Prayer
Please help me, God.
I am unhappy, it is the default state.
It is done.
This isn’t poetry, despite the layout.
If you let her be OK, you can keep ruining my life, I don’t care.
I’m begging you.
My one miserable life, what does not matter?
But she is young! Let her be happy!
I can live vicariously through my children’s happy lives.
Their happiness will rub off on me.
This is a prayer.
You’re supposed to be polite in a prayer—
I did say please, in a begging sort of way.
It’s what I want, God!
Ditch the fucking gender ideology!
This is a demand.
No—I can be polite again.
I can be self-abasing.
Whatever it takes.
If you do this for me, I promise to be your loyal servant.
I will quit complaining about my lot.
Just please, OK?
What did Job do when you heaped all those tribulations on him?
Did he keep the faith?
I can’t remember the story.
Dear God, I need your help, can’t you see that?
Why am I writing to a malign deity?
Because I believe—I know—you can be Good.
Good—but capricious.
Don’t you see that my kid is Good too?
I will unsay all my insults.
I’m sorry!
And I’m a good mother, in intention.
I will do anything to protect her.
I should be grateful today—
And I’m trying to be.
But the little things like cushions or friends or food on the table…
They’re not enough!
I am greedy, God, I want more.
I am bargaining with you—in exchange for everything I have,
All I’m asking is this:
Let her be happy!
My violence is contained,
Despite this outburst.
Maybe I should never have been a mother.
What can I say?
I fucked up.
But I LOVE her.
Help me, God.
Please.
I can’t comment from the point of view of a religious person, but others will provide that perspective. However, I can say with a high degree of confidence, even though I have no idea who you are, that you didn’t fuck up. The tidal wave of evil that swept up your daughter was coming for her as a function of time, place, and powerful political forces outside your control. What sane person could have predicted this?
The sanctity of family and the parent-child bond have been subverted by monsters. Unfortunately, they are human monsters. People can be convinced of just about anything.
But tomorrow never knows, where there’s life there’s hope, you’re not alone, and the only thing we can depend upon is change itself. Yes, these are platitudes. But even so: May your love for your child carry you forward. This is my prayer for all the parents.
I'm a prayerful man, and I've realized from this that I'm not in control. If the worst happens to my daughter, I'll have to trust, however hard it is, that good will result from it. It's a hard pill to swallow, but I may have no choice. Today's detransitioners are tomorrow's heroes.