Ten days

ten days until the psycho arrives. Ten days. I’m hoping that I don’t completely lose my shit. I think I have a lot of boundaries in place, but God only knows. Anxiety is crazy ridiculous, more than usual. 

Haven’t see her in awhile, maybe some holiday last year? There’s always drama. Always. I can’t control her though. I want things to be better – I want things that I’ll never have. A healthy mommy that doesn’t hurt me. Or, a healthy mom who is in counseling and working on her own shit. I doubt that’ll ever happen. 

She’s out of control. She and I have a very codependent relationship. Deep seeted abuse that finally ended in my early 20s. The secrets that only very few know about. 

I’ll be so fucking pissed if she makes a scene at his wedding. I can’t control her though. I think if I keep talking about this tonight that I’ll drive myself crazy. 

I need to have a concrete plan to keep myself safe and sane. I cannot let this trip jeopardize my recovery. 

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