An Australian woman claims she left her husband after discovering the cruel nickname he used for her when texting his friends. The woman said the final straw came one morning, after her husband got home from a late night out with his football friends. While he was in the shower his phone kept pinging, and she decided to check it in case it was something urgent. I didn't know what to make of his last one, which read: 'Don't think I can make it tonight. SWMBO will say no'," she said. Wondering what the abbreviation stood for, she asked her husband outright and he casually responded it meant 'She Who Must Be Obeyed'.
Courtesy in checking to see if you're needed - to say what your plans are. When he was just under 3, we were hanging out on in the den chatting like always, when BB grew quiet and then appeared to discover some type of revelation out of thin air — which then compelled him to assert:. At the time I knew nothing of transgender people, let alone, trans kids. But I did know that this was an unusually profound statement for my toddler to make.
This felt different — unsettling in a way. Looking back now, I can clearly see that my child had chosen each word deliberately, yet with painstaking caution.
It was both a mature statement of intent, and an apprehensive inquiry seeking some type of reassurance. But over the next few weeks, months, and years, I kept hearing it over and over in my head:. Like it was demanding my attention. It was Facebook was only just taking off — there were no secret groups or support communities online for this specific niche. All I knew was that I loved my BB fiercely, and nothing would change that. He became obsessed with Rapunzel, Tinkerbell and all the other pixies , and Alice in Wonderland.
And a handful of other princess-type characters.
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With those, BB could work sheer magic even at age 4 , cinching them fitted at the waist, or draping and tying them over one shoulder. And still, BB showed absolutely zero enthusiasm for any form of stereotypical boys interests or play toys. People started to notice and say things. Yes, we thought it was a phase. But I did and I do believe people are born the way they are, and part of that pre-programmed constitution includes a sexual orientation that maybe influences their mannerisms, demeanor, and even behavior. I always was a firm believer that all behavior is communication.
I had a lot to learn, which would require being intentional with reading, studying, absorbing, and digesting. Most importantly, it would require strong discipline in active listening skills, while also suppressing the urgent need to respond in any kind of knee-jerk manner, if at all. When to speak up, when to pipe down, when to not speak in the first place.
A fter years of trying to learn and struggling to find resources to support raising and affirming this type of child, I was watching something on TV about a gender creative boy.
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It simply never crossed our minds. Meanwhile, I continued remaining blissfully unaware of the real reason why my child hated, detested, absolutely loathed going shopping for clothes and shoes. I guess he publicly suppressed his hatred of these things as long as he could. He was having panic attacks daily, for seemingly no reason whatsoever.
Fortunately, because I worked in his school I was just a quick phone call down the hall, but unfortunately, this led to us also spending many hours that year in the health room. I was desperate to know why my child was having panic attacks over something as benign as chocolate birthday cupcakes at lunch for a friend. We always had to request gummies or liquids when he was sick.
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All attempts at taking pills were harrowing, fruitless, and traumatizing — for BB and for us. So anxiety medication was out of the question, as long as my child had any say in it. He wore the ring one day, and to our dismay, we learned that his fellow 4th grade classmates had gotten over the backpack way easier than they got over the delicate, pink-stoned ring.
It took BB til near the end of the school year, but he did wear it again. It was so sad and isolating for him, and it was excruciating to witness day after day. It broke my heart. He became more withdrawn and quiet as each day passed. The search for and subsequent find of some kind of label and identity had been such a breakthrough for BB, who now found himself struggling to make friends.
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All the retorts and comebacks we suggested that he asked for never seemed to work in the moment. The harassing kids kept harassing. Most struggled to understand my child on any level. Many of them would ask me about it when they saw me in the halls or cafeteria at school.
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The summer after 4th grade was when it suddenly clicked; he could wear whatever he wanted to wear, wherever he wanted to wear it. His, too. By 5th grade, BB had begun rejecting everything remotely masculine, including clothing and even underwear that appeared masculine. That piece of the puzzle was made very clear that night, and I finally started understanding things on an even deeper level; I finally accepted that this — all of this, from the 4th grade panic attacks to the years-long struggles with issues like encopresis — was how gender dysphoria was manifesting itself in my child.
This was where our child learned about different pronouns. By 6th grade, BB was not indicating a desire to further transition or begin puberty blockers or anything else like that, at least we thought.
We figured it may or may not happen, but we have to be open and ready for whatever if we are to love our child unconditionally. But it was just BB and me in that shoe store, and everyone thought we were mother and daughter.
Thank you! I wanted to have control in these situations. Let go of that control. It drains you of your resources.