Cakes,who’d have thought it.

Yesterday counselling session was hard core.In many ways it comes down to a cake box. A cake box seems such a simple thing, a piece of cardboard made into a shape, into which you place cake,tie it up and carry. What it actually means is when you go the shop,you buy cake you walk a short distance,feeling what? Just feeling,what does a child feel who knows they are going to walk into a house,have tea and cake with a china cup,help wash up and then be abused.

Guess I struggle like crazy sometimes to find the words to describe how it felt,to try and describe how the memory is,cant describe the feelings.

It so hard to see cake box  and see it just like that,all i feel is the shivers and my mind drags me back through a time tunnel. Getting fearful it’s never going to end. Will I get through this,sometimes it feels harder and hopeless. Guess that where Samaritans come in!!!!!


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