You think I have PTSD?
I don’t have time to have PTSD because I have been concerned with YOU. I became homeless the day after my son’s Memorial. My family was down the block while I was with my significant other who is about to leave me and my best friend who will never leave me.
Yeah, maybe it IS starting to hit me. In 6 days my son will have been dead for two months. That is eight weeks. I don’t mean to HARP on that or anything but, man, I just moved across the country with no plan and no tears (Oh yeah, that’s because I am a cold-hearted slut, mean-ass bitch from hell) That’s per my brother, who “spent hours and hours at Ashton’s bedside”. No, Actually. He would figure out when my mother was there, come in, ask for twenty bucks and then leave. Now he is the most bereaved and protected in the family.
He even gets a place to live.
I am involved in several grief groups. I am so grateful for them all. They tell me it is ok to be angry.
And they tell me it is ok to be disgusted with the people who have made my son’s death about themselves. Imagine, I am the only one who did not get a personalized gift regarding my son 5 weeks after he died at Christmas time. I am baffled. Baffled. And hurt and yes, angry.
I have had to hold my tongue and then release it. Hatred is filling me up. I have lost everyone in my family. And I am losing more as I type.
I also have my Lily and my Blaise. No one even mentions them except Jen. My leap of faith is proving to be a leap of idiocy.
I am growing meaner by the minute. That being said, I have had my last drink of wine this evening as it fuels my inability to hide my anger. I am supposed to be stoic. It is my mother and that weirdo she is married to and her son who are allowed to feel. Not me.
I am stoicism on a cake top. Try as you might, you will not illicit any response from me again, family. Only my children. Dignity and grace. I must pray to something for dignity and grace.
Ashton Carley Trent. I am sorry I continue to fail you.