more about my mom and a note from my sister

My sister reads my blog. She sent me the following e-mail about my previous post. I think it is a likely explanation for why my nickname came into being and was removed suddenly.

I thought I'd check your blog and saw the post about your name, and I have a theory as to why mom called you by anna in kindergarten. You called yourself a "word geek". Well, I'm a bit of a sociology geek. I love to wonder and know why people behave and react based on external circumstances.

I think maybe she did it for the same reason that she didn't teach us dutch. For european immigrants, the best way to assimilate was to adopt the language of their country. They didn't have different religions or skin colours which acted as barriers to Canadian society. So when mom was little, the rule at home was that she speak English to teach Oma, Opa and the younger ones. Learning English became a huge part of her upbringing. Not always a fond memory, but a necessity.

In Dad's family, the rule was "no English at home". which is one reason (of many) why it was Grandma who gave you a dutch nickname.

When mom brought you to kindergarten, you were very close to the age in which she was when she immigrated, and had a dutch nickname which people in her Canadian class ridiculed. It's possible that she was aware - consciously or subconsciously - of the effects that her dutch nickname had on her. Perhaps reverting to your given, and English name was a reaction of her upbringing as a Dutch immigrant and recollections of having to be renamed as well.

I also think that both of my parents were conscious of the school being a higher authority. Perhaps the school, or the principal told them that I could only be called by my given name.

Either way, it's an interesting study. I'd also forgotten that my mom had a nickname - all of her siblings did as well- that she was teased about as a child.

I think a lot about my mom, what shaped her, what shaped me in turn. Her early life was not easy - and a blog post all on its own.

Yesterday I told my mom that N and I weren't together any longer. I didn't tell her the whole story - I figure that if I take little steps towards the reality of my sexual orientation, it will be easier for everyone to handle. Especially me.

She didn't bat an eyelash - there was no surprise or disappointment at all. All she said was "if the two of you can work out sharing the house, that would be good for E and for you." And then she said "I really like N, but...."

And although she didn't finish the sentence, I read all the doubts and fears she's had about my relationship with him, about my happiness, about her own discomfort in his presence. It's hard to be around someone who hardly ever relaxes, who has this barrier of reserve around him that is almost impenetrable. He doesn't recognize that he is reserved at all, because verbally he is quite forthcoming, but emotionally he is often unreachable.

While I agonize, reflect, and journal, and learn to build community around myself, he's out there looking for another woman. I want connections that are meaningful, and I believe that those connections will lead me to something that is powerful, emotional, passionate. He's conducting a systematic search. While exhibiting all the symptoms of an imminent depression. Not a healthy place to be, as far as I'm concerned.

I needed to tell my mom, needed her to know something about what's going on in my life.

I needed to tell her because I volunteered to host Thanksgiving this year and someone will figure out that both bedrooms are being used as bedrooms, that my clothes are in another closet, that there is something going on. And because I need to tell her.

I needed to tell her because she needs time to adjust, she needs to disseminate the information and call people up and tell them what's going on, and sigh. And talk about the peripherals openly while reflecting inside about more important issues that she often leaves unspoken. I think she understands, and from her response, I know where her loyalties rest.

And when I have the courage to tell her the rest of the story, I hope she understands that, as well.

Because she's my mom. And she has always been there for me.