Once again I came home gutted.
I went to a 90th birthday party for a women who was like a second grandmother to me.
There were whispers about me "looking good", people saying "I'm so glad you're in remission" WHAT? I'm not in remission. I had half my thyroid removed because I had a growth they thought was cancer. Which, thank goodness, it wasn't.
My mother has been very busy talking out of school. She was never supposed to tell anyone about my breakdown, or me being locked up in the hospital. But, obviously that's fair and titalating to chat with everyone and anyone about. At the same time it's just fine to give out false information about my health issues. I have cancer! It's Melanoma, which never goes into remission. Which is a cancer my mother doesn't think is real.
I'm not sure why my mother gets her kicks from making me burn with shame for being weak and broken. Nor do I know why she hates me. My boyfriend, who has witnessed my mother for almost two years, told me tonight my mother is a terrorist to me and if I let it break me down "the terrorists win".
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