A Hamster in a Cage

Before our family, or I, became aware that Chris was transgender, there were a few years before that that there was another issue I had to deal with.  When Chloe was a senior in high school she came to me one day and we talked on the patio off of my bedroom.  It was on that day that she professed to me that she was gay and dating a girl.  About a year later, Courtney came out as gay and professed to me she was dating a girl.

I can remember when my sister had her first son and he was a toddler.  We were talking with our mother about what we would do if any of our children were ever gay.  Both my sister and I adamantly stated that we would love our children anyway.  My sister's children are not gay.  So far, my brother's children are not gay.  I have twins who are both gay.

I went through some emotional times after finding out both of my twins were gay, but it was never a very difficult adjustment for me, for some reason - I adjusted pretty quickly and pretty easily.  Maybe it's because they went off to college and really all that consumed me was how much I missed them. It's not because I was completely okay with it, because, honestly, I'm still not completely okay with it. It's not what I wanted for my girls.  It's not what I wanted for me as their mother.  I never got to experience them dating boys or dressing and being girly.  I never got to experience how it would be for them to learn what it feels like to be with a man - love a man and have him love her.  It's not how I believe things should be.  I realize it is how things are, for whatever reasons, but I have my own beliefs of how I think things should be.  I believe in God and I believe God made and intended females to be with males.  I believe that love is love, but I also believe that desire for companionship and sex can encourage and be the catalyst that draws people to the same sex - just as it can and does for people to the opposite sex.  I believe that very often that being gay is not biologically driven, but a choice.  These are my beliefs.

Given all that - I put aside my beliefs and griefs and accepted that my twins were both gay, and I openly and willingly accepted and love their partners.  I did this because I love my children and did not want to lose them.  I did this because they were older and I would never sway them and they were free to make the choices in their own lives. In this situation, it was pretty simple - my choice was to accept it or lose them.  I chose to keep them.

And then ... several years later ... Chloe professes that she has and does identify as a male and not a female and is transgender. People might wonder why it is so difficult to just accept and move on, like I did with the girls being gay.  Maybe it is difficult because of that.  Maybe you put aside yourself and your beliefs, sometimes, for others, to the point that you don't know where to draw from inside yourself to give more.  Is your love for your child endless?  Yes, but so are your fears for them.  At what point are your fears more powerful and your will to survive, emotionally, more powerful than your love for anybody - even your child?  I don't know.  What I do know is that I am like a hamster in a wheel inside of a cage that is running so fast - trying to save myself as quickly as I can so that I can devote all my energy toward helping Chris.

When I was going through those years of the girls being gay I often told myself, "If this is the worst thing that ever happens - if this is as hard as it ever gets, then you and your children are lucky.  It could be far harder and far worse."  It was those thoughts that got me over the hurdles of them being gay.  In addition to how happy they were and how much I loved and still love their partners.

I have even said this to other mothers who have found out their children are gay -- it is not the worst thing.  Drugs are very difficult.  Alcoholism is torture.  Losing a child, due to alienation or death, is devastating.  I have continued to remind myself of these things when I struggle with Chris being transgender.  It could be harder than this.

You do not know how strong you are until God gives you a thing stronger than you are.  People always tell you that God will not give you more than you can handle.  I believe that.  Even though the twins being gay and Chris being transgender is difficult (as well as many other things in my life), I have and continue to learn so many things - even, or especially, about myself.  This is not just Chris' journey, this is my journey, too.

Someone said to me recently, "Do you really think all this drama is helping Chris at this time when, in truth, you should be 100% supportive and happy?"  This statement came at the end of a very long comment this person left for me on a post I posted on fB back in May 2015 (which I will address in its entirety in another blog post).  What would have been far more helpful than this judgement would have been if this individual had said, "Here - let me give you all the answers to your worries and concerns and fears - let me get inside your head and your life with this child that you have raised and loved and experienced for the past 23 years and sift through it all to the point that I know everything and I can now offer you a way to rid yourself of the anxiety and trauma and sadness so you can wake up tomorrow and be 100% supportive and happy."  That would be helpful.  Give me the answers.

