anxiety, Body dysmorphia, Bodydysmorphicdisorder, bodypositivity, depression, expat, family, mental health, mental illness, parenting, postnatal, postnataldepression, recovery

Lights.

Bright white faces, flashes of colour and low sounds.

It’s like we can’t help it, every chance we get.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

She’s sleeping, outside.

I envy her.

Eldest on his Gameboy,

Thrap-thrapping on the A and B button.

We sit opposite one another, screens in hand.

Scroll, scroll, scroll. 

Pause.. save or screenshot.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

My chest feels so heavy.

Alone all day, but only now I feel alone.

Phone flashes words at me, I don’t have the energy to reply.

I decided yesterday to stop giving out my emotional energy and care for free..

I’m doing this alone. 

I sigh and press the phone lock button.

I can hear the woman over the way, hammering wood panels.

I wonder, is her mind steady?

Does she rest easy?

Oldest now in bed,

Netflix on TV.

I try to think of something, anything to say..

The TV booms over me, it’s an effort to speak;

I leave it mid-sentence,

“It doesn’t matter, it’s dumb anyway”.

I shrink back into myself and hug my knees.

Praying for the clock to move faster, so I can close my eyes..

Dream myself away.

Rinse and repeat. 

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