The Big Issue

 Soon after publishing my first ever blog entry, I received a message from an old friend. 

'Did you really throw your kids' Dad out because he took coke? Is it that big an issue?'

The answer is no. That's not why I threw him out. Coke probably isn't that big an issue, for those who do enjoy the odd line on a night out. It's not my thing and never has been, but I sure as hell won't judge anyone who does. As long as you aren't driving after it, or under the influence while looking after your kids, or otherwise putting other people at risk... not my business. 

Why did I throw C out? Well, I would consider the cocaine the straw that broke the camel's back. I was unhappy in my marriage, but I also didn't want to be a divorced single mum. I was also very aware that if we separated, he would make life very difficult for me. Our daughter J was struggling with some other issues, and I didn't want her to link that with our separation and feel like she was in any way to blame. I almost left the year before, actually. This was the Big Issue 2 years ago...

J is an amazing kid, she really is. Sure, she has a temper and she suffers with teenageitis (symptoms include intermittent grunting, hearing loss and heavy, flailing limbs), but she does have a kind heart. She has the most remarkable and random sense of humour, and she is a gifted artist. Damn, I fecking love that kid. She is also troubled. From the age of maybe 9 or 10, teenageitis was already setting in. She was - and is - stubborn, fiery, and a slave to her emotions. She's me 30-something years ago. Seeing so much of myself in her gave me the insight to recognise her warning signs. She has a breaking point. When she crosses that point, there is nothing that anyone can do to bring her down. She will not see reason, she won't back down, and she sure as hell won't apologise. I learned how to identify when she was reaching that point, and I would either tactfully talk her back from it, or I would back off entirely. When she's hit it, you might as well just find a bomb shelter and buckle up. When her temper flares, I know that no amount of shouting, reasoning, begging, threatening or even hugging will make any difference whatsoever. So I back off. She calms down, and she'll later apologise. Her father... not so much. 

J developed some mild-moderate anxiety issues, particularly around school. I referred her to a local youth mental health service, who conducted some work with her. It seemed to help for school, but her temper was still a big problem. When ANGRY J came out, items were thrown, walls were punched, clothes were ripped. This was made so much worse by Cs determination to discipline her. He never understood the need to step back and let her fire burn down. He took every raised word as a personal sleight, and would lash back at her. As you can imagine, this just made the entire situation so much worse. J's GP advised we be referred to the children and adolescents mental health services (CAMHS), which we accepted. We were warned the waiting list was rather long though.

2 years ago, J came to me and said she felt like she may have been born in the wrong body. She in fact felt like she was a boy. J said she had been feeling that way for quite some time, but that she identified it as a gender specific issue around 2 years before that. I was stunned. I had suspected that she may be gay, but it never occurred to me that her gender could be the problem. True, she had never been a 'girlie-girl' like her sister; she actively rejected the colour pink, and favoured more neutral colours. Her favourite toys when she was younger were dinosaurs and remote controlled robots. In fact, as I had pondered all of this, I wondered why gender dysphoria had never occurred to me before. 

I of course began looking for ways to help. If she truly felt this way, wouldn't that explain her anger and anxiety problems? If we dealt with her gender confusion, we could make her happier. I searched online for advice; specific services for this specific issue. I stumbled across Mermaids, a fabulous charity for transgender youths. I read lots of research and articles, and I joined a Facebook group for parents of transgender children. I scheduled an appointment for she and I to discuss it with her GP so they could offer the appropriate advice. Of course, I discussed it with her father too. C was not as accepting of this. He brushed it off as 'a phase' and - as he always did - called me and J 'drama queens'. As I've mentioned in my previous post, I didn't realise until my marriage had ended quite how toxic it was. Now that I write about C, I wonder how I never saw it. 

After discussion with various professionals and as per J's wishes, she assumed a new identity. She chose a new name, new pronouns, had her hair cut and presented to the world as male. She moved up a school after the summer holidays, and started with her new name and identity. Please don't think I am being disrespectful by still referring to her as 'her'; she is back to being J now (I'll write about that later) so it seems appropriate to write with her current pronouns. J was still the same crazy, funny and creative child she had always been, she just had a different name. C - and some of his family - weren't happy about this. C showed me some messaged he had exchanged with his sister, in which she accused me of ruining J's life and not giving her a way to back out of this. I noted in this message thread that C hadn't made any effort to defend me in this. C told me I was 'jumping on a bandwagon' and made it very clear that he felt my support for J was actually me pushing this on her, for my own benefit. I'm not sure what benefit I gained from that time, other than showing my daughter that I was prepared to advocate and support her choices. C's attitude to J's transition showed me quite how much a bigot he was. I had heard various other 'jokes' and light-hearted comments about many minority groups. I knew he leaned right where I lean left, but I never thought that would apply to our child. In fact, I took both children and drove to my family, a long drive away. I hoped the time apart would give him pause to think, really think, about what was important. Supporting our troubled teenager, or how we as a family were seen by the world. That seemed to be all that ever really mattered to him; that we were seen as a nice little nuclear family. He the provider of expensive holidays and fancy gadgets; me the happy little housewife. God forbid any of us not conform to this picture he wanted everyone to see. 

I stayed away for a week, and when I returned... nothing had changed. How much I wish I had left then! But the lingering thoughts in my mind stopped me. J would know that her transition would be at least partly the cause for her parents divorce. So I settled. I decided to stay and hope it would improve. Our sex life was already dead and had been for a long time, we were just 2 people who lived together and raised our children together. When the issue with the cocaine came up, it was almost a relief. Did I throw him out because of the cocaine? No. I threw him out because he lied about it. Because he took drugs and must have been under the influence in our house with our children. Because when confronted, he ran away then blamed ME for his behaviour when he was backed into a corner. 

I threw him out because I couldn't do it any more. That was The Big Issue.