Last night I dreamed that my diagnosis had been sorted out. I felt comfortable for a brief moment when I woke up, until I realized it had been a dream. There are things I am unable to talk about, so I've been writing things down so I can show the man what I really mean.
Early on I started thinking about the time I 'came out'. It was terrible. It was thrashed out of me before I was ready to say anything. The whole thing was a massive guilt trip. It was all about my mum's need for grandchildren, my mum's need for security (her husband), my mum's need for me to have a 'normal' life, my mum's need for me to fit in. As usual I thought everything was my fault. It didn't occur to her to wonder how I might be feeling, or what my needs were. Her indifference to me, which coincided with her second marriage, turned to outright hostility. In the case of her husband, his dislike of me turned to blind hatred. He abused me with the most terrible words and my mum backed him up. It has taken me over three decades to pick up the pieces, and I could never have done so if my mum were still alive. Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about it?
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