4:00 a.m.

I pray that I would never tell my child that I do not like them, or I don’t want them around.

There is nothing more painful than having to build a wall between my mom and me. I thought that we had moved past everything. I thought she would maybe understand what I deal with on a daily basis, but that was my imagination talking.

Hearing those words come out of her mouth has really stirred me. It cut so deep. To even think that my mom would not like me is something so profound that I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m ready to leave. I have places to go and people willing to let me stay. But, if I leave “[I] am just like [my] biological dad.” Did she push him away like she’s pushing me?

Am I overthinking, overanalyzing? Lately, I have been questioning God. Why is my mom doing this to me? I am trying to make things work. God, I’ve put my wall up. I’m shutting her out. What do I do?

After being sober of cutting for over a year, I woke up to find myself at 4:00 a.m. wanting to get rid of the pain. Thankfully, I got rid of the tool and for a moment I hated that I did. I remember the empty feeling afterwards. It only helped for a moment, and even then it still wasn’t enough to stop the pain.

After that, I never went back to sleep. I didn’t realize how hurt I actually was. I can’t even pick up the phone just to call her like normal. That is how much I don’t want to speak to her right now. There’s two sides to every story. Her side and mine. Never in a million years would I have wished to hear her say what she did.

I have to move on.

Jesus, only Jesus.

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