Birthday cake

I miss my mum and getting angry over silly things like an added couple of pounds, a sweaty tube, a dirty kitchen or the fact that my trainers rub isn't going to solve anything. None of these frustrations will ever bring her back, why commit so much energy into them?

Cake is the trigger and I imagine my brother to wake next week on his birthday with no promise of a birthday cake that my mum would always organise. This is a subject far too painful I even avoid myself, since to buy the cake for him would be acceptance of her death. Though who is loosing out in the long run?

Me. 

I will have to accept. I will have to acknowledge that to be my brother's mum isn't a role for me either. We are all grown up now. You'd think that makes it easier, moving onto new adventures in social circuits and job advances. It only makes it harder as that person isn't there to explain it all to and for you to say at least you're proud of your achievements. An unconditional listen. 

So what can I do? Either sit in squalor and eat/drink into my feelings or come on top and open my eyes to see what's on my doorstop instead. I'd never forgive myself to linger in this current lull and for something worse to happen in the near future. That previous lull you were dying to escape from would suddenly turn into the ideal. Not I. I can't do it anymore. 

No more wishing back. 

Fight or Flight

I'm one of those women who shops like an overdose gone wrong. During manic moods people reach for booze, drugs and material things. Me, I shop for produce. I buy food, seeking flavour for survival. I get wound up in a colourful bubble of this and that, lets put these things together, shall we go here - I want to do that NOW!

Today I went for a scan on my right boob. Mum died of breast cancer so I was not taking any chances. After two checks and a scan referral I was able to see with my own eyes that I have nothing to worry about.

Some may say that even after two Doctors had given me the all clear, I was being a little paranoid. Of course I was - but who is to say that cancer is about life and death. It isn't. Cancer is about maintenance much like mental health. I've been on the 'C word' journey with someone close, I can honestly say cancer stumps your life for a good couple of years introducing more issues than ever expected. For me I'm in no position at 23 years to put my life on hold for a small group of multiplying cells. As a sufferer of anxiety and depression, hand on heart my life is finally simmering away. TWENTY THREE YEARS and only now my life is simmering! Only now am I able to say I'm happy and things are good without those words coming out of my mouth as a lie. 2013, 6 months in and everyone has been great - I'm just not used to that.

The thoughts creep in, is this the start or is this the beginning? It's a familiar trap much like depression, a circle and all the options are black that surround it. Cancer, what if I've got...Cancer? Even the word deserves a big 'C'. It's fight or flight. Crack on or panic. Thankfully I was able to panic and relax. I am so so lucky to feel appreciation, assurance, and most of all see the clear landscape I have in front of me now that the black fog has cleared in several areas of my life. I fought and I won.

p.s I celebrated with a gin and tonic with a strawberry in it ;)
pps I also ate a whole bag of revels :P
ppps Apologies to any family/friends who read this, no panic! :)