Ooof. Every now and then it hits me and I feel momentarily winded before the nausea kicks in.
What a fucking mess!
I don’t want to be single. I don’t want to be a single mum of four. Being a single mum of three was difficult enough. 2 years we’ve been married. That’s all he could tolerate.
I shall be thirty-five and twice divorced. What a failure.
Totally clouded with thoughts and emotions, I thought I’d feel better for writing them here, having them stored and filed instead of spinning in my head but I can’t even separate them to make them coherent. Different words just fly about, banging into each other until I start crying again.
For nearly an hour I’ve sat here typing and deleting. Fuck it. I’m just not okay.