What happens if a parent refuses to let their child be transgender? What happens if the parent tries their hardest not to allow their child to be trans, like flushing every bottle of their trans child's HRT down the toilet?

Gender identity belongs to the person who expresses it, as surely as eye color, hair color, height. You can deny its expression but there is a price that gets paid and it's a severe one.

I chose Or Else, and would wander into parent's bedroom nightly and contemplate her basket of sedatives, bottles of sleeping pills and Valium that she used to cope with her own shit. When not actively contemplating death, I wrote and read, always alone.

Children don't GET HRT, not then and not even now. Only adolescents past Tanner Stage 2 can get medical care, if their parents are humane enough and sagacious enough.

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Past puberty, life became unpleasant. I heard my parent say hateful things about a Butch/femme couple living next door. "There goes that woman who thinks she a man!" was hissed contemptuously. I filed that away in the Not Safe To Be Me category in my mind. Kids at school were even uglier. My nickname among them was Sasquatch, for my great size and silent demeanor. In high school I spent most of my time alone in the library (that's where I encountered the writings of Thomas Merton, mentioned earlier today), never talking, never dating, barely scraping by academically. Parent dragged me to an unethical therapist, who attempted to bully me into being more feminine. I soon discerned neither this person nor my parent actually gave a fat flying fuck about anything except my performance, academic and otherwise. They wanted my misery shut right down, period. Comply or else.

[1973, on vacation with my grandparents in NH]

None of it worked. I was a hellion. I shot cap guns, dissected stuff the cat caught, played football with my bros, learned how to box and wrestle, and could wallop a baseball to home run status easily. That was me, that was who I was.

Hello, I have a question about astral projection. I started to get interested in this a little while after my mum passed in april. I thought I may be able to see her and speak with her if I managed to achieve astral projection. Since this interest, every time i sleep on my back I go into sleep paralysis. However, I cant progress into astral projection because it is very scary for me as I feel like I'm suffocating when this happens. I panic and force myself to wake up. This only ever happened about once a year before this. It sometimes lasts a long time. This has happened about 3 times per week since my mum died, as mentioned on a previous post. I no longer try to go into it anymore(due to the suffocating feeling), but it still happens. I read that sleep paralysis is the pathway to astral projection. Why has this started to happen so frequently since simply taking an interest in it? Is this connected to the afterlife? I am concerned about it as I now cannot seem to stop this happening. Could it be my mum trying to communicate? Im asking due to more knowledge around this in this group.

For me, as a pre-teen, there was zero information.

You can use me as a Case Study.

So think carefully, WHY would you want to blight your child's life, Why would you want them to feel despondent and hopeless, so you can have a "proper" son or daughter who only behaves and thinks in your approved manner? How'd you like to exist under the Thought Police?

How can I handle my distrust and jealousy for my partner?

I've never had a paying job. I married the first person I ever dated. I don't have a college degree, I have scant life experience except as a damned good Nanny, and self-taught naturalist, perhaps. I'm 61 years old. I have lived a blighted life: I'm not stupid by any means, but I'm certainly no success story. I've gotten by through being ornery and cussed beyond belief. I have no idea what old age holds, except that my remaining siblings don't talk to me, and neither does the family I had while married. Their father has erased me and bills his new spouse, former affair partner, as their mother. I took care of them for three decades; I think I deserve better than that.

if you're not. Do you enjoy Russian Roulette? Using your child, of course.

In the 1970s, information about transgender people, while it existed, was hard to come by. I had a friend from the UK who worked in a hospital and he said that the hospital had a medical library. He researched in the library and the entire process sounded so horrible and daunting that it put him right off it, for years (we were transition siblings, he transitioned finally, in his fifties).

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My parents made it absolutely clear that my role as their youngest daughter was to be a proper feminine being. That's why I had long hair. "Girls have long hair." The clothing issue was taken care of by poverty and my being seven years younger than my sister Lee. Her stuff plain old didn't fit. That left my brothers' clothing. Suited me just fine. Deportment-wise, I was forever being hounded to "walk like a lady," "sit like a lady," and so forth.

So "what happens if a parent refuses to allow their child to be who they really are?" You get a person like me, if you're lucky. Or a 💀 child, like Leelah Acorn, https://time.com/3655718/leelah-alcorn-suicide-transgender-therapy/