They are not dead

I want to write about the joy of having two beautiful children, the craziness of suddenly finding myself mother to a girly girl who’d been masquerading as a boy for four years.  

I want to write about all the awesome little things people do to show their support and their love.  

I want to write about how brilliant Freddie is, how caring and intuitive Izzy is…

But my tongue is tied.  The words dry up before they’re fully formed.  Because other words need to come out first, but they’re hurt and angry and frustrated and my own mind’s not willing to give them free reign and no one wants to hear them.  They’re stuck, inside, unheard, festering.  Festering and eating away at me.

I want this unfinished business finished.  But I’m in limbo.  I’m meant to be accepting and forgiving and patient.  I’m told to be humble and understanding, to take the higher path, be the better person, turn the other cheek.  I’m assured things will work out in the end, that “they’ll” come around.  That if they don’t, it’s their loss.

I have to do and be all these things because I choose to support my 4 year old child.  For this “they” have cut us, Izzy, Freddie, Harry and I, from their world.  Some of them have taken this opportunity to pour out all the anger and hate, I never knew they had for me. 

How can it be their loss when their very choices to reject, to hate, to fear Izzy, have a very well documented and undisputed result in transgender youth? That won’t be their loss.  

How can it be their loss when they have the freedom to abuse?  And I am not even permitted to defend myself.

I feel suffocated by all these words.  I need to move on, leave them behind.  But I can’t, can I?   They’ll always be there.  Just not at the same time as us. 

Life doesn’t go on as normal.  I now have to check that “they’re” not visiting before I take the kids to see Nana.  It’s not their loss because they haven’t lost anything, they’ve thrown it away, as if it never held value for them.  

It’s as if we’re dead.

I don’t care so much for myself, they’ve taken off their disguises and shown their true selves.  Who they are when the chips are down. But my kids are four and seven.  They’re full of life and joy and love.  They’re not dead.  THEY ARE NOT DEAD! 

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25 comments

  1. My heart truly goes out to you. As i write this comment i am shedding tears for Izzy and you. You are the kind of mother i wish mine had been. No matter what you are Izzy’s best advocate…………..always, i thank God for you. You define what unconditional love truly means.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I want to commend you for your strength as you know my family and I are going through similar situations with family and last night I had to sit down with my four-year-old son and explain to him why he wasn’t going to be seeing Mimi and Papa every Tuesday like he has in the past. I still hold out hope for your siblings to accept your beautiful family and come round. It is not unheard of for family members to seek forgiveness years after regecting loved ones.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hey sister, I wanted to let you know I’m hurting with you, and that I don’t understand how people can feel the way they do. I don’t understand how someone could choose to hold on to such narrow-minded viewpoints and negative emotions (surely that must feel horrible to live with?) especially towards a child! I keep waiting for things to resolve, I was so sure they would have by now.

    I’m so disappointed. If only they’d take the chance to get to know Izzy. If only they’d realise that’s she’s a little person too, just as deserving of love and acceptance as anyone else. She’s just as much family as anyone else.

    I just want to tell you I love you, I trust you, and I will always be here for you and for my gorgeous niece and nephew if they need me.

    (I haven’t been commenting, because I blog under my own name and I don’t want to accidentally compromise your identity if I ever forget to log out, but I am reading).

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Rejection is a terrible thing. But rejection of a child is abhorrent. Keep on keeping on, with whoever is deserving of being called family in your life. It’s sadly not always the ones we share bloodlines with x

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m grateful that Izzy doesn’t need to deal with this, maybe she never needs to know? We are so fortunate for the amount if support we do have. I have two wonderful sisters, out of my five siblings, who 100% embrace Izzy, and we gave the full support of Izzy’s Nana, Grandma and Grandpa AND Grandad and Grandma so we’re pretty lucky. I need to learn how to let go. I think that will come in time

      Liked by 1 person

  5. It has been extremely difficult for me, as an ‘independent’ adult, to let go of the emotional ties to my single brother and my married brother and his family. I transitioned at the age of 56 in 2008. They live far away, so I never run into them. Which is probably a blessing. They have never responded to any of my letters since my transition. Simply writing this brings tears to my eyes. I have found, though, unexpected love from my ‘chosen’ family that sustains me.

