It's time

I feel it's time to write about who I am today.

Today feels lonely. I expected living alone would occasionally feel like this, and most days aren't lonely days but when they do suffice, they hurt. I feel the loneliness inside of me, creeping up my inside walls finding a way into my heart. It's a pain I can't describe, although I very much feel it. I can't tell you the root to my loneliness, as it's not being alone that hurts me. In a way I was used to being on my own before I moved out. I relied on myself for a very long time, at a very young age. Although now, I like my independence and have grown with it. I am not the scared little girl I was six years ago. I am not the self harmer or the girl who cries too much any longer. I am merely the girl who's moved on with her life, and I think I'm doing pretty well. However, these feelings become blurred when loneliness kicks in.

My eighteen year old self no longer cries weekly in mourning over my Mother. If I'm totally honest, I rarely let myself think of the loss. Don't get me wrong I still think about her and the times we shared, however I no longer have to cry myself to sleep in order to try and release these emotions. I've learned the feelings will never escape, it is just something I have to live with and cope with or I'll go crazy trying to fight them. 

"The sense of loss will never ebb away, it simply becomes part of you, like a familiar coat or cardigan you wrap around you. But this pain and loss makes you stronger, giving you a sense of purpose to go on and to continue your life as your Mum would want you too..." 

After someone special to me offered these kind words, I realised there is no better way to describe my loss than that. At first, the coat is heavy and pulls you down. It is a burden. However as time travels and you seem to be rooted to the same spot without movement, you realise when you peer back how far you've come. It doesn't hit you right away, and if I'm completely honest, It has only just dawned on me how different I am to the girl who lost her mummy. When I say to myself I was only twelve when she was taken, my heart breaks into a million pieces. I'm always going to be that twelve year old somewhere deep down. However I've learned to build on her, make her stronger and independent. I've learned to embrace the feelings that used to haunt me, and I feel like a different person altogether sometimes. I've made her proud, I'm sure of it...and from the day she passed, that was my one and only goal.

For Ellie

I know you can't remember this, sweetie. So I'll remember it for you. After Mum was diagnosed with cancer the first time and she was at home in remission, she sat us both together on her bed and told us some things I can never forget. "I love you girls more than anyone in this whole world. You know that, and don't you ever forget it." She said this with tears in her eyes, looking more vulnerable than ever. "...And if anything ever happens to me, you both promise me you'll look after each other and care for each other and stand by one another's sides? Promise me" I don't blame you for being too young to remember Ells, you were only eight...but we did promise her. And although I feel like I haven't stuck to my promise, and haven't been there for you as much as I should of been, well I just want you to know I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and standing by you through tough and easy. I love you Eleanor, with all of my heart and everything else I have. You're my baby, and you always will be. Don't ever forget how far you've come, and how far you're going. You have the world at your feet and I will always be proud of the beautiful young woman you've turned into. Forever and always my princess, I promise. x

Flashback of the past

I stare at the ceiling, the swirls in the paint making my head feel dizzy. The pain in my chest becomes all too real now, like someone is sitting on the top half of my sixteen year old body. I feel my eyes well, although I was sure I'd ran out of tears an hour ago. Feeling sorry for myself is not something I enjoy. I appreciate the moments of independence and strength I sometimes feel when my mind lets me forget for a short while the pain I'm feeling. However, now is not one of them times and I feel tired and worn out but sleep is not an option.

I see her in front of me. Dancing, laughing and sipping from her glass, any worries she has are not important right now. She is Fourty, and I am nine. My feet ache from the high-heeled shoes she let me wear, after me begging and getting Dad to agree to buy them for me. I look at her now, really look. She seems so happy. I've never seen her look this care-free and young. She dances and swings her hair in time to the music. Nan comes to join her, something I'm surprised to see. I smile and giggle as I watch them make fools of themselves. Running over to join in the fun, I realise my mum is beautiful. I've never noticed before now how shiny her hair is and how pretty she looks when she smiles. I tug her hand, and she holds mine. I reach for Nan's and she laughs, taking mine in hers. They swing me around, letting me down to dance with them. My legs struggle to keep up with theirs. Ellie pushes herself into the middle of the three of us, I'm glad to see her. My little sister. She looks just as beautiful as Mum, and envy washes over me. What I'd do to look like my baby sister. The feeling disappears as quickly as it came. I pick her up as she giggles and swings her legs around me. We dance like this, but not for long. Ell's runs after Mum and Nan, who are escaping the dance floor. I follow them, feeling completely overwhelmed by happiness.
The memory ends there and I come crashing back to reality, hitting it hard. I'd been so lucky to experience the love my Mum had showered me with, but I can't help feeling betrayed and cheated. It's not fair she had to leave this world. It's not fair she's never coming back. It's just not fair me and Ellie had to say goodbye to our mummy when we had so many things planned. Although, I've learned fairness doesn't come into it. She is gone, and a thousand tears can't change that. I thank whoever's up there for the time I spent with my mummy, and curse them in the same moment that they'd stolen her away from us when I was only twelve, and Ellie was only nine.

