As a lifelong pessimist, I’ve always argued that it’s a bad idea to look forward to things on the grounds that I always get let down, and have avoided feeling let down on many occasions because of this. Thank fuck, eh?
Well, in recent years, I’ve come to realise that being an optimism fares much better for me. Whilst I wasn’t being let down before, I failed to even consider the fact that with being an optimist, it also involves how you react to negative situations as well as positive ones!
If I’ve met someone new who I really like and hope it’ll work out with, the pessimist in me doesn’t want to get my hopes up for it all to go to shit soon enough. Seems fairly logical. But during that time, I’m not enjoying myself or this person as much as I could have been because I am thinking from the get go that it’s not going to work.
Taking the optimistic attitude and enjoying it while it lasts will mean that, retrospectively, my life will be more enjoyable, right? But what about if it DOES come to an end? I’ll feel let down and as if I got excited for nothing, right? Why be positive when the hurt caused by having the optimistic outlook could be so devastating?
Well, that’s actually still just being pessimistic, if you think about it. When something bad happens, pessimistic me might say “fuck it” and give up or just not bother on the grounds it was pointless to try, or silly to hope for the best. But the optimistic me would say “Hey, it didn’t work this time, but there IS someone out there for me!”. It’s not about KNOWING what’s going to happen, because in reality, you don’t know. You just don’t. So why waste your time surrounding yourself with negative thoughts, when those thoughts could be positive?
It won’t change what ACTUALLY happens, but it WILL change how you perceive these events, both positive and negative. As an optimist, you can bounce back and carry on and have faith that everything will be okay.
Because you know why? Everything’s going to be okay. Everything. Will. Be. Okay.
Why? It just has to be. It’s the only way.
It’s taken many stupid years of confusion and feeling horrendously low for me to realise the above. It also helped to have someone very much on my level to talk to, and to offer me some genuine advice for life. Thank you.
I’ve been reading through all of my old blogs, and it brings tears to my eyes thinking about the great times we had. Times that we cannot ever have again.
I’ve met so many people over the past three years. You’ve taken me from being a child and helped me into the adult world.
I’ve been through crazy things over the past three years. I’ve learned to rely on my Mum. I was forced to.
You were there to help pick up the pieces. In fact, you did most of the work. I appreciate it all.
You showed me that there’s always something to love, when I thought that love was no longer possible.
You showed me that guilt isn’t something that needs to be felt. Mistakes can be learned from, and I grew as a person from these mistakes.
You are a true friend to me. I hope you feel the same way.
You helped me gain more faith in myself, and I’m gaining more and more each day.
I might not ever even see you again. That hurts, but I will never, ever forget you. You will be with me until the day I die.
This is what I’ve wanted to tell you for some months now.
For all that you have given to me, I will always try to give back. Always.
I wish you all the best in your life. You deserve it. You are the most important person in the world, and always will be.
A lot of people reading this won’t understand, but you will. :)
I love you. You’ll be in my heart forever. ♥
I had an epiphany today whilst listening to No Quarter by Led Zeppelin for the first time. It’s something I’ve been pondering for many years now, and it’s been quite soul destroying, in fact. Since I was fifteen, I have been very conscious of the fact that I am getting older and that my time in this world is running out. That may seem like a stupid thing for someone as young as fifteen to worry about, even for someone of my current age of twenty-three. Earlier on this year, I finally made the decision to learn to play the guitar, which is something I have wanted to do since I was fifteen, and something I’ve had an interest in since before then. I had every intention of learning back then, but I just simply never got around to it. I always told myself I’d been too lazy to actually pick up a guitar and play, but over the past couple of months, I’ve realised that laziness was just an excuse.
I have been feeling as though my life, my time on this planet has been slipping from my grasp, like I am struggling to hold on to a life that is just flashing past me, beyond my control. I thought that I just had an irrational fear of getting old or becoming incapable. I never want to be in a position where I feel as though I am not able to live my life to the fullest, but the reality is actually far from what I have perceived it to be all this time. I have been puzzling over how to accept the fact that we all have to get old and die, despite feeling as though this wasn’t quite what I was afraid of. The reason I’ve felt like that all of this time is because I’m not afraid of that at all, I’m just not achieving the things I truly want to achieve in life! I realised that all of the little things that I’ve wanted to do for myself since I was a teenager, I’ve not really done. Only over the past few months have I started writing; something I told myself I’d work on when I was sixteen during my GCSEs when I discovered I thoroughly enjoyed creative writing. Learning to play guitar is another big one, along with drawing, designing tattoos for myself, writing songs, etc. The list is probably pretty long when I actually give it any amount of thought. It’s daunting.
