I have recently put out into the world that my oldest child has come out as transgender, is using he/they pronouns and is in the process (with our blessing) of changing his name to Rigel. It was a lot to share, and it's been a lot for our family to go through. I received so much love and support and accolades on my announcement and while it left me feeling humble and loved, it also left me feeling a bit guilty.
I am a firm believer, especially in our social media centered lives, in being as honest with the bad as you are with the good. Comparison is the killer of all things good. I have suffered it myself and, ashamedly, I have perpetuated it. Maybe it's my aging or just human growth but I feel softer and more empathetic now and very aware of portraying life as a bed of roses for fear that others will feel they fall short. So, in the interest of full disclosure I want to put to words, as best I can, my journey that lead up to that FB post the other day.
This is not Rigel's story, he may write his someday, it's not for me to write. This is my story, and for sure it is nowhere near finished. We are still living it and navigating these new waters. This isn't Steve's story either, he had a different journey.
This has been years in the making, probably longer than I realize. However, I knew in 2018 I was, for some unknown reason, losing my oldest child. (I will use the correct name and pronouns but know this was not the case back then). He was combative and angry and sullen. All the joy and light and bravery seemed to be disappearing from the child I looked up to for his willingness to meet life head on and try anything. I envied his self assuredness, his confidence in his intelligence and his openness to new adventures. It all seemed to be changing as the teen years came on. Really it seemed to begin back in 2016 when he asked to be homeschooled due to bullying at school. It was simultaneously the right and the wrong choice. Don't get me wrong, I fully believe in homeschooling, Rigel and I just were not in the right personal spaces to make it what it should be. I was slowly sinking into a pit of depression myself and he, as a burgeoning introvert, just shut himself away more and more. It culminated with Rigel coming to me saying he thought he was depressed and wanted to see a therapist. I found him one and we started that journey. I knew I needed one too but Rigel came first and I just couldn't find one I thought could help me.
Therapy helped in some ways, he was able to articulate some things, but I just didn't really hear it. I was still stuck in my head thinking, what does this privileged kid have to be depressed about? I was filled with anger and guilt and denial, it clouded all things, for an embarrassingly long time.
I found a good therapist just a month before moving to TN and felt I could have done some good work but the move interrupted that. Now, don't get me wrong I was glad to finally be reunited with my family, I just didn't want the momentum to stop. Of course it did though. I did find a new therapist for Rigel and I but after a bit we realized she wasn't really the best fit for either of us and by that time the pandemic was in full swing. We found a new therapist for Rigel and I as well as a couple's therapist and we even got Caitie in on it. She was struggling too as all our energy had been focused on Rigel and we left Caitie to handle her stuff only for it to rear it's head and make us notice.
So we all went to therapy. Our couple's therapy focused on parenting for the most part. We were lost and drowning and desperately wanting to help. I was still focused on all I had probably done wrong in raising them and what a terrible mother I had been to make them so unhappy.
During this time Caitie was happily and openly using the he/him pronouns with Rigel as well as his preferred name. Steve and I refused to unless Rigel actually verbalized his wishes to us. I was convinced if it was real (cause I was positive it was societal brain washing) then he had to own it and speak it to us. Finally, he did. It was not easy and he said it as he ran back upstairs away from us. It breaks my heart to think about it now. So we tried, not very earnestly on my part I must say. The name was a bigger struggle and again we required his verbalizing those wishes to us. It didn't happen for a while, not until we had a family therapy session and he made that one of his demands, along with pretty much wanting to write us off after high school. I could feel his anger towards us. I admit, I got angry too. I thought what a spoiled, entitled child to expect us to fund his college but be treated like we don't exist. I couldn't yet see why he wanted us to not exist. I was still so wrapped up in what I wanted, how I was hurt, how I had done something wrong. I can't even really explain how I came out of it, probably something my therapist said! It was a long process of me changing how I look at things, how I react to things. Disobedience being met with inquiries into how they were feeling, if something was wrong as opposed to just screaming upstairs and getting more and more upset and righteous in my anger. Checking in with my kids, has been a game changer for me, if for nothing else than it has opened up more communication between us and I think they feel safer talking to me. It pains me to think that they ever felt unsafe to do so.
It took me identifying some pretty serious baggage in my own life and my own thinking to realize every issue I had with this transition of Rigel's had nothing to do with him and EVERYTHING to do with me. I had to confront my idea of who he was and realize that I had, unconsciously, decided who he was without ever asking him. I had to face the idea that this wasn't about me or my parenting or my fault. That actually he was the same kid and really did I love him any less? When I asked myself the most fundamental question of "Do you love this child?" and answered myself with a resounding "YES", all the other things seemed trivial. It didn't seem like such an emotional blow to use new pronouns or a new name. It didn't seem like I needed to fight him every step of the way, cause in the grand scheme of things I loved him no matter what and none of these changes really had any effect on my life. I hate to admit that it took me so long to just realize I love my kid and that's all that needs to matter, everything else is just part of the journey.
I still have creeping thoughts and grieve for the image of the person I believed him to be. I still have conversations with Steve saying all the scary and self involved things that come along with this process, but I no longer put that at Rigel's feet. It is not his baggage to carry, I never should have made it be. I can look back and see that really, the bravest of us all has been Rigel, just like I always believed him to be. Because, in spite of how hard I fought him, he is alive and forgiving and honest with who he is. I have learned more about myself from him and his journey than I probably ever could have learned in years of therapy. I find inspiration in him, I am grateful for him and want to be like him when I grow up!
Now that I have broken through to the other side of that brick wall I was hiding behind, I know we still have challenges ahead, however I know that I will always ask myself, is this worth a fight, is this showing love? I still struggle, especially now, with guilt over the obstacles I put in his path and what I made him feel and go through to get here. I hate that I was not the type of open minded, all loving person I claimed and believed myself to be. It's a much different story when these big changes come into your home. I wanted to make sure that if anyone reads my FB post they also read this and know that I am not perfect, I didn't show unwavering support right from the beginning. My kid had to fight to get me to where I am today. I don't want anyone to think they are a horrible parent for struggling through something like this. Sometimes we don't know what we don't know. I love the saying, I believe by Mya Angelou, when we know better, we do better. I am still learning and trying to do better. I can't make up for how I started this journey but I can try to make it so much better from here on out.
Thank you for your support and love for me and my wonderful, inspiring son, Rigel.
I wrote this poem the other day, it kind of just came to me, I hope you like it.
Meeting My Son
I had never met my son until he came to me and said
"I am yours"
I was confused, I said "I never had a son"
He said "you did, you just didn't know it"
I looked in his eyes and recognized the child I never knew I had, but loved fiercely anyway
"Nice to meet you" I said "you are mine, forever"