Empty and overflowing

"Smile!" I shouted as I focused my gaze on the beautiful woman through the lens of my throw away camera. I clicked once, twice, three times just for good luck. She rarely let anybody take photographs of her, she'd always be the one behind the camera. So when she said yes to a photo I was over the moon. She had posed smiling, and my heart had swelled with affection. I ran across the sand and fell next to her, hugging her from the side. I kissed her cheek and the familiar scent of her skin made me smile. She always smelled so lovely, like honey and white musk. She leaned her head on mine as I rested on her shoulder. We both stared in the same direction, in no direction. The sound of seagulls numbed my brain and made it almost impossible to think about anything else. I was grateful though. I didn't want to sadden myself, I was enjoying my mummy's company. It seemed a lifetime ago that she was lying in a hospital bed, fighting an almost impossible battle. Somehow, she did it though...and the thought only made my throat tighten and my eyes fill with tears. So for now, all I wanted to think about was the sound of the sea gulls, the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of honey and white musk.

I had the same feeling in my throat now, as I did that very day. The memory of my mum never failed to cause a painful, hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach. I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing as hard as I could. I pressed my forehead against the wall, and let felt my body shake as I cried as hard as I could. I stayed like that for however long it took before finally falling into a unsettled sleep. 

I ran my fingers across the glass and watched her smile at me through the gaps between the blinds. Her face lit up and she looked as healthy as she'd ever been. I could of almost completely forgot she was sick, until I noticed the tube that was rooted into mummy's chest. The tube was normally clear, but this time it was red. I knew mummy was having a blood transfusion, something I'd heard her discussing with Nanny Sue. She turned her head to look out of the small window, when all of a sudden I felt myself moving backwards. I wasn't walking, or really moving...but I could see her getting further and further away. I felt utterly helpless. I wanted to run as fast as I could, to curl up next to her in her hospital bed and she'd stroke my hair the way she always did. However when I tried to run, I felt nothing but the weight of my legs holding me firmly where I was. I fell down, clawing at the ground beneath me, at the air around me. I became manic and couldn't seem to stop the feeling of desperation overcoming me completely. I started to fall, unable to grab anything that would stop me from descending further. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes stung and my cheeks were wet. I couldn't stop my tears from pouring, I couldn't possibly begin to try. 

I felt my body jolt and my eyes were now very much open. I was forced back into a world I had no means of escaping, a pain I had no way of coping with. The reality of my mum's death hit me once again, like a train with no lights. My chest seemed to tighten, and I felt the hollow feeling I was now so accustomed to, deepen and swallow me whole...promising to never let me free.

My loneliness reaffirmed...

I collapsed onto my bed in a heap after another lonely day at school, missing my Mummy so much.
 I felt horrid. I had a headache due to crying for hours and I really didn't want to see or speak to anybody. I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of heavy boots and the door slamming. He wasn't in a good mood. I hated that my happiness depended on him. I couldn't stand the apprehension and worry about how he was feeling, because if he wasn't happy, then it seemed like he wouldn't let anybody else be, either. I felt guilty about disliking him, he must have been going through so much. He'd been with Mum for twenty years, and although they argued and he didn't treat her the way I think she deserved, he was grieving for her, too.
I felt my stomach tighten as I heard him coming up the stairs and I waited. My bedroom door swung open and he entered my room. No knock, no nothing.
"For fuck's sake, Kirsty. You're room's a fucking shit hole, and if you don't clean it up right now you're not going to nan's tomorrow." I felt my eyes well up all over again, I didn't understand how I even had any tears left.
 "Please don't shout at me," I said.
 "Don't back chat me, Kirsty. Do as you're fucking told."
He stormed out, leaving my door open. I felt so shit. I knew I was probably being selfish, but I couldn't remember a time when my father had asked me how I was feeling. I was never asked: "How was your day at school?" or, "How do you feel today?"
My Nanny Sue, however, did ask me how I felt and she consoled me, and my sister, Ells. I  loved going to see her because I knew she cared and looked after me.
 I laid down again, and for the millionth time I cried myself into a restless sleep.

I woke four hours later and stayed in my room for the rest of the night. When I heard him going to bed, I winced, jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. I'd been cleaning my room like he'd told me to. The landing floorboards creaked as he neared my bedroom. The door handle slowly turned and finally clicked open and I felt him standing behind me.
"Kirsty, I told you to tidy this fucking room. Why don't you just do as you're told?! I'm getting fucking sick of this, if it isn't done when I get up for work tomorrow your bags are packed and you're fucking gone. Do you hear me?!"
Of course I heard him, next door probably did, too. "It's half eleven I'll just do it when I get back from school tomorrow." I knew he'd be angry at me for back chatting, but it really was late and I'd be so tired in the morning if I didn't get to sleep. My room wasn't even that bad, although my uniform was on the floor along with a few of my other clothes. I accepted it needed cleaning, but I could do it tomorrow and I wouldn't have to rush.
 I could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my head, and I pulled the covers over my head again. This time I closed my eyes, and I hoped he'd just go away. I felt his hand clutch my duvet, and then the cold air hit my body. He'd torn the covers off of me, and they now lay in a heap in the middle of my floor. I cowered and waited for more shouting.
"Do as you're fucking told. Now!" He pointed his yellowing finger in my face, and I reached for my duvet. He slapped my hand back, and I looked up into his cold hollow eyes. I knew that I'd crossed a line.
"I'm sorry, please. I'll do it. Just go away," I pleaded.
 "Don't tell me what to fucking do. I'm sick of your attitude, Kirsty. I wish I'd never fucking had children."
 He continued to look at me, but after a few seconds he left. I knew I'd have to do my room tonight, no matter how tired I'd be in the morning. I didn't have a choice. I wasn't hurt by what he'd said, he'd told me too many times he wished he'd never had children ... and after a while, I began to wish he hadn't either.

