Because I am getting back to me and writing what I want to write in hopes of reaching others, I am sharing this very personal post.

I am not seeking sympathy. Writing to me is a way to heal, a coping skill.

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My Inner Child

Today is my birthday and my inner child is sulking inside.

Like a child, I sit and watch my phone, waiting for him to call.

I know he won’t call. I don’t remember him ever actually calling me on my birthday. He always called three days after my actual birthday, yet every year, I watched the phone, waiting for him to call.

Of course, there were times he didn’t call (probably more often than when he actually did call) but every year I still held out hope that he would call.

Maybe, just one year, he would get it right and remember the actual day.

But, he won’t call this year. He won’t call in three days either because he is no longer here.

Yet I still can’t stop watching the phone and waiting for him to call.