Colin’s #metoo…

At first the man seemed innocuous.

“Hey! I like your red shoes!” he called from across the aisle, quiet enough that Colin didn’t even hear.

“Colin?” I asked and he turned. “The man says he likes your shoes.”

“Thank you,” Colin said dutifully.

“I like your green coat,” the man continued. “It’s very bright”. Colin simply nodded. “And your hair,” he added. At that point Colin put in his earbuds.

“I really like your shoes,” the man continued then repeated it again as Colin stayed silent. I wondered when he was going to get the hint that Colin did not want to talk.

“He’s wearing headphones, he can’t hear you,” I pointed out, hoping that would be the end. It wasn’t.

“He can hear me just fine,” the man said with a chuckle. “See?” he added as Colin took out the buds.

The bus stopped. I hoped the man was leaving but it was just a woman getting on. She took a seat nearby.

“Are they Converse?” he asked once the bus started again.

“No,” I replied. Colin stayed silent.

“They look like really bouncy shoes. I bet you’re bouncy too.”

With that he got up and walked across the aisle, rubbing Colin’s arm before sitting down beside him. The lady looked at them and moved farther down the bus.

“I really like your hair,” he said softly as he stroked Colin’s hair. Colin looked as stunned as I felt.

“I think you’re so pretty.”

His hand moved to Colin’s arm again and the stroking continued.

Colin snapped, “Stop that! I don’t like that!” while I said, “Hey! Leave my son alone.”

“I want you to go back to your own seat,” Colin said forcefully. The man laughed.

“No,” he said simply. It was clear Colin had no idea what to do.

I was sitting in a section with only three seats so I moved to the middle seat.

“Colin, come sit beside me,” I said. He stood up and came over immediately.

“Thanks,” he whispered once he was settled.

The harassment didn’t end there. The man had been on the phone that whole time, pretty much ignoring whoever was on the other side. Now he gave them his full attention, detailing how gorgeous Colin was while flipping between referring to him as male and female.

“There’s two pretty girls,” the man continued. “The other one has blue hair and it looks really good on her. Matches her big blue eyes.”

At least we were almost to our stop. I tried to ignore the man but he was speaking loud enough for us to hear his every word. I knew it was on purpose.

“Can you skip going to Marshalls?” Colin asked earnestly, studiously looking everywhere except at the man seated across from us.

The plan was for me to take a peek at Marshalls and see if there was something there for Colin’s birthday in June while he bought snacks at Dollar Tree.

“Why don’t you wander around Marshalls while I look and then we can both go to Dollar Tree?”

“That’s fine,” he said with relief.

We got to the shopping centre and went to climb off the bus. Colin made a brief stop to tell the bus driver what happened. She looked bewildered, as if she had no idea what to do with that information. The man remained seated the whole time and stayed on board as the bus pulled away. Colin gave a visible sigh of relief.

“Where do you want to meet?” he asked.

“Umm… how about in the food section?” I asked, trying to picture a place in Marshalls that he could find easily.

“There’s a food section at Home Depot?” he asked in bewilderment. Then I clued in. Now that the man was gone, Colin felt fine to go on his own.

“How about at the key cutting place,” I said and he agreed.

It wasn’t until we’d paid for the keys and were on the way to the grocery store that Colin brought up the bus incident.

“I don’t like what that man did to me,” Colin blurted.

I doubled checked for cars and kept walking beside him, “I bet you don’t,” I agreed.

“He made me feel uncomfortable,” he continued. “Some women wouldn’t think that was sexual assault because it only happens to women.”

“Except you’re a woman,” I pointed out.

“The man didn’t know that,” Colin retaliated. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me.

“He called you a girl too.”

Colin didn’t have a response for that. We walked in silence a few more feet.

“I don’t like what that woman did,” Colin said, confusing the heck out of me.

“What woman?” I asked.

“The woman on the bus,” Colin explained. “He started touching my arm and she just got up and walked away.”

