Love is a Battlefield

I was thinking today about two particular friends of mine who found out recently that each has a child who is gay and how they both describe the difficulty their families are going through.  When these individuals told me their stories, I did not offer them my story to maybe, in some way, lighten their load, as I have come to learn that during these sorts of times there is really not much anyone can say to pull you from the fear you are experiencing to the point that you will believe that things will get better or things could be worse, even though both are true.

I say, "things could be worse" because it's sometimes the only way you can optimistically deal with a situation you truly believe is the worst thing that could happen to you.  Very often, parents feel that finding out their child is gay is among one of the worst things they can imagine happening to them.   Pretty often, I can imagine, parents who find out their child is transgender are pretty convinced that things could not be much "worse" (take it from me).  In both cases, there are worse things.  Losing a child to death is worse.  Losing a child through alienation is worse.  Losing a child to a drug addiction is worse.  Having a child experience unrelenting depression is worse.  Having a child who is living with disease is worse.  There are many worse situation I believe we, parents of gay or transgender children, could experience with regard to our children. Sometimes you truly do not become aware of what you believe is a potentially worse situation until you move through the stages of denial, anger, fear, mourning, sadness and finally reach acceptance of a thing that threatens you.

A mother of a transgender child might look to a mother of a gay child and know that things could be worse for her.  And a mother of a heroine addicted child might look to a mother of a transgender child and know that things could be worse for her.  A mother who has lost her child to cancer might look to a mother of a heroine addicted child and know that things could be worse for her.  Losing a child to death is, in my opinion, the worst, because it just is and because with all the other mothers there is still hope.  Hope that their children will find happy, healthy and productive lives - free of drugs, living a happy gay life, being a complete and fulfilled transgender individual in society.

So often, with gay or transgender children, parents will say, "I don't want for my child to have to live this difficult life."  First of all, there is some truth in that, but mostly that is a cop-out.  I think parents don't want to live a life such as these that they didn't plan for or hope for or imagine.  Secondly, I have come to learn that the alternative for these children is far worse - living a life of lies, living with depression, living in secret, living in sadness, not really living at all but just trying to survive, and that is no way for anyone to have to live.

Everything in life is relative.  I often say to friends or family who are in a stressful situation that they are analyzing to death; rambling on and and on and mapping out for weeks and weeks in advance every scenario possible to reach a potentially possible solution, blah, blah, blah ... I say, "Wait a minute.  A lot can happen between now and tomorrow.  Things you can not plan for that could change this situation in an instant."  And this is how the feelings are with gay and transgender children.  So much can happen to turn your sadness to happiness.  So much can happen to turn your refusal to acceptance.  So much can happen to turn your anger to calmness.  So much can happen that you never imagined or planned, both negative and positive, but you have to go through it - for your child - with as much compassion and love as you can find within yourself.

It is not only not the worst thing ... it might become such a part of you that it becomes one of your very favorite things if you give it a chance.  With Chris, one of the things about him being transgender that I have fallen in love with is his many transgender (and gay) friends that I have come to know. The thing I am most drawn to is how different they are from everyone else - different in an "outside the box" kind of way - different in a "they will survive no matter what" kind of way - different in a "if you watch them long enough, you are privileged to see them move out of darkness and into light right before your eyes; move from sadness to happiness by taking extraordinary measures to change their lives.  They are warriors.  

Life is a battlefield.  Love is a battlefield.  I, for one, am glad that I am now on the battlefield with my child as he continues to fight and secure his happiness.  If your child was fighting cancer, where would you be?