No shelter

The bell rang through my ears and I clutched hold of my school bag. My coat was already on, and I was getting ready to leave. The school day was over and I was dreading the walk home. Although, it wasn't really the walk I hated, it was what was waiting for me at the end. I started towards the door, and was pushed into the centre of a crowd. As we all battled to get out of the classroom at the same time, I saw Charley coming out of the room opposite. My heart dropped and I bowed my head. I really didn't want any confrontation so I walked a little faster and managed to get out of the double doors first. She was right behind me, but I was already jogging down the stairs. As I turned the corner and carried on downwards, I came to a group of people all trying to exit the science block at the same time. I slowed down, having to walk extremely close to everybody around me. I felt somebody tug my hair, forcing my head backwards. I knew it was Charley. I carried on walking, I was nearly out now and things were speeding up. I heard laughing and suddenly felt somebody shove their foot in front of mine, causing me to trip and fall into the person I was following. I was unbelievably embarrassed but by the sound of the laughter coming from behind me, Charley didn't feel the same. I turned around and my fist came flying out in front of me, catching the side of her face. She stumbled back, but I hadn't done any real damage. That was the first time I'd ever hit anybody, and I knew I'd be willing to do it again if the bullying continued. I was sick of people thinking they could walk all over me.

I practically ran out of the school, not really slowing down until I couldn't see anybody else with the familiar blue jumper on I was wearing myself. I was nearly home when I started crying. I'd done so well up until now to hold it in. I was nearly home, and my eyes were red and sore. I turned my key in the lock and I saw my nan waiting for me on the other side. She'd been staying with us since mum died to help Dad out. She was his mum and she said she'd help him out with anything he needed. She looked worried now, maybe even annoyed. "Nan, what's happened?" I asked. She didn't ask me why I'd been crying, although I knew it was obvious. "I've just come off of the phone, I'm not too sure what to make of it, but I thought I'd ask you first. Someone called to tell me that you'd be expected to attend an hour detention this Friday for bullying a girl called Charley. They said you had hit her, and made her cry before leaving school. Is this true?" I couldn't believe it. Was I really being accused of bullying her?! I automatically knew something wasn't quite right. If I had a detention, why didn't they send a letter home like they normally would? "Nan, was it a woman? Did she tell you her name? Are you sure she was a teacher?" I had so many questions I needed her to answer. She looked at me, focusing on me hard. "Yes, it was a female. I wouldn't say a woman, I don't know why. Just, she sounded so immature and well, not much older than you really. Mmm, No. I don't think she told me her name either. I'm sure she didn't, actually" It all made sense. Charley had gotten my home number from Nicola and rang my nan, pretending to be a teacher. What a fucking bitch.

I was laying in the bath when I became unbelievably angry all of a sudden. How dare she ring my house phone. We'd lost my mum only eight months before. None of us needed this shit, and even at home I couldn't escape it. She was continuously making comments at school, and most of the time I didn't care too much. However, after continuous insults I started to get tired and quite frankly fucked off. I was sick of her thinking she could get away with bullying me...and if she was going to start involving my family, I'd need to do something about it.
After confronting Nicola over text, she'd explained what had happened. She had given my number to Charley like I'd suspected, which she was extremely sorry for...but it wasn't actually Charley who had rang my nan. She'd gotten one of her friends to make the call, although it was Charley's idea, she explained. I couldn't contain my anger. She didn't actually have the "balls" to do it herself, but needed to hurt me in some way. For the millionth time, I reached deep into my draw and pulled out my blood-stained silk purse. I zipped it open, and poured the shiny blades onto the carpet. Many of them were rusty, but I couldn't bare to throw them away. I never used them, and I knew something was definitely wrong with me. I had such a deep connection to these pieces of rusty metal, and I knew I was completely pathetic. I pulled out the shiniest, newest blade and began to release the anger I'd never be able to do in any other way.