The gay thing wasn't easy, but I got through it.  This is harder.  Will I get through it?  Yes, I will get through it - I'm already getting through it.  Will it be quick and easy and soon and to the point that I am 100% supportive and happy?  I don't know.  Well, I do know it won't be quick or easy, as I am nearly 9 months into this journey and still struggling, but I am not where I was 6 or 7 months ago when I cried nearly every day.  I cried because I felt and feel loss.  My twins have given and brought so much joy to my life, but, in some ways they have taken things away from me - as do all of our children, I think.  I am forever balancing the positive and amazing things they have brought to my life with the few sad things and I always feel far more grateful for the good than I feel discouraged or hurt by the sad.

Yes, Chris' life and happiness are important, but somewhere in all this dynamics and twisted road is a tired hamster on a wheel inside a cage running as fast as she can ...

This Child of Mine

It was way earlier this year - after I had been told by Chloe that she intended to begin testosterone in January - after she had begun to go by the name Chris.  I said to him, "I am so angry you will never become the amazing woman I know you could be.  I am so angry you aren't giving her a chance."

I continue to be sad about that, but recently I watched an episode of The Kardashians and heard Bruce (Caitlin) Jenner say that he had spent his whole life hiding the girl inside of him away and that it was time to let her live.  It was at this moment, nearly 8 months into this journey for me, that I could actually see the lives of two individuals inside the body of my own child - whether I actually wanted to or not.  It was at this moment that I began to soften and believe I wasn't just losing something, but possibly gaining something, as well.

Chris recently taped a very intimate video of himself reading a letter to his younger self that he posted on social media .  In the video he recites that he spent a lot of years protecting and trying very hard to be a girl, but came to realize that it was the girl who was protecting him.  Chris' life has been a struggle on levels I am not even aware, as he and I never really spoke about his dysphoria until this year.  A friend of mine messaged me recently and said, "People don't just wake up one day and decide to change their gender," implying that the battle is very real and a long and difficult one. There are some traumatic events that happened in Chris' life that I question.  I wonder how much they truly affected how he gauged his worth - how he viewed relationships - how he came to believe or know that changing his gender - being a man and not a woman - would improve his life.  This is not an individual that showed signs from early on that he was unhappy being a girl - while he was always a tom-boy (but so was I, and look at me now) and intensely involved with athletics and such.  Not to mention that Chris and Courtney are mono-amniotic twins (the rarest type of identical twins) - alike in every other genetic way possible, and yet Courtney is not transgender.  So when and where and how and why are the questions I constantly ask myself.  Which always leads me to the ultimate question of, is this a choice where Chris is concerned?  Which, as the mother to this child, leads me to worry if it is the right or the wrong choice.

All I believe at this point is that it is a choice - a choice of survival, if nothing else.  Chris has been unhappy with the image he sees in the mirror to the point that he will one day remove his breasts in addition to taking the testosterone.  He already wears binders around his breasts and other devices to help him look and feel male.  These are changes and choices I can't even truly comprehend, but I am trying my best to deal with every day.

Chris will never be the amazing woman I imagined he could be and that saddens me, but the amount of strength and courage it is taking him to make this change will inevitably make him an equally amazing man.  This is one thing I know for sure of this child of mine.

The Second Gift

When a child is born, the very first gift you give them is life.  The second, is their name.

In December of this past year, my daughter, Chloe, wrote me a letter, wherein she professed many things - being transgender, needing to change things for her survival, her love and respect for me and her father, intentions of beginning testosterone in January, requesting that her dad and I call her by her new male name, Chris, and requesting that we begin using male pronouns when addressing him or discussing him.

