Now I lay me down to sleep my three kids and husband lay beside me. I must be quiet or I’ll risk causing them to wake, but I’m not ready to sleep for goodness sake. Now the oldest, almost as tall as me, likes staying up and waiting for me. She looks so accomplished when she’s still up past three, look mommy I’m just like you, and you’re just like me. I see it kid we are alike, and it is smothering me. Not because you’re not beautiful and worthy of love you see, it’s because I’ve not yet walked down the shadowy corridor to heal that part of me.
I feel like it’s been 3 years since I’ve slept without her staring directly into my soul. I don’t even know how to bring myself to see, the reality behind the mirror that is facing me. She was scarred, marked, and left to feel the same pain as me, how come I can’t react more compassionately.
I’m learning slowly, unraveling the the things that I’ve done. Changing the way that I have learned to react and controlling it. That is the fucking hardest one.
