New Year's Eve

It's been a busy old year and I certainly couldn't have predicted last New Year's Eve where I would be a year on. I'm so very happy to have ended up here though and it feels so good to be able to say that.

I love being with Paul, I love our new home, I love our life together; I wouldn't change it for the world. I love that my brothers and I have been able to move on from our hurt and sadness and that things are ok with us again. I love that I have begun to make friends in this area and am meeting new people.

Life isn't always easy. My PTSD is bad at the moment and I'm struggling with it every day but I'm working on getting better and that's the important thing. I'm working on regaining control and I'm determined that 2011 will be the year I beat it.

I always feel reflective when it gets to New Year's Eve, I've spent today pondering things. I've thought of my Mum a lot; I still miss her so much and I think I always will but the pain is fading all the time. More often than not when I think of Mum now it's to do with a happy memory and the more time that passes the more the good memories are pushing the sad ones further and further away.

But I have so much to be thankful for and that's where my thoughts will lie tonight as the clock counts down to the New Year. I'm spending tonight at home with Paul and will be thinking of all the things we've got to look forward to next year and beyond. And there's nowhere on earth I would rather be.

Happy New Year!

Gaz and Leonie

My youngest brother and his girlfriend came to stay on Monday night for the first time. It was lovely to have them here and to properly catch up. Gaz and I have always been really close despite the nine year age gap and I really miss him since I moved away. We talk often, which is nice, but it's not the same as spending time with someone.

We've had a great time just catching up. It was great to open our Christmas presents together for the first time in two years too.

It's so easy being with Gaz and Leonie, they're just really laid back and easy going. I love seeing them together because they are so right for each other. Mum worried how Gaz would cope when she died because he was only 20 but he met Leonie soon after and is doing brilliantly. He runs his own successful business and they've bought a house together. Mum would be so very proud of him. I'm so proud of him.

I really want to try to see more of them and think it will be my New Year's resolution to do just that.

Christmas in our new home

Paul and I have had a lovely first Christmas in our new home. It was everything we wanted it to be - it was very relaxing and we loved it just being the two of us. We drank champagne in bed on Christmas morning and opened our presents sat around the Christmas tree. We cooked Christmas lunch together, which turned out perfect and was delicious. We chilled out on the sofa watching Christmas films and TV. It was perfect.

Thoughts of my Mum were in my head but they were nice thoughts of happy memories of Christmases past. We raised our glasses to those who are absent before we ate lunch and we watched the Queen's Speech as it was a tradition of my Mum's to do that.

One of Paul's gifts to me was two gorgeous wooden bookends in the shape of @s. I love books so this was already a perfect present for me but Paul said he got them because they were @s and it seemed special because if it wasn't for @s we wouldn't have met. (We met on Twitter for those who didn't already know).

This Christmas was about moving on for me. It was about allowing myself to hold on to old, happy memories and to still keep to a few old traditions but it was also, more importantly, about allowing myself to focus on the future and to start new traditions with Paul. He is my future and I want us to have wonderful, happy memories of our own Christmases past in years to come. This Christmas was just the beginning of that.

To the future.

Christmas pondering

It's Christmas Eve and Paul and I are about to go our for a Christmas drink. I'm looking forward to it, it'll be the first time I've ever gone out for a drink on Christmas Eve so it'll be good to do something different. Christmas is a strange time; it brings a lot of happiness and also reflectiveness, and it's a sad time too when we remember all the people who are no longer with us.

I'll enjoy my drink with Paul today, it's the beginning of a new tradition. It's reflective too, I will raise a glass to my wonderful Mum and will no doubt reminisce a little about Christmases past. My focus is on the here and now though and on making this a wonderful Christmas with the man I love. I'm going to make sure that I enjoy every second of it. Time is precious.

Church rule change :'(

Yesterday I rang the florist in the town where I'm from to organise a wreath to be put for my Mum for Christmas. They told me that the church remembrance garden where Mum's ashes are buried has now forbidden large wreaths and you're not even allowed to leave a small bunch of flowers. I'm so upset about this, I think it's terrible.

My Grandma (my father's mum) is a church goer so I rang her to ask if she knew what I can have put there. Apparently for this year the church will allow a few small wreaths but not too many. If too many are left they will throw them in the bin. I think this is outrageous. My Mum isn't here anymore but I still think of her all the time and cannot bear the thought of there not being something on her plot at Christmas-time. My Grandma is going to get a small wreath for me and she kindly said she will take it tomorrow. I hope the church has the respect to leave it there for the Christmas period.