I nodded. “A lot of people are like that. They don’t know what to do or they don’t want to get involved so they ignore the situation.”

“I really didn’t like that,” Colin murmured under his breath. We stayed silent until we got to the grocery store. He hasn’t brought up the incidence since. Although I doubt he’s forgotten. I don’t think he ever will.

By some luck of the draw, Colin is a very feminine looking man, despite his height. Maybe that’s what attracted the man? It would make sense considering that he kept alternating genders for Colin.

Colin’s not an innocent in many ways. He’s taken a comprehensive sex education programme and is quite knowledgeable about politics, war, and how they combine. But today he lost that bit of innocence and gained the realization that some people will look at him just as an object to use and not a person. It’s a lesson I wish neither of my kids had ever learned.

Today Colin earned his #metoo

Colin's amarylis

Colin and the amaryllis he grew

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World’s worst whack-a-mole game…

I stared, gobsmacked, at the picture on my screen, simply unable to believe my eyes. I thought I’d gotten rid of all the transphobes but apparently she just hadn’t spoken out yet. My sister’s step mother in law had posted this…

asshole post

I wrote a quick reply back saying “that leaves out a lot of people. My ex boyfriend was non-binary for years and went by zie and zir. Those pronouns helped him immensely during those years. Colin used those pronouns as well for two years.

“The prefix Mx also help nonbinary people feel like they have a voice and a space in society. It’s such an easy prefix too, it’s simply pronounced “mix”.

“No one’s trying to remove the more common words from society. We’re simply realizing that there are other people who are hurt by being pushed out of society and into the margins.

“I have several friends who use they/them pronouns and having that option has made such a difference for them. Colin still uses they/them pronouns for people he doesn’t know, simply because he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.

“Using someone’s correct pronouns and prefix is never foolish.”

I didn’t get a reply from the Facebook friend. The OP of the meme deleted it and blocked me, although he left my shorter comment up. Maybe because it already had replies.

Then I made my own meme, with a rainbow background, in the hopes it would get shared as a rebuttal to the above meme. It did… kind of. The one on my personal page was shared 19 times. I can’t tell if the one on my Because I’m Fabulous page was shared at all. The above meme was shared over 11 thousand times. But isn’t that the way it goes? Hate spreads so much faster than love or kindness.

I’ve written several blog posts where I’ve shared and debunked common arguments against trans people but I have strong doubts that transphobes even read them. Not that I really expected them to, I write them in hopes that someone else might have more information in the battle against transphobia. Some days it feels like I’m playing the world’s worst game of whack a mole. One ignorant person gets whacked down and three more pop up. It’s as if they’re breeding like cockroaches.

Colin got interviewed, via email, today for the Metro UK paper. The reporter wanted his views and feelings on detransitioning. One of the comments he made said he couldn’t transition after he had children because he wouldn’t look 100% like a woman then. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t matter as long as he was himself. I know he’d be loved by his sister and I but what about the strangers on the street? The prospective employers? Future landlords? How would they treat a 6ft 3in masculine woman? I look at the difference between the shares of my meme and the above meme and don’t feel hopeful. The OP only had that post up for four days when he hit the 11 thousand mark. Mine’s been up for two.

I live in Ontario, the first province in Canada to support and affirm equal marriage. We pride ourselves on being tolerant and accepting. Our local PFLAG has the biggest turnout across the country, which is great for them and stinks for my anxiety. We have protections in place for equal rights to housing and employment, although I’m fully aware that what’s equal on paper isn’t necessarily so in real life. And yet… the step mother in law and the creator of that yellow meme are both Canadians. Acknowledging that makes me feel icky, like I picked up a perfect red apple and a worm crawled out. They’re arguing against my child leading a happy life as himself. They’re arguing against all our trans children, friends, and neighbours. And they think they’re in the right.