I can't rationally list all the difficult things I have encountered personally with regard to Chris' dysphoria and journey of transformation, but at the very top of this on-going list is having to call my child by a name I did not give her, and referring to her as a boy.  Everything inside of me has fought this part of the transition.  As difficult as it is and has been to visually accept changes in Chris' appearance, even more difficult for me is to speak it.  Maybe my mind believes if I do not say the name then it will not change.  I don't want it to change.  I correlate leaving the name behind with leaving the child behind, and that is not really what is happening, as the inside of my child remains the same, but I have not been able to convince myself to let go of that little girl, or figured out a way to keep her with me while I attempt to accept and support a boy taking her place.

Because Chris has lived in New York since last July, I am not around him that often, except when he visits here or I go there.  For a long time, in our house, where it is my husband and two other children at home living with us, we continued to refer to Chris as Chloe between ourselves and unbeknownst to Chris - as it was easier and a habit none of us seemed compelled to break in our private home.  It wasn't until recently, when my other daughter, Courtney (Chris' twin) told me how important it was to Chris that we begin calling him by that name that I began to try.  She urged me to just try and use the name because the more you do, the easier it becomes.  And so I did.  And I would correct (and still correct) others when they say Chloe.  It is becoming easier, but I still never refer to Chris as my son.

In my heart, or maybe it's in my head, I don't know, but I fear and believe Chris will always be Chloe to me because I'm not willing to ever let her go, even though the compassionate part of me wants and needs for Chris to live ...

From Song Lyrics to Real Life

I am a child of the 60s and 70s.  In so many ways that is a very good thing, as we were the generation that came from a generation that exhibited beliefs and ideals that we, their children, felt compelled to change.  In addition to thousands of agendas and philosophies we focused on to improve, there was our PEACE movement that forever changed how people would be allowed to view the world.   We turned tides on so many things - on music, on women's rights, on technology, on religion, on human rights, on animal rights ... on tolerance.

I wore bell-bottoms, hip-huggers, peasant shirts and peace signs, just as many of my companions did in my youth.  I was an Army BRAT, and therefore grew up in a constant diverse world.  I can remember almost the exact moment that I became aware of the pride I felt in myself for embracing interracial relationships.  Not that I was ever opposed to them, but, as with any controversial subject, one finds that they will choose a side and I can remember choosing tolerance, choosing peace.

It was, and remains, a movement - tolerance.  My parent's generation moved toward tolerance at a certain pace and then my generation took that momentum and wove it into a race.  Our music spoke of freedom and love.  Our clothes were psychedelic, like the thoughts inside our minds.  We indulged in drugs, not as an escape, but as an expression of expression.  We were a generation unitedly determined to change the way things were to something far different.  And we did.

And then we, the hippie generation, had children.

Our children have taken our commitment to tolerance and change and run with it, just as we did from our parents - weaving it into an even larger, more diverse and complex creature.  They are even more accepting and rejecting of things than we were.  They are even more determined to blend lines between people and about ideas that could just as easily be rejected, if there were enough of a population to counter their agendas.  But there isn't, as they are our children and we have taught them to make changes for the better and taught them to decide the course of their futures and support them in their freedoms - because this was so much a part of my generation's agenda, after all.  And so, in all reality it is the combination of two full generations, and many people, that nurture the ideals and progress of our children.  Reluctantly, sometimes, and even, sometimes, teetering between support and resistance.

Our children are entering adulthood now and one of the movements they are embracing and accepting as adults who are molding our society and their own lives, more easily than my generation did, is the plight of transgender individuals.  It really does not matter the influence each individual might have from their parents, with regard to this subject; our children seem to have unitedly (for the most part) decided that any negative or fear-filled or religion-based ideas that perpetuate hate or chains or restraints on trans individuals is wrong, and so they accept and support this freedom.  Of course, this is not true of all people of my children's generation, but there are large and growing communities.  If a thing becomes intolerable, such as animal testing or child labor, and there are enough people to force change, the thing will become changed in a matter of time.  This seems to me to be what is happening on the subject and reality of transgender individuals.  We, as a society, and parents, are being forced by our more tolerant children to see things differently than we might have, had we not taught them to plunge forward and forge new paths into all of our futures.

