We are back to real life. My mother died. The memorial service is over. We are back home again.

The wallbuilder put all the feelings behind the wall till we could get back home again. It would've been to hard to let the feelings out before, then have to suck them back up again while we were gone. It was a good decision.

I knew that it was going to be tough when we got back home. And it is.

Now maybe we will have the freedom to learn just how much a part of our abuse history she was. Or wasn't.

I am bouncing off the walls. Terrible nightmares plague me. Just the least little thing sets me off. I call it overreacting. Our therapist says it's not, that it's a natural part of grief.

I am glad we have feelings now, glad the wall is down. I would rather do the process than be stuck.

It's really hard work. But I'm willing to do it, even though it feels like self-injury is right back up near the surface again. We want to stay safe. So far so good.