Like I began my previous blog post, i’d like to say to reiterate that I first decided to start another blog, I was focused solely on it being a place of nothing but positivity. Healthy lifestyle changes, healthy body, healthy mind and blogging the good times.

Realistically though, a healthy mind is something i’m working on still. At thirty i’m in therapy. Some weeks I feel worse coming out of the session, but most of the time I feel better. It’s daunting to me that my therapy on the NHS is coming to an end. I completely understand and appreciate that they can only allocate a certain amount of time to each patient. I know this all to well, so much so, that because I wasn’t working, and therefore paying taxes, I refused to go to a doctor in the first place. It took years for my family to convince me that I was worthy of taking up a doctor’s time. I felt like I didn’t deserve to have an appointment. One doctor, not my usual one, a rather abrupt doctor said ‘Why on earth are you paying for medication when you’re not working’. I burst out crying. I told her about my anxiety, low self esteem (although surely that should have been on my medical records?)…. and then she completely changed. She turned into someone really sympathetic. Her voice softened. Her posture changed. I went about a problem with my neck, but left with a lot of leaflets on counselling.  Another time, I was seeing a doctor about tonsillitis (again, not my regular doctor. Who is an incredible doctor but has a very long waiting list), and she said something along the lines of ‘for goodness sake, do you always get this anxious?’.  I was confused, surely on the medical notes she’d have seen I suffer with anxiety disorder. Again, tears. I just wasn’t expecting the abruptness. She also insulted my friend on their ringtone (to be fair, he forgot to turn it off). One of my closest friends has had such awful experiences with a doctor that her family complained. I just want to express here that I didn’t feel the need to complain. Even though it wasn’t just a case of me being sensitive, it was truly abruptness and rudeness on their part, it was in no way the severity of what my friend experienced. My friend and I have so much respect for the medical profession also. But should we have to accept rudeness? My cousin was in hospital for a month, and she had a cake commissioned for the entire staff in the ward, but there was one nurse who was really not very pleasant. I respect the long hours, the pay isn’t great, and I sympathise to that. But my mother was a carer for the elderly. Also a challenging job. But if you are in that profession, you are in a caring profession. Challenging, yes. But caring. On this note, just thought i’d throw in here how great my dentist is. I had a phobia and have had years pass without going, but nowadays dentists really seem to acknowledge patient comfort. Or maybe that’s just mine?

Sorry, sidetracked. If you know me, you know I talk to fast and I go off on a tangent. (Something my therapist knows, as I don’t always stay focused in the 50 minute sessions).

The truth is, although I do want this blog to be all about positivity and healthy lifestyle choices, I am also currently, at thirty, still recovering from my childhood.

I’m an honest person. I feel it’s only right to share the struggles. I also find it therapeutic to write things down. Which leads me onto my next point.

My therapist asked me to write a letter to my child self. Usually after a therapy session I leave it a day or two before working on things, but this time I began writing that evening.

It ended up being ten pages long. It was emotional. It was cathartic. It made my boyfriend cry when I let him read it.

I read experts in therapy and I got through it all without crying. Yes! a sense of achievements as I had spent years being tearful every day. I felt stronger in this moment.

She said to me something along the lines of… ‘You are so compassionate to others. To those who have hurt you. You understand why they act the way they do, and you have compassion for their upbringings. But where is the compassion for yourself as a child’.

That was it. Ugly cry face. Now I know why they have box of tissues by the chair.

It was true. Even those who have caused me so much pain, I was sympathetic to their own childhoods. I had reflected upon why they may act the way they do. Even though they seemingly have no desire to self reflect themselves. I didn’t just blame them. I tried to understand why they were bitter or cruel, and I was sympathetic to their struggles or trauma growing up. But why didn’t I allow myself the same consideration.

It’s interacting as people form my past have called me ‘self absorbed’, ‘life’s victim’ and other careless insults. (yes, not constructive criticism, insults). Now i’m learning I am neither of those things. A counsellor I saw last year joked that she forgot to bring boxing gloves. I asked why. She said, ‘because you beat yourself up so much’.

It’s true. Just like I mentioned earlier how I felt I wasn’t worthy of a doctor’s visit, even when I was in a very bad way, because I felt as I was currently now working (due to being unwell) I was undeserving of taking up a doctor’s time.

