Reminders of Abandoned Truth
As I sit in my dimly lit living room, surrounded by memories of a past that seem like a distant dream, I can't help but feel the weight of disappointment and betrayal pressing down on me. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock on the wall—a cruel reminder of the passage of time, of the irreversible changes that have torn my family apart.
My mind drifts back to the day when my child, once my pride and joy, revealed their "true identity" as transgender. The shock and disbelief that washed over me were quickly replaced by anger and resentment. How could he abandon the person he was born to be, the person I raised him to be? The thought of my child rejecting his given name, his heritage, fills me with a sense of profound loss, as if a part of me has been ripped away.
But it's not just the loss of the child I thought I knew that weighs heavily on my heart—it's the knowledge that my child has chosen a path that I cannot condone, a path that goes against everything I believe in. The idea of my child undergoing hormone therapy, of mutilating his body in pursuit of some twisted notion of identity, fills me with disgust and rage.
As I glance around the room, my eyes fall on a photograph of my child as a young boy, laughing and carefree. In that moment, I am overcome by a wave of grief for the son I once had, the son who has been stolen from me by the insidious forces of transgender ideology. I want to reach out and shake some sense into him, to make him see the folly of his ways, but I know it's futile. My child is lost to me, irreversibly changed by the lies and deception of the transgender movement.
And so I sit here in the darkness, grappling with feelings of betrayal and despair, longing for the day when my child will come to his senses and return to the person he was meant to be. But deep down, I know that day may never come, that my child may be lost to me forever, swallowed up by the toxic influence of the transgender agenda. And as the tears roll down my cheeks, I can't help but wonder what kind of world we live in, where parents are forced to watch helplessly as their children are led astray by dangerous ideologies and false promises of freedom and acceptance.
Sadly, we can all identify with these words and heartaches. It's the same sad story, told over and over again... I do believe this is a social contagion, and that although they will be broken to varying (some severe) degrees, our children who were swept up into the madness will eventually be spit out of it, and they will need us to help them put the pieces of themselves back together. This evil ideology is already beginning to crumble. Watch and pray. We must keep our hope alive, or this will kill us.
Yes, I am right there with you, in those dark spaces, in my office I have a few pictures of my daughter and I having great moments, beautiful pictures of her, when I see them I say a prayer to my God for her salvation, I cannot dwell on her that much, it is to depressing, but when I do think of her the waves of crushing pain are unbearable. It's surreal and overwhelming. Then I go back to my tasks and try to my best to be positive and count my blessings in spite of my sufferings.