It beings comfort to me to know my Mum has flowers at certain times of the year and I'm sure it must bring comfort to others regarding their relatives. I think it's completely out of order for the local church to change their rules to such a degree like this; I'd go so far as to call it callous.

It makes me so mad because every single time I've visited my Mum I have tidied up, got rid of dead flowers and made it all look presentable again. Other people do the same. All of us who have relatives there maintain it and all the church do is mow the lawn once in a blue moon. So they can't claim that having lots of flowers left makes more work for them because once Christmas is over, it will be relatives who tidy it all up again.

I'm so sad at the lack of Christian spirit on this and hope the local church retracts this new rule.

New wardrobe, New attitude

We finally got our wardrobe delivered on Tuesday so today I've been unpacking boxes again. It's great to finally start clearing our spare room of boxes and to be able to put things away.

I've loved unpacking my clothes and hanging them up. There aren't as many clothes as before as when packing to move house I got rid of all my fat clothes (clothes I kept in case I ever gained weight again but never have done) and all my thin clothes (clothes I'm supposedly slimming into but even if I did lose weight I knew I would never wear these clothes again anyway) and only kept the clothes that fit me. It's a great feeling to be hanging up clothes and knowing that every single item fits me.

I've never had so few clothes but I've also never had a wardrobe where everything in it fits me. So in many respects I do have more clothes than before because I can actually wear everything I own. It made me feel quite liberated and I feel good about myself today.

Facing my fears

I've just walked to the local shop/Post Office on my own to post my Christmas cards. This doesn't sound like much but it's the first time I've been to the shop alone since we bought the house in July.

I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it's relating to things from my past that were triggered again this year and I'm really struggling with it. I have nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety attacks to name just a few of the symptoms. Some days I'm so bad with it that I can't even be at home on my own.

I'm having treatment for it and it's hard but I'm determined that I will get over this. As part of my treatment I've been having to work on being outside on my own - starting with drinking a cup of coffee while standing at the back door and gradually building up. Today I wrapped all my Christmas presents that need posting and I just decided that I would attempt to walk to the shop to post them. And I've done it. It was really, really hard. My anxiety levels are through the roof and now I'm back home I feel absolutely shattered.

But I did it. And nothing bad happened to me.

It's a start.

Remembering AJ

Today it is 15 years since my friend AJ died from cancer. He was just 10 years old when he died. He had been born with cerebral palsy and was unable to speak but he had found a way of communicating and was such a bright boy.

I met him on a whale-watching cruise around the San Juan Islands. I was with my family and my cousins. AJ was with his family; they knew he didn't have long to live and were trying to make his remaining time as special as it could be. I felt a connection to his family immediately and we have kept in close contact ever since. His Mum Gina and I are great friends to this day.

Here is a photo of me, AJ and Aly taken on the day we met AJ. It's a photo that makes me smile and makes me tearful at the same time as AJ died five months after this photo was taken and Aly died five years later. It was a wonderful day though and one I will never forget.

Tomorrow is the www.compassionatefriends.org worldwide candle lighting for all the families who have lost a child. The idea is that everyone lights a candle at 7PM local time and it creates a wave of candle light across the world. I've joined in with this every year and will do so again tomorrow in memory of AJ and Aly and all the other families I know who have lost a child.

RIP AJ, forever in my heart. x

Family... :(

I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that my family were not there for me or my Mum when she was so ill. I'm coming to be more accepting that some people just really can't cope with being around a loved one who is dying. I don't understand it but I can accept it.

But it really hurts when someone who should have been there and helped then tries to re-write history to make out things were different than they were. My Aunty has just said that it was my brother who first took my Mum to the doctor (it wasn't, Mum went on her own after I forced her to go and the only reason I wasn't with her was because I was sitting an important exam that day) and that I should have been around then. I wasn't living at home, I wasn't seeing my Mum every day and I didn't know how bad her symptoms were. As soon as I saw the severity of it I made her promise to see a doctor the next day. And as soon as I knew she was going to be diagnosed with cancer I packed all of my belongings and I moved home to be with her.

I wish I could let this wash over me but it still really hurts. I nursed my Mum by myself and I did everything I could for her. But I still feel guilty that the cancer wasn't caught sooner.  I don't need my own family, who weren't even there, making me feel bad by bringing it up again.

