Feelings are like hemorrhoids. All my insides are hanging out. And the second they're exposed I begin to wonder how they got there...how I got into the situation I'm in that led me here...and how I got into the situation that led me to the previous one...all the while my insides are hanging out and I'm wondering how to put them back in where they're supposed to go without damaging anything around them.
If you've never met someone who seems to be BPD don't do it. And if you've never had children with someone with this personality disorder don't do that either. It's one of those situations that nags at me constantly...what was I thinking...what if my kids have this disorder...am I going to be weighed down by these perceived "issues", made up by the infected, that aren't even realistic...for the rest of my life?
Because if I live to be 100 that's a long time. And I don't know if I can subject my brain to this for 71 more years. I have to do the robot every day in order for it not to effect me. But at night when I'm alone and disconnected it effects me and I feel sad for me and these kids.
Four's a lot. I don't feel like Supermom anymore. I feel super fucked up. And already I can't find a job that fits into the schedule where I have a sitter.
I'm sick of crying.
Stella smiled at me. She laughs too.
I have really cute kids.
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