if there’s nothing i’ve learned a million times, it’s that i have no control over any of this trauma shit. when new memories will come and flatten me. when the tsunami of grief will crash into my shores, filling my lungs and streaming from my eyes. when i will be rendered young and scared, unable to cope with the daily expectations of motherhood and spousehood and adulthood. when something that was previously inert and neutral could become triggery. when i’ll hear some stupid fuck on the news, crapping on the #metoo movement or sharing some horrifying ignorant commentary on the latest sexual abuse scandal in the US, when suddenly, i’m being eaten alive by shame.

i hate it. the pendulum of it, and how unexpectedly it swings from one extreme to the other. will there actually come a day where i’ll be more moderate, more centred, less reactive? it feels impossible, from here.