People tend not to bother attempting things they want to try because they are secretly afraid of failure, so it’s easier to dismiss the entire thing regularly than to really think about why they haven’t started said task. Learning to play the guitar is just one of many things that I have wanted to do in the past decade that I just simply haven’t got around to doing because of some silly fear inside of me that I might fail. There isn’t even anything to fail at!
So, this stupid fear I have is actually a fear of failure, although I know am pretty terrible at failing when I set my mind to something. I’ve never been one to stick to things that don’t offer a huge payout quite quickly, and I tend to lose interest. Most of the things that I have wanted to attempt but never “got around to” are all things that require effort over an extended period of time. Few people become amazing guitarists after practicing for just a short while. It just doesn’t happen because playing the guitar is damned hard and takes dedication, patience and then talent always helps.
So, I came home today and started my second book of the week, as reading is another thing I wanted to start doing daily as of about a decade ago, ending with me finishing half of the fifth Harry Potter book in one day and then never coming back to it with, perhaps, two books when I was around eighteen that I used to read on the train to visit my then boyfriend, Robbie. My brother and I decided to go out for a curry in Edinburgh and, upon our return home, we started practicing the guitar for the second day of my stay. It had been my goal for this trip to learn the guitar to the best of my ability before I return home for the new year. I practiced for hours in light of the new found knowledge I had on why I hadn’t picked a guitar up in the past.
I have come to the conclusion that if something piques my interest, I should do everything within my power to achieve my full potential in learning about said interest, or achieving whatever it is I might be wanting to attempt. Failure doesn’t matter because the only things I’ve truly failed at are things I haven’t properly attempted. Besides, I’ve little sense of self, merely being the product of one long-term relationship after another. I’ve always thrown my energy into trying to make another person happy, which has always left us both unhappy in the long run. It seems silly that it’s taken me so long to truly understand this, that I need to find myself and my own identity before I can really have another person in my life. I’ve been a codependent mess and it’s been incredibly detrimental to so many people around me but most of all, to myself.
I don’t feel I even have a moment to wallow in any amount of self pity because I need to break this vicious cycle, and feeling sad for the past and for the opportunities I’ve thrown away over the pursuit of some unobtainable love would just be ludicrous. Perhaps more so than the actions of the past themselves.
Speaking of the past, this also completely interrelates to the past and how I view it. Or rather, the fact that I view my life, often in past tense. I realise that I spend a lot of time thinking about the way things were or the way I used to do certain things. The way I used to be, even. This makes little sense because there isn’t any way to go back to the past, and things are never, ever the same a second time round. So why bother trying to go back? It’s just not going to happen. That’s not to say that I want to go back in time to a different part of my life, but when thinking about the person I want to become, I need to draw my energy from events that are to come more so than events that are in the past and possible events that are currently happening. Looking to the future always makes on feel more positive about life, as though there is some forward motion inspiring positive thought in a person, no matter how small. Even if you just plan to have dinner with a friend in a few days time, it’s a nice thought to know that your life has some sort of structure to it. It gives you something to focus your energy on that is positive in nature.
Now I just need to find out what I want from life, what I want to be when I grow up.
What if we’d never started all of this?
What if we’d never met?
I didn’t see you coming when I fell for you,
and it was just too late.
From you allowing me to fall blindly in love
whilst under your spell,
to you hurting me physically,
I still loved you and I still do.
But I hate you.
You ruined my life.
The pills she takes,
the pain of which she drowns.
He promised I would find a little solace
and some piece of mind.
How could I have been the one?
But you ruined my life.
I love you.
Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder about you,
what life would’ve been like without you.
Better, I surely think?
The vast amounts I’ve learned since I left,
they don’t compare to what you gave me.
I want so desperately for you to come back,
and I know you’re not so far away.
It wouldn’t be hard for me to just let you have me.
But in doing so,
I will never have life.
You let me float through life,
eyes all glazed over,
wearing an ignorance-is-bliss grin
that bears no emotion.
It feels good,
But it’s not life.
It’s not real.
And that’s all because you’re not real.
And my tears flow because of everything that
might’ve been, could’ve been and could still be,
my heart still yearning for you
despite the numbness you made me feel.
But you’re not real.
And you never were.
You didn’t kill my pain.
You never did.
