It’s hard to believe that eight years have passed since I have been in this house instead of that one; this life instead of that one. These responsibilities in addition to those. Surreal, really.

There is no super to call when the toilets overflow or the fridge leaks, but if you have known me for any amount of time, you know that I see that as: Challenge Accepted. There’s just something about me that is oddly bent on doing things my way, and I don’t really know what that is…I just know it is and I must.

I don’t like details. Well, I do, but only when my brain deems them necessary. Which is absolutely random and always surprises me, to say the least. Somehow I have raised two children with only the big picture – the end result – in mind. Or maybe it’s with just the day-to-day in mind. There’s even too much detail required for me to figure that out, so let’s just say I’m not fantastic (to say the least) with details. As in, too many of them overwhelm me. Too many of them make my brain feel like flapping hummingbirds run amok. Too many of them just feel like too much.

Today, though, the details mattered. Today, the details ripped apart my fucking heart. Today, the details that took my breath away labeled my child as “stupid”. And my heart, mind, soul, and fists are ubiquitously on fire.

I understand fear. I understand fear because you don’t understand. That’s where it ends for me, though; scared with awful and mean don’t resonate in my understanding. Telling your child to refer to my chid as “stupid” because non-binary pronouns are confusing to you, or them, is a cop out. Your words a display of blatant refusal to open your mind to options other than what you are; the middle- or high-school bully that has killed so many souls. And flesh. Have you ever thought about the powerfulness of words? My guess is no, you have not. They fly from your mouth without a thought and you don’t understand who you kill along the way.

Shame on you. As an adult and parent you have a responsibility to be better. It’s an unspoken oath. We raise them to be above and better than us, not to succumb to our myriad insecurities and biases. You could have killed another child with your words tonight; but not this one. Never this one. They are stronger and more evolved than you could ever wish to emulate. They have no use for hate.

Your words fill us with wonder and anger – and then we feel sorry for your pathetic existence. And we hope you grow. You are missing out on a ton of greatness with your eyes closed.

 

 

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