I am fighting to send my son away to a Residential School that can help him. I've been forcing myself all week to prepare for the next big meeting only to have it postponed today. The mental steel I have to find in my soul to do this is sweltering. I am learning to surf on sewage. I see my son two nights a week for now... he is distressed, at school he points to my picture. Whilst folding his laundry, the little voice inside my head says...
Axel is leaving.
I want him.
I can't have him.
It's not safe.
This is for the best.
I miss family.
It'll be alright somehow.
I don't know how.
That's what frightens me.
But then we never do?
To trust we'll find a good way.
It's ok to cry.
I miss him.
And I always have.
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