Is it the right path?  Absolutely.  As you can not demand fairness, freedom, respect, understanding and equality for one group of individuals without granting the same for all.  Is it easy to erase certain lines?  Not always. I have been, and remain, resistant to accept that my girl child is transgender.  It would be easier for me - far easier - if it was your child, but when you are thrown into such a situation that you really have no way of preparing yourself for, you find that it is sometimes way easier to say a thing than actually live it.  I have found that when it comes to an extremely difficult situation, such as this, that I am at least thankful for the foundation I have built my life on - a foundation where the strongest and most important strengths were beliefs that peace and love could conquer all and God would never abandon me.  But ... I know very well that I also carry with me ideals and beliefs I cherish and took as my own from the lessons my parents taught me.

I have a tattoo on my wrist that says, Let it Be.  In a section of the lyrics of this beloved Beatles song it says, "

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted, there is
Still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.

There are a lot of broken hearted people living in our world - among them are many transgender children trying to make their way.  I am trying my very best to mend my broken heart in order to help mend and strengthen Chris'.  It takes enormous strength for Chris to walk this path.  It also takes enormous strength for me to walk this path.  And, like with anything you have not lived, unless you are walking this path, you have no idea how difficult it can be. I am lucky that I am of a generation that focused so much on love and peace, as it is who I am and it is what leads me - in addition to support and assistance from my family and friends. I am trying very hard to Let it Be - this thing that battles with me.  Chris is lucky my friends and my generation have raised so many amazing children that are holding his hand and helping guide him through all of this when I fail to do so ...

#LetItBe 

All the Bears

Do you know when you're hiking in the woods and you come upon a bear and so you start running, even though you know you shouldn't, but your instincts tell you to run, so you run and then the bear starts chasing you, but thankfully you quickly find a tree and climb it to get away from the bear? While you're perched high in the branches of that cedar tree, you look down at the bear and think to yourself that if you survive this it will be a hell of a story to tell one day.

That pretty much describes how it has felt for me since I was told by my daughter that she would be changing her gender to a boy. Mostly, I have been trapped in a tree, gathering courage to come down and face my fears.  Sometimes the bear wanders away for a day or two and I come down from the tree, all fierce and brave.  But then that bear quietly creeps back, or another bear moves in and ... sends me climbing that tree once again.

People are quick to tell me that I need to be supportive, for my child's sake, and I agree, of course, but if your constant and very real fear of the bear renders you helpless or immobile for a while, you might find that all you have in way of support is retreat and silence.  You wish you could speak, but you know your silence is safer, for some of your words would hurt - all of the words hurt, sometimes - not from hate, but from fear and anger.  And from truth.

It's always easy to watch a bear chasing someone else in the woods, sitting on the side of the path - thankful that bear is not chasing you and sure you know exactly what you'd do if it was.  But no one truly knows what they would do.

One of the good things that comes from sitting in silence up a tree is ... it gives you the opportunity to consider your options and also allows you to hear what others are saying.  I am constantly surprised and amazed and thankful (for Chris) by the support Chris has received from his identical twin sister, Courtney.  Courtney's support and constant alliance with Chris has forced me to see things far differently than I might have seen them if she wasn't so much in the picture; twins.  And then ... there are those moments when Courtney is the bear chasing me.  My worries for her in all of this - because as difficult as all of this is and has been for me, the mother, the inner struggles have to be very real and maybe even far more profound (as Courtney lives with Chris and has experienced all the struggles and changes of her twin) for her as Chris' twin and best friend, but you wouldn't know it by how strong and supportive Courtney remains when it comes to Chris' transition.  I'd like to say I have gained strength through Courtney's strength, but the truth is it confuses me.  Not because it isn't true and admirable and completely driven by love - I see and understand all of that.  I am confused by how Courtney seemed to so easily lay her own life down for her twin and why I continue to have parts of me that resist that same sacrifice for my child.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be as strong as all the bears ... stronger than all of my worries ... strong enough to lay all of me down ...