My Aunty and the rest of my family spent Mum's last Christmas at my Aunty's playing games and having a laugh while I stayed home and cared for my Mum. I was glad to do it but it was one of the loneliest days I've ever had. And now I'm made to feel bad because I'm not going over there for Christmas this year. They didn't care when it mattered, it's too late to care now.

I'll be spending this Christmas with Paul, the man who has loved me and cared for me through my grief and pain and hurt. The man who makes me laugh every single day, even on my bad days. He is my family and we're having Christmas on our own in our new house and I absolutely refuse to be made to feel guilty about that.

Christmas Tree

Christmas was always a really big deal in my family's house. When each of us were born Mum made us a Christmas sack, which was filled every single year even when we were all grown up. We've always made an effort in our family to spend Christmas together and we always managed it. All of our family and all of my Mum's sister's family. Even as our family got bigger, partners were included. No one ever missed being there. We did the same thing every single year and we all loved every minute of it.

Mum loved us all going home to put the Christmas tree and decorations up. Even when me and one of my brothers had left home, we still all went to Mum's to do the tree. Mum's living room always ended up looking like Santa's Grotto and that was how she liked it. Her Christmas tree told the story of our family. Every single bauble, every ornament, every piece of tinsel had a story behind it. Every year we reminisced together and laughed.

When my Mum died I kept just a few of the baubles for myself and I'm so glad I did. Last Christmas was very hard being the first one without her and it was hard putting her baubles on mine and Paul's tree. It was Paul and my first Christmas together last year which was as special as it could be but it didn't feel like Christmas to me. I missed the chaos and noise of my family at my Mum's house. I missed my Mum.

This Christmas I want to begin new traditions with Paul, it's our first one in our new house and I want it to be really special. We've debated getting a new tree and new baubles and having a really posh Christmas tree and matching colour scheme but when it comes down to it I can't. It seems my Mum's idea of how a Christmas tree should look is etched on my soul.

Last night Paul and I put our tree up and this is it:

In amongst the matching silver and blue baubles that Paul and I bought together last year, and some that he had already are the decorations I got from my Mum's:

• The Father Christmas that I won as first prize in my second year of junior school for the best Christmas hat competition.
• The Winnie the Pooh bauble that my Mum got me, which I adore.
• The snowman with my Mum's name on that our cousins sent us on what was to be Mum's last Christmas.
• The very old and fragile baubles that always hung on my Nan's tree and then my Mum's tree and now my tree.
• The bear that is wearing a pinny and carrying a Christmas pudding that my Mum bought me because I said it reminded me of Nan in her pinny.
• The angel on the top of the tree is one I made during my first year at infant school. I want to replace it this year with something nicer but for now she is adorning the top of the tree.
• Tree ornaments that our cousins in America have sent us over the years, including lots of frogs in memory of Aly. Aly and I used to collect frogs and now Kathy sends them to me in memory of her.

amongst others.

I said to Paul that we should begin a tradition of buying ourselves a new tree ornament every year so that gradually our Christmas tree will tell our story too.

I love the fact that our Christmas tree has a story to it, it makes me smile. I miss my Mum so much but more and more I can think of all the good times and smile. I know she would love this house and Paul. And I know she would want us to really enjoy Christmas, which is exactly what we plan on doing.

NaNoWriMo

I took part in this year's NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month - a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days). It was a big challenge for me. I've done some creative writing before but never anything on this scale. It's also been a long time since I did any creative writing. I signed up to NaNoWriMo on a whim and I'm glad I did.

It's been hard work, harder than I thought especially the final 5000 words. I never thought of giving up though, it was a challenge that I was determined to complete. And today I hit 50,388 words and am now a 'winner'! I'm exhausted, the final push to finish it today was tough. I had to write a difficult section and it's taken me much of the day but it was worth it. It feels so good to have achieved something. I don't think I'll ever let anyone read it, I don't imagine it's any good but the point is I set myself a challenge and I completed it to the best of my abilities. I now proudly display my winner's badge on this blog. :o)

Tomorrow I am going to reward myself with a lazy day reading a book. I've barely read anything this month as I've devoted all of my time to writing so I can't wait to just relax and read.

Shared memories

My brother came to stay on Saturday night and we had a brilliant time. It was so easy to be with him, there was no stress or bad feeling. He was genuinely wanting to know how I am and he was really pleased to finally see our house. It was lovely.

