Lately the song "Upward Over the Mountain" has been on my mind. It's by some guy who calls himself Iron & Wine, but it is actually a really good song that resonates a lot with how I perceive my relationship with my mom. I'll post the lyrics here:

Mother don't worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed
Mother don't worry, I've got some money I saved for the weekend
Mother remember being so stern with that girl who was with me?
Mother remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain

Mother I made it up from the bruise on the floor of this prison
Mother I lost it, all of the fear of the Lord I was given
Mother forget me now that the creek drank the cradle you sang to
Mother forgive me, I sold your car for the shoes that I gave you

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons could be birds, taken broken up to the mountain

Mother don't worry, I've got a coat and some friends on the corner
Mother don't worry, she's got a garden we're planting together
Mother remember the night that the dog had her pups in the pantry?
Blood on the floor, fleas on their paws,
And you cried 'til the morning

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying always over the mountain


I have disclosed to everyone in my immediate family except my mother. She has no idea what happened to me. She probably never will. But it is evident that she perceives that some part of her son is gone...swallowed up... She wasn't the perfect mom but did the best she could with what she had. She taught me to trust, and to see the good in people. She has her own struggles with depression and I don't know what it would do to her to discover that her son had been raped.

I have some male friends, and I am so reluctant to tell them because I fear they will judge my character negatively and think that I was a man of lesser virtue. I fear dishonor from men.

But when it comes to my mother, I am afraid of her sorrow.

Mother, forget me. Forget me for your own sake.

_________________________
“If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark.”

- Saint John of the Cross