But your hold was so strong from the start
that I didn’t even notice what I’d become.
And now I resent you for everything you’ve done.
And I resent myself for everything I haven’t.
And that’s all because you’re not real,
Not a real person.
Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. - Mark Twain
People have always belittled my ambitions and it started with my father. He’s not a small person, but I think he’s always worried that my goals were a little too farfetched to ever become reality. Whilst he only wants the best for me, he always contradicted himself; he would say “You need to go to university and get a job.” and then, sometimes even in the same sentence, he’d say “I know you’re destined for great things.”. He’d say it in such a way that conveyed he thought I’d achieve in the unconventional sense of achievement.
One of the times he told me I needed to go to university and focus on my education, I half-sarcastically asked him how ever I’d manage to achieve the fame and fortune he talked about when I was wasting time doing silly things like getting an education? He didn’t really know what to say in response and hasn’t actually quizzed me on the issue too much since then.
But, it would seem that I have enrolled in a university course anyway (which I haven’t actually told him about) and so will be getting some sort of degree. Perhaps I’ll end up being a teacher due to the due care and attention I’ve always neglected to give to decisions regarding my education and future. I chose biomedical science last time because I decided that becoming a doctor was too much like hard work. As a doctor you have to continually learn new things, even after you’ve finished university. It sounds really stressful. The other reason for choosing biomed was because it sounded kind of cool, and I do find biology and medicine incredibly fascinating. I never had any intention of getting a job in that field, though. To work a 9-5 in a lab just seemed so mundane to me.
This time, I’ve decided to study English. I hated English at school, but I feel that it might be useful for me now. I mean, I want to do SOMETHING with my life, but I have no idea what. But life is passing me by quite quickly, and I don’t want to end up being 30 years old without having achieved anything. Modelling is great and all, but I don’t actually think it’s anything to commend someone on. Some may beg to differ, but it really is just standing there trying to make yourself look as aesthetically pleasing as possible for the camera. Yes, there are long hours and it is tiring work (albeit rewarding) and I do get to travel a lot and meet loads of lovely people, but it’s just so superficial and it encompasses almost everything I stand against, bar self love and acceptance. I wish we could all be models.
But my main issue is that I just don’t know what I want to be when I grow up…
Sometimes, in a moment, you decide that you no longer need a certain person in your life, for they are a burden to your growth as a person.
So, you cut them off and move on. But why, after so many years would one come back to the scene of the crime, so to speak? I don’t know why I did but upon doing so, it would seem that the alleged criminal had never even left the scene. He’s lying there still, just bleeding out like a stuck pig (albeit one ignorant to his situation).
All I can do is stand and stare. I begin to remember all of the moments we shared that had seemingly been lost among the other forgotten memories in my mind. Those moments were never truly lost and they never will be, but they don’t really deserve the space they take up in my thoughts. They never have and never will. So why do I begin to recall these things again? It’s like watching the car crash all over again, but from a different perspective this time around. Before, I was the confused victim and now I am an onlooker. But perhaps I need to be more than someone who just stands there gawping whilst everything unfolds for a second time. I need to intervene, a little like I did all those years ago when I cut you out of my life. It needs to happen again, but for good.
The snippet of your life as it is today that I have been given tells me that I did the right thing in discontinuing interaction with you back then. You only remind me of how naïve I was when we first “met”. I was a very weak person, a victim of circumstance a plenty. I fully feel that you were in the wrong and I always will. The older I get, the more I see this. But, if I were to ask you about why you made such ignorant and predatory decisions, I know that the answer would not matter.
There is no justification in the world that could bring anyone solace for what you did.
Which is precisely why I have had to find my own solace, and I truly have done so. I have grown so much as a person and become something greater than I could ever have fathomed back then. I’ve had so many dead weights drag me down and you were the first (and most significant) of many. It set me up for a fall that has lasted a decade and it may continue to last for years to come.
However, I am determined not to let that happen. I have been determined for a while now, although I didn’t fully believe it until quite recently.
People are frequently telling me that others hold me back and that I need to drop those people. I’ve always found it hard because I do care about the people that seem to be holding me back. I guess it did hit home quite recently when someone, again, uttered those words. I always frown when people say that to me but I really thought about it this time. I know that they are right.
Que sera, sera; I need to just live my life as I want to live it, and if people fit in around that then great! Otherwise, I guess we will lose touch. Why ever would I need to make an effort to have something in common with a person when doing so just holds me back from what my heart desires?