I made this meme as a protest against those negative views… against that horrible meme. Please feel free to share it in the hopes that others will see. Maybe it will plant a seed of kindness. Maybe it will plant a seed of hope.

genders and pronouns

Toxic Masculinity…

He was just a little boy, maybe two or three years old. His pregnant mother wanted something to keep him occupied while she was busy with the baby. So she bought him a baby too, a realistic looking baby doll he could care for while she was caring for hers. Then her husband came home and found his boy playing with a doll. He ripped it out of the boy’s hands and threw it in the trash. No boy of his was going to play with dolls. No boy of his would be a sissy.

One day a week a boy would go walking down our street, obviously in tears. I wasn’t very old when I asked my Mom why. She responded that the boy was going to karate class and his Dad felt that walking there would toughen him up and make a man of him. I couldn’t see how he’d be made a man when he was only a boy just a bit older than me and I thought it was awful that he was being forced to do something that made him cry. It was obvious my Mom did not like what the Dad was doing either but there wasn’t anything either of us could do.

We carefully carried our cat, who was skin and bones, to the bus and climbed aboard. Pumpkin had been fine when we left for a family wedding and a quiet memorial service but was painfully thin when we returned, despite having someone over daily to care for him. Tests showed he had terminal cancer and I booked his euthanasia right away. There was no point in prolonging his suffering.

Colin was hit especially hard because Pumpkin was his cat or rather he was Pumpkin’s person. All Colin needed to say was, “Come here Pumpkin” and the cat would trot happily beside him. Pumpkin would spend hours just sitting while Colin built with lego or played with his toys. And now was our final moment with him. The kids said their tearful goodbyes then I carried Pumpkin into the back room and petted him until he was gone. Then we headed for the bus.

Both kids were quietly crying beside me when a lady got on. She looked at all of us then her gaze focused on Colin.

“Stop that right now,” she chided. “You have no need to be crying. Boys don’t cry!”

“We just left the animal hospital,” I replied, waving vaguely behind us. “We had to put his cat to sleep.”

The lady was immediately embarrassed and apologized to me but it was obvious how she felt.

Toxic masculinity is a stereotype that affects everyone. It’s the image of the ideal man. Strong and silent. Always brave. Skilled at fighting but is usually above it. He never cries and rarely shows any sign of emotion. He’s stoic. I’m sure everyone can come up with something that describes the ideal man. The man every male, and person assumed to be male, is supposed to be.

The thing is, that ideal is not only limiting, it’s dangerous. According to Wikipedia, these stereotypical traits “are correlated with increased psychological problems in men such as depression, increased stress, and substance abuse.”

Plus toxic masculinity is rooted in being the opposite of stereotypical femininity. If boys are supposed to be strong, girls are weak. Boys are silent while girls chatter up a storm. Boys are logical while girls are ditzy. Boys don’t cry while girls will sob at television commercials. Boys are strong in math and science while girls get flustered at the simplest equation. There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of those traits, it’s the assumption of gender for each that’s the problem.

If a girl likes things that are traditionally considered male, she gets the moniker of “tomboy”, a word with no negative connotations. There is no positive or neutral term for a boy who likes things traditionally considered female. Some people now use the term “gender creative” but it’s neither well spread or well known.

Toxic masculinity has to see women as lesser because otherwise it loses the only weapon it has for men to conform. If there’s nothing wrong with being female, insults like sissy (originating from sister) and girl (as in “you throw like a girl”) would mean nothing or they would be something positive. Both misogyny and homophobia have their roots in toxic masculinity. Misogyny due to negative stereotypes about women and homophobia because if a man is putting himself in the position of loving another man he must be taking on the position of a woman and therefore is lesser. Toxic masculinity doesn’t care about a woman loving another woman. They’re both lesser so it doesn’t matter.

As feminism lifts the image of woman and what it means to be feminine, it also pulls up society’s image of homosexuality and of the men who don’t meet the standards of toxic masculinity. Feminism assures that it’s okay for men to cry, to enjoy cooking and sewing, to want to stay home with the children. It’s okay to like the colour pink. It’s okay to give your son a baby doll and it’s okay for him to prefer dance over karate. And it’s just as okay to enjoy sports and shooting a game of pool with the guys. People are allowed to be themselves.

