I wanted to write about my fondest memory of her, because I feel as though I’ve been upset for who my mother has become for too long. Instead I’d like to remember my mother as this beautiful woman, this beautifully broken woman I remember as a child, which I know she still is.
Some days I just want to curl up in this hole I’ve dug myself in. Before I know it I've dug the hole even deeper than it was before. It’s not easy on days like this. Days that you know you shouldn’t be sitting in your room watching reruns of the Dr. Phil show, eating boxes of double stuffed Oreos and crying yourself to sleep, but you do it all anyway. Waking up to a face full of acne and a stomach ache, you scrape your sweaty body out of your sunken in bed and get ready for another day of trying to hold in tears at work.