Little-me is screaming so loud, only to be muffled by everything around her. She is not heard for the first time in awhile. She does not feel safe. She cannot find her mom.
I feel panic in my body.
I am not sure anyone really understands.
I feel angry, lost, lonely.
The only difference this time versus other times is that I know for sure I am loved and I guess that is quite major progress, if there must be a silver lining that can be it.
I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere–as if little-me no longer has a home. Not in my body, and not anywhere else, either. It seems like the only solution, even after all of this hard work, is that she must die. Little-me has to go, that work is over.