TW: contains references to self-harm and suicidal behaviours. Please proceed with care.
If things were different on this Mother’s Day, I’d be with you all as you celebrate Papa’s 80th birthday. I’d be with you as you sit in a restaurant and enjoy a family lunch, participating in the chat, laughing at Papa’s anecdotes and the well-meant mockery centred on you and Emma…you’re both such easy targets! But things are not different. Things are such that I can’t be with you all. Things are such that I sit alone in my bedroom, doing my best to cope, in anticipation of you all coming home for coffee and birthday cake.
If things were different I’d be able to talk easily to you about my struggle with life. I’d be able to be open, honest and real with you. Instead I clam up, lose my voice and resign myself to a lonely battle.
I want to say sorry, Mum, for all I have (and continue to) put you through, for the sleepless nights and the phone calls to inform you that I’d overdosed and was in hospital. I want to say sorry for developing Anorexia, and starving myself in front of you, for making you feel desperate and useless while I literally disappeared before you. I want to say sorry for cutting myself, for abusing and scarring the body that you created, and brought into the world. I want to say sorry for not being there as the rest of you create memories that we’re all supposed to cherish…like Papa reaching the grand old age of 80, and Emma’s wedding. I want you to know that none of this is easy for me, that the separation and detachment I feel creates an anguish that comes from somewhere so deep inside me that not even the most skilled surgeon could find it’s source.
I want to tell you, Mum, that, although I must scare you, my intention is not to erase myself from your life. I want to be here with you. I don’t want this to end badly.
I want to tell you that I cant imagine my life without you in it.
I want to tell you that I love you,