That’s not to say feminism is perfect, infestations of TERFS (trans exclusionary radical feminists) break out regularly like cockroaches for example, but the concept of equality for all is something positive to strive for.

I’d like to see toxic masculinity gone. Smashed into a million irreparable pieces. I’d like to see masculinity as simply meaning the act of being male, with each male individual deciding for themselves what sort of man they are. And if they’re a man who enjoys golf and making bead jewelry, so be it. I’d like to see a society where men aren’t berated for crying, for loving strongly and deeply, for showing great empathy with their children.

I’d like to see a society where a small boy isn’t berated for crying and told to be a man.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Colin in 2014 just being himself. And, yes, his eyes are that blue in real life.

Autism Speaks does not speak for me…

In just under three more weeks, Facebook will be awash with blue. Blue banners, blue puzzle pieces, blue lights; all with a message imploring people to think about autism. This campaign has been co-opted by Autism Speaks, an organization dedicated to curing autism.

They see autism as a separate entity, something that clings to their children, slowly destroying them. They see it as something evil, something hellbent on destruction. And they make this obvious in their videos.

The first Autism Awareness month was held in April 1970, the year I was born. Back then autism was seen as something severe that primarily affected boys. Which is why I, as a chatty, albeit socially awkward child, was given the diagnosis of being a square peg instead of receiving one of autism.

It wasn’t until the early 90’s that people started paying more attention to children who weren’t severe enough for the autism label yet were still showing enough symptoms to not be considered average. These children fell under the category of Asperger syndrome (or Asperger’s). This disorder had been recognized by Dr. Hans Asperger back in 1944, the year my Dad was born, but didn’t gain much notice until 1981. It subsequently disappeared in 2013, when aspies got moved under the term “high functioning autism”, a term that is hotly disputed in the autism community.

Colin was born in 1997, six years after Asperger’s was recognized in Canada and the States. Autism was first mentioned briefly by his speech therapist when he was three and his Junior Kindergarten teacher when he was four. Both times I adamantly disagreed. I knew almost nothing about autism and none of it was good. As far as I knew, autism was children who banged their heads on the floor, rocked violently, screamed, and bit and clawed at themselves and others.

Colin was seven years old and in a special education class when my sister mentioned she thought he had autism. She was the third person and by then I had decent high speed internet and a need to find an answer. That was when I discovered autism checklists. I found so many of Colin’s unique quirks in those checklists, enough to make me realize those three people were likely right. Plus more than enough information to realize that my limited knowledge of autism was just that, limited to the most severely affected people. It took over a decade for me to realize I’m on the autism spectrum as well and I didn’t get officially diagnosed until last year.

Both Colin and I are highly verbal and have our own gifts. I’m good at writing and singing while Colin is good with electronics. He installed three ceiling lights in our home after watching his grandfather install one. He’s built and rebuilt several computers. He also has repaired speakers and RC cars. Basically we’re the people who Autism Speaks ignores.

Autism Speaks plays on the fears of parents. They act like autism is some outside, malevolent force out to destroy not only children but their parents’ whole lives. Something to be cured at all costs, even with “voodoun, prayer, and herbs”. Or, as Colin put it, “They make it sound like autism is a big bad meanie. It’s not, it’s just a birth defect.”

Many autistic people see autism as a neurological condition, hardwired into our brains before birth. It’s just as much a part of us as the colour of our eyes or the pigment of our skin. It’s entwined in everything we say and do. For every negative that can be said about autism, there’s a positive. Many autistic people have a special interest, in which they can rival PhD’s for knowledge. We can focus intently on minute details, often noticing things that neurotypicals miss. We are very routine oriented, which is good in many work environments. We are often very empathetic, which is a double edged sword because we can be overwhelmed by empathy to the point where we freeze and people then assume we don’t have empathy at all. Autism Speaks ignores all of this.

