Every day I read, I listen, I think Every day I read Bernard Lane Jamie Reed Mia Hughes Eyes Open PITT (and hundreds more) Every day I listen Helen Joyce Stella O'Malley Colin Wright Eliza Mondegreen Jennifer Sey (and hundreds more) Every day I celebrate Cass, Skrmetti, HHS, COHERE The WPATH Files, Sturm, UPenn (and hundreds more) While every day I long For my son Who Despite my reading Despite my listening Despite my celebrating Despite me Is not one step closer to me Not one step out of the cult. And I am not one step closer To working out how To say a word, a sentence To having him back. Not one step closer. Every day.
Me, too. I wish I could devote all that time, energy, and attention to studying things I am passionate about, things that I love, such as regenerative agriculture, cooking, writing, and art. But this black hole has sucked my daughter into it, and I can’t look away. I keep searching, hoping for some knowledge, the right words, a shred of hope that I can pull her back. It consumes all of me.
I understand this completely and lived it daily myself. I still have days that I am mired in grief and horror over how my son is damaging himself, how this cult is damaging so many young people and their families. Your writing expresses it so well; I hope it can be a source of some peace to you.
I know the resolution we would like is, as you say, “having him back.” I came to a conclusion a few months ago that I could not always listen and read to the end; when a podcast or an article was stabbing me in the heart so fiercely that I could no longer function for the grief and horror of it, I stopped pursuing it. I have found that I cannot swim in this ocean of information without drowning, but I can dip it out a bucket at a time to look for understanding and pour it back when it threatens to overwhelm me.
I also stopped trying to find the right steps, the right words and sentences to “having him back”. I wrote him a goodbye - an email address is all I have. It may have gone straight into his spam folder or he may have removed it, unopened, to his trash folder. It’s okay - I needed to write it as a step toward recovering me from the grief and horror. I hope that you will get the resolution you want - having him back. If not, I hope you may find a resolution that gives you back to yourself.
I’ll share what I wrote in hopes that it may help you as your writing helps me and so many others here. It doesn’t preclude the possibility of someday “having him back”, but it’s allowing me some resolution that I can hold onto to have myself back and functional.
“I had kept debating whether or not I should continue trying to reach out to you. I didn't want to give up on a family relationship with you; I had always hoped we would be close as you got older. I had hoped we could eventually talk out our differences and find a way to continue being family - even if we disagree. There is no way to go back and correct all the mistakes I think I made or all the mistakes you think I made, but I had hoped we could find a way to appreciate and understand each other. And I'd always hoped to have your love as my child no matter how old you got, just as you have my love as your mother. Yes, I am a fool who said stupid, angry, hurtful things that probably made you think my love for you was no longer there. I'm sorry for letting my temper and my issues get in the way of making sure you knew you were always loved.
So while I want to keep fighting to reach you, it seems like most of the advice I get at this point is to accept your no contact and leave you alone. So hopefully this is my last "falling off the wagon" email. I just didn't want to go silent on you without making sure you knew it was out of respect for you and not out of disapproval.
I'll always be grateful for the gift it was to have you in my life, for the honor of being your mother, for the joy of watching you grow. You were truly one of the brightest sparks in my existence. I hope you'll continue to find people in your life who love you and how you shine.”