When your chances fall in your lap like that...

Mum's latest thing is telling me that I need therapy. Not directly right out like that, not 'you need help'. She tells me about how great her support group is, the one she's in for looking after Dad. She tells me about how she never realised how much Dad's illnesses affected us all, how much she was hurt, but especially how much the children in a situation like that suffer.
And I just want to scream at her. I want to scream that I like being a monster, that this is who I am and I wouldn't change one goddamn thing. Not one! I like how I can't lie because every single goddamn thing I feel is written on my face. I like my shyness and the act I put up to combat it. I like my obsessions and my dismissals. I like the drinking, the hangovers, the comics, the books, the writing, the music, the stress. I ain't never gonna change. Unless I do. But it ain't gonna be facilitated by no paid-for manipulator.