My own worst enemy

I certainly didn't gain the Emotard title for nothing. I have no idea what's wrong with me tonight but I'm all over the place so I have taken a step back from civilised society and just sat and moped. Hence the blog title. I guess I'm just having one of those overthinking nights. I'm worried about my health issues... I'm not sure if I've gone into detail on here considering the personal nature, but to cut a long story short I'm now awaiting an appointment with a specialist to try and figure out what's going on. The more I wait, the more my mind goes AWOL and the more I worry. I'm lying awake at night thinking all sorts, I'm panicking at any kind of 'symptoms'. I have crossed the line into full blown hypochondria. It's ridiculous and I know it's irrational. But all I can think is, what if?

Admittedly, this is a very bad time of year for this to be happening. VERY bad. On the 14th September it's the anniversary of my mum's death. 4 years to the day. Not that the 4 years makes it easier. Tonight for example I just sat and cried for a while about it. Thinking about how much I missed her and how much I wish she was around at times like this. She died of lung cancer, and my grandad had cancer, although he survived. So the family history isn't helping the paranoias and hypochondria. Also when I saw the doctor last week she mentioned about something to do with a family history of strokes, and a possible inherent blood clotting problem? Which of course could mean anything. Frankly I've no idea anymore. I'm sick of worrying and getting upset about it. My head is blowing everything out of proportion. I'm fully aware of that. But I can't help it. It's not me I'm worried about really. It's the girls. The worry has sparked off thoughts of 'what if... what would happen to them' and of course it escalates from there. Thoughts of not seeing them grow up etc, I suppose perfectly natural for a parent and not exactly something I've not thought about before. I think every parent has. Being a parent makes you very aware of your own mortality.

I need to get a grip. I need to get a grip and stop stressing about things I can't control and overthinking. Yes, I've got a problem. It could be something, it could be nothing. All I can do is wait, and concentrate on getting past the anniversary of my mum's death without breaking down too much.

Time is a healer, but sometimes it hurts just as bad.

Flashbacks

Wandering round an empty house, we looked over the objects and furniture within. These weren't just bog standard objects or bits of tat. They were memories, they had meanings and sentimentality. These things belonged to someone, so how can you just walk in and take them?

''Oh yes I'll have that table over there, that'll go lovely with my decor..''

Literally weeks earlier that table was being used by it's owner, possibly securely holding up a half full coffee cup, eavesdropping in on the cheerful banter as per normal... years of use and purpose... years of belonging and being taken for granted. Now reverted to just a 'thing' that'll do. It'll suffice... it isn't ugly, so ''Yea, I'll 'av that''.
If that table were alive and capable of emotion, it would be quietly sobbing where it stood. For this heartless new owner... pfft... what do they know. They don't care. They just want to lump their sweaty feet on it and abuse it. A mere 'thing'.. and another factor in the circle of life easily overlooked.

Today I was taken to my dad's ex-wife's house. In the past few weeks she has been taken permanently into a care home. She's lacking mental capability enough to look after herself, and they had no option but to put her into care and rent out her, now empty and unwillingly abandoned house. However renting out the house involved it being rented unfurnished, and with that, clearing out all of her belongings.

So my dad took me along. "you might find something you need for your house!" he said. So begrudgingly I agreed. I never knew her properly. I'd maybe spoken to her once or twice, never in great detail. She was my mum's predecessor. The love my dad had before he met my mum. To me she was like a rival, oddly. She was the 'other woman' in my dad's life. I didn't have any problem with her. I just... found it strange I suppose. I agreed to go as otherwise the stuff would end up in some 'man with a van' house clearance place, and I thought it better that things go to 'family' rather than some two bit white van man. So off we went to pick out anything we might want.

We arrived and I had a shock to see my sister was there, and my niece. Who I haven't seen in god knows how many years. I've never been close to my family. At all. I've always kept myself to myself and seeing as my family are spread as far and wide as Seattle and Germany it's hard to stay in contact. My sister lives in Derby so it made sense for her to be in change of sorting out her mum's belongings. I should explain that I have 3 brothers and a sister. My sister and one of my brothers are from my dad's marriage to his ex wife. My other 2 brothers are from my mum's marriage to her exhusband. Still with me? I'm the only devilspawn of my mum and my dad. But they have other children. So I suppose that would make my siblings half brothers and sisters really, but what's in a name? They may as well be strangers really. I never speak to them.

When I walked in I was really taken aback. My sister looked, just, empty I suppose. My immediate thought is that I must've looked similar when I was doing the same for my mum. And with that thought I started to think about my mum, and how I had been in my sister's shoes just under 4 years ago. Clearing out her mum's belongings and trying to keep yourself together while the rest of your world is falling apart. I mumbled a brief "Y'alright?" before concentrating my efforts on controlling the 3 children we had in tow with us. We wandered around the house. And all I could think about is the things this house and all these possessions had seen, and just how tragic it all was. Merely weeks ago she was at home, trying to carry on with life as best as she could with her failing health and mental state.
I walked around the house in a kind of blur. It was almost like walking through a memorial. Bed sheets untouched as they'd been she she left, half drunk bottles of wine on the side, DVD's by the tv lazily not returned to their boxes... it was almost as if she'd just popped out to the shops. Nothing apart from the gloomy atmosphere between the adults in the house suggested that this wasn't someones home anymore, and that she'd never be coming back.

