One of those shit weeks

It's six months now since mum died. And everytime I think I'm coming to terms with it, another wave of grief washes over me and I'm not anymore. I've felt shit since the beginning of last week. I can't describe what it's like to lose a parent who is also a best friend. And you can't possibly understand what it's like unless you're going through it yourself. Losing other people, although devestating, is different, because that person was not someone who was a part of everything in your life (or maybe they were in which case, yes it's the same). I spent so much of my day worrying about Mum, I told her everything (yes seriously, everything) and because of her health problems, we had a special relationship that I know a lot of my friends don't have with theirs.

I feel like a piece of me has been ripped out. It hurts all the time and some days it is unbearable. I'm still struggling to come to terms with the finality of it. I'm struggling to accept that I will never ever see or talk to my mum again.

One of the hardest things is the sympathy. I know people are just trying to be nice but sometimes it feels like they think of me as a different person now. Someone who is vulnerable and broken. And people are awkward about it. We might me talking about something and I'll say 'oh my mum said that...' and everyone will go silent and ignore me. And everytime I see someone I've not seen in a while I get sympathetic eyes as they touch my arm and say 'how is everything? How's your Dad? How's your brother and sister?' And although they're just being kind, what am I supposed to say to that?

Some days though, everything is okay. That's what makes it all so confusing. That I can go from being happy, talking about the future and being really productive to lying in bed all day everyday wanting to just sleep because it isn't real when I'm asleep.

So anyway that is a collection of my thoughts lately. They're depressing and probably not something anyone wants to read but like I've said before, it helps me to write them down on the blog. 

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!

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.

Teaching. 

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. 

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.

Mothers Day

credit to- shirouen.blogspot.com

      
As soon as Valentines day is over on Saturday, the shops will begin to fill with Mothers Day shit. I am going to have to spend the next 4 weeks looking at it in shops everytime I nip in for some milk or whatever. 

These big events are starting to creep up on us now. We've done our first christmas without Mum. Everyone tried their best but with a space missing at the dinner table, it was shit. Now my dad has to deal with Valentines Day. My parents were never massive about it but it will still be hard for him. Then begins the rest of it. Her 50th birthday, mum and dad's 25th wedding anniversary (their 24th was about 4 weeks after she died but obviously this one is significant). Then there's significant birthdays, my brothers 18th, my 21st. There's my sisters prom and GCSE results. Next year I will be graduating and she won't be there. It is never ending. A continuous stream of torture and heartache. 

I'm not sure how we're going to handle Mothers Day, I've read that you just have to do what you can to get by. I don't really know what that is. Maybe just lie in bed and cry all day. I don't fancy leaving the house or going on facebook to see all the soppy facebook status' people have written to their mums. I get jealous of people who still have their mums. Life is just not fair. It's awful.

5 Running tips: From a beginner to a beginner

I know you might think who am I to be giving running tips when I've only just started out myself but trust me, I have already made a lot of mistakes. Here are my list of running tips if you are just getting started like me.

1) Buy the right clothes. Definitely wear a sports bra if you are a lady, like myself. Mine is just a cheap one from M and S and it does the trick just fine. Also, get some good leggings. Mine are only from primark but they are so comfortable. At first I was running in yoga pants but the cotton made me feel uncomfortable and the weird maternity style waistband kept falling down.

2) Buy some decent trainers. This is a must. My nike flyknit free runs are so unbelievably comfortable. They fit like a glove and are bouncy so they make you want to run from the second you put them on. Cheap tennis type trainers are not as good a fit in my opinion. You should really go for a gait test to determine what shoe to buy but I didn't do that.

3) Stretch. I learned this today. When I read Runners World, there seemed to be a debate about this. Some people seemed to not be that bothered about stretching whereas others swore by it. I didn't stretch and as a consequence, I got a spasm in my right thigh not far into my run and both my legs seized up. I think a good stretch beforehand definitely would have prevented these.

4) Don't push yourself too hard. You might be like me and have a race to train for but if you train too hard, you will end up injuring yourself and thus hinder your training schedule. Pace yourself and only do what you can manage and then build it up. Obviously you need to push yourself so that you get better at running just don't do more than you are capable of without hurting yourself. 

5) Don't be worried what other people think. I am still struggling with this. I stop running everytime I pass someone. But seriously, no one is watching you run. No one cares how slow you are or what you look like. But even if they did, so what? At least you ARE running. I just keep reminding myself that I am becoming fitter and have raised about £800 so far for charity so I honestly don't care what people think about my running. As they say, 'you might be slow but you are lapping everybody on the couch'. Cheesy but definitely true. 

Good luck in your running journey. Don't stop just because of other people. The first run I went on, my flat mates laughed at me. Probably because they didn't believe that I would actually go out running. Once they realised I was serious and got used to the idea, they stopped. The hardest thing about running is not caring what other people think. Once you get past that, you're good to go. Forcing yourself out on a run can also be difficult but you feel amazing for it afterwards. Especially when you can feel your muscles burning. 

I hope my tips help you. Obviously I am by no means and expert, these are just things I think are helping me become better at running.

One of those nights

I'm having one of those nights. One of the lonely, sad, grief stricken nights. One where I find it all too hard to believe and come to terms with. 

I just read a blogpost about a woman who lost her babies. It struck a chord with me. Sometimes I find it hard to accept that my mum's death is something I will ever come to terms with. Reading posts like this makes me realise that coming to terms with it is possible. I just need time. Today is 4 months (1st February) since Mum died. I can't believe it. A third of a year. I feel like I should be over that initial grief now. I'm not. 

Mum dying has destroyed my life. Imagine a bomb hitting the town you live in. Destroying your house, killing friends and family members, destroying your place of work etc. Then you have to rebuild your life. That's what it's like. 

People are initially shocked. At first they ask you how you are every day. Then as time passes in becomes more infrequent because they are over the shock and ultimately, it hasn't affected their lives much if at all. Here I am, trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to make everything fit. But my life is like a jigsaw now, with the middle missing. It's hard. Everyday is a struggle. People think that I'm okay and doing fine but they haven't got a clue. I laugh, I go out, I join in, all because I don't want people to know how I really am underneath. Sometimes I let it slip like when i was drunk on Wednesday. I told some of my friends about how hard it is to talk to people about because they get so awkward. But usually, I have my guard up. I don't want people to think I'm pathetic or to feel any sympathy towards me. I know I am the girl who people say 'oh yeah, that's Alice, her mum died bless her'. I don't want sympathy. No matter how well intended it is.

On that blog (http://www.amyantoinette.com/), I had a look back at her early posts from when her babies first died. I wanted to know if she felt anything like me now, so I could believe that one day, life won't be as hard for me. I found this poem on it:

'A Pair of Shoes'

Author Unknown

I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so much that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realise that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in this world.

Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.

Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.

Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a daughter who has lost her Mum.

I changed the last line from 'a mother who has lost her child' to what is there now. Because my line is more relevant.

Sometimes I think of all the things I miss about mum. Tiny insignificant things like when we used to go to Sainsbury cafe together and get a belgian bun each. Or when we used to go for meals out. We used to go on road trips to places like York in the car together. I miss these times so much. I don't think anyone understands just how much I would give just to see my mum again one last time. To say goodbye. 

I think of all the times in the future when my mum won't be there and it saddens me so much because what happened should never have happened. And sometimes I am selfish and I say 'why couldn't it have happened to someone else?'  I worry that I will forget my mum. Her laugh, her smile, her little mannerisms that made her the person she was. 

I hope no one reading this, ever goes through this in the circumstances that I have. Because it feels like hell.