You Have a Choice to Make

I think people react to grief and sadness primarily with tears, anger, action, or avoidance, depending on their personality. I am a crier. I have wept, deeply at times, over the years after my son told me he was no longer my son. I felt in my gut that it was wrong for him and I worried that he had surrounded himself with people who were lying to him, who encouraged the worst for him, and that he believed their lies. The separation from my son was foreign to me as we had always been close. It was severe and total for a time. The imposter moved in, took control, I felt helpless, at times, hopeless.

I let my grief and sadness sometimes overtake me. I couldn't help it, sometimes I didn't want to even try. One time, when my husband out of town for work for several days, I cried so hard, pounding my fists on the ground, heaving and screaming my pleas to God, that I felt like I might hyperventilate and I had to stop myself for fear I might pass out. I know this sounds dramatic and I'm not trying to be. Some of you can relate. Others react in anger or rage, saying things you wish you could take back. Some of us shut down, retreat inside, pretending that proceeding with normal life will nullify the pain and confusion, "If I just ignore it, maybe this nightmare will disappear one morning." Some retreat inside themselves.

Out of Control

Then something changed for me. I had a realization. I was listening to an estrangement coach's podcast and she was talking about a time that she had spun out of control in reaction to her daughter's rebellion and estrangement. I had very valuable one-on-one coaching sessions with this coach several times so I trusted her.  This mother was drinking excessively, going so far as to drive out of town to buy bottles of wine where she wouldn’t run into people she knew. In her desperation and depression, she gained a lot of weight and lost all ability to function normally. She became obsessed with following her daughter on social media. She was upset and distressed all the time. She stopped engaging in life and with friends. She obsessively worried about her daughter all the time, wondering if she was ok, if she was living on the streets, if she was safe or even alive. I had these same thoughts about my son who was estranged from me for over a year at that time. 

We All Have a Choice to Make

Then this mom's daughter was arrested. The police told her daughter she had a choice to make: to clean up her life and get straight, or face the consequences. At that time, her daughter chose not to make any changes. Her dangerous, self-destructive choices and rebellion took 10 years of her life, but she did eventually clean up and come back to her loving family. Then the police officer gave her mom the same advice: "Your daughter has a choice to make. So do you. If you don't take care of yourself, when your daughter comes out of this, she won't have a healthy mom to come home to. She'll go on and live her life and you will be sick, still living in pain, depression, having ruined your life. You have a choice to make too." Her doctor told her the same thing. After an appointment for a medical scare the doctor stated bluntly "If you don't start taking care of your health, your mental, emotional and physical health, you will likely have breast cancer or an autoimmune disease in the next few years. Chronic stress is damaging you."

This story sobered me up right away. It was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. I didn't change my actions right away, but I was more aware of the danger of letting my grief and sadness overtake me. I knew I had to fight for myself. But remember, I'm a crier.

Go Ahead and Cry

Crying is good for you. According to Harvard researchers, "crying releases oxytocin and endogenous opioids, also known as endorphins. These feel-good chemicals help ease both physical and emotional pain."

But staying in a state of heightened stress that doesn't release cortisol has been shown to have negative health effects, putting you at a greater risk of cancer, heart disease, and autoimmune disease. Yale Medicine reports that "Some experts go further to say that stress is a leading risk factor for heart disease—the biggest killer in the United States".

As for cancer, Harvard researchers found that "exposure to ongoing stressors can keep cortisol levels consistently high, which can wear down the body on a cellular level. They added that other studies have suggested this reaction may raise the risk of cancer or cause existing cancer to spread more rapidly."

Your immune system is affected by stress as well. The National Health Institute says that "many retrospective studies found that a high proportion (up to 80%) of patients reported uncommon emotional stress before (autoimmune) disease onset."

My emotional anguish caused such pain in my neck and shoulder that, at one point, I was writhing in pain and had to urgently lay flat on my bed to find relief from my muscles seizing up. My husband felt helpless watching me try to find a comfortable position to relieve the pain. Shooting pain in my neck and shoulder was caused by stress, worry, and anxiety. And grief. I started on anti-anxiety medicine during an emotionally difficult time with my two sons, while the one was trans-identified. My emotional pain was manifesting as physical symptoms. I had a choice to make.

