symbolic art
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I thought your birth might fix me. You arrived with the smell of lemons still in my mouth, and something broken already in my chest. I told people you saved my life (and you did) but I never told them I was terrified I might ruin yours. Dennis was gone most weeks, and the walls
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Betrayal in families rarely announces itself with drama. More often, it arrives quietly – through omission, reframed memories, strategic silences. It grows in the spaces between what was said and what was never allowed to be spoken. For the betrayed, it begins as confusion. Something doesn’t add up, a strange withdrawal, a coolness that lingers.
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The child is shaped first by absence. Not just of the father who left, but of the mother who remained – distant, distracted, or fractured. Absence wears many disguises: silence, busyness, emotional flatness, disassociation. Sometimes it smiles and says “You were wanted” while the eyes look somewhere far behind you. The father left early, perhaps
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A child is not born with a personality. He is born with a temperament, yes, but personality? That’s a slow accretion. It comes in layers, like sediment, each compacted by experience, repetition, and the small betrayals or affirmations of daily life. I didn’t understand this until I saw it from the other side – until
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There are adults who do not walk through life as whole persons, but as a gallery of selves—each one trying to make sense of the others, or deny them altogether. What the DSM once called Multiple Personality Disorder—now formally termed Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID)—is not the theatrical split so often misunderstood in popular culture. It
Reade Saunders 