Blah Blah Blah

I still can't understand how somebody can moan about things I write on my blog. I never asked anybody to read it, so if you don't like it, just stop reading. I'm still a "nut job" but it's okay now because I know that it's not me that's the deluded one. If people can read it, and still only think about themselves then I simply don't want them in my life anyway, not that I did to begin with. So, I just want people to know I'm okay with what they say now, because I really don't care any more. To me, you're all long forgotten about, and I'm writing my memories. If you don't like that, then think about why. If you'd of never done anything in the first place, then you wouldn't be so fucked off now. Seriously, like I was asked the other day "It's been three years since school, why are you bringing it all up now?" Well you know what? I've finally come to terms with the fact that it wasn't my fault, and that I shouldn't be ashamed for writing what's happened to me. They should be.

Gratitude

I could hear sea-gulls and the sound of the waves crashing and then meeting the shore. Salty air filled my lungs and I longed to never to exhale. I wanted to smell that scent for ever. Suddenly my head was full of memories. I had been happy once, truly happy. My mum was to thank for that though, and now she was gone my happiness had stayed loyally by her side. I could see her smiling at me now, telling me I was beautiful. She used to tell me that a lot. I missed the way she'd place her hand on her tummy when she laughed. I felt myself starting to cry again. I was so pathetic. The pebbles underneath me shifted as I fell onto them. I didn't have the energy to stand up-right any more, and the stones seemed to smell of mummy too.

"Kirsty, come on now get out of the sea we're going back to the caravan." My heart dropped. I really didn't want to go yet, I was having so much fun. "Oh, do we have to?" I moaned. "Unfortunately we do. Now if you'd help us pack up the stuff then we can get going...and then we'll go to Sidmouth after your shower to have a nice meal." She always knew how to make something good of everything. I walked up the slip way towards the caravan with my rubber ring around the waist. I couldn't stop smiling. I'd had such a good day at the beach with Mum, Ellie, Nanny Sue and Granddad. Me and Ell's had spent the whole day in the sea, swimming and playing. My mummy came running past me and I knew that meant she was challenging me. I could see the caravan by now, and I started running as fast as my legs would let me. Running with a rubber-ring wrapped around me wasn't the easiest of things, and I soon fell arse over titt. On my speedy way to the floor, I managed to put my hands in front of me. They took the brunt of it, but there was only a few grazes. I heard my mummy's laughter before I saw her running back to me. "Are you hurt? You're not hurt are you?" I showed her my hands and laughed myself. She carried on laughing and helped me up. "If it's going to be anybody, It's going to be my Kirsty Anne."

The memory of that day shone vividly, and my body had began to shake. What had I ever done to deserve no mummy? Everybody else had theirs. I saw them holding hands and laughing and I couldn't help but feel cheated and jealous. I'd took my mum for granted and it had never crossed my mind I was ever going to be without her. I couldn't even think about it without feeling so unbelievably guilty. I hated the thought of my mum dying and her not knowing how much I loved her. I just had to pray every night that she didn't die thinking I wasn't grateful for what she'd done for me...because even though she'd been taken from me, I still got the chance to be her daughter.

Truth hurts

I have just received a message from one of the people I've written about. She didn't like what I had to say, yet everything I've written is true. This is my message to people who still can't accept I'm GRIEVING. Although, yes, as she's stated again today, it's been "three years" since I left school, and of course "I shouldn't be bringing it up again."
Well, you know what? I'm saying a massive fuck you, to everyone who doesn't like what they read. I cannot fathom how someone can moan about something they chose to read. CHOSE. I didn't force anyone, and this is why I stated clearly "If you are not interested in anything I have to say, other than to be nosey, don't read my Blog." 
Once again, yes indeed three years after leaving school, the people who gave me such shit are still deluded enough to believe they done nothing wrong. Like I said, I'm going to continue writing, and nothing I say or have said is anything but the truth.

Over the edge

As I woke from a restless sleep, I quickly remembered I had another day to face at school. Another day to remind me what an "attention seeker" I was. It made me angry that people had the audacity to say that. I'd tried my hardest to cover my self harm, and I just wanted everybody to forget about it already. They'd forgotten about my mum dying. Or even if they remembered, they didn't mention a thing. Apart from one boy, Jordan Rushworth. Up until now, I'd thankfully never had to experience someone be completely cruel directly about my mum's death...but he'd sent me something over Facebook which made my skin crawl with hatred. He'd started spreading rumours in school about me, and I'd had enough now. He'd fucked with me for too God damn long. So I asked him, "Why do you feel the need to spread rumours about my life?" My hands were shaking now. The reply came quickly, "Why would I want to think about your fucked up little life, Kirsty?" My hands were typing the response before I even knew exactly what I was going to say. "What makes my life any more fucked up than yours?" I regretted it as soon I re-read it, but by then I'd already pressed enter. Fuck. Of course, I knew more reasons than he did why my life was so screwed up compared to everybody else's. "Well, at least I've got a mum, Kirsty. As well two arms with no scars."

I'd been staring at the screen for two minutes and my body had began to shake. I was so fucking angry! How dare he. My eyes darted to the screen, he was typing. He was typing?! He had more?! No, I don't think I could face an onslaught of insults. "Happy?" Is that all he had to say? Somehow, that one word tipped me over the edge. I started crying again and my body wouldn't stop shaking. I was just overcome by hatred and anger I couldn't see past it. I slammed my laptop shut. This was the last fucking time anyone insulted me like that. Ever.