I Never Saw a Wild Thing ...

When talking about my transgender son, Chris, to friends or family, or talking about transgender or lesbian or gay topics to others (with regard to my children, as my daughter Courtney, Chris's identical twin sister, is a lesbian), I often see pity in people's eyes or hear it in their comments or questions when they talk to me. For a long while I indulged in their pity, as, honestly, I have spent a lot time feeling very sorry for myself and I sort of found myself using their pity to affirm the blackness and bleakness I was dwelling in.  I don't so much indulge in pity anymore, as I have chosen to make choices that are helping me to move away from that dark place that was drowning me, skewing my priorities and tainting my vision.

It's a choice - the moving on.  A conscious, on-going effort.  Eight months of living with the knowledge that my 23 year old daughter was going to, and now is, transitioning from a girl to a boy, I am still dealing with a certain amount of sadness and fear, but I have chosen to no longer allow myself to believe that Chris's situation was something that was done to me.  In the midst of many dark moments I have looked to this D.H. Lawrence poem to remind me that I need to be stronger. That I need to find a way to move forward.

Sometimes, especially when I drink too much wine and all of my defenses are down and my mind is foggy and my heart is vulnerable, a cry will come out of me from the mourning place in my soul and I just can't help it.  It feels a lot like self-pity, but I have come to realize that what it is is just sadness. There is a difference and I no longer scold myself for these moments when I shatter - I simply cry into my hands and hope one day I will cry all the sadness away.

I don't need pity from family or friends, I just need attempts at understanding, not only of Chris's situation, but of mine and of our family's.  Many supportive friends have commended Chris for being brave enough to change this thing in his life that he can not live with.  One day, when I get beyond myself completely, I believe I will begin to comprehend the number of thoughts it would take and the amount of courage a person would have to possess to change their gender.  

For now, I am still trying to survive the sadness of saying good-bye to my baby girl ...

My Father Called Today

I assumed he had seen my post on Facebook about starting this blog and writing a book about my journey with Chris through his transition.  I assumed that is why he called this morning, my father.  He doesn't call that often, and to be honest, I seldom call him, as he lives in Florida and we don't necessarily have the sort of relationship where we talk often unless something is going on in either of our lives.  Granted, there is always something going on, but still, we seldom talk.  This is unfortunate, really, and something I should have tried to change many years ago, because, like this morning, when I do talk to him, I generally walk away from the conversation a little wiser and a little more relieved, be it of stress in my life, worries about this or that, or just relieved that the bond he and I have continues, regardless of years and years of neglect to keep it strong.

He called because he read an article yesterday about the high rate of suicide in trans individuals.  He didn't tell me that this was why he called until we had talked for nearly an hour - about Chris.  He said to me at some point, "The love of a child is one of the strongest loves on Earth, second, only really, to the love God has for us, which is impossible to even comprehend; it is so vast."  I said, "Yes."  He then asked, "Do you find that this has wavered at all?  Your love for Chris? Through it all?"  My answer came quickly, "Never."

My father called today to ask how Chris is doing, before even asking how I am doing - as it should be (with regard to this subject).  My father (and my mother) have both, surprisingly and gratefully, been very accepting of all that is going on with Chris and his journey.  I say "surprisingly", because my parents are obviously of an older generation that is sometimes very intolerant and resistant to accepting things that are contrary to their staunch (religious or otherwise) beliefs. Older people can be very set in their ways and many to do not feel the need to accept things that make them uncomfortable, nor do they, sometimes, embrace changes they do not comprehend - even if they might alienate loved ones because of their resistance.  My parents have each made the choice to embrace this change going on with Chris, lovingly and with complete acceptance - while they have both admitted that they do not truly comprehend it.  I have to give them a huge amount of credit because I know how difficult that can be.

