Shall we start an “estranged from our mothers” girl-gang? If so, I call ringleader!
And by “gang” I mean “you can join or leave any time as may be appropriate to your short- or long-term situation, and your relative need for consolation.”
And by “ringleader” I mean “lets get together to laugh our asses off as well as to weep copiously; I’ll bring the donuts.”
Reading this book.
Also: crying. For various reasons. (Haven’t talked to my mother in three weeks. This is actually a GOOD thing.)
I’m trying to heal.
Haven’t talked to mine in months. It’s a GOOD thing, too. Keep healing.
I’ll grab the pot of coffee and bottle of Xanax.
I was up so late last night listening to how my brother and I have failed my mother as human beings (not to mention children) that I am too foggy to formulate a coherent response to this post other than “YES, I’M IN!”
