Time to move on

Yesterday Paul and I incinerated all of my Mum’s paperwork. All the bills, all the bank statements, all the receipts and all the hospital letters. It’s all gone.

And I don’t feel guilty. I actually feel a huge sense of relief.

I think even when you think that it doesn’t bother you hanging on to that stuff, it actually festers away in your subconscious. It eats away at you without you realising and it’s only when it’s gone that you see just how much it was eating away at you.

My Mum was not her paperwork.

Today it feels like there’s so much more space in my head to deal with other things.

So right now, this very second, I am listening to (I’ve Had) The Time of my Life and I feel sick and on edge and nervous and I’m crying. But I’m not running away, I’m not freaking out. I’m working through it.

I never thought I would get here.

I can honestly say that I am getting better.

Finally, I am getting better.

I will not let this steal any more of my life and my happiness. Life is too short.

It stops here. It’s time to move on.

A child's perspective

A friend of mine has just let me know that her sister has lost a baby recently, her second in two years, which is heartbreaking and my heart goes out to her.

My friend’s daughter, who’s almost 5, said that it’ll all be ok because Joyce (that’s my Mum) will be looking after them so they’re safe.

It had me sobbing; it’s such an innocent and beautiful thing to say. And she’s right, if there was a heaven, my Mum would be looking after them.

It’s always lovely to hear that people still remember my Mum, still talk of her from time to time. It means a lot to know that she’s not been forgotten.

But to hear that a 4 year old remembers Mum; really remembers the essence of who she was, is just lovely beyond words.

I’ll treasure that.

Really letting it go

Tomorrow Paul and I are going to his Mum’s house to use her incinerator. We are going to burn all of my Mum’s paperwork. I no longer have a legal requirement to keep it so I’m getting rid of it all. It’s hard to do but my Mum is not in these bank statements & bills etc.

The biggest and hardest thing I had to do before tomorrow was decide if I could finally let go of my Mum’s hospital letters, copies of sick notes and the notebook I wrote her terminal diagnosis and treatment plan in. 

I’ve blogged about this before. I’ve agonised over the idea of getting rid of them.

I suddenly felt this morning that I have to let this go. My Mum was not her illness. She was not cancer. She was the best Mum in the world. She was kind and funny and generous and the best friend you could ever have.

I want that Mum in my head. I don’t want the cancer, the pain, the sadness, the guilt, the anger. I want my wonderful Mum. I want my amazing memories.

I have to really start putting this behind me.

So just a few minutes ago I tipped out the bag of hospital stuff and I let myself read it. I let myself sob my heart out at what my Mum went through.

And then I tore the whole lot to shreds. Every last bit of it.

Now I’m still crying but I don’t feel guilty. My Mum was not her illness and it’s time to really begin to let the illness part of her life go.

I had 29.5 years with my Mum before she was diagnosed with cancer. Those are the times that I want to mark, that I want to remember, that I want to share with people.

I feel so sad right now remembering what she went through. I wouldn’t have wished it on my worst enemy.

But I feel good that I’ve finally managed to shred the papers. And for good measure I’m going to incinerate all the shredded paper tomorrow.

I think if my Mum could see me now she’d be saying to herself that it’s about time I got my life back.

I think it is too.

Family

My relationship with my two brothers has been really quite strained at times since Mum was ill. I don’t want to go into it but it’s been very hurtful and difficult and at times I really didn’t know how we’d ever get our relationship back on track.

But time really does help.  Eventually you just miss having contact with your family. And when you do see them you remember how you used to get on. You want to keep that going.

Suddenly I realised we’re chatting on the phone and texting more often. Sharing details of our lives again, like we used to.

And today when I texted them both a photo of the new house, they were both genuinely pleased to see it. Genuinely happy that I’m doing ok.

They both want to come visit in the near future, which will be a first and I’m really excited about it.

And all of a sudden, all that hurt and anger that I was worried might rear its ugly head again is quite simply gone.

I have my brothers back and they have me. Anything that went before is gone now. None of us can change it. It’s now and it’s the future that matters.

It really feels like life is getting back on track again. Full speed ahead!

Our house!!

Yesterday the purchase of the house completed. Paul and I are now officially house owners. It still feels quite surreal to me but so exciting at the same time.

We’re not moving in for 3 or 4 weeks as we want to get some of the work done before we move all out stuff over there.

Of course, we went across to the house last night for the first time as owners. I can’t describe what it felt like to turn the key in the front door of our house for the very first time! 

Paul’s Mum came round to see the house. It was lovely to show our home to someone else. It adds to the excitement.

It made me wish I could show my Mum around the house; I wish I could hear what she would say; I wish she was here.

