Maybe I’m Suffering Too
Today, I'm going to talk about ME and NOT my gender dysphoric child.
By nature, I'm not a very selfish person. I hate even saying that, as it takes away some sense of humility.
But today, I HAVE to be selfish. I HAVE to talk about ME! For the sake of survival and for YOUR sakes, because we need to be heard. Because we too are suffering terribly, not just our dysphoric children. By we, I mean mums and dads and everyone else who is watching this disaster unfold to those we love so dearly. By we, I mean us who are being silenced and crushed to death by this giant bully which is the transgender religion.
So this is ME…
I am currently in a state of crisis. I think about suicide some times, about a rope taking me away from all this unbearable and piercing pain. Even about doing it spitefully, just to cut off my nose to spite the trans ideology. To show them that we too could be statistics and that we too are suffering. Where is our affirming care, that acknowledges the damage this is doing to us? We too are vulnerable after all! Parenting is also a spectrum. Some days we are strong and have wisdom to do well, but there are days where our fragile selves crumble under this immense pressure and we fail to summon up any courage. Days when we are weak and do the wrong thing or lack any parental control and feel frozen in helplessness.
I am alone in this battle. I can't share with friends or family out of shame and fear and, for those in my immediate circle, the immensity of this wrong is not appreciated. I am a mother, being pushed to the limits of her sanity and overwhelmed with such heavy sorrow. Every way I look is darkly clouded and the light of hope growing so dim, that I feel trapped in a parallel universe cut off from reality. I am made to feel like I need to be locked up in a white room, that it is me who is mad. That somehow I have just lost my senses and that the whole world is fine! That I'm just not accepting of everyone's subjective reality, because I am hateful lunatic. Facts seem to fly in the face of everyone around me, the Truth is now nothing but an old construct fading away into distant memory, created only to oppress and destroy. And for me to hold onto this, is apparently a telling of my oppressive and unprogressive true nature.
Well they are right... I am going crazy! Living amidst this dissonance is splitting. I am not looking at this dialectic from afar, void of personal involvement. I, like a tree struck with lightning, am caught right in the middle of it and it has split my heart in two. My mind can barely fathom the trauma this is and I am left shocked and bizarrely near catatonic.
My days and months slip by, ticking them off like potato peels sliced off and thrown into the bin. It's been almost a year in this nightmare and where has my life gone? What has happened to all these days? I know I've spent many of them in tears, sobbing uncontrollably from the depth of my soul. I've spent others painstakingly going through statistics, facts, history of John Money, Socialism, dialectics, Hegel, Politics, effects of hormones, doctors lists that aren't affirming (there aren't many, trust me) and mostly, I've been praying to God to give me strength… asking Him to help my child and begging Him to stop this nonsense and to utterly destroy this evil cult that spreads like a rotting mold. I've also, not to tell a lie, been trying to bargain with God to to do whatever It takes to save my child from this THING!
I've not much left to give to my other children at the moment. Every day, when I go to work or have to go shopping, I just put on my fake face and trudge through the hours like an empty shell. I aimlessly meander through life with not much in my head, very disconnected from planet earth in a dreamlike state, to be found in the murky waters of my current traumatized mind. Can I ever come back from this? Where will this end? How far will my child take this? How much can I endure? When is enough, enough? I’ve never felt so much hate towards a group of people as I do right now for those who are allowing this! Please God, help me forgive them, because this murder in my heart for them is great!
Another thing about Me right now—when I am home, I am in CONSTANT damage control mode and it is exhausting... checking for any new signs all the time, asking questions constantly, sneaking peeks at laptops and chat sites, plotting to thwart and avoid any bad influences, coming up with schemes to study at appropriate places to distract, throwing facts and truth to attempt to interject the lies, shouting defensively when being called hateful and arrogant, breaking down when being told I am no longer anything but parent by birth, watching with love as I see my child slip away and then soaking up moments when we finally connect and have a laugh or a brief moment of genuine love. All of this runs off pure adrenalin and it is wearisome and taking its toll. I am becoming forgetful and simple, withdrawn and empty. My heart feels encaged in a slow inflating compression balloon and the squeezing is suffocating. Most days, I have this nervous feeling in my stomach, like something is in there, in the pit of my belly, writhing and twisting any hope I have into a dubious ball of grave despair… it grows and climbs up my stomach wall and into my mouth, making me want to throw up.
This is when I am left in complete hopelessness. This is when I go inward and to a dark place. This is when I wish myself away and imagine death as a pleasant reward of this bleak world. This is when I wonder if it is at all possible in today's age, with all it’s cctv footage and social media devices, to truly disappear from my life. Maybe I could go live on a remote island in a tent and pretend this life I have now never even existed. Perhaps just slip away, like you do when you fall asleep!?