What’s been pointing out to me is that, No, I would never think this about another person. I’d be the first to encourage a person in need to go to the doctors.

I honestly think this stems from being the blame for so much as a child. I don’t think I was ever allowed to be a ‘victim’. Everything was my own fault. Everyone else problems were my fault. I won’t share the extent of cruelty and inappropriateness I endured as a child as it’s not suitable for this blog, but I’ve learnt I am allowed to feel sad about it.

The tears kept coming. Several tissues later I composed myself and apologised for crying. She reassured me that maybe I needed to cry. I am a cryer. I cry so much in life. One of the first nights I hung out with my boyfriend I was acting all ‘cool and nonchalant’. Engaging in banter. Then an advert of a blind scared puppy cowering in the corner came on. It showed how it was rescued and learnt to trust again. I think it was on Russell Howard’s ‘good news’. That was it, I burst out crying. My boyfriend, huge animal lover (so much so, he hasn’t eaten meat since he saw a 5 minute clip of Earthlings)…  he found it sad too. But I couldn’t hold in tears. I was a mess. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but four years later, he knows i’m a sensitive soul. (not weak, or an emotional wreck as people from my past called me. Sensitive).

I feel comfortable talking about my relationship ups and downs with my mother on here as we have discussed it at length throughout my twenties (before the stroke). My mother has owned her mistakes and apologised for them. My stepfather too. We are so close now. I know it’s perhaps a bit of a cliche, but they really are my best friends. They’re not perfect. They’ve made some pretty big mistakes, but they own them.

When I was a child, as a lot of children with divorced parents may know, custody works a certain way. Some families have 50/50 percent of the time shared. Our visits to our father were once a fortnight for a weekend. I was 3 when they divorced. Up until now I felt I wasn’t allowed to be affected by it at all. My brother and sister were older. Around 8 and 10. They were the ones affected by it. Not I. How could I have been, I was ‘too young to know any different’.

That wasn’t the case. I was deeply affected by it.

Our home, was only our home 12 days a fortnight. On the weekend we visited our dad, we were not allowed home. If we forgot something, tough. We couldn’t pop back to pick it up.  We were not allowed to call our mother. It was her ‘time off’. In recent years i’ve argued that children are a 24/7 responsibility. That ‘time off’ is a harsh and absurd way to refer to it. She did have holidays without us, sometimes two week holidays. She had her down time. But for children to feel as if they’re a burden, even if just for a weekend, it’s not ok. My friends didn’t understand when i’d say ‘Oh, I can’t. I’m not allowed home that weekend’. I fully respect how difficult being a parent is. Especially a single parent. But, if you have children, whether you plan to or not, they should be your priority. You shouldn’t resent them at all. Even if you’re tired. By all means lose your temper, and tell them off when they’re playing up, but also instills in them that they are loved and important.

Whenever I  was reminded we were not ‘planned’ in discussions when I was older, I’d then remind her of ‘contraception’. Sorry if this is abrupt. But our arguments have been pretty heated in past years. I was a little sassy, but I was tired. Tired of blame. Tired of the word ‘ashamed’.  One day I challenged her and said ‘I am a good kid. I do not involved with drugs. I did great in my exams. I made it though college, and university.’  It was during that argument that she apologised for ever using the word ‘ashamed’. Such a harsh word. ‘Ashamed’ I wasn’t like her friend’s kids. I was different. She didn’t understand depression back then or anxiety. She didn’t understand why my bedroom curtains were never opened and i’d get back from work or uni and go to bed. I’d spend days off in bed. I wasn’t lazy. I was hard working, but I was deeply depressed. Even when she accepted I had depression she would shout at me and to others how it ‘was affecting [her] life’. Even at the doctors, she cried and said ‘she’s getting down’ and he asked her to leave the room.

After years she finally apologised. Broke down in tears and said ‘you are the kindest person i’ve ever known. I’m so sorry’. From then on, we’ve been so close. We spoke for hours. My stepdad too. They’d try and justify some things, but I refused to accept some things. They held their hands up and said ‘we’ve made mistakes. We’re sorry. We’re learning’. Ever since, we’ve all had such a mutual respect for each other. They are so humble in that they respect other people’s opinions. Even mine. Their daughter’s. We talk about things. They don’t call me disrespectful if I call them out on things. They self reflect and acknowledge things. As I do when they question me about things.

