Friday, 27 March 2015

Going Home

Tomorrow I'm going home for the first time in 6 weeks.

When Mum first died, I wanted to be home all the time. I came back from Uni every weekend from mid October to Christmas. It was draining. It cost so much and took up so much time. I also missed out on socialising with my uni friends every weekend. So after Christmas I made the decision to stop going back as often. I went back once in about early February.

The thing is, it was easier for me to stay away from home. Being at home is weird. The whole dynamic has changed. Everyone's miserable and a massive part of our lives has gone. At uni though, everything's the same. And that is easier for me to bear than going home and having to face the reality of what's going on.

It's selfish really. It was so selfish of me to leave my Dad, brother and sister alone in their grief whilst I swanned off back to Manchester to pretend that everything is alright. I worry about them a lot. And I feel guilty about leaving them a lot. But ultimately I know I had no other choice but to go back to uni. I just couldn't give up my degree. I'd worked too hard to get to where I was.

I'm not trying to make anyone feel sorry for me. Believe me when I say that I HATE sympathy so much. I know people mean well but I don't like it.

Anyway, I can't wait to go home tomorrow. I am apprehensive though. At uni I can get away with not talking about Mum and what not, but at home I just can't avoid it. I can't wait to hug my dogs and cat though! Well, and my family of course!

Tuesday, 10 March 2015

The future

I always thought that by the time I got to University I'd know what career I want to go into. When that didn't happen I thought that I definitely would by the time I got to 2nd year. Well guess what guys, that STILL hasn't happened. I've come up with a million ideas. I've started applying for internships that I thought I wanted then quit because I've changed my mind. Researched countless jobs. But I've never known what my dream job was.

But I think I've found it.


I always did want to be a teacher. I did work experience in schools when I was 16 and 17. Then I changed my mind. I thought I quite fancied a job that's more exciting than that. One where I can travel the world or whatever. 

Geography is that degree where people go 'what can you do with that? Become a teacher?' So I never wanted to be that sad geography teacher that we all laughed at at school who got excited over volcanoes. Because I never thought I would be that sad person to get excited over volcanoes. But I am exactly that. 

I don't want to finish my degree then ditch my favourite subject to go into a job in management. And what better way to pay homage to your subject than to teach the younger generation how to love it?!

And so here I am, researching PGCE's and trying to get my little sister to ask her geography teacher (also my former geography teacher) to get me into school to do some work experience.

I'm scared. And nervous. To stand up in front of a bunch of 14 year olds who probably don't care how high the Sichuan Earthquake was on the Richter scale and try and teach them and enthuse them.

But I know that I'll make a good teacher. Because I don't just want to teach because it's a job. I want to teach so that I can make a difference in children's lives. Give them the oppurtunity to be fantastic and to believe in themselves. I want to teach them Geography and show them that they should be and are fascinated by the world around them.

I want to be the teacher that inspires children to love geography, the way my teacher did for me. 

Sunday, 1 March 2015

5 Months

Wow, it's been 5 months. 5 months since the worst day of my life. I can't quite believe it. This is the longest I've ever went in my life without seeing or talking to my Mum. Sometimes it overwhelms me to know that this is what my life will be like forever.

Even now, I'll still see something or do something and get my phone out of my pocket to phone Mum and tell her. Then I remember. 

I dream about her a lot still. Everything is normal in my dreams. The way it used to be. I dream about family days out. Things that we used to do a lot together. And I can tell you, there is no worse feeling than that one about 10 seconds after I wake up and remember what is the quite frankly, shit life that I live now. Those first 10 seconds whilst my brain adjusts to being awake are the best 10 seconds of the day. Because I forget about reality.

At the moment, the only way I get through the day is by trying not to think about Mum. It's hard. Especially with mothers day around the corner. On the way to work I have to walk past Wetherspoons, which has a massive sign outside advertising their mothers day menu, several hospitals with ambulances whizzing about outside and also a big blue signposts that says 'Adult Mortuary' on it. Everything is a constant reminder.

I'm also jealous. Jealous of everyone. Everyone who goes home at the weekend to visit their Mum. Everyone who leaves the room to answer a phonecall from their Mum. Just everyone. 

We were never that family. We were the happy family. Yeah we had our own personal issues, but we were happy. Mum and Dad had been married for well over two decades (literally 4 weeks short of 24 years) , there was us three kids who were all doing well at school and university. Then this happened. And destroyed everything. Why couldn't it have happened to someone else. Someone who deserved it? Like an abusive mother or something. But that's just selfish. Because life isn't fair. There is no limits to how much bad or good stuff can happen to us. Some people live their lives with very little going wrong for them whereas others go through hell with everything going wrong for them (by the way, I don't think this is me). Life is not some predetermined thing that balances good and bad. 

And we just have to deal with it. 

People told me at the beginning that 6 months down the line I would have come to terms with it a lot more. What a load of bullshit. I know that in a months time I will be nowhere near close to coming to terms with it. Hell, every time I go home I get excited all the way home from the train station hoping that it was all a dream and that mum will be in the house when I get back. I know she won't be, but that's how much I am not coming to terms with it. 

One of the hardest things about it all is people's awkwardness. If I mention Mum, everyone around me ignores my comment and gets awkward. All I can think the whole time it 'how selfish? Why are you awkward?! You haven't lost anyone!' I know why they're awkward, they just don't know what to say, but I find it selfish. And I feel guilty, like I shouldn't talk about her in case other people feel bad. 

In a nutshell, month 5 is no better than week 1. In fact it is worse. Because now, we are expected to carry on as normal as if nothing has happened. Well fuck that. I can't do that I'm afraid.

I know my blogposts are depressing, but I don't write them for anyone else. My blog is a place for me to write my honest feelings and if other people want to read that then that's okay. This space helps me. Helps me release my feelings somewhere without making anyone else upset or uncomfortable about hearing them- something which I get when I talk to anyone in my life. 

I will look back on these posts in the future. Further down the line. And I'll remember. I'll remember how I felt, hopefully, I'll feel different. More accepting of reality. We'll see.