the other day mom and me had a tough conversation. i’d been on the phone to the director of towards healing, you know the organisation who currently funds my therapy. so i got off the phone and went to where mom was sitting.
that was the director of towards healing, mom.
really? what did she want?
She wanted to talk about the assessment I’ll be having.
Assessment, when, and with who?
You know the one I told you dr. barry was organising? To talk about ongoing treatment going forward?
then I spent some time telling her about it. After I got done she sat for a few minutes, thinking.
Will you ever be cured of the did?
But how come I read stories of girls who were?
Where did you read them mom? You shouldnt always believe everything you read.
You know, in magazines, they were healed, I mean your getting a lot of help, will there ever be a day where you’ll be healed?
no, mom. this is something i’ll have to live with forever. a chronic and enduring mental illness, is what dr. barry calls it.
mom sat silently then. I knew this wasnt what she wanted to hear.
I’m sorry, mom. I know you wanted me to get better, I’m sorry it wont happen the way you wanted…
She started to vacume then, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation, so I let it go.