He’s right, I’m irritable – angry and short-tempered and annoyed with the thankless repetition of day-to-day life. The reality – that this life is actually a pretty good one – slips from my grasp like ashen smoke, feeding my misery.
A Different Kind of Kind
It’s incredible, how effortlessly I trusted her. I let her opinion win and as a result I fell into the unforgiving hands of postpartum anxiety – because, of course, that destructive friend was me.