The truth hurts, and the truth is this…

I am an angry person…

I’ve finally admitted it to myself, finally. I have always known it, and yesterday a very close friend of mine who is wonderfully perceptive said, “you’re a very aggressive person’. This wasn’t a shock to me but I’ve been stewing on this new found characteristic and I find that I don’t like it. SURPRISE! Who wants to think of themselves as aggressive? Its SO UGLY! I can just imagine at job interview, when they ask you how your friends describe you; “Kind, loyal, adventurous, funny, oh and most people find me very aggressive…” – DOOR SLAMS IN FACE!

What do you mean? I reply. “Well” she said, “you’ve never had children and they soften you’. This was below the belt, SO its my fault for not having children now? Insert angry red face. I had arrived at her house and begun a rant about my Mother that has been building for days, we love each other but we haven’t spent this much time together since I was about 15. And being around my Mother is hard, even now at this time of crisis, no one pisses me off more than my parents, now my parent. They push my buttons, and I loose my temper, a lot. That angry 15 yr old girl is always there, bubbling at the surface and despite my best efforts I can’t always keep her down.

Yesterday had been a BAD day and I wanted to talk to my friend about it, to turn it over and find the solution, but instead she was insulting me, she was offending me, she was…turning the mirror to my face and it was UGLY. At first I was furious. We carried on chatting but underneath I was seething, how dare she how dare how dare she.

I went off to have my hair coloured, which took about six hours(I needed a new doo for the funeral, I know there isn’t a photographer at a funeral, but I feel the need to prepare for it in the same way I would for any ‘event’ – God I am a vile human being!) Anyway, I fumed the whole time, it stung me over and over, and I was angry. I wanted to lash out, to attack back. But slowly I started to realise that she isn’t the first of my friends to accuse me of this recently; two others have flung me the same bone. I’ve gnawed at it silently, internally but now I had something tangible, something real to pop on my sleeve, right next to my big fat beating heart.

It wasn’t until I got into bed and started Googling anger management courses that I realised, the truth hurts, my Mother loved to fling that expression at me when I was a horrible teenager, and as usual she was right. When things happen that I don’t like, when things don’t go my way I become very frustrated and in all honesty – angry. I run and fume, I do yoga and breathe it out, I have had a lot of therapy, but I am still an angry person, and my friend is right. I even dreamt about it last night, anger anger anger. (I am really not sure that RED will go with my new hair…)

CUT TO THIS MORNING – I wake up and go downstairs to make tea, I am trying not to have lactose now I have this IBS diagnosis, so I always have Roobios and soya these days, a friend of mine described it as like food, which makes me gip a little, but I really like it. Anyway my Mum appeared and I was overcome with relief, I had an opportunity to make it right, I have the opportunity, ‘I’m sorry, I wept, I am so sorry Mum…I am a horrible vile person’, and we had a hug and guess what I feel better!

I AM an aggressive, angry, vile and horrible person but I am those other things to, and I’m going to go on and get anger management, get more therapy, do a course and try to be more mindful. Mindfulness, I wish that concept had been around when I was growing up. I will try every day to be better person, I’m not giving up, I will apologise to everyone I have to, and yes I have considered that this might be the anger related to my Dad’s death but, I think, it goes a lot deeper than that. So thank you my friend, thank you for making me see my UGLY self and giving me the opportunity to do something about it.




These words jumped out at me as I leafed through a magazine my Mum’s neighbour brought round. It sounds more like a threat than advice doesn’t it?! 

I know for a fact I take all sorts of things for granted. It takes will power not to, doesn’t it? To appreciate every moment. You must be very present. That takes control…

Life gets in the way, that’s the trouble. Every morning, well most mornings since I’ve been here in my new role as my Mum’s companion, I’ve set my intentions for the day – on my yoga mat. (Well it will be on a mat now. I’ve just ordered a very flash, very expensive new mat as a friend said to me, ‘let that be your anchor, wherever your mat is that’s where you are’.) My intentions are good; be patient. 

But it’s hard to keep patient all day, as soon as my Mum gets up she starts with, ‘I’ve been thinking’ and a stream of consciousness comes out. And I bite my tongue and try really hard to be patient. Mostly I’m doing better than I would of done before Dad die, but she is fucking hard work. 

