I think part of my university experience has been trying to find that for myself. To have a moment of deep pride in my accomplishments.
On the surface, this new life is wonderful and it suits you so well; you feel like you are meant to be here.
How have you been doing? How’s your mental health and wellbeing?
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.
When I was a teenager, I had the opportunity to see Ben Howard live for the first time, I remember trying to convince a friend to come with me because “You aren’t going to remember the time you saved £25.00, you’re going to remember the time you were front row at a Ben Howard concert!”. Needless to say, we had a great time. It’s something I’ve always been mindful of. And now, after losing my mum, memories have never been so valuable to me.
She was my hero, and my best friend. She would always look after me, help me and guide me, and it strikes me that twelve, thirteen years later, I don’t have that.
When you hold your thumb, try and think of a safe and calming space. This could be a place that you imagine, like a beach with the sound of the waves, or it could be a memory where you remember feel particularly calm. For me it is lying back on the trampoline, feeling warm by the evening sun, at about 12 years old.
For the first 3 months following my mums passing, I was frantic and desperate for memories. We had already lost her, I was terrified that I’d now forget her too. I wanted to hold on to our memories so tightly as if they were helium balloons. Like a child at the fayre, I daren’t loosen my grip in fear that they’d float away and be forgotten forever.
My mother died in 1999, but I still miss her as though she just walked out the door.
Mommy loves to tell the story of the day I was born. As soon as I was all cleaned up and looking beautiful, they handed me to my Daddy. Of course, I was yelling my fool head off as babies tend to do. He smiled, patted my rear, and snuggled me close.