While I wait for my next housing contract to start, I moved back home for the next month or so, where I get free food, the use of a vehicle, and free laundry facilities!
Along with wireless internet that works about half the time, a room that feels like an icebox, and a midnight curfew. MIDNIGHT.
Oh yeah, and there's a drum set where my bed used to be.
Despite all that, I love my family, and I was very glad to be back home for a little bit, but those good feelings didn't last too long. Usually, it only takes a few days, but this time, my mother and I managed to go a week before exploding our emotions all over each other in a barrage of accusations and tears.
My mom and I are very close. We are very similar in that we are both stubborn as rocks, and very different in that she believes that I can "pray out the gay." She's fully aware that my faith in the church is dwindling, and that just fuels her desire to push me towards spiritual activities.
For example, today she wanted me to give my father a priesthood blessing (no way in hell I'm worthy to do that), and she wanted to enroll me in a missionary boot camp for a few days this summer.
Hence the explosion.