I have a life that by all appearances seems normal, even good. I own a home. I have a career. My work has significant responsibilities, and I am compensated well for it. I am physically fit, healthy and conventionally attractive. I have a good sense of humor and like to have fun. By many objective measures, I would appear to be successful in life.

I am not a raving lunatic. I am able to function in life. I am not disabled by my thoughts, at least, not yet. I am actually quite rational. Yet I struggle to carry a burden that is heavy for me.

Only I seem to know the truth. I see and acknowledge the difference between appearance and reality. And the difference I see is not just within me, it is with the entire world. I see things cast in a color that others can’t perceive, or if they can see it, they ignore.

I used to think of my body as a shell that covered, hid and protected my secret self. I thought I was less than myself. Now, with Mommy, I feel like I travel the other world in a bubble that encompasses both of us. I am no longer alone among the others, and I feel strong enough to carry my burden.

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