was sleeping with this woman inside our house. I woke up many a night in search of my mother to discover that she was not in bed with my father, but in bed with this woman who was supposed to be my ‘aunt.’
Before my dad left, he and I had a loving, close relationship. He always stayed up-to-date on what I was learning in school and would make up games to try to incorporate my developing interests and knowledge of the world. We also did a lot of arts and crafts projects together. I remember that when I was learning about the Native Americans in school, he went out with me to find sticks, leaves, bark, and other things and we made a miniature tee-pee together.
I don’t remember the exact day that my dad left. I think I’ve permanently blocked it from my memory, but I do remember the days and years that followed were not easy. My step-mother has always been abusive to the point that eventually I ended up distancing myself from her completely. I think she underestimated the bond that I had with my father. Yes, I could be pissed to hell with him, but when it comes down to it, he’s still my father. Nothing can change that.
I guess in some ways the separation has made my relationship with my father stronger. I have a more open, honest adult relationship with him than I do with my mother. I feel free to disagree with him and him with me. We’ve come to respect each others opinions of things and perhaps best of all is that he trusts me to be okay. He gives me a certain level of freedom that I have never gotten from my mother or her partner. He knows that I have a good head on my shoulders and that I will do just fine in the end.
My mother’s house is a world of lies. She used to tell me to just ‘yes’ her wife to death to keep the peace. I couldn’t do that. I am a terrible liar and then also, because it just doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t believe that that is the real way to get on with people in life. I’m not saying that this happened overnight for me. It took many years and a lot of outside support from my husband’s family and our friends in order for me to reach this point.
I didn’t learn to tell my parents when I was unhappy with things until the middle of college. Both had very different outcomes. My mother and her partner had had a horrible fight which of course always ended up including me and anyone else that had the misfortune to be around at the moment. Desperate to find a sane parent to talk to, I called up my father. He hadn’t bothered to tell me that he had decided to go on a vacation across the country. I tore into that phone message saying everything that I had promised myself that I would never say. Up until that moment my father had had no idea how miserable I was living with my mother, how I had run away to the dorms to escape, and how I felt like I could never count on him for anything.
To his credit, he stood up and did something about it. We started discussing how things were going on at my mother’s house and while he couldn’t afford for me to come and live with him, he would support any decisions that I made. I told him that I was going to dorm at college year round and that is what I ended up doing. It wasn’t always easy, but I think I have come out the better for it both mentally and spiritually. Since that phone conversation, I have been able to be honest with my father. Whenever I have tried to do this with my mother, she runs back to the idea how her and her partner and I can still be a family if I would just learn to work around her. This is code for ‘lie to keep the peace that we all are pretending exists in the first place.’ Thankfully, life’s experiences have set me against this way of thinking.
I know that these are extreme circumstances. Not every step-mother or step-father is so abusive or stifling to their step-children. Some are very loving parental figures. My advice to anyone with a step-family set up, whether that be a gay or straight household, is not to forget that the children have come from two biological parents. To paint either parent in a totally negative way is to tell the child that half of them is no good. It hurts, plain and simple. It hurts the child and it will only serve to damage that child’s relationship with whoever is throwing stones in the first place.
The Straight Spouse Network invites the perspectives of various individuals who wish to share their unique experiences. We thank T.T.S. for being our Guest Blogger today and permitting us to print her article about her experience.


Then, there was the rude interruption of the President of the United States by a Congressman during the State of the Union Speech.


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