Is it possible that a family has something rotten at its core? My family has something like a horror movie woven into the cloth. I don’t want to use the word “evil.” More like diseased. But that sounds like an ableist metaphor. Is this rotten-ness real, and if so, what do I do about it?
My dad’s suicide has been fucking me in the head lately. I’ve been thinking about death way too much. His death–my eventual death. My mom’s death. My spouse’s eventual death. I’m terrified. It makes me panic in the night, which interferes with my sleep, so then I panic more. I hate all that. grief spiral
Hello, I’ve been thinking about how I really felt when my brother said I love you. There was how I thought I should feel, how other people thought I should feel, how I wished I felt, and buried underneath years of abuse and pain, how I actually felt. Takes a long time to find that