Yesterday was excruciating. I had a 6:00 appt. with my therapist, with taking my son to Riley for his speech appts. sandwiched in between doing groceries. Oig was it a was busy day.
The subject of my daughter came up in therapy yesterday. I always get pretty emotional when it comes to her, as she is my precious, but I always feel I could be doing her better. I start crying whenever I talk about this in therapy, like a little bitch. Mother Katherine encourages me to draw a picture of what our relationship looks like when things aren't so great. I always feel "set up" when asked to do this, like I'm acting out some badly directed psychological thriller starring Holly Barry and Bruce Willis. But alas I go with the flow and quickly doodle evil, condescinding me and a lovely innocent and wide eyed Carmen frowning in dismay at my anger. I started sobbing uncontrollably, looking at Carmen, looking at me, and how much it resembles my own childhood. Mother Katherine asks what "that part" of me would be saying at that moment, and I continue to cry even harder. I am amazed at how much I can't gain control of my sobs. In this moment all I want to do is run home to Carmen and give her a hug and kiss her pretty eyes and never ever let her go.
Being a kid can suck balls.
So can being an adult.