Terror

With my mother and me terror is always a factor.

I am looking–in my mind–at the video footage of my son that i described in my last post–sick and disoriented. And it strikes me as a reflection of reacting with a sexually damaged Mom. That my mother just fostered our actual telatuonshio.

But NO! My mother is unsympathetic to my disability and has always read it as an intent to “dominate.” She has called me “arrogant;” a “slut;” a “spoiled brat.”

I was desperate to be a mother to my son and i had a terrifyibg condition i couldnt help that nobody understood This was TERRIFYING. She treated it as willful abd described it to others as such when i was unable to communicate very well for myself.

I wanted and needed help around this condition and my son desperately needed me to get that help. Not to have my disability “reflected.”

So here i am 24 years later. All i can think is, where there is life, there is hope.

Im just wondering what i should telll my son when he returns here before going back to Philly.

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