    Anyway, I realize this rejection has got to be much, much harder for a trans child and the family. You are doing a fine job with your children and for that you have my deepest repect.

    Like

    • Maren my heart goes out to you, and big hugs to you.
      I think that Izzy is fortunate in that we can protect her, for now, from the “loss” of these people in her life. She has no idea what’s going on in the background, but for you, and too many others, the pain is very real and I am sorry for this.
      Thank you for supporting us with your kindness, it’s such a pleasure to have “met” you xxx

      Liked by 1 person

  6. I know you’re right Chrissy, I think the space is still available, but maybe closed for renovations! It feels like the only way to get rid of the hurt is to get rid of the thoughts, which means I don’t think about them, at all. Kind of a survival technique I guess.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. It’s sensible enough to protect yourself. I have two brothers that don’t speak to me. I have no anger towards them now. If and when we talk, I’m open to a fresh start. It’s sad not to be in their lives but there is always tomorrow. Also a survival technique x

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re right. The anger has faded, now I just feel disconnected, like I neither feel happy or sad about them. I keep thinking about that popular saying – if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you… I think this is what letting go must feel like?
      My youngest sister is due to give birth to her second child at the end of the month, she only lives 15 minutes away, but she and her partner have made it clear we are out of their lives unless we change our mind about supporting Izzy’s transition. It all just feels so surreal, cause I can imagine being cut off if I had stolen their checkbook and cashed a whole lotta checks, or slept with her husband, or something – but for supporting our own child? Sigh.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I read comments on blogs like yours, like this one here, and I can help but scoff.

        It seems everyone has been “there” we/they all believe we/they know how you feel and what you’re going through…. (No matter what feeling or situation in particular you happen to be writing about)

        I think to myself: why bother commenting, you have enough people already “cheering you on”.

        And yet….

        The ting I find about life is that most often: “you reap what you sew”.

        Your sister is(/was) about to have her second child, I’m not able to have babies but I have imagined what it might be like and in my doing so, I imagine I might feel quite a few emotions, fear being one.

        I imagine I would want people I love and whom I know love me, there for support.

        Her choice (or her partner’s) choice will cost her.

        Further, this new child, is it garanteed to be “perfect” (like her first presumably must be)?

        I wonder where she might turn in 3,4,5,10,15,20 years when this child perhaps may come to her seeking acceptance as the opposite sex or as a homosexual or maybe someone or something else completely?

        Have you considered how you might handle it in future if she turns to you for help some day?

        In the words of the Beatles: “Let it be”.

        Get on with living your life, sleep soundly in the knowledge that her time of learning has yet to come and that when it does, perhaps she might be fortunate (as you have been) to have a sister who could choose to stand by her.

        Liked by 1 person

  8. Being genetically related doesn’t make you family. Love, support, trust, sacrifice, honesty, protection, acceptance, security, compromise, gratitude, respect and loyalty is what makes you family. Big LOVE from me

    Liked by 1 person

  9. As someone who is facing the reality of losing family because of transitioning I feel this, and I’m sorry your family is experiencing that. I don’t know if it will be on any help to you, but I have contented myself with knowing it truely is “their” lost, being around people who can’t accept me makes me water myself down a lot, so those people don’t get ever really know me, and I like to think I’m worth knowing so in that sense it is their lose. But at the same time it is my loss too. I don’t get that relationship I had with then, instead I get hate. Still in the long run I know I’m happier not having to censor myself. All that said, I do think you have to acknowledge the hurt to be able to move past it, whatever that means for you. And it’s ok to be angry, just don’t let it overwhelm you. I hope everything works out for the best in the end! Sending good vibes.

    Liked by 1 person


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