Infection of Honesty: The Burden of Motherhood in a Pandemic

We are not crazy; we are just honest.
That was the first day for me at the psychiatric therapy centre, they presented me with a case that many people avoid reading about it. I read the file and went to the patient’s room, which was at the end of the corridor. She was sitting in the corner; her body was shivering from the thoughts going through her mind. I put my hands on her shoulder and let my eyes be asking her about her condition.
She was crying only with tears, her facial expressions were not saying anything, and we all know that this is the hardest kind of crying. She showed me the bracelet tied around her wrist and then said “They judged me as crazy”.
I sat on the floor and gently held her hands, saying “You are not crazy because a crazy person doesn’t know that they are crazy”. She said “Just because I defended my children from the pandemic in the city, I hid them in a cellar away from their eyes. And when the pandemic struck all their children, they brought my children out of their hiding place and they caught the infection. They judged me as crazy for making my children different from theirs”
I left the room in silence, and wrote in the diagnosis: “infected with the virus of honesty and the bacteria of true motherhood”
And I left my workplace before the end of the official working hours.

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