Traumatized

Traumatized

The Oxford Dictionary defines trauma as:

trau·ma

/ˈtrômə/

noun

noun: trauma; plural noun: traumata; plural noun: traumas

1. 1. a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

"a personal trauma like the death of a child"

o  emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may be associated with physical shock and sometimes leads to long-term neurosis.

"the event is relived with all the accompanying trauma" (Oxford Dictionary)

When my son was 28 years old, he came out as transgender. He read from a script no doubt provided to him by those who had been validating him for six years. He was already on hormones and disclosed his plans for all the surgeries available to MtFs.

I told him, just a year ago when he was 30, that I am traumatized by the things he wants to do to his body. He didn’t understand; how could he? He has been in the throes of an empty promise of happiness, falsely believing that he will be a happier, better person once his body is savagely, irreversibly altered.

I began to think about trauma. The definition above fits. Well, mostly.

Most people who have experienced some form of trauma seek therapy when the shock manifests in physical and emotional ways. They often seek therapy for their PTSD and find their way back to handling the after-effects in their daily lives.

I don’t have PTSD. There is no “post-trauma” here. It is an ongoing, relentless barrage of trauma which only gets relieved at night when I can sleep. And sometimes, not even then.

But I awaken every morning, to face another day of trauma. Another day of knowing my son is another day closer to the barbarism of surgery which will forever change his already-drug-addicted, altered body. Another day closer to a lifetime of maintenance, possible risks, side-effects, and (more than likely) no happier than before going under the surgeon’s knife. And the added terror of what can happen afterward. After he realizes the processes have not brought him the anticipated peace of mind. The statistics are overwhelming.

I awaken every morning flooded by emotions of dread and sadness, knowing my son has plans that I believe he has not researched from “the other side.” Stubborn from Day 1, he holds onto his own ideas without the flexibility of addressing the “what-ifs” of his planned actions.

I awaken every morning, just wanting to close my eyes and find sleep again. But, as the night before, sleep does not come easily. I lie awake with every tumultuous thought in my head drowning out any semblance or hope of peacefulness.

I awaken every morning utterly consumed by my son’s life and the path he is on.

I spend my days seeking even more information, testimonials, research, and support than I had the day before... and the day before that one. I cry daily; tears threaten constantly.

My son has already wiped out any chance of a normal life. After four years on wrong-sex hormones, his fertility is gone, his body is changed, and the risks of all the side-effects and diseases to which he is genetically predisposed are higher than had he not gone down this road.

The therapy I sought (and ended) did not alleviate my trauma; the therapist consistently pushed me to use the wrong pronouns and the wrong name for my child. If I was to be whole, I needed someone to help me through the trauma.

But there is no way through. I do not have the luxury of seeking treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder.

No, this trauma will never end. The excruciating pain of helplessly watching my son harm himself, with no awareness or concern for what he is doing in the long run, will be a constant companion.

Perhaps I should seek therapists who specialize in (P)TSD. Does such a thing exist?