I often find myself tracing a heart shape on my thumb nail, on my clothes, on the telly remote.. Last night I remembered, we were in one of the school out buildings, Craig was being raped, tortured by a man we were all watching. It was a really small school so its not impossible we were all there. I started tracing a heart shape on my finger with my thumb hoping he would feel it and he would know that love was real to. I'm not sure if our teacher was there but I remember staring at her face one time, I think it was in that same building, trying to figure out what she was feeling, what she was thinking. Was she honestly into all this? Her face contorts into joy.
Been reading Breaking Ritual Silence (eds. Lorena, Levy) not an easy read but necessary. Still disheartened by how much writing survivors rely on fantastic therapists, and group therapy. Stuff like that doesn't seem to exist in Scotland, to small a country I guess. I contacted one of the editors from Manipluation of Attachment Needs she email back saying she would like to help and could I commute to London. It's brought up a lot of money related rage. If I had any kind of savings of reliable income I would uproot wee man and and head down there. As terrifying as that would be.
I find it hard to even imagine a future for me up here, beyond being a mom that is. I'd love for him to have a mom that was less tired, more able to take him places, that had more friends. She emailed back to say she would try and help me find someone up here, that she would be back in touch soon.
No sign of birthday spliffage so I bought wee man a big wooden castle and hauled it back from town. Tried not to get to grumpy with him for playing with it when I was still trying to assemble it. It will just be me and him on Sunday, thankfully my mom is working, and this is my skint week so it can be as quiet as I want it to be. Some chinese food, some cake, some wine, some dancing with wee man, best 'birthday' ever.