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Diana, in Roman mythology is the goddess of wild animals and the hunt, identified with the Greek goddess Artemis. When most people hear the name Diana they either think of the mythological character or Diana, Princess of Wales. For me the name represents the worst of my childhood.

A much better Diana

I had a lot of trauma throughout my youth associated with various family members but my biological mother takes the prize as the most haunting. In my 4th decade on this planet I still occasionally remember things I had to repress to avoid PTSD. I've been pretty open on this page and shared deeply personal things but some of the stories surrounding her are too raw even to this day. What I have written about here, good or bad, is with the perspective that they are worth remembering and learning from. The hate and evil placed upon me by my "mom" (she never earned that tile though) is better kept silent and should die with me.

When I finally reconnected with my sister I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with Diana. Amy however, apparently unaware of the trauma, insisted and arranged a surprise event for me to reconnect with her. I know that Amy meant well but the moment I saw her the muscles in the lower part of my pack tightened and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I felt a true fight or flight situation made worse by the inclusion of my children who I had hoped to protect from her. My aunts and uncles (her siblings) and cousins were present so I bit my tongue and toughed it out. Amy continued to push the matter and when I broached the topic of our youth she was offended. I realize that most of what I

suffered was when Amy wasn't present but I had always assumed living with her all those years she had seen that side of the monster. Either I was the only one who endured that abuse or she was in denial. Neither of which was ideal.

Against my better judgment I allowed Amy to arrange a meal with the 3 of us. I was aloof and reserved leading Amy to believe that I was the problem. Diana lashed out saying that I was like my father and was a liar (sensing my apprehension and wanting to make a preemptive strike I assume). She said, "you're dead to me again". Not wanting to connect with her anyway the audacity of such a statement blew my mind. Hearing from the person who gave birth to you that not only do they not want anything from you but the addition of the word "again" increased the impact. It told me that she had already written me off before. Was this when we all still lived together and she was leveling physical and psychological abuse or as a result of my parents separation? I couldn't tell but her hate for me, whatever caused it, had survived all these years. Luckily as an adult I am able to protect myself. The way my sister talks of her I can only assume she and my niece have been spared that darker side at the very least.


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