The therapist advised that I should work towards accepting my “gender variant” kid as they are, and she could help me with that. I blindly thanked her for the advice, assuming she was the expert. I eagerly participated in joint talk therapy sessions. I willingly discussed gender topics with Leah and listened to her feelings with an open mind. I made efforts to use her pronouns, and embraced her new name. I researched and learned from trans-identifying individuals, especially autistics, most part of the “neurodiversity” movement. I helped her pick out clothes that felt comfortable to her. I covered the mirror when she showered so she wouldn’t have to see her body. My daughter was seemingly happier, her anxiety level had decreased, and she was able to trust me and have a close, loving relationship with me again. I decided that maybe the therapist was right: this radical “acceptance” really was key to improving our relationship.
Nina has been going to a therapist near the college for 2 years as well. She asked us to come to therapy with this therapist last week, which we did. It's obvious to me that this therapist never challenged her on this path.
Nina now wants to do top surgery which my husband and I are really, really opposed to. The therapist seems to be backing Nina's decision, which I feel is absolutely criminal. The therapist also said that Nina would go ahead with this without our support, implying that we were abandoning her.
She obsessed about her looks and image. Beginning junior high, she was determined to fit in with the popular kids, until she decided the girls in this group were mean. She then joined the "misfit" group, took on a new style of clothing, and adopted a strange adoration for phobias and disorders. Her eating disorder worsened, and she was online much too often, where she was exposed to unwelcome sexual advances, porn, boys sending her dick pics, etc. She started isolating herself from friends, chatting with boys online and spiraled into deep depression and self-harm.
Limiting the phone became a power struggle and she began to self-harm to manipulate us into having her phone. She has been in treatment for her eating disorder and seems disturbingly all too comfortable with being "disordered."
She has Asperger’s, now termed autism spectrum disorder (ASD). She has always been “high functioning”.
She is so caught up in this she has herself thinking that she was always trans. She tells us she was always trans because she didn’t like pink frilly things or dresses. She has always had sensory issues with clothing but never wanted male clothes. Never did she say she was a boy or wanted to be. I have yet to find a professional that would consider her diagnosis of ASD to possibly be driving this.
We haven’t had any communication with her for two years. I could write about the emotional impact this has on our family, especially on her younger brother, who is heartbroken and must keep this whole story a secret or face death threats…
A few years after my daughter’s declaration, I finally moved her bin of dolls and their clothes to the basement, even though they will smell a little musty when she finally comes back. At first, I had tried to go along with the transgender thing, despite the bin of Groovy Girls…
“Please wake up! Please wake up!” I wish I could scream that to my daughter some days.
I am desperate. My 14 year old daughter just told me that she is trans. These past weeks have felt like a hundred years.
Before this happened we went to see a therapist because of her depression. She had been bullied for years, and witnessed my horrible divorce from her abusive father. After two visits with the therapist she told me that she is really a boy.
Having been a far left progressive my entire life, a bisexual who married another woman before it was legal, I had not given much thought to the recent widespread emergence of trans activism and acceptance other than to think, fantastic, another group gaining civil rights. I vaguely wondered why there were so many trans kids when I had never before heard of this phenomenon in childhood, but I assumed increased visibility came from decreased stigma. I was confident that rigorous psychiatric evaluation must precede any gender reassignment procedures, to address any confounding issues. I celebrated people being accepted for who they are. LGBTQ is my tribe, and social justice is my religion.
My eldest daughter Sophie turns 21 in a few weeks and our family is nothing like I imagined and hoped it would be one the day that she was born.
We have had no contact with Sophie for over a year. She is due to finish her course this summer, but I have heard that she's had difficulties with her studies, even though she had previously been a grade A student.
I've recently learnt through a family member that Sophie has an appointment to discuss surgical transition into a transgender male.
I guess I was lucky that all of this started years ago. Today my son probably would have declared his transgender identity at an earlier age and might have requested surgery. In my ignorance I may have gone along with it. My heart goes out to those parents who are living this nightmare and are being forced to participate in this hideous social experiment. I’ve cried reading these letters and I can’t even imagine having my child taken from me.
She had dreams of becoming a professional dancer and she had the talent to do it. Now, she has traded hours of dance training for hours of seclusion...exchanged her pointe shoes for a chest binder, her ballerina bun for a buzz cut.
The powerlessness is the worst part of this nightmare. I work and work and think and think. I have run out of words and ideas and theories and angles. There is nothing left but a paralyzing powerlessness. Nothing left to do or say. Just sit and feel.
All the kids in the new school already had their cliques, and weren’t open to her, but there was one group that was willing to welcome newcomers, and that was the QSA kids. They were nice, smart kids, who were all a little quirky, and I was grateful that they were welcoming of Liv, but I noticed that they all seem to have created these micro-identities. For example, one girl called herself a demi-boy aromantic. They all seemed preoccupied with identity and presentation. Shortly after becoming friends with them, Liv cut her hair and dyed it pink. I saw this as normal teen exploration at this point. I was uneasy about how preoccupied she and her friends were with these issues.
In her new environment filled with support, “unconditional love” and affirmation, Belle’s mental health declined precipitously. Her anxiety and depression exploded. She became heavily dependent on weed. She had her first manic episode and has been admitted to the psych ward several times since, including once where she was brought in by police.