Today I was talking to my psychologist (which I do two times a week to keep my head out of the scuzzy corner. )He used the word "fragmented" to describe my son. I said, 'let me try to get the knife out of my ribs and the blood mopped up before our session ends.'
You see, this is what I avoid feeling and knowing. That my son's fragmentation is the mover here. I have preferred to hypothesize marijuana psychosis or even bipolar (or better yet, willful behavior) because these seem preferable to a crumbling iceberg in my son's cognition and personality. Because you see for our first 20-plus years together, I saw and felt him as whole and the relationship as whole. I could not accept that without the structure of my personality, left to his own capacity, the result would be as it has. As we know my response to feeling and being with this fracturing was to shatter myself into pieces, in order to will him to be whole. How do you think that worked? We know.
After all of these years, I cannot bear to feel what I must feel. Yes. It's been quite a journey. Sigh or sob. I don't know.
