I spent the best part of 2022 in my bedroom, I was so sad, just wanting to die, i'm just sat thinking about how far I have come with my mental health. Thought about my dad alot today, I think about him every single day but today I felt sad. He didn't want to die in hospital and this makes me sad, I did the best I could.. but could I of done more?
I guess we will never know.
I try my best not stay sad for too long and that works, I have to switch what i'm thinking about. If that makes sense.
So, to sum up today, it's been ok with a double shot of sadness.
June 14th My Son Is Coming Home.
The coroner has rang today and the funeral home. My son will be getting collected from Liverpool, Monday morning. Which means I can hopefully see him Tuesday. Its Friday today. It will be over 2 weeks since I last saw my child. As a mother, my body is yearning to see my son. I just need to hold him and kiss him on his head. I feel sickness to the pit of my stomach, I'm dreading seeing my baby in a coffin, I'm dreading the funeral. This shouldn't be happening. His funeral will be July 1st at 12.15. I just feel numb. Im convinced its not my son and he'll just arrive home at some point.. I feel hollow with a sick feeling in my stomach. A few of my friends delivered me a beautiful canvas of my son this morning. What beautiful, thoughtful people I have in my life. I don't really know how I feel or what to say, I don't understand how I'm still alive. I'm lost...
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