Naoise is lying asleep on the sofa. The sofa is collapsing. Breaking down. He smiles in his sleep, I wonder what is entertaining him in his dreams. He played with his friends yesterday but got distressed and upset, names were called and he got hurt. I am not sure what he did. Who knows the real truth of conflict between children, intervening often seems to make situations worse. His friends are kind and generous thankfully after much running away, crying and screaming he calmed down, came around and played happily. Poor thing, I felt so at a loss at how to help him negotiate the complexities of social situations. I find myself getting upset over the smallest of incidences, the most minor of discresions can cause me distress and make me unable to function. Perhaps he has caught the worst parts of my character.

I don’t feel great. I miss Syd. I feel like a constant failure, I am useless, I am behind, others do more, why can’t I manage too. I am stupid. I have no idea how I have come to be so harsh on myself, maybe lack of confidence. I haven’t been able to think of anything else apart from the stuck thing in my throat. I worry that if there is no stuck thing then I have made myself ill. I

Naoise wakes. I am hungry. Interupted: make porridge, abandon thoughts. Act.



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