Five Months R.I.P

I remember everything. The nurse whispered...I'm sorry, she's gone...and my knees buckled. I wanted so much to scream out. I wanted to fall down and beat my fists into the floor. That moment stays with me forever. Ma mere est morte. I knew that the day would come when my beautiful mother wouldn't be able to be strong anymore, and I had thought about it so much, but nothing could prepare me for the crushing moment when I heard those words. My mother was gone. My wonderful mum. Gone.

It was five months yesterday.

She's still with me.

Does it get any easier?

Do I want to get any easier?

I miss her so much.

I love you, mum.

Ooooooooooooooh MY GOD I AM SO PISSED OFF!

Fucking little cunting fucking slutty bitch faced whore!

So, someone who I would class as a friend came on to Joe on Saturday night. I want to kill the fucking slag.

She is such a two faced slut, and this is not the first time she has done this to me or to others. This is it. That girl has issues.

My feelings for Joe...she knew exactly how I felt. She knows how difficult I find relationships. And the fact that we had spoken about my feelings for him literally hours before she offered him no strings sex just really rubs it in.

Hmmm.

First blog entry in months. Sorry about that. So, another year is over and a new one is beginning, and predictably, I can't stop crying. All men are arseholes. Dan finished with me a few weeks after mum died. No surprise there, really. Met someone else (Joe). But unfortunately, I am an emotional retard and so me and Joe are getting no where fast...I almost feel as if it was over before it began. As soon as he got too close and I started to get feelings for him, I ran away.

The situation isn't being helped by the fact that me and Dan are still living together. Seperate rooms, but it's still hard sometimes.

The fundamental issue with all this is that on the other end of the scale, I am terrified of being alone. It makes me feel unloved, worthless and so so lonely. All around me I see these bloody happy couples, and all I can think is 'Why the hell am I incapable of doing that?' and so I seek out a relationship, only to push them away once they get too close.

So, I need to learn to first be alone. Then I need to learn to not run away.

God, I'm so confused...

Not crying anymore though :-S

Phase # 2529 Geriatric Philistine.

This is today. This is Tuesday October 2nd, 2007.



I have been so incredibly stressed out all day, due mainly to my family and their total lack of ability to trust me and my levels of responsibility. My nan especially seems to think that I am a total failure. Which I am not. I am only a little bit of a failure :-/



She also seems to presume that I am completely incapable of organising a piss up in a brewery, let alone my mothers funeral.



The cantankerous old bat hardly even knows me, for fucks sake. All our conversations revolve around the niceties and the weather, her T.V. schedule and her numerous aches and pains.



I have tried to explain to her on many occasions why I drink tea without milk, refuse to go to McDonald's and why I have an unhealthy phobia of social situations. But you try explaining the principals of veganism, capitalism and mental illness to a geriatric philistine. Then maybe you'll know how I feel.



Once mums funeral is over, that is it. I want nothing more to do with C.O.B.* She does nothing but make me feel small, stupid and worthless, and to be honest, my already somewhat fragile self-esteem can't really cope with that.





*Cantankerous Old Bat.

I really wish this wasn't happening.

I don't really know what to feel or think, so I'm going to write about my mother...

My mum was born in 1950, and she led a remarkable life. She never won any medals, or travelled the world. But it was her amazing inner strength, pride and determination which made her such an awe inspiring lady. She battled through so much. A difficult childhood, an abusive marriage, and being a single parent to three children. The death of her second partner, my step father, in 2003, broke her heart but she stayed so strong. When she was told about her illness, I remember her sitting us all down, totally unfazed, and dropping it into conversation as one would pass the time of day or observe the weather. To me and my siblings, however, the two syllable word echoed in our minds like a rusty bullet in a tin can. Can and ser. Can. Ser. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer...

I think she knew then, though she didn't let on, that cancer would ultimately kill her. The first time, it didn't. But then, one day last year, she sat us all down again, but this time it was different. This time the words 'tumor' and 'inoperable'.

Even then, right up until a week before her death she was just so strong. She kept her sense of humour, and her dignity, until the very end.

So, to Christine Margaret James. My amazing mother.

6:35 R.I.P.

Ma mere est morte.

For some reason, writing it in a foreign language makes it easier to deal with.

My mother is dead.

She died at 6:35 yesterday morning.

Just that word. Dead. She's gone. She's really fucking gone.

The sight of her body. Laying there. So empty. Just a shell of the beautiful, strong woman she used to be.

Phoning my sister in Manchester. Both of us broke down. The almost hysterical, wretching tears as I told her that she went peacefully and wasn't in any pain.

We registered the death this morning, and now that beautiful, strong woman is a piece of paper and a name on a database.

I have to keep believing that she's left this world to be with my step father, that she's happy, and that she's looking down on us right now with that wise old smile. I cannot comprehend my darling mum just ceasing to exist.

So, mum. I love you. I always have done and I always will. You were a wonderful, brave and inspiring lady. You will never be forgotten, I promise.

xxxx

Bounce Bounce Burn

Phase 263:

"This is not a test. This is reality"

Reality. Reality. Reality. Come down to earth. With a crash. And now a burn. Then a cut. Here we go.

I FUCKING HATE MONDAYS!