When Avalon was safe in my belly I was strong. I kicked every bad habit to the curb. I got rid of anyone and everyone who caused me stress, even if I loved them and missed them. I forced my life to be peaceful by removing the tumultuous parts. Then she died, and I relapsed into everything. It was so damn easy to be healthy for her, to plan a perfect, serene environment for her, to make everything right for her. I obviously don’t have the same love for myself, because I haven’t done it or been able to do it.
Every horrible emotion, bad habit, and terrible coping mechanism has come back to me. My fear and insecurities overwhelm me and I allow them to come in and take over. I pour them a drink. I prepare a bedroom for them. They are coming back to cohabitate, not just visit. Instead of knowing something is wrong, or unhealthy, and walking away from it, I rail at it, scream at it, beg it, and basically just continue to engage with it. I push people away just in the hopes that they will convince me to let them stay. I set boundaries and bottom lines that have no meaning because I never stick to them. I participate in madness rather than just ignoring it. My inner life is as chaotic as it was 3 years ago when I went into intense therapy to try to move away from it.
I was so close, so close. For you, Avalon, I fixed it and made it better for you. I had healthy relationships, for you. I had a mind that was peaceful and still, for you. I had a heart that was sad and hurt at times, but not chaotic, for you. Oh my little girl, your mom would do anything for you… but I can’t seem to do it for myself.