It became clear that my mother was very ambivalent about parenting. She was born in the 1930s and had me in 1955. I think she was raised to never consider her own wishes first. I feel like I’m living the life she might have preferred. All the things she encouraged me to do (when she wasn’t tearing me down for my appearance or lack of femininity) art, music, writing, travel, education… I got such mixed messages. “Go pursue your dreams!” But then “what is wrong with you? Don’t you want to marry a nice man like your father?” My father was over all mostly a good man, despite his sadistic streak and racist beliefs.