I’m weary of my flailing child. I feel disheartened to the core. I know she’ll shoot her foot again— those self-inflicted chosen wounds. I’m not sure if I want control, I know I sure don’t have it. I love and long to keep her close, and shelter her with wise advice. I’m so perplexed when she insists on authoring her own mistakes. The year is new, and I must be remade to show what’s possible. I must get my act composed, give up on pulling puppet strings. I’ll cast a vision and let go, imagining on her behalf the butterfly she can become.
I’m teary-eyed because I am living this; my used-to-be sweet and happy child, now an adult who’s totally entrenched in this gender cult💔😢 and I love her to death.
Hi Cookie. I wrote this poem and my faith sustains me too. I’m blessed to have a husband of 30 years who also refused to throw his faith out the window when the caca hit the fan.
Yes, my husband is my shock absorber. We are in this together although we tread so very lightly with our trans-identified daughter. We just love on her, consistently hoping and praying for desistance🙏
I miss mine too.. In many ways I am lucky because I do have relationship with my new “son” and I’m so grateful for that, but I’ve never “buried” my beautiful one and only daughter, and I cry nearly every day… Over time, since I’ve realized I can’t change or control her / “his” life or decisions, my pledge to myself is to keep LOVE foremost and center. That’s the only thing I can control.
Congratulations! Very good poems.
Thank you.
"I must get my act composed,
give up on pulling puppet strings." That's where I am trying to get to. I pray she finds her way through and out, as I have no infuence to guide her.
I’m teary-eyed because I am living this; my used-to-be sweet and happy child, now an adult who’s totally entrenched in this gender cult💔😢 and I love her to death.
I feel helpless; my faith sustains me.
Hi Cookie. I wrote this poem and my faith sustains me too. I’m blessed to have a husband of 30 years who also refused to throw his faith out the window when the caca hit the fan.
Yes, my husband is my shock absorber. We are in this together although we tread so very lightly with our trans-identified daughter. We just love on her, consistently hoping and praying for desistance🙏
Very moving poem.
You have captured the phrases/words that seem to be coming from my shattered heart.
I miss my little butterfly.
I miss my beautiful girl.
I miss mine too.. In many ways I am lucky because I do have relationship with my new “son” and I’m so grateful for that, but I’ve never “buried” my beautiful one and only daughter, and I cry nearly every day… Over time, since I’ve realized I can’t change or control her / “his” life or decisions, my pledge to myself is to keep LOVE foremost and center. That’s the only thing I can control.
Same here
I'm crying :(