But I didn’t feel distraught like I thought I might because my Mum’s legacy is that Paul and I now own that house mortgage-free. And that’s a huge thing to leave your child.

And for that reason, and so very many others, it feels to me that my Mum is with me in that house. We have security because of my Mum and she would be so proud.

And you know what, I can hear what she would have said; I can picture her face; I know how excited she would have been.

Today Paul and I went to the house before he went to work and it felt more like ours. Paul started removing the fitted wardrobes and just in that small amount of work the spare room looks different.

It’s starting to feel real that that house is our house. It’s going to be our home. It’s the start of our future.

And I am really, really happy about that.

Baggage

Paul and I are hoping the house purchase will complete this week. It’s looking like it will. So as and when I can be bothered I’m trying to sort through a few things. The other day it was paperwork. Today it’s my clothes.

When I moved in with Paul I got rid of lots of my clothes, it was a chance for a new start. A new me. So I got rid of all those clothes I was going to slim into (but never quite managed to) and all my fat clothes (in case I ever gained weight again but actually never wore again regardless). I got rid of all my bridesmaid dresses.

Now I’m about to move again and thought I’d have another clear out. I started with my jumper/cardigan cupboard. As soon as I pulled them all out onto the bed I realised something.

During the very cold winter we had I’d barely worn any of these jumpers. I’d simply rotated the same few.

The ones I didn’t wear are the ones I no longer like but they were, at one time, things that my Mum liked me in. Things that at one stage I liked me in. But I don’t like them anymore. My taste has changed.

But I feel bad because my Mum liked me in these jumpers. She’d bought me some of these jumpers. I’d worn these jumpers during the winter in the last stage of her life. They were some of the last things I’d worn when she was alive.

Mum and I spent a lot of time mooching around the shops, having lovely girlie days out. And I really, really miss that. More than I can even say. Now I mainly shop on my own and buy what I need. It’s not so enjoyable when you don’t have someone to giggle in the fitting room with.

Holding onto these clothes won’t change my wonderful memories of when I bought them, when I wore them. It doesn’t change how much I love my Mum.

It just means I will have more space in my wardrobe. It means I can replace them with new things, in time, that I’ll enjoy wearing.

I think that’s what my Mum would want for me. It’s what I want for me.

So tomorrow, when Paul and I go to the bank to transfer the money for the house to our solicitor. We’ll also be going to the charity shop where I can leave some more of my baggage.

It’s time to start moving on. 

Clear thinking

As some of you know from my twitter account, I’m currently trying to wean myself off the very strong pain medication that I’ve been taking for about a decade now.

I decided to try and reduce the medication in my system because it was starting to cause more and more symptoms. I also wanted to be able to assess how my health is doing. It’s hard to tell when you’re taking medication.

An unexpected thing has happened as a result of reducing the dose. I can think more clearly, incredibly clearly. I’m dealing with my emotions better. I’m starting to feel that more of the old me is appearing. The me that I lost when Mum was ill.

I knew that pain medication would numb all kinds of things but I never appreciated that it could be to this degree.

The timing has been perfect because I’ve been feeling recently that I really need to deal with all my issues and get them behind me. This last week I really do think I’ve made such progress.

I’ve started this blog, which has got me writing again. I haven’t been able to write like this in two years. And it’s my space where I can say what I want. I can be honest. And it really, really helps.

I’m talking more about things. I’m terrible for holding all my emotions in. I clam up. I cannot talk about how I feel. It’s so bad for me but it’s not something I could help.

Last night I found myself talking to Paul about my traumas and not clamming up. It just spilled out of me quite freely.

And suddenly, just like that, I can see that there will be an end to all this. It’s not going to happen over night. It’s going to take time. It won’t always be easy. But it’s the first time since Mum got ill that I can really feel inside me that this pain and trauma will not be with me forever.

I can’t tell you how great that feels. 

PTSD

I’ve been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I don’t tell many people because I’m a bit embarrassed by it. I’m coming to realise that this is silly. It’s not my fault. I didn’t cause it. It’s something that happened to me and I am working really hard to recover from it.

I don’t want to go into all the details but the trauma happened while the film Dirty Dancing was on in the background. This means that any music or link with this film is a big trigger for my symptoms. I get panic attacks, I get strange absences, I feel petrified.

I thought I was getting better for a while but then I realised that actually I’ve just got better at avoiding all of the things that trigger it off. But I’m working on it.

In the meantime it makes me feel quite trapped at times. And because music is a trigger, I can potentially hear it anywhere I go.

I had a panic attack when I heard Be My Baby in a clothes shop the other day when I was half way through trying a dress on. I got through it though and I survived, which is a big step forward for me.

