I fear that she is literally a cunt... and I don't know what to do with that.

I'm still not well. I can appear well for a few hours at a time to connect with my kids, but there is usually a lot of turmoil going on inside underneath my smile and my nice words. I feel very bad about that; like a fraud and a bad mother. And I am having such a hard time believing myself and I don't know what to think about what has happened. I feel like I must be making things up, that I must be misunderstanding what I have uncovered. I still can't talk about it, still can't actually speak about it. When I had a screaming meltdown on the bathroom floor and called New Guy, I couldn't even tell him what it was about. I had insinuated in an email, but he hadn't seen it yet. And I wonder how much he really understood since he was having trouble understanding my words through the sobbing at one point.

The only thing I can write about it right now is this: I was eating a plate of steamed mussels and I happened to actually be looking at them when I pried one open instead of looking at television as I usually do. The flesh separated in a certain way... and I started feeling very strange in a most dreadfully familiar way. And yes... I sort of knew what part of my mind thought I was looking at, but I laughed and told myself how silly I was being. It's just food. Just eat it, right? And then I defiantly popped an especially plump mussel into my mouth and proceded to chew. And it felt so disgustingly familiar... and the images came... I freaked out, panicked, spit it out and things just went downhill from there. Smells... dreams... freaky little flashes, trying not to vomit.

I have tried so hard to reason and regain myself, but it keeps reaching up out of the depths to grab me and pull me under. And yet it seems so impossible - unthinkable - even though it really does explain so much, including a few past incidents somewhat similar to this one that I was able to dismiss at the time because they were less drastic and more 'suspect'. And you know what else? I fear I will not be believed. It's just too much on top of all the other. It's just too much. I cannot tell... must pretend... Perhaps I am insane. Finally driven there by a lowly mussel. Farm-raised and not from the freakin' gulf, yet still 'contaminated'. Not by oil, but by a parasite that lives in my mind. I can't imagine consuming mussels or oysters ever again. And yet... this cannot be.