Autism Speaks in fact, ignores most people with autism, leaving us voiceless in their cause. Instead they focus on the parents of young children. Parents who are scared and vulnerable. This is a business and the parents are their clients. Autism Speaks CEO made $371,000 in 2013 (the most recent number I could find) and they spent over $52 million dollars in advertising. No wonder they speak so negatively about autism, they need scared parents who will do anything to cure their child. Scared parents with open wallets.

This year, instead of lighting it up blue, paint your page red or #toneitdowntaupe. Look towards ASAN the Autistic Self Advocacy Network instead of Autism Speaks. ASAN is run for, and by, autistic people.

Remember, Autism Speaks, but you don’t have to listen.

Baby rabbits…

aka What I get when I ask my friends for blog ideas LOL

I wasn’t going to broach this subject because I don’t have pet rabbits and have never had them. The closest I’ve got is owning two guinea pigs and watching the wild bunny in my parents’ backyard. Oh and that traumatic time a neighbourhood child killed a bunny in front of most of the kids on the street, but I’ll skip that experience.

There are, however, two serious issues that have to do with bunnies so I decided to run with them. The first one, for people who are actually having warm weather, are bunny nests. Some bunnies build burrows underground but their slightly less savvy cousins simply dig a bowl shape into the ground and cover their babies with pulled grass. So, if you’re mowing your lawn and see a patch of grass that’s brown and messy, don’t just assume it’s from dog urine. There could be babies under there.

 

The second issue has to do with Easter. I get it, baby bunnies are seriously cute with their soft fur and little twitchy noses. And Easter practically revolves around baby bunnies and chicks.

I’m not going to stop you from getting a bunny but please be aware of their down side. Bunnies are very timid creatures who can have a heart attack simply with the shock of a sudden loud noise. While children are pretty much noise in a people suit.

They need to have plenty of space and time to roam around outside their cage. The bunnies, not children, although I’m sure there’s many days parents wish children had a crate option. They also love to chew, especially on wires and cords. And, while some can be litter trained, many cannot and they poop about a hundred or more times a day. Something I never thought I’d google. And you thought you were sweeping and vacuuming a lot already.

They need timothy hay to eat alongside their food and I can tell you as the former owner of two guinea pigs, hay gets everywhere. Plus rabbits are very fragile. You can break their back easily with a low fall. Kids aren’t known for their coordination, especially if they’re holding something wiggly.

If you want a pet rabbit, by all means do your research and get one. Making sure it’s kept safe if there are children involved. If you’re buying one for your children it would be better for everyone’s sake to buy each of them a stuffed bunny. Because nothing makes Easter suck more than having one of your kids accidentally kill their new pet.

And there you go Charlotte and Maria, a post for you 🙂

Changing the shape of your skin…

There are so many things I didn’t know before Colin came out as trans.

It hadn’t dawned on me that trans people would need to take hormones, although it obviously makes sense. I didn’t realize how strong testosterone was, that women need to take blockers to stop their testosterone while taking estrogen, when men only need to take testosterone. I didn’t realize the struggle many have with family and friends, a struggle to be accepted for who they are. And I didn’t realize how much people go through so that the shape of their body matches, as much as possible, the gender of their mind.

I belong to a group for trans people and their allies and recently one woman announced she’s dealing with kidney problems, memory loss, and dizziness… all from her hormone blocker spironolactone. When Colin told his doctor he wasn’t going to transition, his doctor responded that he was glad Colin wasn’t going to do “irreparable damage” to his body. I’m reasonably sure the doctor was referring to growing breasts and hips, which would be bringing his body more in line with his gender, but the possible damage caused by spironolactone is definitely irreversible and far more terrifying.

At this point Colin doesn’t want to ever transition. He wants children first and he figures by the time he has kids, he’ll be too old for estrogen to help bring out the woman in him. I’ve assured him that’s not the case, that I’ve seen before and after pictures multiple times of someone who looks like the manliest man and after hormones looks like the woman she is. Delaying transitioning isn’t necessarily a forever thing. But he’s young enough that even thirty seems like forever away and forty is impossible to comprehend. He’s got his school and computers and video games to keep him occupied for now.