My horizons are exponentially broadening and I can truly feel this notion of “me”, my sense of self returning home.
Beauty is subjective, in any case. It comes from within, also. But, most importantly, I genuinely have considered disfiguring my own face to get you all to shut up about beauty and looks and all that crap, because I just couldn’t care less when it comes down to it. I did get that idea from one of my favourite books. How unoriginal of me.
We all look pretty damned ugly when we orgasm, when we are in such a state of ecstasy. But we are feeling the moment. It doesn’t matter what we look like in that moment, for everything is perfect for just a short while.
Not that sex is a good analogy for much any more. Sex is like this horrible global currency that we all seem to either have or want.
Oh, this parasitic existence presents such a paradox when searching for enlightenment.
(Do ignore me, I don’t quite know how to feel in this present moment.)
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide
I’m currently retouching an image from a recent shoot, whilst thinking about my life. I’m not listening to any music right now because I am trying to think very, very deeply.
I was just thinking about my life and the changes I need to make in order to be happy. I feel like this is do or die for me; if I don’t get it right this time, I don’t know if I ever WILL get it right. “It” being retraining my thought patterns so as I can find happiness in the right places.
My thoughts continued, and this led to me thinking about the consequences of my not getting it right this time…and I started thinking that it would be silly of me to carry on a life where I feel that my brain is just flawed and is forever going to hold me back.
I have interrupted my thoughts at present to tell myself out loud “NO. That’s negative thinking. That’s not an option. You can’t think like that.”, so I won’t.
You know why? Because I WILL get it right this time.
I have to, I will, I just have to.
Everything all links in together. I can’t let any part of my slip right now. It’s like I’m trying to carry a basket that has too many apples in it; every time I pick up one apple and put it back, another falls out. But it’s imperative that I carry all of these apples to their destination.
I’ll just have to tread more carefully and take things more slowly.
Thus continues the path to enlightenment, or whatever you might like to call it.
Love, strength and happiness to you all (as well as forgiveness to some). ♥
Something I love is when you share a moment with someone, but you don’t exchange contact details, sometimes not even names.
Those are the best times.
Those people can never hurt you. Their perfection is engrained in your memory for life, and that wonderful perception of them will never be tainted.
Because people let you down. They never live up to our expectations. But those strangers do. In a moment, they captivate us and become the centre of our universe.
A moment I cannot explain. I always feel so excited and free when I meet someone and they leave, both of us knowing we will never see each other again.
A perfect love story, the only tragedy being the knowledge that, should we meet again, our love will cripple us. For humans are destructive creatures.
TRIGGER WARNING: sexual assault
Trying to hard to heal from my past.
It’s hard when people out there continue to do the things that hurt you in the past.
But how do I deal with it all?
I need to be strong and outspoken and I need to make the decision that will make me feel empowered after the fact. That’s what matters.
Today has been a good day. But these days, every day is a good day. Despite being touched very inappropriately by a photographer today. I’m still happy. I’m still here. I’m still strong.
I will not let what people have done to me bring me down any more.
A time comes when a change has to happen. And as long as there are people out there who will assault, I need to have a mindset that is healthy, strong and happy.
I can’t ignore this shit. I have to face it. I didn’t know how to feel all day. I still almost don’t. I’ve decided I want to feel happy. I will be fucking happy.
And yeah, I do have to confront my fears head on. And I fucking will. I’m here for a god damned reason.
It’s so hard now for me to differentiate between a random pervert and someone who wants to share an intimate moment with me. That’s what’s wrong. The gap is closing. I won’t let that happen.
Because I have to be in control. In my mind. To know what’s what with a situation. I have had dreams about this shit. So fuck it. I can do this. I can beat the shit out of this anxiety I have when it comes to sex.
Because I only have to do what I want to do. Everything will be okay. Things are fine. Or, if not, they’re getting there.
I need this for me. :)
I also don’t need to seek approval of others. MY approval is what matters.
What happened today was crap, but I’m actually okay. I just need to have the strength to speak my mind. I’m so passive in too many ways.
Oh, but I know where this can start.
In at the deep end. Yes, fuck yes.
If someone told me 5 years ago about where I’d be today, I would be in utter disbelief. I’ve had some really good news recently and I’m really excited! :D
But yeah, 5 years ago my life wasn’t exactly great. I was deep into my depression and didn’t have much to live for.
I suppose that I only really have the same things to live for now as I did back then, though…Life has to be lived for oneself and oneself alone. I just didn’t see it back then, I don’t think.
