Miranda, my mother can’t hurt me anymore, ever again, unless I let her through my memories.

A stronger better adjusted person would have been able to say that whilst she was still alive.

But now I get to say it.

The relief of decompressing after 58 years of her abuse is hard to explain. I wish I felt sad, but I only feel sad about what she put my poor sister through in the end of life care.

I sleep a ridiculous amount — often 12 hours a night. The fatigue is like chemo fatigue. I went to bed at 8:19 on Christmas Eve and missed dinner.

I don’t drink near as much wine because I don’t have this pit of terror in me about when she is going t come after me next.

At great emotional cost I did the right things by my parents by calling them every day and going to visit so I didn’t have to feel the slightest bit guilty now, and I don’t.


Bidden or not bidden God is present.