Giving up.

CRASH. I feel like I’ve just fallen out of a boat and just sinking….

As expected, yesterday’s speaking out exposure has been followed by total I can’t actually find a way of putting into words how I’m feeling, apart from wretched. I have intrusive half-second images of the children, hurt, and I can’t stand it. I can’t cope with it. And who do I call? Who can I call? Nobody.

As if I needed any more reason to feel hideous about the fact I’m here and they’re not. Apparently my head wants to keep reminding me of this. Constantly.

Meanwhile, my energy has gone. Either grief or guilt seems to have sucked it out of me overnight. I’m just sitting here and I so desperately want to curl up under this table I’m sat at, hug myself tightly, and never be found again. Just left in my corner. In my safe little cocoon.

Fight running out.
Energy gone.
I want the children with me. Why aren’t they here. Why am I here and they’re not.

Giving up.
Fuck it all.


One thought on “Giving up.

  1. Sweetie, this is part of recovery. You grow with it. It can sometimes knock you completely flat because your brain is finally able to process some of the worst things that happened. I urge you to go so something. Call someone you trust. Go do something creative, like write in a journal or write on a piece of paper you can tear up. Draw lovely things for all the other children, tell them out loud as you do so that you care. Even if you can’t draw well, just draw them something simple. ❤ good luck xxx

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