Everything is so much clearer to me now. I got very lost somewhere along the way, but I’m back on track.
This year has also brought me to another realisation; whilst I need to be able to find happiness within myself, music has really been my saviour. I went through a particularly low phase the other month that lasted for about a month (as you all know). I was very scared, to be honest. I felt as though I had nobody to turn to. It was such a horrible place for me. But I started to listen to Eminem again. I’ve not listened to Eminem for a long time, years in fact. I was in this horrible place, but some of my favourite songs of his helped me channel my negative feelings into something just that LITTLE bit less negative. It brought me an element of peace to my soul.
But here I am! I’m coming out of that slump now and am back on my feet again. I’m excited for the future and I have so many people supporting me.
I don’t really know where to finish this, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I’m not talking about my career here, either. I’m proud because I finally feel as though I’m beating depression and becoming the person I have longed to be for 14 years. I’m proud because I have a reason to get up in the morning, and that reason is me, my life, my happiness and my future.
I can do this. I’m doing it right now.
My last post was very personal to me. I didn’t feel like elaborating at the time but I was genuinely curious as to whether anyone else feels this way about crying whilst eating?
I was out today, eating alone. I was feeling very sad. I’ve never, ever been able to eat if I am crying, and I really felt like crying.
Anyway, I managed the meal in the end but the thing was that I wanted to cry because I miss my mum a lot. It reminded me of the time that I felt so sad and upset, the time I felt most sorry for her. I can’t remember why, but she was crying in the kitchen. I think we may have had an argument or something. But she was trying to eat her dinner and she was just in tears and could barely eat.
I felt this gut wrenching feeling at the time and just wanted to burst into tears myself. I think I had to leave the room. But that’s just a memory I have of her and tonight I wished I could go back to that night and give her a hug to make her feel better.
Words cannot begin to describe how I feel right now. I wonder if they ever will.
My mother was the most caring, wonderful, lovely person I have ever encountered in my life. She was never cruel to anyone. But the world was cruel to her.
It’s not fair.
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, LOSS OF PARENT.
Looks like my anti-depressants are out of my system, or starting to get out. I keep crying all of the time and this vitamin D spray does pretty much nothing…
I can’t stop thinking about my mum now, and all of the things I should have or could have done.
I keep playing our last phone call over and over in my head. Maybe if I hadn’t been on anti-depressants at the time, I’d have been more perceptive? I always used to pick up on her weird moods, but on those fucking tablets I barely noticed a thing, let alone a subtle, yet significant, change in someone’s emotions.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My mum was supposed to be sitting with me, on the sofa, chatting with me, being curious about the clothes I’m making. Instead, there’s dead silence.
I had said I wanted to go to the pet shop with her the week before she died, but I had completely forgotten. It may have even been my idea, but nonetheless we didn’t go. I regret that so deeply. We used to go all the time together and talk to the parrots, trying to teach them new things. It’s been almost two years now, and only recently have I been able to bring myself to return there. My next trip was supposed to be with her.
When we got there, I managed to distract myself for a while, but in the pet section there were no staff members…not even people shopping. There always used to be a warm buzz. There was only one parrot, a feather plucking African grey that just stared at you when you talked to it. It was tame, however, enjoying a neck scratch from me. When I walked out of sight after a while, it started screeching and making attention-seeking noises. So I stood round the corner and watched it, started whistling to it and we had a mimicking session.
After I while, I had to leave. I bought myself another bird feeder. I have not had one bird eat from that feeder since I got it, almost a month ago now.
Everything is so different. It’s just not right like this.
Tonight, I truly feel alone. I’ve not felt this way in a little while and I know it’s because I’m tired. A few weeks ago, I said I was going to post about a certain thing that had happened in my life, and I still have yet to do it.
TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE, PAEDOPHILIA.
A few weeks ago (just before my Hunstanton trip with my friends), I spent the week attending a court case against my ex boyfriend (who I dated from ages 16 to 18 and was around 26 or 27 when we met). I had reported him for raping me about a year after we split up. The case took a long time for one reason or another.
I spent the entire court case having to be completely silent about all of this to almost everyone, so as not to jeapordise the case, which has led to me finding it very hard to talk about any of my traumatic experiences in life, not just this particular series of experiences.
I am only writing this now, not because I WANT to get this out, but because I NEED to. I used to want to tell the world about all of this, but I am shaking and almost in tears as I write. But I have to do it. I have to become the open and free person I know, love and deeply miss.
