It’s like I’m living two separate lives—the fear is agonizing—the uncertainty is even worse. What is it that I’m becoming?
When we took my son home, it didn’t take long for my insides to shed quickly to my outsides. I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to shower, I didn’t want to clean, I just didn’t want to participate in life at all. I didn’t want to be a mom.
I would go to school with a water bottle filled with alcohol stolen from whatever home I was in. No one would notice, because I didn’t drink until I was belligerent — just enough to get outside of myself.
I am going to be someone. I am going to live a life as a functioning, recovering human being. I will laugh when something is funny and cry when I feel sad. I will love and I will lose. I WILL BE LOVED.