She’s worrying about her future constantly. So am I. Both of us have ended up on this new path. This new future and it’s uncertain. For both of us. 

I’ve joined the half an orphan club…I know many people have already had their membership a while. Perhaps you can help me to know what to do next? What do I do now, my Dad’s gone and it’s just my Mum and me? That’s all we have. Just the two of us. 

Can I really go back to London and live my life? I just can’t see how it will work. I’m worrying about the next stage and we haven’t even had a funeral. 

My Dads funeral is on Thursday. Lots of people are coming and I find myself looking forward to it in a perverse way, a chance to say goodbye and move forward. To what, I don’t know…

The day after my Dad died…

It’s been five days since he died and so much has happened if feels like a month and yet it’s not even a week. 
I don’t feel sad all the time and despite the awful, life changing event that’s just happened I’ve laughed a lot, which I feel terribly guilty about.

Yesterday a man called the house and asked to speak to my Dad and I told him he couldn’t because he was dead. Just like that, he asked me why I was laughing and even though I didn’t know I was, I replied that I hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly. 

He was a broker cold calling my Dad I believe, to sell him something, but he said ‘you sound very happy, have a nice afternoon.’ And he hung up.

I froze. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt sick, hot and then cold. Had this man exposed my inner most feelings? Am I happy my Dad is dead? 

And then I realised; it’s a joke to me, it’s ridiculous, my Dad isn’t dead! It’s a joke right? It’s a ridiculous prank! He can’t be dead…he just can’t. He’s got so much to do, he’s got art classes to go to, tennis to play, business to attend to, he’s got to show me how to do his accounts…

I wanted to shout and scream at that fucking broker, I wanted more than anything to be able to tell him that he had no right, no fucking right to comment on how I was feeling. Who the fuck did he think he was? How dare he! 

It’s just very hard to except this new normal, this news that my Dad is not coming back, that’s the trouble. It’s such a new and intangible concept that I can’t seem to quite reach. I’m trying out the words, repeating them over and over and trying to imagine our lives, Mum and me, without him. 

My own life has ceased to exist except through the love and support of my beautiful friends. And that makes my concept of my new normal seem even farther away. I have made one decision – I won’t leave my Mum. I will be here for her till she’s ok, I’m not going anywhere. So for now for today this is the norm. There’s so much to do. If my Dad’s really not coming back…

And then my Dad died…

I wish this was the excuse for not having blogged for so long…

(Nb: It was in fact the fault of New Zealand and it’s appallingly terrible wifi…but more of that fascinating rant later!)

I wish it was tomorrow I can’t wait for tomorrow because then it won’t be the day my Dad died anymore. 

To set the scene I am now back in the UK, my best friend has returned to York to begin her life there and I returned to London to try and put the pieces of my ‘laid to one side’ life back into some order. 

I’ve been job hunting, for a few weeks now…after turning down a full time position whilst we were away…which in hindsight seems a bit reticent. But that’s the sort of thing you do when you’re travelling and freedom seems to be the answer. We came back a week early due to a lack of funds so I’ve been swanning about on coin fumes for a few weeks wondering if I should have a career change…

Then my Dad died. I was en route to Gloucestershire to see my God parents when it happened. Needless to say I’ve spent today driving up and down the motorway. I don’t know what I expected the day of my Dad’s death to be like but I didn’t think it would be like this. 

I did however have a premonition before I knew, whilst I was in the car, about the possibility of my Dad dying and how inconvenient it would be to have to drive back down the country…and then it did actually happen. 

Amazing what you can think without meaning to or examining the consequence. Today my life has changed irrevocably and I keep making innapropriate jokes. For example; in my head I wondered if my Mum and I were to get a dog if we could call it Dave my Dads name!

Tomorrow it will be the day after the day my Dad died. The coroner will come round and explain the details of his death. Then I have to decide if I want to see the body of my dead Father. Maybe we will do that the day after the day after my Dad died.

Rest in peace Dad. I’m glad it was quick. I know how scared of death you were. I really can’t believe you’re gone, it will be another day tomorrow – it will be the day after you died…