However, when I know in advance that there is going to be something that triggers it I still retreat to the safety of avoidance.

For example, I know that on Big Brother tonight two housemates are going to dance to Time of My Life. Just hearing that made me clam up. Now I don’t want to watch it and it’s a shame because I’ve quite enjoyed the series this year.

It’s horrible feeling like this especially as Dirty Dancing is one of my all-time favourite films and I adore the soundtrack (I have both of the soundtrack albums).

I really want to say that I’ll watch Big Brother tonight and be fine. But I feel anxious at the thought of it.

I feel really awkward admitting to all this but I’m learning that the more I talk and the more I face up to it, the less of a hold it will have on me. 

Time keeps moving

This afternoon Paul and I have an appointment with our solicitor to sign the contracts for the house. It’s all starting to feel real now and I’m excited about it. Jittery at the money we’re spending but it’s all going to be worth it.

It’s strange doing this today because it’s exactly 18 months to the day that my Mum died. It feels like such a long time ago as so many things have happened since then yet 18 months isn’t very long at all.

I wanted to blog about this because although I’m still grieving for my Mum and I’m still working through how I feel about what happened, I’m in a much happier place now.

In the space of 18 months I’ve lost my Mum, ended a long term relationship, began Probate on Mum’s estate, completed my 2^nd year at Uni, had a breakdown, met Paul, taken a year out of Uni, moved away from all my family to be with Paul, sold Mum’s house, completed Probate and now Paul and I are buying a house together.

It doesn’t really feel possible that all that has happened over an 18 month period but it has.

It just goes to show that however bad things are, time keeps moving forward and it takes you with it. And before you know it you’re in another time and another place and your life is being filled up with happy things again.

I can’t wait to get started on this next chapter of my life.

Let it go

There’s a saying that holding on to bad memories only allows the people who hurt you to hurt you even longer. They’ve moved on and you’re still stuck. And in pain.

My father had an affair and instead of just leaving he did despicable, unforgivable things to cover it up.  My Mum deserved better. We all deserved better.

My Mum kept the papers she found as evidence. She never used them for anything; she just kept them. I think she needed to feel in herself that it had really happened.

When Mum died I kept the evidence. I don’t even know why. I think I was doing it for her. But just now as I was looking at some of it I realised that I have to get rid of it. I have to do it for her sake. I have to do it for my sake.

He hurt her so bad. He hurt me so bad. But now it’s enough. Just simply enough. I will incinerate all this stuff. I hope it helps my Mum rest in peace. I hope it gives me peace to know it’s gone.

Keeping it doesn’t mean anything. Getting rid of it means everything. It says so much. It means he is fully gone from her life and from mine. She couldn’t let go so I’m going to let go for her.

It’s actually very liberating. 

Addicted to blogging!

I started my blog two days ago because I thought it might help me to write my thoughts down and send them off into cyberspace. It meant they wouldn't be lurking in a notebook or in a document on my macbook ready to catch me off guard in a weak moment. They'd be out of my head. Out of my space.


It really works. Two days in and I think I'm going to be an insufferable blogging addict! 

Letting go of Mum's paperwork

I still have all of my Mum's hospital letters from when she was ill and the notebook I wrote the details of her chemo etc in the day we were told her diagnosis was terminal.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to let it go. I’m really struggling with the idea of throwing it out. I think it feels like I’m just dismissing what was such a terrible time. I still haven’t come to terms with what my Mum went through but maybe holding onto this paperwork isn’t helping. I have to learn to let go. I want the new house to be a new start and it’s a good chance to let this stuff go.

When it comes down to it I don’t want to let my Mum go. I want her here. Yet I know that keeping hospital letters won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back.

Maybe I want proof of what we went through during her illness. I was on my own caring for her and it was bloody hard. But I live with it every single day. Who’s the proof for? I think there comes a time when you come to realise you’re torturing yourself. I have to let this go. My Mum wouldn’t want this for me. I don’t want this for me.

My Mum died of cancer. It was indescribably awful. But nothing will change how much I loved her. Or how much she loved me. And that is the bit that’s important.

I’m going to put these letters in a separate bin bag and I’m going to try to allow myself to throw the bag in the wheelie bin.

Guilt

I’m someone who easily ends up feeling guilty over things even when I logically know I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m working on this because it’s not good for me.

I carry guilt from being my Mum’s sole carer. I know I looked after her the absolute best I could and better than anyone else could have but I feel guilty because I couldn’t make her better.

I feel guilty because two days before she had a series of massive seizures, which led to us finding out that the cancer had spread to her brain, I thought something was wrong and I couldn’t do anything about it.

