I’m holding it together. But only just.
The words are back – the liars. They’re telling me, I’m telling me, that I’m a failure as a parent. I’m so mean to my little girl. That voice, I cut her open with contempt. All she wants is a mother’s love. I’m her mother. But I forget. Just do what you’re supposed to do. What I want you to. Obey. But she’s 5. She’s supposed to be her own person. And I crush her. She bounces back. But what damage have I done. What scar tissue am I generating under that beautiful, soft skin.
How do I stop.
Please let this be hormones – this depth of this
suffering crying guilt.
Does this mean I’ve failed. That I need to go back onto antidepressants.
I’m so tired. The mantra of my life.
Door slams shut inside. Feel nothing feel nothing feel nothing. Maybe if I hold really still, this will go away.