Today, I bleed. In the space of a year, everything has changed.
It makes me feel bad that my family have had to look after me so much. I hate being a burden, boring and a frustration. I hate that they had to wake up in the night to help me with medicines or when I was throwing up.
Do I care about the people on there, or do I simply find it comforting? The stroking of my phone as I scroll, and the big red heart that comes up when I press like? I put it down, gasping for air.
When I wake up, my heart doesn’t split into a thousand pieces. My head doesn’t pound with questions asking me why us, or how are we here. When I reach for a mug for my coffee, my hands don’t shake when I see Mum’s mug.
I wondered whether Mummy felt this way too when she was in hospital and whether I did enough to comfort her. I hope she never felt alone when she was with me.
Today is one of the days where I kneel humbled by my grief. I am not bowled over by it, I am not stressed about it, I am simply shaken by it.
Before, roller skating meant the art of learning to love myself without having to aim for perfection, and now it is about freedom and healing. When I am skating, I can be whoever I need to be, feeling anything I need to feel.
I jumped into the uber, politely asked how my driver was doing, and after exchanging pleasantries, he asked me what year I was in.
“Third year.” I said with a polite smile.
If we consider emotions as tools to deal with life, we need each and every one of them for a purpose. So, do not suppress it.
First of all, I like to think that Katie and I would scrape together our student funds and take you to a spa or an Air BnB.