Much of the focus here lately has been on the intense pain of the “dark night of the soul”—a descent many parents are thrust into by the circumstances surrounding their child.
But I suspect plenty of readers are here because they’ve had a similar journey through the darkness and are experiencing the benefits of emerging into something very new—and interesting.
It can feel strange, even disorienting, this liminal zone that gives you glimpses of what’s beyond the all-encompassing pain—where the anguish that once consumed you takes up less space and many new sensations are finding their way in, including moments of joy and peace.
There are times when you may wonder if you’re betraying something—or someone—by letting things feel a little lighter. And yet, despite the inner noise, something is shifting.
You may be experiencing these signs of a new attitude emerging:
Boredom with all things trans. Headlines that once drew you in now create mixed feelings. You may wonder if you have a responsibility to read them and feel a strange guilt when you don’t.
Interest in other, more hopeful topics. Perhaps spiritual topics or those that explore consciousness, mindfulness, human thriving.
Budding creativity that either invites old interests to re-emerge or calls you to try new things (or both,) with more abandon and less concern what others think.
Softening toward others; compassion for the human experience that is so hard!
A feeling of being not just different but perhaps a little alien–even to yourself—along with a curiosity to better understand what’s happening inside you.
There may also be some of these signs of spiritual opening:
A tender, open heart that feels more of everything. It can hold the pain alongside the joy of living.
Awe and wonder for this magnificent experience of being alive. You sense that you’re part of the larger fabric of something beyond comprehension–both insignificant and integral to the exquisite design that’s too big for our puny human vision to take in.
The weight of the world seems to have lifted off your shoulders. You recognize your limits and may even trust in something larger going on. You can see the enormous benefit of keeping your focus on tending to your own inner conflict and improving relations with loved ones and beyond–without the need to take responsibility for their experiences.
An emerging gratitude and reverence for suffering because it is what connects us in our humanity. The pain was needed to break you open and get you to this new place. This understanding allows you to let go of rescuing others, freeing you to be more present and simply enjoy them, or to provide comfort through disappointment and loss.
You’re beginning to truly understand love–in the agape sense of the word. That love is limitless and the more you give, the more seems to be available.
It might sound like serenity, and sometimes it is. But often it feels like standing in two worlds—one foot in the new, one still tangled in the old. You glimpse something more alive, truer, freer… and then, boom: resentment, fear, judgment, the craving to be right. It flares up without warning. And suddenly, you’re not so sure this whole evolution thing is worth it.
When this is all very new, it can feel quite threatening. You look around and don’t sense there’s anyone who gets you. You may find yourself spending more time alone—because to be social is to feel like an alien among those you know and love. You want to share with others what you’re experiencing, yet when you try to explain, you see faces glaze over or eyes wandering, likely scanning the room for someone who speaks the same tribal language.
It some situations, it can feel downright unsafe, traitorous, and you’re easily misinterpreted. People assume you’ve switched camps and call you names, insist you’re dangerous. (Is it happening all over again?!)
You may seek those familiar righteousness hits to feel like you’re still in that camp you were so certain you belonged to just a short time ago. You may dig in your heels and resist this new way—it’s loaded with uncertainty, unpredictability, you have no map and are in completely uncharted territory with no guide. Though this crazy “Stoic” lady seems to have an inkling what you’re experiencing. Uh oh…
In fact, maybe you’ve got it all wrong. Maybe this is delusional. Temporary. Irresponsible. Shouldn’t you be doing your part to make sure the good guys win? I mean, come on—there’s chaos, bloodshed, heartbreak, and collapse happening at scales we can barely comprehend. Who are you to feel sane? To feel… okay? Life shouldn’t feel good when the world is on fire. Should it?
But what if that’s exactly what we need? More stable, creative humans who know how to appreciate life and contribute their own peace and compassion to create more sanity and connection? Maybe how much better this feels is nature affirming that you’re on the right track? Notice the ripples that spread in your presence when you show up to the moment with genuine curiosity, enthusiasm, and caring. How different would the world look if there was more of this?
If the goal is to contribute to a more compassionate, healthy version of humanity, how do we go about that? Might becoming the most compassionate, healthy version of yourself be the way? Maybe that’s not indulgent. Maybe that’s how the new world gets made.
You don’t have to know for sure. Just keep playing with it. Notice what shifts when this new attitude is at the wheel. See if there are moments when you can choose something more hopeful, instead of falling back into well worn grooves. Pay attention to what shows up when you start listening to your heart over your fear.
Then maybe ask yourself one of my favorite questions,
“Is it working?”
So true. This is 9 years for me. My son had his male parts removed, he did finish Law School, passed Bar, married a biological female thats a lesbian (and horrible to me). They live 17 hours from me. They eloped, I wasn't allowed at graduation by wife. Now he needs money. I'm not reading the articles. I'm tired, but blessed that I've met parents through this ordeal that understand. I'm grateful to hear the detransitioners - I pray my son will be there some day. I fear what his health will be like. My only child. I'm divorced, had 2 close cousins die in less than 2 months. In some ways I'm lost. I love my son with my whole heart and I pray for him. Thats my life.
Thank you for this. This encapsulates so much of what I feel/ have experienced/ am noticing right now. I feel like I am
bobbing around in a lake, pretty far from any shore , and then I read one of your pieces. And today, I sighed with the relief that others feel the same as I do.