Shit… it’s f’ing hard. Not usually my beautiful public school education lingo, but it’s far from ‘jolly hockeysticks darlings’. For the 8th morning in a row, my little 4 year old boy was afraid, scared, terrified about going to school.
Surely the logic should follow that ones who know me best should have instant access to all that’s the truth about their friend, and the strangers should either earn my trust and become my friend, or, find my blog writings because they are kindred spirits.
Not all women succumb to the calling of Mother Nature to find our mate for life and make babies. My friend and I did though, with bells and whistles. Maternal instinct and a need to make sure that our children never have to grow up with the same trauma we had to turns our lives inside out and upside down.
Three days ago I was in crying desperately into my iPhone to my therapist from the torture of incessant and intrusive suicidal thoughts. The good news is that by today I am having to ‘lower’ my state of mind to write this post.