I don't know what to do. This isn't really a question.

Things were going so well. I was fighting to be back in my son's life. Having weekly supervised contact with him.

I have severe mental illness. It doesn't affect my judgement but it makes social interaction painfully stressful, and it's painfully stressful for me to concentrate. As you can imagine that causes problems. I've had to spend my life really learning how to communicate automatically. I tend to be very open and honest about my disability, admittedly bringing it up when I think it's relevant (rather than needing someone to ask about it), rather than hiding it. I don't find anything is wrong about that. My disability is not some scary subject to keep to myself. I'm not ashamed of it, I don't control it.

Social worker doesn't agree. I'm not allowed to talk about the details of my mental illness when my son can hear. It's "inappropriate" for an 8 year old to hear.

When I say I can't concentrate more easily around people, it's not a choice, the social worker said "it needs to be" (a choice).

But it's not. I am what I am. It's easier when I'm around my son and interacting with him, but if someone else starts making conversation, it's difficult for me to notice that I'm talking about the forbidden subject of my disability and how it affects me.

My son said, two weeks ago, that he loves me. I hadn't heard that for two and a half years. And now I'm not going to see him again. Because I can't get rid of my disability and be the parent social services want me to be.

I just feel sick. Stuck. I hate my brain. I hate myself.