Got your message. I’m up if you want to go me. Already, I take a load of stuff out to the garage and giving me a hard time about leaving. I said yse your head, before you can make the room livable I have to sort and get everything out. I don’t need to fight, fight, fight. I am doing this all by myself without no help from anyone else.
I am sleeping on a terrible sofa, so add maybe 1 to 2 hours sleep a night and all the other stuff that is going on. Once I can get the room livable so I can sleep in it again, then I will look around for an healing center that I agree with the treatment plan proposed at the place.
My family still have no idea what PTSD is or that I can’t even talk very well, let alone function. I hide my tears behide a smile. No matter what I have a smile on my face. They just think I am an irresponsible looser.
She doesn’t like me. We are oil/water and don’t mix. I don’t think there is one thing she likes about me. It is always fight, fight, fight. She knows my dad is dead so he can answer the evil line she told me that my dad the one person in the family who kept me sane, according to her, tried to force her to abort me. My mom is a real peice of work.
I will call you when I can, she has been on the phone so I will let things die down before I use it. Did you get my message. I am here for you and yours if you need anything.