As I struggle through with all the demons that refuse to leave me in peace, I discovered that confiding in those that I thought was safe to do so was not. At all. I thought confiding in my mother would help me as well as ease some of her worries. Not so. As it turns out, if you get a little bit of alcohol in her, she'll tell you the truth. She'll tell you how much it hurts from her point of view. The way she sees it. I should have never told her anything. I should have kept the hurt from bio-mom to myself. I should have kept the hurt from molestation to myself. I should have kept the rape to myself. I should have kept the loss of my son to myself. I should have just continued to pretend as I had for the past 40+ years. To keep her happy. To keep her sense of security. She has no idea that if it weren't for her, my father and my grandson that I would be dead right now. I told her that. It didn't matter. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Sadly it proved to be true tonight. And my heart has been shattered.