Dear Bel
One of my grandsons has decided he wants to become a woman. The only information I had was an email from a few years ago. I’m afraid my response was rather curt and that caused the problem.
During the first thirty years of his life I never had any indication that he was anything other than a man. After college he went on a break and met a girl during his travels. They eventually married in America. But before that, they had my hospitality for two years, until they were able to buy a house – when I helped them financially.
About three years ago I had to move to a retirement home near my son. This obviously meant that the house had to be sold after 40 years.
It was very traumatic, but I agreed and gave the young couple most of my belongings. They had a child two years ago and became regular visitors. Then came the email telling him his new ‘female’ name.
On the eve of her 91st birthday, my wife passed away and I was glad I hadn’t told her about it. My grandson and his wife and child attended the funeral, but I have been ghosted ever since. Had no contact whatsoever from them despite sending money for my great grandson’s birthday and Christmas.
I had also sent birthday cards and letters, still no response. Not even a short ‘thank you’.
After all I have done for this couple, I feel humiliated and very disappointed with their attitude. Unless I accept their decision unconditionally, I am guilty. What is your opinion on all this?
Adam
Bel Mooney replies: My instinctive reaction is extremely blunt, but I have to be quite careful here and not express my real feelings in public as openly as I would if I were speaking to you in person.
I like to think that this column is a tolerant and caring space, but here we have an elderly gentleman who was treated with unforgivable rudeness by a couple in their thirties to whom he was very kind indeed. I don’t care whether your grandson calls himself a man or a woman or a fluffy bunny, he has absolutely no right to be so damn ungrateful, ill-mannered (to be generous) or cruel (to be more honest) .
When he sent you the email telling you that he should now be called Rose (I made that name up), you had to congratulate him on finding his true identity, and say how absolutely wonderful that your great-grandson now has two moms. . or similar nonsense.
Yes, you were expected to give into his fantasy, but you couldn’t do that because you know very well that a Roger can’t turn into a Rose just because he says so. I so agree with you on that. You probably told him to get his head straight, or words to that effect. Now I often advise parents and grandparents to keep their opinions to themselves to maintain family harmony, and sometimes readers come back with some version of “But why on earth would we do that?” And I always sympathize.
Peace at any price usually means that untruth will prevail. Being honest usually means causing family problems. That’s what is meant by finding yourself between a rock and a hard place.
So I admit that I wish you had just ignored the guy’s email, while at the same time I know that his announcement that he is now a “woman” would have irritated me too. I believe our society has gone completely crazy in demanding that we agree to every single “identity” shibboleth.
When his email came, you were taking care of your wife, and I’m also glad you let her die without knowing about the email. It won’t help much, but right now I ask you to remember that your grandson’s wife and child are dealing with the consequences of his decision to transition. This can cause major problems within a family, which is why there are online support groups for them.
I think the family’s rudeness towards you is appalling, but I just want to point out that this cannot be an easy time for them either. What can you do? I imagine you have told your son how humiliated, sad and angry you feel. He might agree. All I can do is express my condolences to you.
Dear Bel
I am middle-aged, married and retired, with adult children. Every day I suffer from a low mood and a huge lack of self-confidence, which I think has increased over the years, even though I don’t know why.
For example, I no longer feel comfortable and happy while driving, even though I used to consider myself a good driver. I also suffer from anxiety, which is horrible and keeps me from doing things I wouldn’t have thought about as a young person.
I hope I’m young at heart – I like music, theatre, painting, keeping fit etc. But I don’t have as many friends as I used to. I recently let a couple go because their friendships weren’t what they used to be.
My marriage has been difficult at times, we are very different people with different friends. I think it would be great to have a shared social circle, but it doesn’t quite work that way.
Sometimes I think about my childhood, when I had so many friends, but I know you have to move forward – even though I admit I like looking back.
In many ways I know I am lucky. I get along well with my children and extended family and there are things to look forward to. I think I’m just dissatisfied with my current life, so how do I get my zest for life back?
Sara
Bel Mooney replies: The subject of your email is one word: “Wain.” It conjured up in my mind the image of a boat in the doldrums, just wallowing and hanging out on a calm sea with no wind to push it along.
