happy birthday mum

i love you, but i wonder, i cant help it, how it could have been. all the things i should have, need to have said. i want to hold you tight and tell you how i feel. i want to scream and cry and yell at you for the way things were. I know it was the illness-but i cant help how i feel. And i needed you to love me. and you didnt. because i wasnt good enough.

I tried you know

I did everything you wanted. If you could see me now-what would you think? failure?well yes. But the thing is mum, I didnt want to do any of that stuff. I didnt want to go to vet school. And i wasnt brave enough to stick up for myself. Thats not your fault, not really. You wanted the best, i get that.But my best was never enough. And i dont blame you for what happened there, even though sometimes i get mixed up and hate you for pushing me so hard. i dont like that word, hate. But to be truthfull mum, I cant really think of another word. I love you. I do. I think I always did. But i dont understand. 

what lse would you think? becaue really-mum, i lived in a way yo never did. I took off on my own, made my own choices and got myself to here. someone told me the other day they cannot belive that im not more fucked up than i actually am. well, how would that make you feel? I've been listening to your song for 2 days straight now-stay ( i missed you) by lisa loeb. was there meaning for you?or did you just like it? its like a piece of a puzzle. cos im sitting here, mum, and im wondering what you used to think about. what happened in YOUR past. because you know what, you took it out on ME. and you didnt mean it, you were ill. And maybe you just wanted me to do the things you couldnt.

Noone in the family ever spoke about you and your sisters childhoods.what does that mean?all those walks with grandad in the woods, and i only ever got the happy, silly stories. of how you got a pram for your birthday and they had to buy jan one as well cos she took it off you. about your dolls.about how clever you were. but something mum, how did it get that way? nan doesnt talk about you. ever.

Do you remember when i broke my arm before the dublin trials. you didnt even come to A & E with me cos you were so pissed off.I'll tell you something shall I? I was 16 mum, and life was happening, but not to me. I broke it myself. I smashed it up with a metal pole and it never hurt enough to take away the pain of how much you hated me. I didnt want to ride, i didnt want to go to dublin and i didnt want to ride the new horse.  But I rode with a broken arm mum, cos the look on your face-i couldnt take it. the shit i nearly got in for that, the coach nearly got a ban from the sport. But it was ok as long as i won. was you pleased, impressed, proud? well, if you were, i never knew.

hell yeh i ran away from you. I came to you, when i got back form uni and i NEEDED you mum. I;d been hurt, abused, and you didnt belive me.i ached for the baby i lost, for everything i could have been. I needed you to tell me it was ok.

'you told me that i was naive, but i thought that i was stong'

well, turns out Lisas's right, eh?

and that, mum, is how i hate you and love you all at athe same time. theres so much i want to say. but whats the point. You chose your own fate-did you even think about anyone else? did you think how we would feel?

mum, the last thing you said to me was that i was a failure, a disapointment and that you hated me. I have to live with that.you got to die.

you know what mum-i want that to.its all i think about.im 26, and i feel like im having to start all over again. i should have had it all by now. but ive got nothing except a fucked up head. the oly reason im not dead right now is because i know how it feels to have someone kill themselves and not have the answers.

but mum, you know i dont believe in any of the religous stuff. Im sorry but i just dont. So i dont know where you are, or if you know what im thinking.

but i LOVE you mum. so so so much.

i miss you.and i wish you were here.
i wish we could have made it ok.

i love you so so much mum.dont ever forget.

xxxxxxxxxxx