Monday, 21 November 2016

Are you looking down upon me? Are you proud of who I am?

On Friday, I went out to go to the cemetery with my mum. It would've been my Dad's 70th, but he passed away from a brain tumour at the age of 49, a month before my third birthday.

We picked up some flowers on the way. The cemetery is just down the road from my house, and I should really go more often than I do.

Most of my family is there. The only living family I have left are my mum, my brother, and my Great Aunt. I do have aunts and uncles and cousins, but I've never really known them. I could walk past my mum's brother and not know him from a perfect stranger.

We visited Dad's grave first. Mum wiped the dirt and dust from the headstone and plucked a few weeds peeking out. My earliest memory is throwing sand into the grave at his funeral.

Then we walked over a few rows to where my Grandma and Pa are buried. She died not long before my Dad, and my Pa joined her 8 years ago this Christmas. Christmas was always made special because of Pa, and losing him the day after Christmas changed the holiday forever. I hadn't been back to the cemetery since his funeral.

My Great Uncle, who has always been more like a grandfather to me and a father to my mum as she lost both parents before reaching adulthood, passed away in March of this year. I was quite sick with pneumonia at the time, and put off the inevitable hospital admission in hopes of attending his funeral. That morning, however, I was simply in too much pain to even move, and spent the day alone in the same hospital my Great Uncle had only just left.

His grave is on the other side of a very large cemetery, and I was planning to walk. But already in tears, and knowing it would only get worse, I took up mum's offer to drive around instead.

Usually I have trouble spotting the headstones until I'm right in front of them, but Uncle's jumped out at me from several rows away.

I started bawling and gasping for air. Missing the funeral left a sort of hole in the grieving process for me, and this made it all come rushing in. Mum placed her hand on my back, but I jumped away.

I feel a sort of hatred with regards to my Dad's untimely death. Not toward him, but toward the tides of fate. It was the start of an unfortunate series of events that have led to me being the wreck I am now. Mainly, I believe that if he hadn't died, I wouldn't have been abused as a child. He would've been there to protect me. If I wasn't abused as a child, I wouldn't have let it happen again as a teenager. I wouldn't have had to go through a lot of things, and I wouldn't have developed the mental health issues I have now. 

Not long after getting back to the Clinic, I saw my psychiatrist, which was just a blur. I wanted to go home for a little while to get an idea of how I'd cope with discharge, and we decided I'd go on leave for a few hours at 5pm and come home later in the night.

Billy was so happy to see me. He ran around and jumped up and kept bringing me socks from around the house. He loves socks. He'll pull them from your feet if you give him the chance.

Misty took a while longer, as she was out lurking in the yard. When she first saw me from across the kitchen, her back arched and her eyes widened, but she still let me pick her up for cuddles and we had a good 'meow' chat.

After that, it all went down hill. As soon as I'd said hello to them, I cracked a bottle of wine, which technically I'm not allowed to do, but I didn't really care if they found out and discharged me.

I took five oxazepam at once, breaking another rule. I hit my head against the wall and drove a cigarette into my arm while I had the chance. So far no one's noticed the lumps or blisters.

I got back to the Clinic right on 10pm, the latest I could stay out. I'd had nearly a bottle and a half of wine and too many oxazepam. I stumbled once in my heels, just a tiny bit, after the nurse let me in He commented, asking if I was feeling a bit unsteady, but I just brushed it off. I was in tears from the emotionally exhausting day, so they didn't push it.

I barely slept that night. My head was a mess and my stomach was in knots. I spent most of the night up between vomiting and slugging down Coke Zero. I don't know how no one noticed I'd been drinking. Considering they know I drink a few times a week at home, I thought my stumbling and vomiting would've made them break out the breathalyzer.

It was hard being back home. It'll be no different when I go home than it was before my admission, if not worse. Home does not feel like home. I feel like a stranger, and not a particularly welcome one at that.

I went on leave the next day to go home again, which was even more of a disaster, but I still haven't processed it, so for now I'll leave it here. 

“There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes and see you looking back”



  1. I have found that the first holiday (usually Christmas) after losing a close relative is super tough. My Granny left us six years ago, and Christmas is still not the same without her. I keep putting off going back to Ireland for a visit because Granny and her home are not there anymore, and I don't know if I can handle it.

    I know all too well the feeling of a home not feeling at all like home. I hope that passes. And I hope this time spent in hospital can truly help you. Getting past the trauma will be your biggest hurdle, but it will soooooooo be worth to effort. You have to fight for your life. And I know you can fight, and win. You are a warrior.

    Do you watch Vikings? I know it probably sounds stupid, but as far as finding inspiration to channel my inner warrior, the show Vikings is the best. Lagertha is my inspiration for life.

    Hope you are ok. So many people, both on here and in real life love you--never forget it. <3

  2. your father was so young when he died. i am so sorry for your loss (and your losses really.) it never gets any easier i'm aware. loss is just something you have to try and cope with. i hope you're able to smile at some memories. a prominent one with me and my maternal grandmother is that she used to make jasmine flower crowns for us and invite us for tea before giving us the world's supply of these glucose-brand biscuits. i've not had these biscuits for years but i can still remember how they taste.

    gosh, i cannot believe how it must feel like to lose someone you love at a supposedly time of celebration.

    i remember you mentioning your Great Uncle and i really hope that you've gotten some kind of closure with that. honestly, it wasn't your fault you couldn't visit him. not really. you were ill. you didn't ask to be ill. it just happened. i remember seeing a few photos of him with you and God, he seems like a truly amazing man. the world really has lost someone special.

    i love that Billy and Misty were so happy to see you. you deserve that kind of excitement. i swear to God it's the only good thing about your house. those two.

    Gosh, i already know the rest of this story. i hate your house. i honestly do. i hope that they let you in the clinic again. you really need it. i really hated seeing you in such a state today and i hope that you're doing well right now. <3 take care of yourself as best as you can, beautiful.

    hope i didn't say anything to offend you, my beautiful beautiful girl. <3

    -Sam Lupin

  3. The losses you've endured is just....staggering. :( I'm reading this several days late so, I hope you're feeling better now, feeling hope. *hugs*

  4. Hey love. Been catching up on your blog, hope things are a little better over there a few days later, now. Take care <3