Even though Colin’s not transitioning now (if ever), my first thought when I read the post was him. I think that’s true of all parents to think of their children, however old, when they hear of danger. I know there are other weaker blockers available now that can be used instead. Hopefully there’ll be more choices in the future.

Endings and beginnings…

Kathleen and James

James and I before my choir concert. I had a solo and was so nervous

Years ago, when I was 21, I met a young man named James. I was at work at the time, working my way through college as a part time dishwasher. His mother was the bartender and he came in one evening while I worked. Soon we were dating and were engaged a few months later. By the time we’d known each other for a year, we were living together and planning a wedding.

I was pregnant with Kait on our first anniversary and pregnant with Colin on our third. We broke up on our 6th anniversary, had a brief reconciliation, then separated for good in January 2001.

Those bare bones facts don’t share the struggles and the emotional pain I went through in our marriage. They don’t show James keeping all his student loan money in his separate account instead of placing it into his  joint account because it was easier… leaving me stuck in the position of begging for milk money. They don’t show our frequent arguments over college when it was apparent to me he wasn’t working on school work. Arguments where he insisted he was working hard at school and I was simply over reacting. An argument he kept using until his report card was handed out. He assured me he didn’t get the lowest grades in the class, just the second lowest, as if that made things all right. I was pregnant with Kait then and needed him to work hard and actually try.

I struggled for six years, raising two babies (Kait and Colin are 22 months apart) and keeping the house together. Meanwhile James kept sliding downhill. I’d give him a bill to pay (pre internet banking). He’d walk out the door, ostensibly heading over to the bank less than a block away, then he’d come home saying he’d paid the bill. Which meant everything was fine until the next month when, whoops, our phone bill was double and James had spent all of last month’s “extra money” on computer parts. I made sure that I, for the most part, paid the bills but, with two small children, it wasn’t always feasible.

I didn’t want to break up our marriage but it’s something that takes two people in order to work and I was the only one doing the work. By the time we separated for good (we’ve since divorced) he was doing nothing around the house. The kids barely noticed his absence. The closest either of them got to wondering where he went was when Kait asked where the big pillow in the living room went. What big pillow? Oh right, James used to fall asleep on the floor instead of going to bed or sleeping on the couch. Then the kids would use him as a pillow. I reminded her that pillow was her Dad. She said, “Oh okay” and went back to playing.

He did everything in his power to ensure no child support reached us. He wouldn’t say where he lived. He got friends to buy him a phone under their names so he couldn’t be searched for. His jobs were often under the table and, if not, he only stayed for a few months so that FRO (Family Responsibility Office) couldn’t track him down. They were always a job behind him. All of that over $50.

He showed up when he wanted, sometimes twice a month but more often two or three times a year. Every single visit was fraught with drama. He left the kids alone in the Walmart McDonalds while he went outside to talk on his cellphone, leaving them unsure what to do. He ran them across a local highway at rush hour because he didn’t want to walk half a block to the crosswalk. To this day Colin absolutely will not jaywalk. It doesn’t matter if there’s no cars on the road in either direction, he has to find a cross walk or he has an anxiety attack. They were that close to getting hit.

As the kids got older, his behaviour worsened. He’d share things that would be TMI even for adults, like the time his girlfriend overdosed on sleeping medication. Instead of checking up on her or calling an ambulance, he left her in their bedroom and went out to buy two cups of coffee as an alibi. She lived but it was through no help of his. He called Children’s Aid (Child Protective Services) and told them that 13 year old Kait was beating me up (she wasn’t). He spent a year trying to convince her that he wanted her to live with him then dumped her at the end of the year, calling her “that one” and asking me to back him on banning her from his visits. There was a lot more but this post is threatening to be a novel already. It’s hard to compress 25 years.