I believe it was God that put me in my father's mind today - put Chris in my father's mind, as talking to him helped me tremendously.  It helped me realize that I am making the right choices - about so many things - including writing this book.  There are so many sides to this story that is unfolding in our lives and so many choices each of us have to make.  Through the course of the conversation with my very wise father, I admitted that it was on a day about five months ago, when I truly feared for the life of my child, that I began to lay down my life for his.  I am not sure Chris yet realizes this, as I have come to know that he has struggled for years with gender dysphoria and merely been focusing on surviving himself.  But I, too, am trying to survive, and putting aside so many of my wants and needs and wishes and beliefs is a very difficult thing for a mother to do in this situation, but I am, every day, trying to do all of that for him.  While I still have a well of emotions and fears and ongoing moments of resistance, I love this child unconditionally, as my father has loved me.

I will not write in my book about the statistics of suicide rates among individuals battling gender dysphoria or of individuals in the trans community, while that is a very real and frightening subject, but I will write about how that reality tremendously affected choices I have made in this journey. And ... I will write more about my father, as well.

(Note:  This attached picture is a charcoal self-portrait Chris did of himself in high school when he was still Chloe.  I think, now, this portrait is very telling.)

The Journey Begins

I am currently in the process of writing a book about the journey I am on and have been taking for the past couple of years with a daughter who is struggling with her identity.  The title of the book is Faces.  I wish I had had the strength and awareness 8 months ago to begin writing, as that is when this journey truly began for me, but it was not until now that I am emotionally strong enough or entrenched enough in this journey to formulate any sort of coherent thoughts or even considered that any thoughts or feelings I had or am having are relevant enough to write about.  After seeing the struggles I (and my family) have gone through, I have had many people suggest that I write a book about my experiences and struggles, from my point of view, from a mother's point of view.  A book about how it is for me to be living as the mother of a child who has, for many years, looked in the mirror and was not happy with the face she saw in the reflection.

From here on out I will refer to my daughter, Chloe, as Chris, as as of January 2015, he has begun to transition from female to male - taking on the new name of Chris (Christopher Nicholas), requesting that we refer to him as our son and using male pronouns when addressing or referring to him.  He also began taking testosterone.

Chris said to me recently that it seems as though I am on the outside looking through a window - removed.  I agreed.  I have come a long way in accepting this thing that everything inside of me wants me to reject and I have done my best in reaching some place right now where I am accepting of a situation I have no control over - including calling him by a name I did not give him.  I try to be involved even when it makes me sad or uncomfortable, and as much as I wish I could be, for him, I am not joyful or emotionally capable of being intimately involved right now ... and so I stand at the window and watch.  I don't run, however, like I sometimes want to.  Maybe one day I will be joyful, as he seems to be and is searching so bravely for.  I will only know when we reach the end of this journey.  For now, at the beginning, I need people to recognize the courage it is taking me to stand at that window and watch my girl child become a boy.

I do not intend to delve into documenting information about the trans community or about being trans; I wouldn't even know where to start - I will let Chris write that book.  I am writing a book about what it is like to be the mother - to be me.  People have said to me, "This is not about you."  I disagree.  I am the mother and this is my child and this is as much about me as anyone - and about so many other people in Chris's life.  Everyone who knows him, is touched by him, who is going through this transition with him, could have a story to write - especially his twin, Courtney.  I intend to write mine because, truthfully, it is the most difficult thing I have ever experienced and, while it has and does cause me a tremendous amount of sadness and pain, I am beginning to realize that being forced onto this path I did not or would not have chosen for Chris, myself or our family, I am learning a lot about myself and others - and about life. Everyday I wake up I have intentions of moving forward and being optimistic, but there are some days I take many steps backwards.  I am not only curious to see where Chris will end up in all of this (happier I hope), but I am very curious to see where I end up, as my hope is that I will soon be able to tear down the wall I have subconsciously built between us to protect myself.  But I honestly do not know.

Faces.  

Chloe's face.

Chris's face.

My face.