The police ended up seizing his computers and found a plethora of child porn in his possession (none of which was ever seen by me, or even known about). He was sentenced to 4 years, 9 months in prison and found guilty of possession of child pornography, rape and drunk driving.
It was really hard for me, but not because I had to go through my testimony over and over, but because I was told I needed to describe the impact it’d had on my life. I never told my partner that I was to do this just before the sentencing because I couldn’t handle talking about it at all, and I still can’t. Not talking about my experience over the years has led me not to understand the impact of it all, and it’s so hard to begin to comprehend it now.
I almost regret turning down counselling for it all, but I couldn’t go through with it after having a few sessions, as I felt I would break down. I cannot afford to break down. I don’t know who would pick me up. I’m here alone now, and if I can’t pay the bills, nobody will.
But here I am, starting to try to take the first steps towards accepting my past, and building a bridge to my future.
So there we have it; my ex was a paedophile and was probably only with me because I was young. I genuinely don’t know how I feel about it, but hopefully I can come to terms with it one day.
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, DROWNING.
The day that I truly realised and accepted the severity of my anxiety, was the day that my mum died. She went missing during the night and I woke up to a voicemail from my dad, saying that she was missing. As soon as I heard the voicemail, I knew that the worst was expected, and I knew that we probably would never see her alive again.
My mum had gone missing many a time prior to that day, but those times never seemed so severe. This time, I just had a strange feeling that it wasn’t going to be something as simple as her renting a car with a fake name to avoid the police.
I was mortified, but I wasn’t that anxious. I don’t really know why. Thinking about it now does bring feelings back, but they aren’t the same feelings; at the time, I didn’t know if she was alive or dead and I was just thinking about the fact that most people who aren’t found within 24 hours of going missing, are either never found or found dead.
The rest of my family had been searching her home before I’d woken up, and by the time I got to the village she lived in, the rest of my family and the police had a good idea of where she may be, having found plenty of weights in the bedroom, with some missing, and a blow up dinghy box that had recently been purchased.
There had been a note left just mentioning the “deep pool” at a park local to her house. This pool was very deep, though I can’t remember how deep. At LEAST one house deep, though I seem to remember it being about 3 houses deep, from what I was told.
The dinghy was found in one of the pools, and a plastic bag was found nearby with her mobile phone and possibly some other bits and bobs.
The police’s funding had been cut not long ago, which meant that they had to get rid of the diving team and the pool is so deep that you can’t see the bottom from a helicopter. A diving team from another nearby city had to come down, but they couldn’t come before nightfall that day, which meant we had to wait another day to see know for sure what had happened.
That afternoon, I went and walked to the pool with a friend of mine, and we stood at a jetty and looked across the water.
So, the next day, the dive team search for hours and hours, though the diameter of the pool is not that big at all.
So, they finally found her. She was right in front of where I’d been stood with my friend, just a day earlier. I was mere feet away from her, but I couldn’t see the bottom past the first few metres because of the ledge in the pool being so steep.
We were at home waiting for the police to come and tell us the news. Just ten minutes prior to the police officer in charge arriving, we watched him on the news, announcing that they were still searching. He told us that she had been found. I can hardly remember how I felt at this moment. It wasn’t relief, that’s for sure, but it also was far from shock or surprise. I knew from the moment I got the voicemail from my dad that this would be the outcome, somehow.
This whole ordeal was very surreal to me and it’s taken me a long time to accept that she was gone, even having gone down to the pool with my brother and father that day and inadvertently seen the body bag, which was really upsetting.
I was quite anxious over those two days, but the anxiety I get over day to day things is so much more severe than that, and has been for many, many years. My anxiety isn’t rational, or caused by things in real life that should make one anxious. I just genuinely don’t feel that people understand the gravity of what I’m “going through”. I have a lovely life and appreciate all that I have, yet this horrible feeling plagues me most days, with it becoming unbearable every now and then. I can work like crazy for a few weeks to catch up from a bad period, but I just go back into another black hole of wanting to hide in my bed and cry.
My sense of impending doom. It’s something that only those of us have been through will truly understand.
I am nothing without my mum by my side. She gave me all of the strength I have. I’m strong, I’m a fighter, but I just have this little thing that not even I understand. Why would any person become more anxious over trivial, day to day things, than one of their dearest loved ones going missing? The only rational explanation I can give is that my mind just does not work the way it should do, or the way I want it to. It’s a very upsetting thing, and it’s hard to deal with and accept.