Unravelled

The first time I felt the true impact of my mum's death, I was in bed staring at the wall opposite when the realisation suddenly dawned on me. I was never...ever, going to see my beautiful mummy again. I wasn't ever going to hear her voice again. All of the plans I'd ever made had included my mum's support...and everything had been cruelly snatched away. We'd planned to go away in Two Thousand and Nine. We'd planned to "up and leave" for the whole summer holiday, just as usual...and she promised she'd save all she could so we could go somewhere different. Just us three again. That's when it really hit me. Six months after saying goodbye to her in the hospital, I finally understood the meaning of death. I had never experienced such a hollow, gut wrenching feeling. I knew no matter how many tears I cried, I would never see her again. Although, that didn't mean I could prevent them from pouring.

An act of proffession

I soon realised if I was going to survive school, I had to bury my emotions for the six hours a day I was there. It was harder than I thought at first, as I struggled to suppress and hold back my tears. My mummy was still gone, and she would be for-ever. However after months of practising I became a professional. Although I'd cry as much as my body would let me as soon as I got home, I managed to hide it more often than not at school. I was still all alone. I'd wake up every morning and have to fight a dreaded sickness I'd become far too accustomed to... And then when the bell rings at Three O'clock at the end of the school day, the sickness would return.

I had no home. I had no place I could go to where I could feel happy or even show my sadness. I was overcome with the grief of my mother, as well as the pain caused by the only people I had left. I couldn't confront my dad about how I felt, because he'd simply say I should think about his feelings, that I didn't have it so bad. When he told me this, I'd felt guilty automatically because he was right. I wasn't the only one affected by Mum's death, and I'd never felt so selfish.
`

Alone

I kept walking, my head bowed never daring to look up. I couldn't face their stares and how they'd stop talking as I'd walk past. The worst thing was that I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was the topic everybody was suddenly interested in. I didn't go straight to class, instead I carried on until I reached the girl's toilet's. I nearly fell into one of the cubicles, my vision now blurry with the tears I'd held back. Until now. I stumbled for the lock and managed to slide it into place. The girl's toilet's door creaked open, and I heard somebody walk in. "Kirsty? I saw you come in... Are you okay? Kirst'?" It was Nicola. She'd been my on and off friend for a few years now. I slid the lock across, and slowly walked out. I knew my face was red and blotchy, and I hated it when people saw me like this. "I'm so sorry, Kirsty. I don't know what to say. I heard about your mum, and she was a lovely woman. Don't cry, please, she wouldn't want you to cry." She didn't sound exactly sympathetic, just a bit impatient. "Come on, Kirst' we're late for lesson." I just stared at her. I couldn't possibly begin to imagine sitting in a room full of people right now...but once again I found myself standing in front of two big doors and I couldn't remember for the life of me how I'd managed to get there.

The first two weeks after I lost Mum wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be. People didn't mention it and didn't stare any more when I cried. I still couldn't accept she wasn't coming back. I cried myself to sleep every night, or rest just wouldn't come. I continued my spiral into depression. I didn't know how to cope. People had already started to get agitated and annoyed when I cried, I realised it made people feel uncomfortable. I couldn't blame them for not understanding, but after a month of mum dying, they were becoming damn cruel. "Why are you crying, Kirsty? It's been ages now" I was so used to people saying that. People I saw every day. "We think you need to, well, get over it a little bit Kirsty. I really don't mean it horribly, but it's been over a month now and all you do is cry. It's beginning to get boring and I promise I don't mean to be rude, but it's, well, like you're attention seeking." Amy stared at me waiting for me to say something. She'd been my friend for a while, but ever since mum dying she just didn't seem to care. I didn't expect her to understand, I knew no one ever could...but at the same time, if she didn't understand I didn't expect her to judge me either. She was "comforting" me now, hugging me. I didn't say anything, because if I did I knew I'd cry...and that just wasn't acceptable any more.

Although I tried my hardest, I still cried at school far too much and the more I did the more people seemed to dislike me. I had no friends any more. I'd started self harming by now, and I was trying so desperately to keep it from everybody there. As I walked through the school, I saw Nicola standing outside of my English class. She didn't look at me straight away, and I knew something was wrong. "What's happened?" I asked, pausing in front of her. When she finally looked up she said "Have you been slashing your wrists? Have you?" the look of disgust on her face hit me hard. "What are you talking about?" I replied. "Don't even try to lie. Charley saw your arms in P.E and she's told everyone. She said they were really bad and infected and I just can't believe you'd do this Kirsty. Get a fucking grip, everything you do is for attention now and I'm sick of it." Her words cut me deeper than any razor blade ever could. "...She's told everyone" the words rang in my ears as I watched her walk away.

I didn't go to English. I wrote myself a sick note and I went home. I couldn't be there any longer. Everybody knew. Once I'd walked home, I ran a bath and I didn't get out of it until it was too cold to lay in any longer. Once I'd finally dried myself, I'd taken my razor blades, chosen the sharpest one and started carving a story I so longed for people to understand into the flesh of my thighs.