So, there was a silver lining here. I now have such a wonderful relationship with my parents. My mother and stepfather really are my best friends. (as well as Tom, and my boyfriend). We’re family.

Unfortunately though, there are some relationships with the group of people I used to regard as ‘family’ that will never be mended. I genuinely wish them well, but I do live in fear of some of them. It’s awkward admitting that, but I do. I just want to be surrounded by positivity, kindness, progress not perfection, but respect and love.

I used to wish my biological parents had never met. I didn’t want to be here. I was born straight into a hostile environment. But now I realise that would mean my nephews and nieces wouldn’t be here, so I take that back.  Do I wish they had remained separated before they had me? Sometimes. Truthfully. It’s depressing. But it’s honest. I don’t think i’ll ever get over the past. But I am so fortunate and appreciative of the people I call family today.

I can’t stand the saying ‘blood’s thicker than water’. Growing up I didn’t like it either. I felt like a failure as I didn’t come from the ‘happy family’ my friends seem to have. To say it was dysfunctional would be an understatement. I didn’t have very good friends growing up either. They’d say things like ‘man, I’m glad I have my family. I’d hate to have yours’. I’d get defensive.  After all dysfunction was all I knew and I was fiercely protective over my family. Deep down though, I agreed. Now I’m thirty and thanks to my family (the people I now call family) I am in therapy and I’m working towards recovering from my childhood. They say you can’t choose your family. I call bullshit on that. I chose mine. I now share my life with truly beautiful souls. Kind and compassionate but also witty and hilarious. I will teach my children that family extends beyond who you share DNA with, and love is louder. To walk away from any friends, ‘family’, who are unkind and cruel. It took me until my twenties to feel like the word family was relevant to my life. And now I have it. This is what it feels like to have a family who love you. A family without dysfunction. Without non stop conflict. Without jealousy. Without shit stirring. Without violence. Without name calling. Without humiliation. Without patronisation. Without anger. Without bitterness. Without blame. Without spitefulness. I have owned my mistakes and have grown so much, especially in my twenties. I was always the blame for so much in life. People’s unhappiness. People’s anger. Was I really to blame? Of course not. But it was so instilled in me by a small minority of people that I wasn’t a good person. Yet I’ve always been so compassionate and sensitive. The people who were supposed to love me were the ones to mock me relentlessly and tell me i’m awful. I retaliated as kids do when people hurt me or betrayed my trust. When I felt rejected. I’ve spent the past few years building bridges with people from my past. I find it so easy to apologise. I find it incredibly difficult to withhold an owed apology. There’s no pride getting in the way. If i’ve f*cked up and I’ve hurt someone (even though unintentionally) I have to apologise. I can’t not.

Sometimes feel sad that relationships couldn’t be mended. I don’t think that sadness will ever go away entirely. So much pain was just so unnecessary and life is short. But what overshadows the sadness, privilege. I feel so privileged to have a family. Something so many people do not have. One of the reasons I have a phobia of hospitals (I know, the place where they make you feel better), is because I’ve seen people who have no visitors. No loved ones. It breaks my heart and things like that stay with me. Someone I used to consider family once said ‘you’re going to end up all alone’. My view on that? I’d rather stand alone than with people who hurt me. Besides, my family would never let me be alone. They’d never smugly say such hurtful things either. I think quotes like this one I’ve shared, are important. I wish I’d read such meaningful paragraphs growing up other than ‘bloods thicker than water’ and ‘you can’t choose your family’. Well to anyone feeling alone, I’m telling you that you can. Love is love. Seek to surround yourselves with kindness, mutual respect, understanding, integrity, maturity and love. Super cheese and cringe here, but it’s true. Like The Beatles sang ‘All You Need is Love’… (Well that, and oxygen, water, food). I feel confident that my children with grow up in a loving caring family now. One without spitefulness, constant conflict, name calling. I now, feel like one day I will have children with the man I Love and know that they’ll grow up the way I wish I had. I’m realistic, there’s no such thing as a ‘perfect’ family, but one without dysfunction? I welcome that with open arms.