It goes up, it goes down.
Three years rebuilding after running to a refuge (far away, for safety, but near one daughter) with just a bag of clothes.
Two daughters, no other family.
Aged 62
Clawed my way back. Housed. Job. Promoted.
Some days I feel fine.
Some days I long for the end.
Of course the end can't happen yet because I have daughters. When I left, I thought that that was my punishment. I had to stay alive. My 10 years with him was so dark, I find it hard not to minimalise it.
So, reviewing what I just typed.
Most days good.
Heartfelt love to each of you.