Following last night’s blog, I am now, this morning, very much, hurting, upset, aching and guilty about what I expressed. I was so aggressive! Where did all that anger come from? It’s not like me to express myself as I did, to rant and rage to that extreme. I am writing this in shame and trying hard to resist the temptation of  hitting the Trash button. I am feeling very guilty for ‘attacking’ my own flesh and blood in that way. I am shocked about how I could say such things even though they are the honest truth. But I feel my children have abandoned me. They are totally and openly rejecting me. I have been discarded, like a bag of kitchen rubbish tossed into the bin to rot till someone takes it away and dumps it somewhere….anywhere….on the trash heap.

The weaker side of me so wants to trash last night’s post but the stronger side of me is saying that I have a right to be heard.

Damn it, I cut myself last night… do I explain that one when my carers get me washed and dressed and notice the angry, red wounds on my arms? They are aware I have healed scars but never fresh marks. I feel so ashamed. Why the hell did I go and do that yet I barely remember the actions I took in my pain and despair. I am watching the clock and trying to think up excuses before they arrive. I hurt so much, I hurt so badly that I feel physical pain in my body far more than usual; pain in my heart, sick to the stomach. 

(My carer has been and gone. She saw my arm. She saw I was upset. I couldn’t hide either. She says she has to report me to the office when she goes back. I feel like a naughty schoolchild about to be sent to be reprimanded by the Headmaster).

Oh God! What a mess! I feel like sh*t inside, yet I know I will go to my new church this morning, full of artificial smiles and joyful exclamations of “Yes, I’m fine, thank you”. I am very, very far from fine.