I can’t trust anyone, not even myself. This feeling unsettles me and my world is built on quicksand.
I couldn’t even stay home by myself earlier because I know there is danger in the silence. My brain explores every unsavory character flaw I possess. I hate being this way. I can’t help but tongue the wounds and look for new ones.
I don’t want to die. At least I don’t think I do. Maybe I’m wrong. Sometimes I know I need to though. Lately there’s a lot of knowing. Like right now. I stare at my daughter and I know she deserves better than this. Because I am crazy I should not continue existing. Because I question existence I am crazy. It’s a circle.
2 comments
Dolly? Ma’am? It takes an aware individual to question their existence and perhaps some would look worryingly at such a remark but it’s better to convey questions than settle with static (read: not going anywhere) answers.
Look your daughter in the eyes and tell me you don’t see the future she will be living in the world tomorrow and every day after. That future is wholly dependent on YOU. You will enable this girl to mature into a woman of her own right and become a successful person all of her own. Take it from someone who has always questioned the relevance of his mother – you will ALWAYS be Number One.
I’ve always had a rough time with my own mother, but even as a young adult, I love her immensely but would never tell her to her face since she’d use that as an excuse for me to buy her smokes etc. And heck…you’re a mother! That’s incredible and that in itself tells the world you are capable of so much…and a whole lot more.
From here – I wish you and your child all the best. Do take care.
I have Mommy issues. My Mom is defective as was her Mom before her and even my great Grandmother if the stories are true. I can’t help but wonder if my presence does more harm than good. My daughter is my fourth child, the older three are boys. I have failed them in numerous ways already and the oldest is six. I know that I am prone to feelings of inadequacy but on the subject of motherhood I feel like those feelings are based in reality.
When I am alone I hear all these ponderances repeated over and over in my head as well as other self-deprecating observations. It gets tiresome.