It was far too easy to put myself back 4 years. Doing exactly the same walking round my mum's house. Picking up objects with tears in my eyes remembering fragments of memories and bleary flashbacks to happier times. It's just so heartless and cruel, to pick up an object and decide whether it's worthy of surviving the cull. I could've taken everything from my mum's. But I'd never have had the room. So having to go through wave after wave of memory and decide what to take and what to clear out was agonising. All the time you're having to deal with the grief of your loss, and the memories making everything a million times harder, as well as the guilt of having to get rid of things that you know your mum cherished and took pride in, and built the foundations for her life on. And there you were, just chucking them into a bin bag because they didn't fit the 'suitability criteria'...

When I left my dad's ex-wife's house I couldn't even look at my sister. Or anyone for that matter. I just felt numb. I just kept seeing my mum, and the empty shell of a house that I left after I'd had to clear out her house.

The circle of life is a bitch. A cruel, heartless, unmerciful bitch.

Mum.

I remember doing a blog on myspace about my mum and how she came to be taken from me... instead of upsetting myself typing out a new one, I've decided to copy and paste it.
This was written the day of the 3 year anniversary of my mum's death.
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Monday, September 14, 2008

And so another year passes.
Firstly.. apologies to anyone who may be reading this... as I fear it's a bit of a rant/self indulgent ramble... but then again today is a funny kind of day and maybe by putting it all down in writing it'll help ease it a bit. A word of forewarning though, this has turned into a bit of a longwinded and depressing spillage of emotions and memories and some people would be best avoiding reading it. Especially if you've lost someone you love recently. But if you still want to read... then carry on, but don't say I didn't warn you.


Unfortunately today is the one day each year I dread. Maybe dread is a harsh word but I suppose it's the closest I can get to, as 3 years ago today my mum died. Couldn't even bring myself to go down the cemetary today... so feeling decidely shit with myself at the moment. Maybe I'm just pathetic. on the one day a year that it matters.. I couldn't bring myself to go. How much of a bitch must that make me.


For those who don't know my mum died of lung cancer on september 14th 2005. I didn't even get to see her on the day she died. The unit called me in the morning (as they had done quite a few times in the run up to all this, as due to the nature of her illness we had many 'false alarms'..) to say that mum was going downhill again and they thought I should go in... but selfishly, as I'd had so much time off work in her last weeks I just said to them that I'd be in after and to ''Tell her I'll see her later....''
I had another call at work about 4pm to say things were getting serious and to go in.... but me... I guess in fear of asking to leave work early again, put off telling my boss and asking to go...
I finally left work at 4.30ish, went to pick up Ste and Ste's mum and then finally got to the residential home at 5ish...

God.... why am I writing this... *sigh*... oh well...as they say on mastermind.. I've started so I'll finish..

I walked through the door and down the corridor headed towards mum's room to be met by the head nurse. She asked if she could talk to me privately for a minute... and how stupid of me.... not even thinking anything of it... what an idiot... but then again I guess I didn't want to think about what she had to say...

We went into her office and she left me in there on my own for a minute before returning with another of the nurses... looking back it was so obvious what they were going to say but at the time I just wanted to see my mum and wished they'd hurry up and get on with whatever they wanted to tell me before I went in to see her and have our usual chats about how Ashli was, work, the weather.. how god awful tv had been today... just the usual menial stuff that everyone takes for granted. No idea where Ste and his mum were at this point... or whether they knew... but as I sat in that office it didn't even cross my mind the possibility...
So there I was. Sat in a cramped little room with bog standard day to day shit like filing cabinets and paperwork... completely oblivious.. but this wasn't everyday... the nurses weren't giving me their usual chit chat... or their niceties of telling me things that mum had made them laugh about today... instead all they said was...

''I'm sorry Sarah, your mum passed away about 15 minutes ago.
''

....

I don't remember much in the minutes that passed... my first memory is walking back down the corridor towards Ste. The only thing I could say was a feeble ''Ste'' before collapsing into his arms in tears.
The next memory I have is of walking down the corridor towards her room... passing other people's mums and dads and grandparents and just looking at them. gathered round the communal tv..... at this point I was just numb... their faces said it all.... I caught eye contact with a couple of them... their faces were just emotionless and empty. They must've known.. all I could think about was that fact that because of my fear, and paranoia about what work would say.. I missed my last chance to say goodbye.


I then went in to see my mum. I guess part of me needed to see her to take it all in. Wasn't quite prepared for it though, but then again how could you be? I remember walking in as I'd normally do. If I remember right I even said 'Hello mum' as I went in as I'd do everytime... the only difference being that this time I got no answer... nothing... just silence... the room was dark and everything was just.... well.... still. Even if you hadn't have known about mum as soon as you walked in the room you'd have known. It was so surreal. My mum was there... but... she wasn't.I just sat on a chat at the end of her bed for ages... just... numb.....
I'd never seen a dead body before then. But that's it, it wasn't just a dead body. It was my mum. The one person who'd been there for me all my life and the one person who I expected to ALWAYS be there. Who now wasn't. The cruel cycle of life had claimed its next victim and taken her.

...... I'm going to stop there. The rest, is as they say, history. It is true that the pain eases as time goes on, but you never get used to it. So many times I've thought to myself, oh I'll give mum a call... and then had to go through the whole heartache again of the realisation of it.
*Sigh*
There's been soooo many times where I've needed her... but... I guess there's not a lot I can do.


I'm really sorry if anyone has gotten this far and wishes they hadn't read it. I guess this is more for my benefit than anyone elses.. but I've posted it to show to people that you can come from being so low... and rebuild your life. I'm not the same person that I was, I guess something like that is bound to change you..and I've had to do a lot of refinding myself and rediscovering the person that people know and love... and god knows whether I'm anywhere near to being that person again... but I guess here's to another year of moving onwards and upwards... and trying my best to make my mum proud.


Mum, if by some weird twist of fate you can read this. I love you, and I'm sorry.

x
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