Mental Health
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At four in the morning, sleeplessness, moonlight, and cheesecake become the strange little ritual of a mind that refuses to power down.
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Smoke becomes a small place to unclench when grief and the world demand more weight than one body should have to carry.
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A hope for the day relief no longer comes with judgment, conditions, or the fear of losing everything she has fought for.
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No test can measure the nights, panic, meals, mornings, and quiet work behind a mother proving she can keep choosing her children.
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She did not stop needing relief; she chose sobriety because tiny hands needed her more, even when the old ritual still calls.
Between Bruises & Blooms 