He's not coping well without our Mum and I'm concerned about him. It's stopped being a battle of who feels worse and who's struggling the most and actually we had a very open chat about how much we miss her. It's the first time we've ever spoken about when Mum died and her funeral without there being a row and it was really good for us to have done that.

Most of all I hadn't realised until I saw him just how important shared memories are. Me and my brothers are the only people who knew what it was like to have our mum and to lose her. It was so lovely to reminisce about silly things that had happened when we were growing up and things we used to watch on TV as a family. We listened to a few songs from when we were younger and both of us were straight away taken back to the same memory. I didn't know how much I'd missed sharing those memories with someone who was there until then. I talk about my Mum often with Paul but it's a bit different because sadly he never knew her; we met after she died. I now feel more strongly than ever before that the bond between me and my brothers is really important.

I now feel like I'm properly back in the role of big sister to two younger brothers. I want to make sure they're ok and I want to make sure we properly keep in touch. I hope Philip will come and stay with us again soon. And in the meantime I can't wait to see my youngest brother Gareth and his girlfriend next weekend.

How things change (in a good way)

My middle brother has just phoned to say that he'd like to come and stay for the weekend. He is the brother who I have had the most difficult relationship with. We've always argued over the years but I found it very hard to forgive him for not being there when our Mum was so ill. He was also very nasty in the early days of my relationship with Paul.

But time really is a great healer. When Paul and I spent time with my family earlier this year all the old wounds had just disappeared. Somehow it had become more important to all of us to maintain our relationship than to continue with ill feeling.

So I am looking forward to him coming to stay with Paul and I tomorrow night. It'll be the first time anyone has visited us since I moved away over a year ago. It'll be good to see him, to catch up. And it'll be so lovely to have a member of my family come and stay in our home.

My younger brother and his girlfriend are coming to stay at the beginning of December and I can't wait to see them either.

I know how happy our Mum would be to know that we're all getting on so well and that we all want to spend time together.

Remembrance

It's Remembrance Sunday today. For as long as I can remember I watched the Remembrance Service on TV with my Mum. I remember her always shedding tears when I was too young to know why it was sad. As I got a bit older and we learnt about the wars at school I understood why it was upsetting to watch and why we had this day. My Grandma told me about people in our family who have served in the two World Wars, which made it more real to me.

After my Mum's Mum died twelve years ago, when I was 19, we found an old biscuit tin with all sorts of documents and photographs in. My Mum and her sister were already crying as they looked through it but both of them had to leave the room after reading one slip of paper. Mum showed it to me afterwards and it was the telegram that my Nan had received about her first husband, who had served in World War 2. It said 'Missing Presumed Dead' on it. I sobbed when I saw it and I get choked up now when I think of it. My Nan had a young daughter when she received that news and I cannot even imagine how devastated she must have been.

Every year since then when I've watched the Remembrance Service with my Mum I've cried because I think of my Nan and her husband. He was never found but it is believed he had been in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. I also know of people who have lost their lives in Afghanistan and Iraq in more recent years.

My Mum died last year and so now I watch the Remembrance Service on my own. And I cry. I cry for all the soldiers who have died; for the soldiers, and their families, I have known who have died; and mostly for my Nan.

And I cry for my Mum because I just really, really miss her.

Ordinary time

Life can change in an instant. Two years ago tomorrow my Mum had the massive seizures that led to the discovery of a brain tumour. We were still getting used to the idea she had cancer; the news of a brain tumour meant her life expectancy would most likely be even shorter than we had previously been told. It was impossible to comprehend how this could have happened.

It was an ordinary day filled with ordinary things. And in one moment it all changed. I never left my Mum for a second for the rest of her life. I cared for her in every way while watching the Mum I knew and loved slowly disappear. It was heart-breaking.

I'm not traumatised by what happened that night like I was for a time. But I do feel incredibly sad. My Mum did not deserve to go through what she did. We lost a lot of what made my Mum who she was that night. And it just makes my heart break all over again to think of it.

I just miss her so very much. I would give anything to be able to pop round and have a natter with her. To just have one more day; even one more hour of ordinary time with her.

