this is difficult. if my therapist knew what i was thinking she would probably make me take medicine again. but the holiday is horrible, only in a different way from growing up. christmas was always horrible growing up, now it is horrible because somehow i have a son that is the biggest narcissist on the planet. and my head knows somewhat that he makes his own choices, but my heart hurts so bad. i did something wrong. i said something wrong. i know somewhere i did it, we did it. my stomach is killing me. and i smile. i answer questions that are asked to me. i work. i cook. i bake. i get it all done. and i want to disappear. into the nothingness of the sky. the clouds. the rain that is falling today. let me be gone.