If Only You Knew…

If only you knew…

The story that I can’t tell you

The secrets I hide from the world

The pain I feel when you ask about him

The horror I relive in my mind every moment that I think of him

The nightmare from which I can’t wake up

The hours I spend at night waiting in the silence of the darkness to hear his voice

The ruins of hopes and dreams amongst which I live

The dual life I live as a member of a counter cultural underground movement

If you only knew…

And if only you knew… If I dare to tell you my story and my deepest secrets, how would you react?

Would you…

Feel my pain and sit with me while I tell you the tragedy that struck our home?

Understand why I feel the grief and horror that I feel?

Feel sad for my son and for us?

Pray for him and our family?

Be horrified that kids and young men and women like mine are being groomed, lured and hijacked into a cult-like belief system?

Get angry at the medical crimes being committed against kids like mine and want to do something about it?

Or

Would you…

Brush off my sorrow and tell me to accept my son’s destructive delusion?

Tell me that when people tell us who they are, we have to believe them (it happened)?

Reply to me “well that is YOUR perspective on the issue” (happened too)?

Pull out your social justice warrior card and talk about the poor marginalized gender minorities (same)?

Not knowing how you would react, makes me remain silent about this piece of my flesh and my blood, torn away from me, which I keep hidden from the world.

If only you knew him as the gifted, quirky, funny kid who everyone expected to have a brilliant career and you asked for an update, I would paste a smile on my face and say “He is independent (estranged) and works full time (transitioning ruined his brilliant college and career plans. He dropped out of college and works a menial job)”.

For those close enough who ask more probing questions as to his disappearance from our lives, I tell them that he struggles with mental illness, that we are very sad and concerned about him, that we hope that maturity will kick in and he will come out of this very difficult stage.

And when I have played my role and recited my well-rehearsed lines about my son, I will try to change the topic or leave as quickly as I can so that I can breathe, and you won’t see the pain that crosses my face or the occasional tears that fall. And I will say under my breath “If only you knew…”.