Music

A friend on Twitter, @littlemunchkin, posed the question today: What song is your guilty pleasure? I have two songs that I always think of when asked this question. The first is Alcazaar's Crying at the Discoteque. I first heard it on my now all-time favourtite TV show, Queer as Folk and I adore it. Every single time I hear it I have to turn it up and sing along. I often have a little dance too. It never fails to cheer me up. The other song is Aztec Camera's Somewhere in my Heart. This is on my Fantastic 80s CD. My Mum often had this on in the car when we were going on days out. My brother often had it on in his bedroom. When I hear it I remember happy summer days with my family. It never fails to make me smile. I treasure how this song makes me feel.

The power of music always amazes me. How hearing a particular song takes you right back to a particular time in your life. It can make you so happy or so sad and sometimes it makes you both at the same time.

Music has always been hugely important in my life. My Mum had a very eclectic taste and I grew up hearing her play her records. I was surrounded by music.

I hear In My Life by The Beatles and it reminds me of my Mum. It was one of her all-time favourite songs. We had it played at her funeral and it was perfect. The lyrics are so meaningful.

I hear Always Look on the Bright Side of Life and it reminds me of hearing it in the car with Mum after  she was diagnosed with cancer. She laughed and said she wanted it played at her funeral. Then she heard the line "Life's a piece of shit when you look at it' and said she couldn't have that because older members of our family would freak out if they heard bad language in church. This was when I told her I would wear red and joked that they would be so outraged by that they wouldn't notice the swear word in the song. Mum laughed so hard, it was the last time I saw her properly laugh. She made me promise I'd wear red. I kept my promise.

I hear The Steve Miller Band's The Joker and remember my first proper kiss. 

I hear The Searchers' Needles and Pins and I remember going on fairground rides with my brother at Butlins when we were kids. 

I hear Sisqo's The Thong Song and Aaliyah's Try Again and I remember the amazing times I had with my best friend just before she died. 

I hear The Nolans' I'm in the Mood for Dancing and I remember my wonderful Nan dancing with us at my cousin's 18th birthday party. My Nan died the following year and I miss her even now, twelve years on. I always remember that party as such a happy time though.

I hear Crocodile Rock and I remember singing with my Mum at the top of our voices at an Elton John concert; we both lost our voices for a whole day after that gig! 

I hear Stay by Shakespear's sister and I remember being 13 years old and in hospital for the first time waiting to have my appendix out. Top of the Pops was on and that song was number one; the doctor said the video was about a girl dying. Not what I needed to be thinking about!

I hear Amarillo by Tony Christie (and Peter Kay... sort of) and although I'm not a fan of the song, my whole family is so it reminds me of great times with them. At my brother's wedding reception it got requested and played three times. I grudgingly joined the end of the chain of people dancing in a follow my leader style around the room. It was all caught on video. It makes me emotional now because my brother's wedding was only five years ago and in that time we've lost our Mum, our Grandad and a friend. They're all on that video dancing to Amarillo. Bittersweet memories but I'm glad I have them and I'm glad the video exists.

I hear Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody and I remember the embarrassment of winning the disco dancing competition at club at Butlins when I was about 8 years old. I had to walk on stage in front of everyone to get my prize!

I hear The Prodigy's Spitfire and I remember my poor heartbroken brother and his friends, all just 18, carrying their friend Ash's coffin into his funeral. It was haunting and heartbreaking.

I hear The Way We Were by Barbra Streisand and I remember it being on the radio when I came running home from school with my GCSE results. I remember my mum hugging me and then sobbing with happiness at what I'd achieved.

I hear Bye Bye Baby by The Bay City Rollers and I remember crying in the back of the car on the way home from a holiday and my holiday romance when I was 15. This song came on the radio and my brother, then aged 12, thought it was hilariously appropriate. He sang that song at me over and over again for days and days and days. Whenever we're at a party together now though one of us always requests it because it makes us both laugh now.

I hear Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega and remember it being on the radio all the time when I was learning to drive. I also remember my Mum laughing hysterically when this song was on The Royle Family while Jim was decorating.

I heard Groovejet by Spiller on the radio that other day when we were driving to the house to do more renovating. It made me smile. I had somehow known I would hear that song while we were working on the house. Last time my Mum decorated the kitchen she had the radio on and I remember her phoning me that night saying that she had heard Groovejet about a million times while decorating. She could never hear the song after that without commenting on how it drove her mad while doing the kitchen up. It's funny that I heard it while being driven mad by decorating too. 

