C is in her village today, as I mentioned, and it means the normal routine of the morning is different. I made pancakes for The Boy, but I didn’t make as many, and I didn’t write a letter to C, and I didn’t walk down to the neighbour’s house to arrange the delivery.

I also decided, in the course of the morning, that The Boy ought to go home for a couple of days, because we have 2 student-free days coming up, and he will be home alone. Also, I should go and see C when she gets back from her village on Friday, and then he will be home alone all evening also. Also, I have a cold. So I told him this in the morning. I anticipate The Boy having a difficult day. Let’s see. So far, he has lost his pencil box. It’s hard for him as it is these days, because I am going to school ahead of him, and he feels very lonely and probably rejected walking to school without me. We used to always go together, but I have students to work with in the mornings these days.

I am quite a mess inside. I don’t know why precisely, although I can list some of the factors: separations, changes in routine, VP Ma’am is in Wild Animal state and that flips into Punishing Parent very quickly.

The thing I keep thinking about is that although C went to hospital with her aunt and uncle, and although she went to her grandmother’s house to get taken care of, I feel that she wants me. Not instead of everyone else, but maybe in addition to them. I feel irreplaceable in her life.

And I don’t like it.

I don’t know why I don’t like it. It is a feeling that literally makes me tantrum inside. I suppose that could be shame. No, I don’t want that. I don’t want it. Take it away from me. That’s how I feel inside. No no no no no. Maybe that’s my reaction to me, to seeing myself as unique and irreplaceable. But it’s weird. As a reaction, it is very, very strange. I can’t figure out the emotion involved only this feeling of movement inside: get it away from me.

Some part of me feels very strongly that I want to be like a stone, something that can be moved around without anyone realizing, and it has to do with that feeling of wanting to push a sense of specialness away from me. Why would I want to push that away? Why wouldn’t I feel like I like that? No idea whatever. I haven’t gotten that far.

I sent C a text this morning via grandmother’s phone. Just normal things. Good morning, hope you feel better soon, I love you. It made the whole feeling considerably worse. Well, that’s understandable. Reaching out is a trigger, but there is something weird about this, because what feels really, really triggering is my sense of confidence inside that I am wanted and needed, and I don’t know why that would make it worse.

It is worse to feel I think she needs me, I think she needs some kind of reassurance that she is not disgusting. She has the world’s largest pimple on her ass, but she is still herself, and she is not disgusting. Actually, that bit is okay. If I break it down into a need I am filling, it’s okay. But the feeling that she needs me. I can’t do that. Inside, I can’t do it.

I think I can feel I need things, but I can’t feel that I am needed—not as a service provider, that bit is okay, but as a unique human being. That’s unbearable. But I don’t know why.