Content Warning / Sadness Warning.
Warning: This memory blast is sad. Not crisis‑sad — just my usual dramatic‑traumatic‑traumatic life story. If you’ve read my blog before, you already know the drill: childhood PTSD, teenage motherhood, magical thinking, dyslexia, audio‑processing chaos, and me at eighteen having a baby with nothing but one leaflet, one class, and a whole lot of holding my breath.
Even AI gives me the Samaritans link every time I write anything dark — even when it’s something I wrote years ago — so take that as your unofficial heads‑up.
“What’s funny is I’ve only just realised why people’s eyes roll when I talk about my past — the things I always thought were just council‑estate normal.”
But where far from it , child abuse trauma.
Read it if you want. Skip it if you don’t.
I’ll put the actual post In The Bath As I Slip Under below so you can choose.
Birth in a very long poem - aka short story , aka I am never really sure but I am doing my best, better that the words are written down, the description can come later, be it poem essay or play.

Comments
Post a Comment