Such a situation can make you feel sick – as anyone with small boat experience knows. Likewise, it’s not always just the storms in life that make you feel like throwing up.
What I didn’t know is that “withering away” is now an accepted term in modern psychology, a concept seen as the opposite of “thriving” and first used in relation to mental health by an American sociologist in 2002. Some readers may be thinking this: is annoyingly typical – an American academic giving a label to a normal human feeling that can be summed up as ‘meh’ or ‘blah’.
You might wonder, as I often do, whether it is useful for society to label every mood, making it seem like a disease. (‘School Avoidance Disorder’ anyone?)
Yes, Sarah, you are right to imagine that many people feel the same way. I once considered myself an experienced driver, but now hate driving my 12 year old Mini. I find myself worrying about parking the damn thing, and I’m also worrying about (let’s say) a perfectly normal holiday.
Why do we experience such changes? I’m afraid they’re a common symptom as we get older, like a stiff neck (just one thing that makes reversing and parking harder), hating the increasing traffic on our roads, hating parking apps, feeling exhausted at the thought of an airport, realizing that home is safer than elsewhere and (in general) having experienced most of life’s discomforts and knowing that they tend to get worse, which makes them fear them even more.
Hands up for anyone who recognizes these symptoms! They are completely natural reactions to modern life. No medications or guidance are required here.
But there are two other problems lurking in your email: marriage and friendship. These will certainly add to your depression. Like many people, you feel wistful about not sharing your life with the “soulmate” (an annoying but useful abbreviation) that many people dream of.
You almost certainly feel lonely in your marriage and wish things were different. However, it’s not too late to make a concerted effort to find something new that you and your man might be able to share – whether it’s discovering the activities of the University of the Third Age, planning changes in the garden or the decision to share your lives. with a pet.
I just ask you to think creatively along those lines and talk to him about it. Regardless, couples can be very different and still show interest in each other’s preferences.
It’s natural to let certain friendships slide as we change. You can’t keep everyone who has ever been important. Don’t worry about that, just focus on the friendships you have and promise to give them even more input. You can combat your own malaise by being proactive.
Organize a lunch with three friends and have a laugh over a bottle of wine (or two). Make a plan with your best friend to go for a walk every week and notice something new in nature.
This is one way (NHS approved!) of ‘moving forward’, which (as you say) is essential. The natural world changes just as we do, and learning to identify yourself with its great cycles can be both humbling and exhilarating.
What exactly is ‘joie de vivre’? Is it possible to feel the joy of life always? Hmm, personally I take as my mantra (which is written in the diary every year) the wise words of the great Norwegian playwright Ibsen: ‘Live, work, act; don’t sit around worrying and groping among unsolvable riddles.’
And finally… Suffering shows our humanity
Two weeks ago I told you that I was going out to ‘learn something new’. Neither my husband nor I had ever visited the extraordinary sites at Pompeii and Herculaneum, which were overwhelmed by a catastrophic volcanic eruption nearly 2,000 years ago.
In the summer of 79 AD. nearby Mount Vesuvius erupted, spewing smoke, rocks, lava and poisonous gas thirty kilometers into the air, spreading to towns and villages and completely burying people and places for centuries.
We traveled with a company called Andante, which specializes in history and archaeology. Experienced archaeologist John Shepherd explained everything with tireless skill.
Yes, it may sound a bit geeky – but otherwise I’d encourage single readers to investigate what the company has to offer, as at least eight of our group were alone and found the enjoyable late-night group dinners a real plus.
Regardless, I remain moved when I imagine the horror of what those poor, long-dead people endured. It is indescribable to see casts of the bodies in positions of pain and fear. A couple huddled together, a dog in agony, a child… How can such things seem far away when you realize that these people were like us in so many ways?
Read the young Pliny’s eyewitness: ‘You may hear the cries of women, the cries of children, and the cries of men; some cry for their children, some for their parents, some for their husbands… one complains of his own fate, another of that of his family; some want to die for the very fear of dying; some lift their hands to the gods; but the greater part were convinced that there were now no gods at all…’
Women in Herculaneum dressed in their best jewelry, hoping to escape. Our vacation got me thinking about universality—the real people calling out for their loved ones, as we do.