J laughed trying to imagine me in a wine bar. As we parted she expressed that she couldn’t get out of her mind my mention of the McLellan martyr syndrome, and how M was likely repulsed by it, even if not actively. I agreed, expressing that the energy I put forth into trying to support her always came back as accusations that I expected her to cry on my shoulder, or that I expected her to get ‘fixed’ so everything would be wonderful. I expressed my frustration over how much effort I had put into trying to communicate my support; be it a car ride to her sisters, a trip to another state, being there, or just being somewhere. Frustrating because to this day she still talks around this elephant in the room like it was never there, projecting others disappointment in who she is upon me like an expectation. How frustrating it is not being able to have these conversations, and hard it is to not hold her still and have a “Look!” conversation. The sheer level of absurdity in loving someone because of who they are and constantly being accused of trying to change them is mind-boggling drama. It’s probably a lesson for the best, as that level of energy isn’t sustainable. Caring but having to keep it to yourself is probably what having a teenager is like.