If nobody cared, I didn't care either.

The aftermath

I'd been staring at it for nearly an hour now. Turning it over and over in my fingers, it was cold and sharp and the thought of it suddenly scared me. I'd been thinking about it for months, and I'd finally been pushed too far. "That's it," I thought. I squeezed my eyes together tight, and pressed down as hard as I could. I can remember the sudden sharp, horrible pain...but I carried on. The pain no longer hurt. It was a different kind of pain, and it was better than the dull ache I carried around with me.

The blood leaked through the sleeves of my jumper, and I knew this was going to be harder to hide than I'd imagined. I hadn't planned this far ahead. I didn't know what to do. I left my jumper to soak up what was left of the blood, because I figured I couldn't just ruin another one. I didn't have many clothes, and if I carried on the way I was going, I wasn't going to have any. I felt a huge wave of guilt for the stains I'd ruined my jumper with. Nanny Sue tried her hardest to buy me and Ellie clothes, and here I was ruining them out of my own selfishness.

"What the fuck is that?!" Dad spat. Oh no. Oh no, no no. This is what I'd so desperately tried to hide for so long. There was no excuses I could make. I should of stayed upstairs. "I'm sorry. I...I don't know what to say Dad. I'm sorry. Please. I've just been so depressed and I didn't know what else to do" I pleaded with him. The expression on his face told me I'd "gone too fucking far this time." I turned hoping he wouldn't follow but I didn't even make it to the stairs before he grabbed my already burning wrist and yanked my sleeve up over the scabs, catching a few and causing them to bleed. Again. My arms were a mess due to months of "handy-work" and I'd only just realised how disgusting they looked. "If you're going to fucking cut yourself Kirsty, at least do it properly" I just stood waiting for him to say something else, I couldn't talk. I didn't want to. Instead, he let go of my sleeve, turned around and walked away. I didn't know what to think, how to feel. He hadn't cared, not really. He'd only bothered to make me feel even more pathetic than I already did...but maybe I was being selfish. He was grieving too...and all I was doing was putting him through more pain.

A flash of the present

The reason I'm creating this blog is for more than one reason alone. It's been five and a half years since my world was shattered...and I still wake up and realise I have no mum. It's not a feeling I think I'm ever going to "get used to" however, I've experienced something else altogether. Although the struggle and the pain never heals, it never goes away, I've learned to live with it. I've adapted to the hole my mum's death left, and I've learned to live around it. I'm never, ever going to get rid of that hole. It's never going to heal. That's what I struggle to tell people. That even now, I'm still not over it...and I don't think I ever will be.

Last year, I shaved my head in hope to raise a substantial amount of money for Leukaemia research. I completed my event, and after shaving my head, I realised I wanted to carry on raising money. I've decided and booked another charity event for November this year. With help from Will's parent's, my dream of travelling is starting to become a reality, as my chosen event is a 100km trek across the Sahara desert.
Once again, words fail to describe how eternally grateful I will be to them.

P.S; Any sponsors/donations are extremely appreciated. Thank you so, so much.

In the eye of the storm

The first time I ever saw my Mum in hospital was the most frightening thing I'd ever had to endure. The clear tubes that ran from mummy's veins made me cry. The bag's of chemotherapy that hung from a drip attached to her constantly...it was just all too overwhelming for my ten year old self.

Now though, as I turn the familiar corners of the Cancer ward, I don't feel anything. I'm not sad or angry or depressed. I just don't feel. Anything. I can't begin to fathom what's going on, why I'm here. Then I remember the look on Daddy's face as he outstretched his hand to mine. I'd been at a friends when he'd knocked. He'd gone to the hospital and I wasn't aloud home alone. He didn't have to say anything, he didn't have anything to say. The tears had already started making their way down my cheeks, and that's when I knew.
Tonight would be the last time I ever saw my mummy.

Now it all became too real for me. I couldn't quite believe what was happening. I'd somehow walked from the car park to the intensive care unit and now I was stood in front of two giant white doors. My eyes stung and my head was pounding but all I wanted to do was see my Mummy. A nurse finally came and opened the doors. As I walked past the patients rooms, I searched for my Mum...but after looking into all of them I just couldn't seem to find her. For the first time, I thought they'd got it wrong. They'd got it wrong. Mum was fine. Of course she was... But then as I turned around to see Daddy, I realised they hadn't been wrong at all. My mummy was going to die. I'd walked straight past her, not even recognising the woman who meant the world to me. She was twice the size of her normal self, due to the amount of fluids and drugs they'd given her. Her skin was yellow and there was a thick horrible tube rammed down her throat to keep her breathing. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was so beautiful and pretty. I couldn't find the words to say anything, I'd started crying again and this time it wasn't going to stop. This time, I wasn't going to be okay.

