"He seems so...normal" they say, those who don't know, who don't understand that he's no less "NORMAL" than any of us, his struggles are just different than many the rest of us face, because he struggles every minute of every day to fit into these paradigms that have been set of "acceptable", so that heads won't turn, and eyes won't roll, so that people won't huff, and stare.
And so here I sit, with this broken heart as he tells me that I don't love him, and I'm the worst mother ever, that I never liked him, and I don't even want him, and I long to scream back "YOU ARE WRONG!" and I want to allow my hurt to fall in on itself, and take me right along with it, like a roly-poly curling itself tight into a ball, showing the world nothing but it's protective shell and holding the hurt and fear it feels inside itself. I wish nothing more than that when he finally comes to me with words of apology and regret, and I hold him tight and stroke his flaxen hair, and tell him that it all ok, that it was ok, that it didn't hurt, that it didn't break my heart just a little each and every time.
I should be grateful, I know, that he "seems normal", and more than anything, that I am the safe place where he can let it all go, I just wish it didn't come with such a toll....
