distressed parent #transphobia pittparents.com
I did try to educate my son about the trans insanity and found who I thought was a sane therapist when my son flirted with the trans nonsense during high school. But maybe I should have sat on the couch more next to my son while he played video games. Maybe I should have forbid him playing Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of girls -- but I didn't want him lonely. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But my husband and I did exert substantial effort to help our confused son, and we thought he was in remission when he was thriving in high school. And then he fell deep into the trans abyss freshman year at an esteemed college. And now he is a collapsed person at 23 -- mentally and physically deteriorated.
When we were in the thick of it, PITT had not started. Maybe if it had, I would have known how to try harder. I need to find a way to now drown in regret or sadness. Most days I'm doing okay now -- as one of my friends said, you can only sustain a crisis so long. But the ache is still there because the hope is less. Regret is a stubborn residue of this relentless sad horror in my culture that feeds children to a monster.