Music has a huge part to play in how Paul and I got together too. After our initial conversation about books a lot of our tweeting was about music. Paul is a real music lover, it's his passion in life. It's a huge part of who he is. I love song lyrics and always had books where, as a teenager and beyond, I wrote down lyrics that I loved; that inspired me; that spoke to me. I had recently seen the lyrics to a Madness song called One Better Day and was inspired to copy down these lyrics... 

'Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine 

Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes 

The feeling of arriving when you've nothing left to lose' 

because they jumped out at me. They caught exactly how I was feeling at the time. You can imagine how strange/amazing it was when Paul randomly tweeted this lyric; it wasn't even to me, it was a public tweet. I immediately tweeted back the song title and he was stunned that I knew it. From then on he often tweeted song lyrics and I nearly always knew what they were. One night just before he said goodnight to me he told me to download What If I by Ben's Brother. I'd never even heard of this band but I trusted his judgement. I listened to that song on a loop for ages and couldn't work out if he was trying to tell me something about how he felt about me through that song. About a week and a half later we met up in real life and the rest, as they say, is history! We try to regularly have music nights at home, we're planning one this weekend and I can't wait.

The strange thing is that the songs I've talked about aren't necessarily my favourites songs; some of the songs I don't even like but they remind me of a really happy time. If I was asked for a list of my favourite songs, it would be a completely different list. I don't think events have quite the same impact for me without music. Just about everything in my life has a song attached to it, I can't think of many things where music didn't play a part. The power of music is a wondeful thing.

Our living room!

This is how our living room looked the day we got the keys to the house...

This is how it looked after a short while...

And this is how it looks now...

It's taken from the end of July to yesterday to get to this point. At times it's felt like we were never going to get there. Sitting in this room now though, it was worth it. It looks better than I could ever have imagined.

I wish my Mum could see it but I know she'd have loved it. She'd have been so proud of me for not having clutter everywhere. I'd love to tell her that when I cleaned and tidied in here yesterday it only took 15 minutes because I didn't have loads of ornaments etc to move first.

I'm so proud of what we've achieved with this room, we've exceeded our own expectations with it.

I can't wait to get the rest of the house looking like this now.

The house is getting there at last!

Yesterday our new joiner fitted our internal doors and our home is now looking so much more like a house again rather than a renovation project. It's lovely to sit in the living room or in our bedroom with the door closed; it makes everywhere feel more cosy and more private.

Next Saturday the joiner is coming back to fit our window sills and to build a cabinet we need in the  living room. Then a week on Monday our new suite is being delivered. At that point all the work we were planning to do on the house for now will be done! We can just relax and enjoy our lovely home. We still need some more furniture and we have other rooms we want to work on but that will all come in time.

It feels like the stripping back, the central heating, the plastering, the joinery work has taken forever. It feels like it has dragged on and on and on. And for a while it felt like there was just no end in sight. Yet it's actually only 2 months tomorrow that the purchase of the house completed. From this side of it all, it seems amazing to me that we've achieved so much in such a short space of time.

It's amazing to see the end point in sight at last. And to see our home getting lovelier by the day. :)

Radio

I've been asked to condense five of my favourite blog posts for a segment on local radio. I happily agreed and was then persuaded to arrange to go to the studio to record it. I'm due to go today for the recording. Eek!

I'm really pleased with my blog, it's my own personal therapy but I do get lovely comments on twitter about it, which I very much appreciate. I'm happy to share my posts with a different audience via the radio.

I've printed out my piece and have been reading through it this morning. I've just realised that the last time I read publicly was at my Mum's funeral last year and the first segment of my radio piece has a slight echo of what I wrote for her funeral. Rather than this being upsetting though, it's made me feel more confident. My Mum was so touched when I told her I wanted to read at her funeral and I was so proud that I managed to do that last thing for her. I remember how she spurred me on when I had to give my first major presentation at Uni, she always believed I could do it despite my lack of confidence.

I wore a purple dress and a bright red mac at Mum's funeral because she hated black. I'd promised her I'd wear red. I wear that mac often now and it never makes me feel sad, even though I had thought at the time I'd never wear it again. So I'm going to wear it today and think of my Mum. She'd be so excited about me reading something I'd written on the radio. I'm going to try and garner some of the excitement she would have had for me and carry it with me this afternoon.

Wish me luck!

When I Loved Myself Enough...

I'm working through lots of my issues at the moment and it's really hard. I'm supposed to be learning to take better care of myself and I find that difficult.

