After royally fucking up this weekend I stewed over my past and forgot about all of it come Saturday night. I’m still paying the price and may me be for sometime to come. (Drinking was only a small factor this weekend.) And I didn’t have the kids, mind you. I laid low yesterday, avoiding people. Today, I truly welcomed a new week with an unprecedented amount of happiness for a Monday.
I only confided in a few friends my shortcomings and this weekend’s events. Instead of disappointment, shaming or being called a dumbass I was called stubborn and told to leave the past in the past.
I’m judging and punishing myself hard enough. When am I going to learn? How much more counseling do I need to attend to accept the fact the boy’s father is dead and I will forever be a single mom, a mom of a disabled child, to just accept the fact my life has not nor will ever turn out the way I thought it would? Not at all like it wasn’t painted out for me as a child.
I should but don’t have the answer.