During the time I was trying to come to grips with the new realisation that my mother did not love me, not really, because she couldn’t, I discovered greek mythology.      As I read the story of  Medea, and other goddesses and women of ancient times I realised: the ancients understood mothers were not ‘nice’.   They felt no need to pinhole women who happen to have children into neat, aproned packages of goodness.   They understood mothers can be evil.  They understood mothers can be more concerned with themselves than their children.   That mothers can and do kill their own children – if not physically, in a myriad of small knife cuts to the psyche, a murder of the soul.  That mothers,…