In the process of moving house I had to pack up all my belongings, which included all my books. During the packing of them I kept spotting books that I had forgotten I owned, including a little book called 'When I Loved Myself Enough' by Kim McMillen. I love little quote books and my Mum often used to buy them to cheer me up. This is one that she had given me and it had got buried on my shelves.

I kept it to hand when we moved and today I spotted it on my bedside table and thought I'd read through it. It's made me cry. It's a little overly sentimental but so much of this little book spoke to me. I don't love myself enough, I'm very hard on myself, I'm overly critical and I think I deserve the bad things that happen in my life. Reading this book has made me understand a little more what people mean when they talk about taking better care. I need to go easier on myself, I'm not a bad person.

I'm going to treasure this gift from my Mum, more than I ever did before, because I think it contains a lot of the answers.

We've moved!!

Well, we've finally moved! We had most of our belongings at the house by Wednesday so we spent our first night here then. We moved the rest of our things in stages over the last couple of days. It's been hectic and exhausting but we're finally in! We handed over the keys to the apartment yesterday so now it's officially official... we have moved!

It was emotional leaving the apartment for the last time. Paul had lived there for five years. I've been there over a year and it's been such a happy place. I'll miss it because it was an amazing apartment but our new home is completely ours. No more inspections and no more rent to pay. No mortgage either. The house is entirely ours.

I keep walking around the house amazed that it belongs to us. Every single item, every single brick, every single everything about this house belongs to us.

It feels fantastic!

House

Finally, the house is getting there. The plasterer finished yesterday and the relief is enormous. It's felt like he was never going to get finished and has been quite stressful as we have to move into the house next week as our notice period will be up on our apartment.

The joiner is hanging the doors in our living room today so we'll be painting them over the weekend. Then our living room carpet is being fitted on Monday morning. It means the living room will be close to finished. It will be the only room that is near finished so will have to double up as our bedroom for a little while.

As soon as the plaster in the bedroom is dry we'll be getting that painted and getting the joiner back in to fix the skirting boards and architraves.

I can't wait to see it properly starting to take shape.

We'll be hiring a van for the middle of next week to move our stuff. The apartment is crammed full of boxes at the moment and neither of us are looking forward to moving them. At least once it's done, it's done. We don't plan on moving again for at least a couple of years now!

This time next week we should about have everything moved in and be busy organising and painting and cleaning. I'll be so glad to get to that bit now.

It will be lovely to spend our first night together in our own home though. It will definitely warrant champagne!

Today I'm packing more things for the move, which is coming ever nearer. We're due to move early next week so I'm really focussed on getting our apartment packed up and ready to go now.

This afternoon I packed up my Mum's jewellery and some of her personal souvenirs that I want to keep. It made me cry to look at them. It's still hard to look at things she wore and loved and know that she's never going to wear them again. But I am going to wear them. Today I'm wearing one of her favourite rings, it's one I'd bought her and it makes me smile to be wearing it.

It's amazing the happiness and sadness to be found in a drawer full of stuff.

I found the funeral service sheet from Mum's funeral, which made me sad:

Then I found the very last Christmas card I gave her and the words in that made me sob. I remember writing it knowing it would be her last Christmas. Things like that are harder than you can even imagine. And I still find it hard to remember that I'll never again have cause to buy a card with Mum on it.

Then I found the tickets from when we went to see We Will Rock You. It was a Christmas present to her from all us three kids and our partners. We took her in March 2008, just a few weeks before she started being ill. I'm so glad we all managed to have that amazing weekend in London together. Mum had always wanted to see this show and she loved it.

And with that was the ticket from when I took Mum to an Elton John concert. She was a huge fan of his and so I couldn't resist getting tickets when I found out he was playing locally. We had seats in the front block and had the best time. He was on stage for over three hours. I'll never forget it as long as I live.

Then there was this poem that Mum had clipped out of a magazine. It made me well up but I love the words and will keep this. Mum found this after her Mum died and she kept it all that time. The words gave her comfort and now they'll do the same for me.

I'm left feeling very reflective. I'm learning to concentrate on remembering all the very many good times though.

Comforting smells

Today I did some washing and hung the clothes on the airer to dry. And all afternoon I've been aware of this sense of my Mum around me. I've just realised why.

