The Happy Things

This morning I woke up to find my daughter not in my bed. This was a pleasant surprise, as she's been there every morning lately when we wake up. Then, John was at the door- "You have to come out here and see this now!" with a smirk. I followed him to the kitchen, and there on the floor, wrapped in blankets, her hair a mess over her pillow, was the kiddo. We giggled and as I woke her up, I said, "I'm so proud of you for not sleeping in Mommy's room! But why didn't you sleep on the couch? Why the kitchen floor?" Her eyes still closed, she said listlessly, "'Cause...I always do." And of course that made us giggle a little more.

I think it's these little moments that keep me from losing it, that keep me from letting the pain eat me up. There is a lot of good in my life right now. That doesn't take away the bad things that happened, but it does make it a little easier to bear.

I had therapy this morning. It's always a little difficult, facing issues and things you've done and things that have been done to you. Things have gotten a little bit more difficult since I started going- more panic attacks at night, more difficulty concentrating during the day. But at the same time, it feels good to know that I'm trying to move forward. We talked about accepting the possibility that my parents will not acknowledge what happened, or ever apologize. Accepting it doesn't mean agreeing or saying it's ok, just realizing that it won't change, and it's probably self-destructive to keep holding on to the hope that it will. So that is where I'm at; it's a little difficult to actually realize this- that it is highly, highly unlikely they will ever change, but probably necessary. I've been hanging onto that hope for the past 8 years, and it hasn't gotten me anything. Perhaps it's time to let it go.