I am angry and frustrated.
I do not know whether it is with myself or with my mother. Or with both of us. There is a memory hovering in the back of mind. Triggered by an anxiety attack when I first began to descend on my open water dive.
Triggered by the smell of dishwashing soap. A memory that made me feel unloved and unworthy and scared that I was about to die.
A memory of not being safe.
A memory that opened me up to being raw enough to cry on a stranger’s shoulder. And yet I do not remember it.
I feel like I cannot confront it. I cannot face myself. So I hide. I snap at the person I love the most and I hide.
And I hate myself for being so weak.