All day yesterday I feared death, bad. It was all I could think of. I didn't know why. I couldn't get it out of my head. I lose track of days. Didn't realize till I went to bed what day it was. It was the anniversary of my dad's death, of his murder at my step-mom's hands. This event when I was a teenager is where the BPD comes from. Besides the death(which I was in the house at the time) and events of the rest of the night(I will not go into detail here, could be very triggering), messed me up for life.
God is healing me, slowly. I do not know if it is possible to heal from something like that totally until I am in heaven with my Father, my Creator.
When I think about that, then I of course wonder if my father will be there. Will I see him again. I try not to think about it. It is hard not to.
God is healing me, slowly. I do not know if it is possible to heal from something like that totally until I am in heaven with my Father, my Creator.
When I think about that, then I of course wonder if my father will be there. Will I see him again. I try not to think about it. It is hard not to.