It runs closer to the surface these days. The incessant dialogue in which I engage in futile attempts to argue and untangle my way to freedom.
I felt hopeless tonight and a twinge of desire to self-harm when Paul told me that he feels guilty about not contacting his grandmother who abandoned him to live with strangers. And his foster mother, who was the stranger who insisted he call her “mother” and proceeded to crazy on him for years. Is it futile? Can I never be free of my mother and father even though they seek and destroy and I manage to stay just under the line of fire?
Is my suicidality around the hopeless of getting away from them and around my terror at being their spawn connected to my apparent hatred of them and conscious wish that they would die?
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: DW
