The heart dies a slow death
“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none” by Arthur Golden in Memoirs of a Geisha.
Dear daughter,
I know you are using testosterone gel. I have not told you that I know because ultimately there is nothing I can say that will change your mind. I had thought there would be barriers to accessing this regulated drug. But no, I am hearing the same story from other parents, that their recently turned 18-year daughter has accessed testosterone online, both cheaply and easily.
There is a sense of urgency since I found the testosterone. Each day I must bear witness to the irreversible changes and know that your organs are atrophying, resulting in loss of sexual function, incontinence and new sources of constant irritation and pain for the rest of your life. I hear your deepening voice and see your face and body being virilized, a metamorphosis of our daughter.
Even as you are high on this new drug and looking forward with hope to a new you, I carry your unrealized trauma resulting from this so called ‘transition’. I fear the day you come to understand it will not resolve your psychic pain and realize there is no going back.
You were never masculine and are still not. That was not part of your reason to start these drugs. Truth is, you lost yourself five years ago when the ‘he’ part was created. ‘He’ is a part of your psyche created to protect the traumatized, bullied, lonely young girl from her pain. She is an exile in your psyche and, until you can unburden her of that pain, the ‘he’ will continue to protect you from this pain.
Many encouraged you to identify with ‘him’ - friends, social media influencers, educators, therapists and psychiatrists. They told you that this protector, who is just a part of you, is you. I did not, and will never, lie to you.
I will continue to try to guide you on your journey back to yourself, in the hope that a spark ignites a new insight leading to ‘Self’ discovery. Only from the perspective of your ‘Self’ will you be able to see the ‘he’ is just a ‘part’, a protector who, if asked, will allow you to heal the exiled little girl ‘part’ of you. She who hides deeply buried in your psyche, forever alone and in pain until the day you rescue her.
I am here until the last leaf of hope falls. But hope is fading and I feel my heart dying a slow death each day.
I understand. My son is 28. His high school had cross dress days. He "came out"at Sr Prom and was praised by faculty. He started hormones at 21, had vaginoplasty around 23. I knew of none of these till after the fact. His personality is all over the place, and I fear for him. Since Grad School, he's lived in AZ, now NM. Far away from me. I miss him, I love him but I do not affirm him. And I pray for him.
Yes. My heart, too, is dying a slow death around my now 24 year old son, poisoning himself for the past five years. My heart is numb and in pain and hollow at the same time. My heart is also filled with rage at the indifference, ignorance, opportunism, and sheer cruely of others in my sick culture. But I try to find ways to soften the rage, because this is poisonous to me as are the enacted lies my son inflicts on himself. I write these PITT posts, and yet as I do so, words feel inadequate to express the horror. But I know PITT parents understand, which helps with the terrible loneliness of this absurd and unnatural loss.