He gave up pretty easily on Colin, which wasn’t a surprise because he’s favoured Kait since Colin was born. Which means Kait got the brunt of his erratic behaviour. Once he called her late at night to say he’d bought a bike from someone then it got stolen so he didn’t feel he needed to pay them. They were coming to get their money no matter what so if he didn’t call her by morning, chances are he was dead. Then he turned off his phone and went to bed. Kait called me in a panic and I told her to call the police. The police did a wellness check and, sure enough, he was just sleeping. She was a teenager when he pulled this.

James and Brenda

James, after his baptism into the Mormon church, and his Mom. He celebrated his baptism with a cigarette, a joint, and a drink

Colin and I have had him blocked on Facebook and phone since the fiasco in June. Kait did initially but then we found out their paternal grandmother was dying of cancer and unblocked him so updates could be passed more easily. She died in mid January.

The kids and I had a great Christmas but there was one thing we didn’t know and that was Kait’s pregnancy. She got a positive test on Boxing Day and waited until the end of the first trimester before telling anyone in the family. I went to her 12 week ultrasound and got to see the little heart beating and to her 13 week obstetrician’s appointment. Sadly we couldn’t hear the heart beat with the doppler but she was still pretty early.

I don’t know if it was the loss of his Mom or finding out about the new baby but James pretty much lost his mind. He’s been texting Kait a bunch of crap and he went one step further.ultrasound

There’s a troll website called Kiwi Farms (don’t search them, they’re nasty) where people do nothing but find blogs, mostly trans and trans positive ones, and pick the posts apart badly. I posted about them back in December 2016 when they first found my blog. I know they’re still around because they show up in my statistics once or twice a week but otherwise I ignore them. Kait sent me some screen shots from their site recently that left me shaking my head. They are still convinced that I’m forcing Colin to be trans and shoving him into my clothes, like he doesn’t have clothes of his own. He borrowed a shirt from me for Christmas because he spilt something on his good shirt and suddenly they think he’s wearing all my clothes all the time. Not to mention, I’m 5ft3in and Colin’s 6ft3in. My clothes, other than one loose tank top, don’t fit him.

Colin is as stubborn as a mule and as movable as a boulder. I’m not manipulating him, no one is. He’s not saying he’s a man, he’s made it quite clear he’s female. But, thanks to autism’s black and white thinking, he feels that if he’s going to stay the way he is without hormones, he has to use he/him pronouns and go back to Colin. Which is no big deal for us. I remember 99.9% of the time now to call him Colin and he’s gone back to Colin at the doctor’s office. Maybe he’ll change his mind down the road and maybe he won’t but he’s loved either way and he knows that.

Their Dad has found the site and has started posting there, under the name Xofkathleen, as if being my ex is the only way he defines himself. Weird. His posts are pretty much a word salad mixed with almost incomprehensible spelling mistakes.

post3

If I shrink these they become unreadable. Also 19 pages?!? Do these people have lives???

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And, yeah, that’s Kait and I talking up in the corner LOL

His texts to Kait are just as badly written and even nastier. Kait’s comments are teal.

Text 5

Text 7

Yes, he’s bragging about blocking her. Also, I’m pretty sure mefs are meds

Text 24

I’m pretty sure he won Father of the Year right here

Text 25

Eww… like Kait or I needed that mental image. I’d like to believe I came via the stork, thank you very much. And spoiler, Kait blocked her Dad, they did not, in fact talk “tomorrow”.

The simple truth is our lives are getting better. I’m doing a lot better on my medication and branching out into new programs. Colin’s happily working towards his high school graduation. Kait and her boyfriend Josh are looking for a new apartment in April, after they’ve saved up some money. Both of them are working full time. Josh is the assistant manager of a furniture store. His store’s doing a seasonal close in November and then he’s eligible for free training in a trade from EI so he might end up with an even better job come 2019. Blackie’s perked up and happily eating her food. 2018 is an amazing year for us and I’m sure it’ll keep getting better.

Kait, Kathleen, and Emma

It can’t be seen but there’s a baby in this picture 🙂