All I want is your presence, not your presents.

Very rarely am I good with words, and this time may be no different, but I wanted to share my feelings from tonight. As I pack my apartment again, I think about the next steps and what is coming. I am moving to a larger space in a new area. Thankfully, I will still have friends and family nearby, but I feel so empty about the situation. I think about all the times I have moved in the past 10 years and how each time has been essentially me moving myself, alone, with no help (at least not from friends or family). I think about the move from New England to the South—wow, that was a big move, right? Why wasn’t anyone here to help me? When I moved from the South to New England, at least Dad went with me; he experienced the drive with me. So why didn’t anyone welcome me back? Was everyone happy I was going so far away? Why has no one come to visit? Why am I the only one trying? Is this what love looks like?

Now I am moving again, and my brother is coming to help. My brother and I have had a rocky relationship for years, but we have both matured immensely, and I am grateful for his friendship. I never thought we would be close. I am thankful that he has offered to help me move. I didn’t have to ask, but I made sure to tell everyone in the family. He’s the only one who offered.

Still, no one has visited. No one else offered. Why don’t my parents see how much it hurts that I have been back in the South for 9 months and not once have they reached out and driven to me? Why do they tell me they were coincidentally going to visit when I tell them I have plans for a weekend? Why didn’t they offer to help me move?

I have driven over 10,000 miles to see my family and set up the business, yet no one has even driven 10 miles to see me. My dad came all the way to Wichita (4 blocks from my new apartment) to pick up a friend’s child, but he can’t do that for me? Nana says that if anything were wrong and I needed help, he’d be here immediately, but why do I need to wait until I need help? I asked for help paying for a resume service, yet he made me feel like he wasn’t willing to help, only willing to “pay me back” for the driveway. Seriously?

Do they not know how it feels to call my brother and hear my mother in the background because she has visited? Are they closer? Yes. Do they have kids? Yes. But there is no excuse for not visiting a child over 9 months when they are only a few hours away. Hell, they didn’t visit for 7 years in Maine except when my brother and I FORCED them to get on a plane to visit me. We paid for the entire trip; Mom and Dad had to do nothing. Always citing money and time, they were able to buy all this fancy quilting equipment and build another building to expand out of their own pocket, yet they didn’t have time or money for me.

Why am I so much less important? Why did no one ask if they could attend my graduation for my Master’s degree? What do I have to do to make my parents happy or proud of me? Why do I care anymore?

Do they resent me for being gay? Lord knows I have learned not to bring anyone around, as I feel like it’s always a shit show. And then my mother sits me down to talk about how “she feels they have done a good job of accepting me being gay.” Why do my tears sting my skin every time I cry? What have I done to receive such treatment? What do I have to do just for them to try and meet me halfway?

I guess I really won’t get anywhere from this, but I wanted to type it out. I cry, it hurts, and I don’t know what to do to change it. I can’t have a healthy relationship with anyone because I don’t know what that looks like. I am broken. I have always been broken. Who am I?

All I want is your presence, not your presents.

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