can’t wait to be a 40 year old woman who’s healed from her trauma and loves going grocery shopping and lives with lifelong but manageable mental illness. and gives people nice presents on their birthdays. and I’m looking forward to being 75 and sitting on the porch in the summer when the sun is shining.
Something that kills me is that I’ve just never felt (emotionally) taken care of. I’ve never seen my troublesome emotions asked about or dealt with. I probably agreed to this before I was born as I focused on what my parents needed help with. But as I grow older I want more and more for someone to pick me up like I’m their baby. To tell me multiple stories about their long life and relieve* me of the stress of mine
Its kind of sad that Im so used to doing things alone and being hyper independent that someone taking care of me whilst Im ill makes me fall head over heels
