Tonight I spoke on the phone with one of my sons, and as we talked my heart ached to tell him about my DID. He lives farther away than his brothers, and so I don’t see him as often. When I do he’s usually with his wife and kids, so there is no chance for private conversation.
I’m not sure what it is about him that evokes such strong emotion in me. He acts the toughest out of all my sons, but inside he’s a softie. I long to have a heart to heart with him. I want him to know this about me so that he can better understand his own life, and his childhood in particular. Though he’s said before that he had a great childhood and has no problems with how he was raised, I know that to a certain extent that must be denial talking. I don’t see how he could have no issues to deal with, having been raised by a mother who had a disorder she didn’t know about.It was only a couple of months ago that I told another son and daughter inlaw about my DID; here I am faced with the same situation all over again. Sometimes it seems that the nightmare of my childhood, and its after-effects, will never end. I know it will be a relief to share my truth with this son but, for now at least, there is anger and deep, deep sadness.
(I need a Super-Therapist to come to my rescue!)