It finally broke me
I threw my son out. I am not proud of that. Months of pain, grief, confusion and fury turned me into a powder keg that exploded one afternoon.
My son was born with high functioning autism and ADHD. He developed anxiety and depression very early in life. He struggled his whole life with schooling and friendships. He was also aggressive, lazy, stubborn, disobedient and vindictive. The school rang me almost every day with problems of stealing, violence, disobedience and melt downs. I was shunned by the other mothers at the school and lost many friendships. My son was never invited on play dates and never had a birthday party as nobody would come. He was invited to two birthday parties in his life. Both times he was new to the school and the child had invited the whole class. This same child, my beautiful son, was also energetic, bright, creative, intelligent and extremely funny, like a younger Jim Carrey. He was also athletic and dexterous; my sister thought he would be a professional athlete. Although he was a handful, I intensely loved his free spirit and his spontaneity.
As a single mother, it was very tough. I was fired from my job for taking too much time off to look after him. I was at breaking point by then anyway, trying to get childcare for him during school holidays and after school. Care centres refused to take him and nannies cost too much. My own family had banned me from their homes due to his behaviour and called me a bad parent. I had zero support.
For the next 10 years, I devoted myself to getting him help. I went through all my savings seeing numerous pediatricians, psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and school counsellors. We visited a nutritionist, ADHD coach, chiropractor, sleep disorder doctor to name a few. We had 40 sessions of neurofeedback and did social skills courses. We tried umpteen drugs and combinations of drugs. I rang all the charities and begged for help. Most had good intentions but few ideas.
When he was asked to leave another mainstream school at around 15, I finally found a special school that would take him. They promised the world in help. In actual fact, they had their hands full with all the other students and just let my son sit on his computer all day watching YouTube videos. By that point I didn't care. I knew school was not for him but I hoped he would find his feet when he finished. While at school, he started Googling topics he was interested in and quickly became knowledgeable about the solar system, Chinese mythology and bee keeping, yes bee keeping of all things. That's my quirky, spontaneous son. We had a relatively peaceful two years and I started to sleep through the nights for the first time in over a decade.
But then he graduated from that school and COIVD hit. The rest of the country struggled with losing their jobs, money issues, social isolation, being stuck at home and not having holidays. We had already lived like that for years and years. Lockdown was not even a blip on the radar in our lives. (The last time I had taken my son out to the movies, he had become overwhelmed by the crowds and pushed somebody away from him. That somebody fell onto a busy road and was nearly hit by a car. That ended our outings once and for all.)
So, what happened next? Well, as you guessed, my son decided to become a woman. He grew his hair long and started shaving his legs. I found out completely by accident when I was putting laundry in his room. I still remember my disbelief and horror. I can still feel the nausea in my throat when I think of him with a penis and boobies. He wouldn't discuss the trans issue with me, just said it was his life choice. He went to a woke doctor, got a referral to an endocrinologist, had his blood tests and got his hormones. All using money I had saved for his first car. There were no questions asked and no counselling offered. Had they asked him for examples from his past of wanting to be a girl, he would have been honest and said he didn’t have any. Had they questioned him, they may have found that his motivation is mostly not wanting to get a job. His thinking is that women don't have to work, they can just stay at home doing nothing (like me apparently!).
So awful when I read this all I see are mental health issues. Trans is not the thing. The people who enabled his transition should lose their professional licenses.
A few things come to mind:
First, you have my deepest sympathy and highest respect
Second, you didn't " throw him out ".
His " life choice" caused you so much angst and torment that a point came when cohabitation was no longer an option, though none of your fault. He technically chose by default to exit mom's welcoming house when his" choice" unacceptably wounded his mother. In your son's defense, his autism makes him a perfect candidate for believing the dangerous lies of the trans cult. This being said, not everyone on the spectrum goes trans. Most are prompted by the trans ideology but many don't fall for it. And though I put the blame for all your pain squarely on the trans extremists and advocates, there is still a level of personal responsibility that cannot be dismissed. Your son is very correct when he calls his life decision a choice.
Third, I got exhausted just by reading all you have done to give your son a chance at a successful, happy and meaningful, and this, without any support system. You have not left one stone unturned to find creative ways to help him, regardless of the cost. You have paid your dues to motherhood above and beyond what was expected of you. With the powers that have never been conferred to me and a complete lack of authority, if only my life experience and my brokenness as a detransitioner, I declare you free of any false sense of shame, fault or obligation.
You have done it all. You are now officially done.
Your son s life is in his hands. And yes I understand, his choices suck after all you have done but it's on him. You did all you humanly could. If I may, I would slightly modify your title from " it finally broke me" to " it finally freed me". You have sacrificed every thing for your kid: your family, your friends, your career, your health, your sleep...You are now free. Enjoy every aspect of it. You deserve it. You can sleep well with the satisfaction that you raised your insanely difficult son well and you made it alive. You have in you to go forward. You are anything but broken. You are one solid, courageous, head strong mama who has kept her sanity and her sense of human dignity in the midst of utter craziness. You can be proud of yourself. I'm of you.