After the Panic Comes the Confusion

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of barely stifled tears and waves of panic.

When I get home, I’m slightly relieved that I don’t have Allie and Maddie with me tonight. It’s a Thursday and it’s their dad’s custody night. Jim walks in shortly after me and we both collapse on the couch. I look at him and the tears start coming. “We had this presentation today, we watched this video. It’s about transgender kids.” Jim nods and says, “we did, too. And you won’t BELIEVE some of the stupid sh*t people had to say during the presentation.” 

Now the tears are rolling and I blurt out, “I think Allie is transgender. She is just like the kid in the video. I think she’s transgender and I can’t wrap my head around what that means.” 

Jim looks at me and his reaction is quick and assertive. “Allie is a tomboy. The transgender stuff, that’s different.”

With that I blurt out, “But what if she is? What does it mean? What do we do?”

With an exasperated look, Jim grabs my hand, looks me in the eyes, and sternly says, “if she is, then we will figure it out. I just don’t think that she is.”

I wish I could say that this is the point in the journey where I start figuring out a plan. Where I talk to Allie to see how she is feeling. But it’s not. Instead, I start trying to justify the signs that I have been seeing for the past 18 months. The meltdowns over wearing “girl” clothes. Referring to herself as a boy. Only wanting to play with action figures instead of Barbies. 

Google searches confirm that these are just “tomboy” things. It is easy to convince yourself of something when you are looking for supporting evidence.

And so the spring turns into the summer, and life continues on as if nothing is different. Allie, dressed as a boy with a girl haircut, continues dancing to the beat of her own drum, completely unaware of the confusion and worry she causes by just being herself.