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Mothers Without
Mothers yesterday, mothers tomorrow, but never mothers today.
So wash your face. Breathe, and let’s begin. 
30th-Sep-2007 07:32 pm
imagine no religion
Just breathe.
Ok, good. You can look in the mirror without bursting into tears. Now all you have to do is put your fat pants on and try not to think about what is about to happen to you. Maybe you can do this. You lied to your husband, and now he’s on his way to work, which is good because if you had to look at him you might just lose your mind completely. Its far easier to lie to yourself, and your mother has insisted to come and be supportive. You don’t want anybody to be supportive. You want to crawl into a hole and die. You want to do anything other than check into a hospital and have a doctor smile at you. How can they smile on the worst day of your life? You wonder this as you pull a dirty sweater over your head. You should be wearing a bra, but what’s the point? So you straighten your sweater, then you hug your stomach. Stop crying. Stop crying, Goddamn you.

Look at yourself in the mirror. He’s never coming back.

That was me. Three years, seven months, eighteen days, and twelve hours ago.

Last night, I threw his toys away. No, I didn't. I actually gave them to a little boy who lives in my building. He hugged them intensely, and said, "Oh my goodness!" I walked away, and I didn't cry. Just like that.

The world did not end.

I feel like I abandonded him. I know I shouldn't, but I do. I wanted to tell this neighbor to take care of what was left. I wanted to make sure that he didn't take them into the bath, wipe his nose on it, or any of the other things that normal children do. I didn't, because he is two. These shrines are just toys to him.

Nothing I ever do in my life will matter half as much as his did to me. Now I cut him out in memory and turn him into starlight, hoping to one day see hope the way I used to.

Tomorrow, I see the doctor, and there is a very real chance I have cancer. I hope I do, and I hope that they give me a hysterectomy. The fact that this is how I really, actually feel makes me ashamed.

I never want to feel the way I have felt about Dante ever again. I am willing to trade every good chance about motherhood for the security of that.

I haven't told anyone yet, but I so very scared about tomorrow. It makes me feel like I have wasted my life making nothing but mistakes, and I feel very alone.
21st-Sep-2009 12:46 am (UTC) - From my heart to yours
My heart aches for you...I hope that journaling is as therapeutic to you as it is to me.

Wife & Mother
21st-Sep-2009 11:01 pm (UTC) - Re: From my heart to yours
Thank you.

It means so much to hear that. We write these things and release them into the world. We never think someone might come along and find a use for our despair, but it is in that moment that we become free of it.

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