I have given up assuming my life will get better. It’s not getting better. It’s getting worse. And I am too honest to pretend differently. The more I know, the more layers of trauma I peel away, the more I know about how trauma impacted my whole life, the worse my life becomes.
I am only existing for my children. If it weren’t for them, I would no longer be here. I try to be a decent mother.
Plus, I am doing things for others that I believe are needed and good, like posting info on my page, volunteering to help people in need, helping at the school – to help the teachers and kids.
I’m socialising with other parents, so I can be more involved with my youngest son in regard to play dates etc with his friends. So my desire to isolate does not impact him.
But, this is all for others. None of it is for me, because all it does is force me to be around people – increasing my anxiety, exhaustion, hyper vigilance etc. The depths of my increasing pain and grieving are so great, I do not feel anything positive. Continue reading