Last night was no different than last week. Another email. This time a photo letter. Again, another reiteration of how I pushed away. I agree, I pushed away everyone. Then, out came the paintbrushes and the tears of grief every night. All I received was texts asking about progress.

To be honest, I never felt so alone in my life with each step of the ladder. I was in a triplex of grief, dealing with my kid’s grief, and also dealing with the mess that was left behind for them to figure out. I was probably in the deepest need for help that I’ve ever needed before. Stubborn. I’m also stubborn. If they don’t come, I’ll just work harder. Put that wall up and maybe someone will see that I need more help than PAINT. My friends saw it. That’s about it. Now that the house is done, there’s a small weight lifted. The heavier weight is still very present. The weight of loss, sadness and grief. Three people who I’ll never talk to, hug (well not my ex-husband) or confide in again. They are gone forever.

So I just sent this song after numerous responses (I don’t know why we bite, sorry.) Story over. I could send this to a couple of people to be honest.

I’m so tired of the spinning wheel of “You caused this Trina, so I moved on.” Then please…move on. If you’re calling to make amends of this shit show, then please talk to me sober and we’ll have a coffee. I need to feel safe in any communication I make with anyone going forward. The communication doesn’t make me feel safe.

It sucks, but I’ve survived before, I’ll survive again.

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