One of Those Nights

It’s way past bedtime and here I am, wide awake and trying to ignore the urge to tidy the house.

Can I sleep now.

Today, well technically yesterday, I went to the weekly Psychotherapy appointment but this time I broke down in tears. A snotty, damp red faced mess. Gawd how much I wanted a hug then, but can’t hug or even shake a doctor/therapists hand.

He had me explain why I feel such overwhelming desire to “protect the youngest” in most situations, why my eldest resents me. Why I’m always so self negative. What happened at the boys births and how I said goodbye to D at five days old and telling him to look after his Daddy, because a doctor told me I’d die by morning. How I thought I’d die if I was pregnant again. How I hate myself for being a rubbish mum.

Being disappointed in myself all the time, and worried how others judge me. How I CAN NOT go out in public without make-up. Why I get on better with my pets than people…. You get the idea! The appointment over ran by half an hour.

I cycled home with dry tears making my face feel tight. Then had a hot shower before the school pick up run. In torrential rain.

A long old day, and I’m still stuck in the past.
Ps, its the first anniversary of my Nan’s death this week.

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