It was Friday afternoon and I planned to call Mum’s consultant first thing Monday morning. But Sunday night it all happened. On the Friday afternoon I had realised she could no longer either write or remember how to write her own name. I realised that occasionally she was saying the opposite of what she meant.

I’ve wondered ever since if I could have made events different than they were. I’ve wondered if I could have noticed things sooner. I’ve felt such guilt.

Today I’ve been sorting through a few bits of paperwork I found of Mum’s that were mixed in with my stuff. I found a form she’d signed on the Friday morning and, although her handwriting was a bit shaky, everything was filled in perfectly.

It’s funny how you can carry guilt that you know you don’t need to carry but you carry it anyway. If Mum could write ok on the Friday morning it means the symptoms were either not there before then or they were so intermittent it would have been near impossible to notice them.

I knew deep down I wouldn’t have missed it but I doubted myself. I questioned myself. It all comes down to the fact that when you put everything you have, and then some, into nursing someone but then they die because sometimes all the care and all the love in the world just can’t make people better, it's heartbreaking. There is no answer, it's no one's fault, it's life and it's hard and it isn't fair.

I couldn’t make any of it any different than what it was. I think I need to learn to go easier on myself. I think I need to start letting go of this guilt. 

Endings & Beginnings

It’s been a strange old morning of endings and beginnings. In the post was a letter and cheque from my solicitor; Probate on my Mum’s estate is finally at an end. It’s taken almost 18 months to complete and has taken a huge toll on me. I’ve longed for it to be over and done with so that I can start remembering my Mum and grieving for her without all the horrible legal stuff running alongside it. There were tears this morning of relief that it’s over and sadness because I still don’t have my Mum here.

Coincidentally, and it seems like fate intervened on this, Paul and I had arranged a viewing of the house for this morning. So still in tears from reading the letter we went to view the house. This is our final check of the property before we sign the contract on Thursday. It was conflicting emotions for me sitting outside the house, knowing that my Mum has enabled us to get a foot on the property ladder but longing for her to be here to see the house with us.

Walking around the house it felt like ours. Our home. Ours. I can see us living there and enjoying doing it up and making it everything we want it to be. And when we do, I know my Mum’s presence will be all around me. She would be so proud and so happy for us. All she ever wanted for her children was their happiness and their security. Thanks to Paul I am finding happiness again and thanks to my Mum I have security for all my life. I am so proud of her and so thankful to have had such an amazing Mum. 

How I came to be here...

I’ve been thinking of starting a blog for ages but every time I come close to signing up to Blogger I chicken out. I’m now learning that sharing an experience is helpful and have decided that blogging will be a good thing for me at this point in my life.

I’ve had a very up and down couple of years and it has had a huge effect on me. I’m beginning to realise that to have difficulty coping after what I’ve been through is normal and not something to be ashamed about.

Two years ago I was in my second year of Uni as a mature student and life was on the up. Then the bottom fell out of my world when my wonderful Mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I immediately moved back home and I cared for her on my own 24 hours a day until she died seven months later. I literally did everything for her on my own. I never got a second to process what was happening, it all got held inside me.

I have issues relating to my Mum’s illness that I am still working through but I know I will get through them. I’m sure things about it will crop up on here from time to time. I’m trying to share more and not hold things inside because I’m learning the hard way that it simply doesn’t do you any good.

My life began to unravel after Mum died. My long-term relationship broke down. I had no support from anywhere; all my friends disappeared when Mum got ill and they never came back. It was a lonely and distressing time for me and I didn’t know how I would ever get me back again.

Despite my then belief that social networking was for weirdos I succumbed and joined twitter. It quite literally changed my life.  My world had become so tiny and I didn’t know how to begin again but gradually I felt less lonely as there was always someone to chat to on there day or night.

And then there was Paul.

We got talking over books and got to know each other through song lyrics. He stayed up all night chatting to me on twitter when my insomnia was at its worst and I will always be grateful to him for that. It was the first kindness anyone had shown me since before my Mum was ill.

We met up in real life. I was going through what I now know to be a breakdown but it didn’t put him off me. He helped pick me up and put me back together. Even on my worst days, he can make me laugh.

I moved in with him in October and we’re now in the process of buying our first house together. I am so happy with him and it’s just amazing to be making all these plans for the future. I’m beginning to look forward again rather than back.

I miss my Mum every day and wish she could have met Paul, I wish she could see where I am now. I grieve for her still and I will for as long as it takes. I know she would’ve have loved Paul though and she would have been eternally grateful for how much he has helped me.

Paul has shown me that there are good people in this world, people that will love you and help you even in your darkest moments. I am so grateful to have him in my life.

I’m coming to realise that there is a light at the end of every tunnel but it takes as long as it takes to stand in the light and leave the darkness behind you. But that is ok.