Normal
Urgh, the pain and anguish of being told that they’d rather be destitute than in your home. Like a knife in the heart. I’m not sure what’s worse, knowing my son is unlikely to turn up begging for forgiveness, full of empty promises or if he’ll ever speak to me again or having to turn him away if he did. I’m allowing myself today to wallow in self pity but tomorrow is a new day and I’m going to put on my big girl pants, dig deep and being present for my youngest and enjoy a rare sunny day in the uk (18c tomorrow ) having the first ice cream on the beach