I HATE Vague Posts But…
I honestly don’t know how many people read this or who. I know I could check but I find I am much more honest and open if I don’t so why the vague? Honestly I just need to talk. I have been pacing biting my nails and feeling my tongue itching.
I keep picking up my phone trying to think of which friend I can burden with my stress on a weekday morning. It is a very lonely feeling and my dogs are frankly baffled by the crying and the unfortunate pacing. (Ehlers Danlos people need other way to stress reduce than moving or eating it all seems to go poorly.)
What has gotten me in this tizzy? Everyone is alive. My family was here and if anyone can make you see some unfortunate truths about yourself may I suggest letting a teenager loose on your psyche. I am not being flippant. My son is better than a hard nose therapist at making me see things I would rather die, be embalmed, buried in a lamp, thrown to the cave of wonders (yes I saw Aladdin yes I loved it).
Here’s the screwed up thing about responsibility it sometimes is yours even when it isn’t. Even when the person who did the hurting should be the one uncomfortably writing three drafts of a letter and wondering who will believe them. Having to relive traumas years and decades old to keep their children safe.
So now I’m in bed writing vague posts realizing pacing leads to dislocated feet. My wolf is concerned and laying in his I’m protecting my mom from anything that comes. I have finished my letter and the add ons. I am waiting to apologize to my mother for not understanding why she did what she did. I am ready to throw up. I have already written a text to my teenager thanking him for putting me in the most uncomfortable place I have been emotionally.
To badly quote Winston Churchill to get through hell we must go directly through it.