Judy. I did not trust Judy or her mother. What a pair. A diary or a journal is private, to be read by others only when it is shared and then only the pages that you have chosen. They violated that privacy and commented on what they read.
Once I wrote “My life is a dung heap.” I was in a deep depression, one of the many I experienced over the years. I wore the mask of wellness but not very well. The wings of a drone suited me. How did I feel about this invasion, about my potential mother-in-law’s lame excuse that my journal had just fallen open. Rape suggests itself, certainly violation, invaded, my secrets open to the world. I could not stay in that relationship because trust was lost.