I did not just lose a son; I lost a part of me. I still have my oldest son, but he is the son who accepts me the least. After the memorial service I was talking to my daughter in law. She told me that she thinks that I use the PTSD as an excuse in life; that I am not doing enough, or should be doing things differently. Maybe I should be seeing a different counselor- maybe one not specifically trained in trauma counseling because the therapist might be coddling me- or maybe I should be taking more or different medication. I felt like I was being blamed for my illness. Of course, they have never taken 30 minutes to so much as learn about PTSD to try to understand what is going on with me, and how it impacts my relationships.
Later on, my oldest son insisted that he cannot accept my illness. He thinks of me as a strong woman, and he refuses to see me as 'disabled' in any way. That explains why he is always disappointed in me; always angry with me. They have also expressed that they think it is insane that I should move to Covington.
I have but one son left, and he does not understand me.