I’ve always had that “so fix it” mentality. I’ve never had patience with my own pain. Which is funny considering how often I failed to fix anything. How often I just kept screwing up.

I wish I was the mom they deserve. Holy fuck I just want to be consistent and calm and safe. I want them to know without ever having a fucking shadow of a doubt that I’ll be there. I’ll be there through a nuclear holocaust through any and everything. And I’m still afraid of how much I fail them. That when they need me I’ll fuck it up and fail them again. Like I do now. When I can’t give my boy the joy he needs. I can’t be the safe warm place for him to put his heart. I’m not a safe, warm place for my fucking son. And my daughter? My baby? Oh my god.

Am I adultifying her? Am I over explaining? Giving her too many things too heavy for a child to carry? She has never had enough safety. She hasn’t felt safe in her entire life. My baby. Babies. MINE. And they haven’t felt safe because I have not been safe. I have not been calm, patient, gentle. I am volatile, angry, quick to react. Impatient, intolerant, intransigent. Distant and cold. I feel the hysteria building because I can see the harm I do. I see them flinch and recoil. I see them shut down and take it to heart and I swear to god I want to die. I want to fucking die because all I can think, all over again, is save them from me. Please god. Someone who can be what they need save them from me.

I’m not doing enough to fix it. I’m doing something wrong, I’m not trying hard enough. I’m wallowing or something, something is fucking wrong. The noise is shattering, monstrous ragged claws tearing furrows into my skin. The lights, the sounds, the smells. I can’t turn it off and my skin is crawling. It’s building and it will never hit a fever pitch because it can’t. It can’t. It won’t. I’ll fix it but what if I’m just a fucking fuck up, right? What if I can’t.

There’s something I can’t see. I need the space and time and silence to see it and I can’t find enough of it. It’s just a little longer, we just need a direction, it’s just whatever so much else is happening and like cool. That’s cool. But I’ve been talking about how I need this and I’m not the only person here and I’m trying to be part of a relationship and say I need help and nothing is happening I have to come up with any kind of solution every kind of step forward and I can’t do it I CANT DO IT THATS THE POINT I NEED HELP AND I DONT KNOW HOW ELSE TO ASK ANYMORE

And I see these stupid puzzle pieces, right, like this stupid emotional abandonment shit that apparently left me with this “so fix it” mentality where I do everything on my own. I go through everything on my own. And how much of this is just me fucking sucking at communicating? At getting everything wrong?

I question my own perception of reality bc I am made to and it’s so subtle and I have no idea anymore if it’s conscious or not but oh my fucking god oh my god oh my god

And this is the only thing I can turn to. This, that undermines my ability to be well. It is the thing I can’t quit or walk away from. It is the thing I have to conquer. But to be healthy I can’t just fucking dominate it. I can’t maneuver it. or is that part of it? Part of my evolution is just accepting that it’s a fucking function of who I am. I don’t know. I don’t want to be god. I want to be a better mom. I want my husband to be my partner. I want to be radiant again.