Sometimes...

There are days when I miss my mom so much it's palpable. Those days were constant four years ago, when her passing was still fresh like the autumn breeze. Back then everything would remind me of her, a song on the radio, the smell of cigarette smoke, looking into someone's sea-green coloured eyes as I passed them on the street.

Now, however, the loss is like a bit of scar tissue. The wound is still visible in some lights, but for the most part, the pain doesn't effect me as much. It's like a dull ache you learn to live with, it's not fun or pleasant, but you know what it is and that it will always be there.

When it comes to my speech and what the McGuire Programme has helped me to achieve (because as much as I support the programme, I have put the effort in) over the past four month, I can't help but think of my mom. She's the voice in my head constantly telling me to do more, be better, work harder. She's where I get my sense of commitment from, my sense of dedication and hard work. She was a fighter and I think I have that same fight in me. Although I'm not sure if I could ever be as strong has she was, as assertive, as self-confident.

I wonder what she would have said, what she would have thought. Often times, on a bad day, I want to call her and moan about how hard it is or how difficult I'm find it. On the good days, I want to call her and tell her how well I'm doing (how many people I introduced myself to on contacts, how well the session I ran at support group went). If there are two regrets I have in all of this, it's that 1) I wish I'd done it sooner in life (not massively sooner but at least 2 years sooner) and 2) that she was here to see it. But I guess she is somehow.

On that note, I post this link as I kind of public disclosure. It's not perfect, but it's huge step in my recovery.