I used a new detergent today and it turns out it has the same fragrance as the one my Mum always used. So now the apartment smells like my Mum's house used to. It's very comforting and it's made me smile.

It's funny how you can have all these triggers to bad things and forget that sometimes there are triggers that make you smile. That remind you of something comforting. That make you feel better.

Who'd have thought that the smell of washing detergent could feel like a hug?! :oD

Barbeque

Yesterday Paul and I had a barbeque at the new house. We haven't moved in yet but we wanted to talk advantage of the warm, sunny bank holiday and get out in the garden. It was lovely. We've bought the guinea pigs an outdoor run so they got to be outside too.

The house is finally starting to come together. The living room is plastered and we've decorated it. Today the joiner is meant to be fitting the new skirting boards and architraves, then later this week hanging the new doors, the curtain rail, building a cupboard and putting up shelves. The plasterer is going to be at the house from Thursday to plaster our bedroom and build the wall for our walk-in wardrobe.

It feels like it's taken forever to get to this point but it's actually only five weeks ago today that we got the keys. To think how much we've got done in such a short space of time is quite amazing really.

We'll be moving into the house within the next 2.5 weeks. It'll be strange to leave our apartment and to actually be living in the house but I'm so looking forward to it.

Packing

Today I am packing up my books ready for the move. It’s not even a year since I last packed and then unpacked them when I moved in with Paul.

Packing my books today really made me think of what a different place I’m in now and how much happier I am. My move here was mired in all kinds of complicated emotions. I was very happy to be moving in with Paul but my brothers and I were barely talking to each other. I wasn’t coping at all with the loss of my Mum and I wasn’t having any kind of treatment for my breakdown. My family were very distant and lots of things were such a mess.

Now I’m packing to move with Paul to our new home. My brothers and I have our old relationship back and I’m in regular contact with my family again.

It amazes me that life can totally fall apart, that you can hit the bottom with such a thud but then without you even really noticing things start getting better. And before you know it you’re thinking things over and realizing that things really are ok now.

I still miss my Mum and wish she was here. I always will. But I find I’m not so angry now about what we went through with her illness. I talk about it now and the pain is getting easier all the time.

I wish I could have known a year ago that this is where I’d be right now. That I’d be in such a good place. That everything would be getting better. That I’d find a new normal. That I’d be happy again.

Getting better

I’ve been working really hard on getting over my PTSD in recent weeks and have been pushing myself more and more. I just don’t want to live with it anymore. It’s taken too long out of my life and enough is enough.

I’ve been playing music from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack at times when I’m busy so that my head can get used to it without me overly making associations to the trauma. It’s hard but it’s really starting to work. A couple of times now I’ve heard a song from the film on the radio and instead of having a full-blown panic attack I’ve been able to cope. It’s not easy but the point is that I am coping. A few weeks ago I’d have really not coped at all.

Today I was having an early lunch and I turned the TV on. This Morning was on and they were interviewing someone about his role in the Dirty Dancing stage play. I felt a bit uncomfortable and on edge but I decided to just leave it on and see how I how I coped. Normally I feel panicked and turn anything off that I think might even have a tenuous link to that soundtrack and my traumas.

Not only did I watch the whole interview but I survived the final segment of the show where the dancers performed to ‘(I’ve had) The Time of My Life’ and I was ok. I could feel the adrenaline but it was ok.

I never, ever thought I would get to this point. I was so traumatized by what happened while that film was on and I just didn’t think I’d ever be able to deal with it and get past it.

But I’m learning that while music has the power to bring back memories, to make you remember things so vividly, it can’t actually take you back in time. The terrible things that happened are not going to happen again because I hear particular songs or watch a particular film. My head is beginning to get that now.

I’m psyching myself up to watch Dirty Dancing some time soon. It used to be my all-time favourite comfort movie and now it holds such traumatic associations. But right now I feel like I’m on the verge of claiming it back.

I am absolutely determined to get past this trauma. 

18 Years

It’s 18 years ago today that all my health problems started. It’s quite shocking to realise that it’s been that long. I remember how I felt after one year of it and a couple of years. The year when I realised I’d been ill for as long as I’d been well was particularly hard.

I started being ill when I was 13 years old and now I’m 31. And still ill. I have good spells and bad ones and I make the best of it. To be honest I can’t remember what it is like to not be like this. 

You only get one life and this is my life. I’m determined to keep on making the absolute best of it. Life’s too short for anything less.

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.