We'd left the hospital an hour after arriving, because my Mum's health was deteriorating and I wasn't aloud to be there when she stopped breathing. If I could of been there, I would of been. She wasn't alone though, Nanny Sue was with her the whole time. Nan told me she held her hand and stayed next to her through everything.
I slept next to Dad that night. I don't know how long it took for me to run out of tears or finally cry myself to sleep...but I know it happened because when I woke up Daddy was on the phone and Mummy was dead.

The calm before

I struggled to keep my eyes open as the phone continued to ring. I'd just got home from a school trip to Paris, and I was unbelievably exhausted. I'd had a really good time, but I just couldn't stop worrying about Mum. Knowing she was in hospital fighting for her life stopped me wanting to have fun. "Kirsty, please just go, you'll have an amazing time. I've paid for it now, and I'm still going to be in hospital whether you're here or not. So please, go. Just stay safe okay?" she'd said to me when I'd told her I didn't want to go any more. I knew she was right, and on the Twenty Third of October Two Thousand and Eight I went to Paris.

Now though, as the phone kept ringing, I was just about to give up and ring back later when I heard a warm familiar voice. Only, Mum didn't sound her usual cheery self, although she tried her best to act it. "Hello sweetie, how are you? How was it? Oh darling, I'm so glad you're home. You have to tell me all about it. Are you tired?" Her voice did sound different, but I was so happy to hear it. "I'm okay mum, I had such a good time. I really did. I went to the Eiffel Tower and Disney-Land Paris, and I bought you something!" I knew she was smiling when I heard somebody walk into her room. I could hear whispering and shuffling and then Mum said "Kirst, ring me back in half an hour. The nurses are changing my bags, and flushing my tubes. I'll speak to you soon darling, I love you millions." Before I could say anything, the line went dead.

I never did ring her back. It was later than I thought, and I didn't want to wake her because sometimes after the Nurses had changed her bags, she'd fall asleep. I never thought anything of it until I woke later that night to whispering downstairs. I'd thought I'd heard my Uncle David amongst the voices, but I knew I was being silly because he lived in Reading and we lived in Gosport and it was quite far away... However, when I walked into the room full of people, I realised I was right and Uncle David was sat with Nanny Sue and Grandad Malc'. As well as four other people I just couldn't care about then. I had a horrible feeling in my stomach and I just didn't know why. "What's happened?" My voice was heavy with sleep but I wanted to know what was going on. I sat next to Nanny Sue, as she explained to me mummy's health was deteriorating. My mum had gone into a coma, and Nan wasn't sure when she would be able to speak to anybody again. She explained it was just a deep sleep, and that mummy wasn't in any pain. She then said I should go to bed, because if I didn't then I would be to tired to wake up tomorrow and then I wouldn't know how Mum was.

I kissed nan goodnight, and I done as I was told.

Coming undone

"Come on, Kirst, hurry up," mum pleaded as I chose what flavour ice cream. It was a beautiful day, and my mouth was watering at the possibilities. "Strawberry and Cream, please," I said, staring up at her. The happiness in her eyes made my heart smile. It wasn't often I saw my mum truly happy, and one of the only places I witnessed it was at Devon. My grandmother owned a holiday home, and we'd use it every school break for the past twelve years. It quickly became my "happy place" from a very early age, and I hated leaving. As we walked along the stones at Sidmouth beach, I wondered what I wanted to do in the future. "You can do anything you want to, sweetie. Don't let anybody tell you different, okay?" She always knew what to say.  I believed her, and I started to dream big. I knew I'd always have her support, no matter what. "You know, I really don't know what I'd do without you, Kirsty. Or Ellie. You're my shining stars, you know that, don't you?"  she said as she looked out to onto the boats drifting along the calm water. I did know that. Me and my sister were her babies, she loved us with everything she had, and more. "Yes, Mummy, I know that." I leaned into her, resting my head on her shoulder. I couldn't imagine what I'd do if I ever lost my mum.

The end of summer came around far too rapidly, and before I knew it the car was packed and we were off. My heart sank further into my stomach the further home we got. I didn't want to leave. "If you never leave, you can never come back, sweet," my mum used to say. I knew she was right, but her saying it didn't make me want to leave any more than I already did. We'd spent the whole summer holidays in Devon, and I'd had my most memorable one yet. It was just me, my mum and Ell's. Not Nanny Sue or Grandad Malc, just us three, as it usually was at home. It wasn't that our father had left when we were little, or anything like that. Our father was present more than my mum would of liked, let's just say that. He wasn't and isn't a horrible man. Although many may dispute that. However, I do know my dad isn't an evil, horrible man. He's just selfish and the only person he thinks of is unfortunately, himself. Which is why they argued. His selfishness took over in every aspect, and my mum wasn't happy any more. She told me that. I felt extreme sympathy for my mother, she was such a kind soul, she deserved the best.

What made that summer so special was the fact that she'd recently been diagnosed with Leukaemia. She'd been admitted to hospital, and undergone chemotherapy the previous year, and this was the first summer she felt well enough to take me and Ellie to Devon. She'd been in remission for nearly a whole year, and I had my mum back. The six months she was in hospital was the worst I'd ever had to face, and I was unbelievably glad and relived I had my mummy home. She was my everything, and I couldn't even think of what would be for me if she wasn't around. She loved us completely and I knew it.