This is when I have nowhere else to go but inward and upward, as I have to find strength from somewhere to keep going. I have to be strong for my other two kids. I have to be there for my suffering child to help her through this, to lead her out of this, to be here when it's all over. And so this is when I look up, to the Only One who is good. The Only Truth I have known of late that hasn't been dispelled. And the Only One who loves more than we do and has given us a way back to peace and joy. I look to the One who was pierced and say "Your Will not mine!" and I surrender my child to Him and say "This too is YOUR child, do what You will and give me the wisdom and strength to endure this trial". This is when I open the Psalms and see the trials David went though, during his most difficult days and yet turned to Him and was filled with Hope once more and it fills me too with hope. This is when God Himself picks me up from the floor and says “Stand Up! You are Not alone! I Am here with you!” And this is when the moments of hope begin and God, I believe You are True. I believe You hate this evil more than we do. I believe this serves a purpose to bring about Your justice! May your Will be done and may Your justice be swift. And may You protect Your children and bring them back to the Truth!
So, in one of my rare and hopeful moments, I say this...
The Truth WILL come out in the end.
The only thing a stranger like me can say to a person like you, and it's not enough, is that *you are not crazy*. It is not you. You are sane. You are being driven crazy by *actually crazy people*. It's the term everyone hates now for being "overused," but you are being gaslit from every direction.
It's not you. You're sane. It's them.
I'm the mom of a fabulous son -- brilliant, sensitive, inquisitive, charming, respectful, talented--whom I have lost to the Trans cult. I have lived where you are for over 19 years. All the dreams shattered. All the love returned with scathing hatred. Family disemboweled, shell-shocked. Marriage strained. Husband and younger siblings wounded and deprived, not only of my son's presence and love, but mine as well because I have been utterly lost in such a deep dark pit that I had nothing to give but surging tidal waves of grief. After the first 5-6 years of utter despair and frantic, piercing horror, I finally found some sanity return through spiritual counsel, aided in part by the fact that my son left home. After another 10 years of trying to keep some form of contact, some pitiful relationship, some tiny crack open for him to return, he declared with utter finality that we were to be permanently cut off. I have not heard from him in over 3 years.
Where am I in this journey through Hell? My days, although often richly blessed and sprinkled with the love and joy brought by my husband, children, grandchildren and friends, seem to have a perpetual undercurrent of darkness which I cannot quite bury. It is a grief without closure. In my life, I have lost parents, family and friends, I have had four miscarriages. All of these events, although deeply painful, were NOTHING compared to the daily, searing grief of living in TransWorld.
I have never shared any of this so publicly. Some of my extended family learned through an unrelated internet search (discovering my son's legal name change). A few very close friends know. I cannot bring myself to open this gaping, cavernous wound up to the world's view. But every day, it seems, I come closer to that possibility. Perhaps that is where I must go? Perhaps that is how the nightmare begins to end? How to find the strength? I only know the feeling of daily crucifixion. I am not a bigot. I am not hateful. I weep over the mutilated hearts and souls and bodies that this world somehow deems acceptable. How is it charity to condemn another person to a life of misery and loss and pain? But the world cannot hear that Truth, not yet, though it seems the light may be starting to break through tiny cracks in their armor.
What can I say to you, my suffering sister, which may give some hope?? I believe that the all-loving, all-knowing God sees and loves us far more than we can comprehend. I believe that He has made me the mother of this child because I am EXACTLY what my son needs: a mother who will NEVER stop praying for him, who will NEVER give up and allow the evil one to win. NEVER!!! Satan has trapped my son, but I will NEVER give him my life too. I believe with all my heart and soul that somewhere, deep inside of my son, there is still a tiny light flickering and that, someday, God will blast open all the shuttered windows of his soul and pour in healing, ignite a fire that will brighten the world, cast out the fear, and bring light to others. Will I live to see it? Maybe not. I do not look daily for his return to me any more. Occasionally, I dream that he walks into the room and hugs me and all is forgiven. It is a bittersweet dream. For now, I get up each day, keep breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, and looking for a way to find some joy in the life I have left.
DO NOT QUIT! Sounds trite, perhaps, but it is true: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." This may be a long, long and very dark night, but the good God is all-faithful and will, somehow, turn this all to good. THANK YOU for writing, for putting into words what I know and feel, but couldn't write. We must be brave and share so that others may learn. I have learned so much from others in this journey though PITT. You are not alone. We are many more than legion!! May God use this army to defeat this evil cult once and for all.