I’m still working on my project, but going through all the diaries I have is a daunting task.  The words I wrote are beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.

Today was a hard day for me. I spent most of the days on the verge of needing to cry and needing to scream.  As I dug through the piles of diaries in my closet and garage…I sat there and let it out. I cried.  The anxiety I had today was worse than I have had in a very long time. Against my wishes, I took a pill in hopes of being able to breath and stop my heart from pounding so hard.  As the pill worked his way through my system, the tears subsided and the need to crawl out of my skin slowly washed away.   Somewhere in my home, in a beige box, are words that say I am a bad parent.  Papers that were stamped with a court stamp.  Admittedly, I searched for that beige box.  God didn’t want me to find it tonight.

I’m just not strong enough to read them and feel that hurt again.  The diaries will have to do.  I can find laughter in there. I can read firsts, my journey, the fear of not being good enough at anything.

The ‘number’ for this SPF is 25.  Twenty five years of my life are in those books and the many others I have stashed somewhere.

Did you play?