I'm glad I journaled during these past few years. I found something that I wrote during a moment of futility over my lack of influence to change my son's outcome. In a moment of clarity I wrote: Write of forgiveness, moving forward, loving others, getting stronger, finding joy again in the midst of great grief and pain. God is releasing me from my control and paralyzing, grieving fear. I still have some fear, but I now know I am helpless to be responsible for the outcome. That's not mine to decide. Pray for God's protection and truth.

Memento Mori

I also found support here on PITT from another parent: The article, From the Parent of an Adult ROGD Child, was one of the many I've kept and reread that helped me through my grief and despair. One of the points made was:

Memento Mori – Remember that you will die. Try to meditate on it briefly each day. Is obsessing about your child’s spectacularly bad decision how you want to spend your precious time? 

Put another way, are you willing to trade your reasonably good health for their spectacularly bad decision? 

Through this medium of writing we can share our pain, but we can also share our wisdom. Don't let this tragedy that you are living through take your life, your health, your relationship with your husband, or your wife, your other children, or your joy in life. I didn't want to smile or laugh, or dance, or enjoy anything for two years. When I went hiking, I hung back and just cried the whole time. I was punishing myself for not being a good enough mom, for not doing more for my son when he was growing up. I was starting to internalize his anger and accusations of me, this son who was close to me growing up, who I loved deeply and gave myself to. I loved raising my boys. Even as a married adult at age 22, he and I went backpacking together, just the two of us. We were close even just years before all of this.

But this story from the estrangement coach really did instantaneously wake me up. I realized that if I didn't start trying to get a hold of my fear, sadness, and grief there could be long term health consequences in my future.

I had a choice to make. I had to choose me.

I Have to Fight

I choose to be more aware of my emotional state and to focus on my emotional health and to work to moderate my reactions and emotions and not let them overwhelm me. I remember telling my husband through fierce tears that I want to be able to smile and laugh with him, and be affectionate towards him, that I was trying really hard to be "normal". I had to fight to find myself. It was a battle. I often failed and fell into despair, self-pity, and depression. I cried a lot. But I didn't want to let my son's "spectacularly bad decision" cause me to ruin my health, my life. I tried at times to look to the future and think about how he would feel knowing he had caused me such pain and how it had contributed to my ill health, and how I had given up on life, not that I would tell him. I know he loved me, he was just going through his own pain, trying to figure things out for himself. I had to take control of my grief and despair.

Although the realization that something had to change was instant, the work wasn't.

• I had to consciously lower my shoulders and learn to relax tense muscles. I'm still tensing my muscles. I work to relax and lower them every day.

• I had to practice concentrating breathing and letting the stress go with the exhale.

• I let myself dance to loud music when I was home alone, just for a minute at first, feeling no joy initially. I had to push down the thoughts running in the background "how can I be happy when my son is so distressed?" It didn't seem right. I still find this kind of joy imbues guilt. I don't totally understand it. But I know I have to keep trying.

• I had to walk more.

• I had to try to find something, anything else to focus on, to research, to find interest in something that wasn't gender identity. I did a fundraiser to help a homeless organization in my community. I read books about amazing, brave people like Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Yeonmi Park and Megan Phelps-Roper who have overcome horrific challenges. Yet they are grateful, compassionate and brave, not self-centered and victims.

I was now trying to be the mom my son would need me to be when he came back to me.

Be an Example of Resilience

My son has since detransitioned, about a year ago. Our relationship is close again, although changed. Hopefully we can talk after some time about what happened these past few years. I love him. I still worry about him. I always will. He's my son. Now he talks about how he is going to take care of me and his dad when we are old. He is calmer, more caring, and thoughtful again. He still faces many challenges, things aren't perfect. Neither am I.

I want to be Strong Mom. I want my son to know I fought for him. I want him to fight for himself to overcome the challenges he faces, to draw from my strength. I don't feel particularly strong, I think I am still shell-shocked, but I'm working on it. I feel more sober. Sometimes I am tempted to withdraw from everyone and everything. I am still a crier, that's just how I process grief, I know that about myself. I don't particularly like it. But I surprise myself at work when I hear myself speaking with confidence, laughing with coworkers, I recognize that the person I used to be is trying to join life again, but forever changed, hopefully stronger, more resilient, like I want my son to be.

You have a choice to make.