I woke up this morning with the still defeated feeling in every part of my fur. My biology has failed my daughter. Completely out of my control, logically I know, but when you’re mentally unstable it feels like a knife deep down. The old familiar demons gladly wake up and wrap every cell in a blanket of hate and guilt. “You did this to her. Even she blames you. You were warned not to have kids for this reason and you didn’t (language) fucking listen. (Trigger warning) They would all be better off without you. Go bury yourself in a bottle.” Now, let me follow that rant off with, I’m not suicidal and I’m not an alcoholic. I didn’t physically harm myself in anyway other than ugly crying and going for a 30 minute walk at a speed that made breathing difficult. I did have 1 glass of red wine before bed and I now have confirmation that I’m not stable.
This morning I feel full on zombified. I tried filling my ears with music that was hopeful. Trying to figure out how to survive vs there’s no possible way to thrive my way out of it. Now what? I know I need to find God. Pray. Keep going.
Part of getting myself mentally healthy was to also get myself physically healthier.
Right now, I just want to say fuck it, to all of it.
Mentally Healthy Mama Bear in Progress 