We turned the corner into our drive four hours after leaving. "I hate this, I get such a horrible feeling when I drive down this road," mummy said. I didn't really understand, but from the way she said it I knew there was nothing I could say to make her feel any better. So I kept silent, I didn't want to make her feel bad, so I just reached across and put my hand on hers.

My first day of secondary school soon came around, and with many good-lucks and prayers from my Mum, I didn't have that much of a bad time. Not that I wasn't extremely relived to see her waiting for me in her green Land Rover in front of the entrance, because I was. More so than ever. Although it hadn't been terrible, I hadn't had the best of times either. I'd never been able to make friends as well as everybody else, and I automatically felt small and overwhelmed. "How was it, then?" mum said as I scrambled up into the passenger seat. "Okay" I mumbled. "I don't like one of the girls in my English class, she's a year older than me and she makes me feel stupid" She turned to face me, and I could see she was concerned. "It's okay though, I can stick up for myself mum." I'd always been picked on, throughout the whole of school up until now. Although, it hadn't completely stopped either. It was like people picked up on my vulnerability straight away, although I didn't have trouble making friends outside of school. It just didn't make sense to me. Either way, my Mum had always helped me when I felt like I was being bullied, and taught me to stick up for myself. She'd been my rock in every sense for as long as I could remember.

I'd been at secondary school for nearly two months when Mum got the call. I can remember it as if it was yesterday, and I can still remember the look on her face when the caller identified themselves. My heart did a million somersaults in that fraction of a second, and I automatically knew what was wrong. I knew what the person on the other end of the call was saying by the emotions that crossed my Mum's face. Her Leukaemia had returned. As soon as the call had ended, I saw her break down for first time. It destroyed me seeing her this way. "Are you going to die mummy?" I asked. "Kirsty, please don't say that. I'm going to fight this, again. Until the end. I don't plan on going anywhere." I wrapped my arms around her waist and felt her crying, which only made me squeeze tighter.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, mum. I don't know how I'm going to cope, I don't feel strong enough to beat this again. What if I don't make it to their sixteenth birthdays?" I overheard my mum talking to my nanny sue, she was crying again. Before now, I'd never really witnessed my Mum cry. I mean, I'd seen how unhappy she was but I'd never really seen her cry. However now, It was all she did. "Are you scared?" Ellie whispered. "No. Well, yes. I'm scared of her being away for so long again..But I'm not scared of her dying. She's going to be okay." The saddest thing for me to realise now, is that I genuinely believed she was going to be fine.
I had the biggest storm heading my way, and I didn't even realise it was beginning to rain.

One

(written at 23:43, Eleventh of May)

I've been wanting to create a blog for so long, but every time I attempt to do so, I end up staring at the screen wondering what has happened in my puny seventeen years that's even worth me writing about..So, I've decided for now I'm going to start by writing about what hasn't happened.

I often get asked "Kirsty, where do you see yourself in five, ten years time?" but I can't seem to think beyond my current situation. I can't begin to explain the amount of emotions and thoughts that I feel in one day. I feel weighed down by society's judgement of how we should live..How we should go to school, learn what they think we should learn, get a job, go on to have children and then retire. I don't see myself doing that. I think that's why I'm struggling to see beyond the situation i'm in right now..but then again, I know it's not that reason alone. When I think of staying in this town, I feel a sadness I can't seem to suppress. I'm not familiar with the feeling, not really, not exactly. I just long to be able to show people I don't need help. "I'm strong enough on my own"..But it's easier said than done. As is everything.

Sometimes, I question my life...my purpose, and sometimes I even struggle to find one. I wake up, and as many people do, I think of the negative things before the positive things even cross my mind. It's almost like, I've forgotten how to be happy..not in a sad, feel sorry for myself way. Or at least, I don't mean for it to sound like that, at all. It's just sometimes, It's unbelievably difficult to reason with myself. I can't seem to comprehend all of the things I have to think about. Like, how am I going to start my life, when I don't have anyone but myself to help. I have things to be thankful for, I don't know what I'd do without Will, my best friend and boyfriend. I'd hate to sound ungrateful for having him..because I honestly don't know how I'd get out of bed in the morning if I didn't. He's been my rock for the last year, and I wouldn't change him for the world. 

I've always struggled showing how I feel, unless I'm angry or feeling negative, then of course I have no problem expressing my feelings. Which is backwards and I beat myself up about it maybe a little more than I should..But then again, maybe not. I worry about how I'm going to cope in the "big wide world" when I feel so alone. I feel like someone's picked me up and plonked me on an island somewhere far from everything, even though I'm surround by people. You're probably thinking the people I'm around aren't the right kind of people, but the truth is, I've never met such a welcoming, loving family. I will never be able to show enough gratitude towards Wills and his family for letting my live in their already crowded home. They invited me in when they where struggling themselves, and have fed me, and welcomed me into their family. I've never really said how grateful I am. Although, I sometimes think, how could I possibly put that into words? Thank you doesn't quite cut it.