There’s nothing that I wouldn’t give to be with my late daughter... all of my future hopes, wishes and desires have now died with her. Now all I think about is how I wish I wasn’t here and how I wish I’d had a stroke and died in the delivery room in October. Yet I show up to work everyday masquerading around as if everything is fine and I’m emotionally healed. I am not. I want to die... I wish someone would murder me and take me the hell out of here. I literally do not see a point in living anymore.
I have avoided contacting them because it doesn’t seem right. That’s for victims of sexual assault. They use the R word and that’s not what I would call any of the things I’ve been through that are affecting me now. Even when I was raped, I only know because of how I woke up the next morning. I’m not belittling the trauma there, just explaining that what I’ve been through is nothing...
there are no wordsimagine me screamingmaybe if you all imagine st the same time it will feel like I’ve actually screamed enough to feel betterthere is no screaming in real life. I won’t terrify the kids. But I’m furious and probably going to eat my weight in chocolate every day for the rest of my life unless I can figure this crap out. That’s not healthy either. I know.