Psychology Thinkwrite

I think it's cool how my psychology teacher wants us to find love. X)

I almost cried in psychology yesterday.
The lesson we were learning was about how adolescents need freedom and independence but parents restrict us. One of the points was about physical appearance. He told us to raise our hands if the statement applied to us so I raised my hand when he asked if anyone's parents had a problem with their appearance. My parents don't like the way I look. They think I get made fun of. I really don't. So when it was time to write a thinkwrite about one of the points we talked about, of course I wrote about my parents and how they had a problem with my appearance. The whole class was quiet because we had to write for the rest of the period. So my teacher comes up to me and asks me which one I was writing about. I simply told him that I was writing about my parents' problems with my appearance. My teacher asked me what they had a problem with. I told him that they had a problem with how I dress, how I do my hair, my piercing(s) - I don't know if a gauge is called a piercing- and how they want me to be "normal." He asked me if my parents knew if I was bisexual (I wrote a paper in that class and the topic was "My Ideal Guy/Girl." So I wrote about both X)). I said no they did not know. He asked me if they suspected if I was and I said "maybe." He pointed out how maybe they ARE suspecting and they're finding other things to change about me. I agreed.

The thing that made my heart sink was when he asked "Do you think you can talk to them about yourself?"
My memory took me back to when my mom, while watching the legalizing of gay marriage in SF, clearly said, "Masama yan. Hindi dapat ganyan. (That's bad. It shouldn't be like that)."
That was the point where I knew I could never tell my parents about me.
So when my teacher asked me that, I couldn't speak and shook my head while my eyes locked onto my paper, trying to keep my tears in.
He asked if I talk to friends about it and I nodded a yes, my tears not rolling down, but still present.

Class was about to end and I didn't want to look like I just cried while walking down the hallways, so I tried to hold back the tears and avoid eye contact with people around me who may have heard our conversation. It doesn't matter that they know, it just matters that I almost cried in class. I never would have thought that it would have affected me that much, but I guess it does. Being accepted or not doesn't scare me, but when it comes to my parents, it mattered more that I would have imagined before. I realized that what my parents think about me, does affect me even though I know I won't change for them. I won't change for anyone but myself, but it's hard when the people you love don't accept you for who you are.

I didn't realized how much emotion I had locked inside of me until yesterday in my fourth period psychology class. Although most of the time, I hide them inside, they're still there.

Ouch.