I wish I was. I have had a little wine (just a couple of glasses with Big Boy), and I have watched TV. But I am wide awake. I need to sleep, we have both Boy 1 and 2 friends coming over tomorrow, and then I am going to derby training in the evening. I NEED sleep.
I know why I am awake. The fear and heartache is beginning to break through the ice encasing my grief. And I am scared. Because if the ice cracks and the grief is freed, I am broken. For she is so much of who I am. Was. I want her to be proud, but I just wish someone would let me cry on their shoulder, let me release this insistant pressure of pain. I wish someone could see I am broken. I want someone to see the shattered soul inside my outer shell. I want to feel safe to fall apart, if only for a bit. And the only one who ever saw that, and felt it, and let me be weak, was her. I want my mum. Please. Just for a little while.
Laugh at me if you must - I just hope you do not ever feel like this because it fucking hurts. Sorry Mum, I know you hate that sort of language. I just can't be strong tonight. I miss you so much.
Understanding Competing Accessibility Needs - *Photo © Steve Guttman | Flickr / Creative Commons* [image: Two small white dogs trying to wrest a red ball from each other's mouths.]*Brooke Winters* www....
2 days ago