Goodbye lemons.

Hello,

For the first time in my short history of blogging, I’m sitting at my laptop with absolutely no plan. I know that I have some things to tell you, but I’m dumbfounded as to how I can do so.

I will start this letter by making a few things clear:

1. This is by no means a ploy to gain attention.
2. I do not desire your pity.
3. I do not want to be applauded or congratulated for sharing this story.

There is no way for me to word this that doesn’t involve heavy cliche, but 2017 has been the toughest year of my life- and I don’t say this lightly.

It has seen tragedies that I never imagined I would have to face- tragedies so consuming that even my greatest triumphs went completely uncelebrated.

In April, I faced the loss of someone who meant more to me than I can possibly string into words.

Pa was one of those people that cared only about others, and never put himself first. No matter what he was going through, he would happily drop everything to talk you through anything.

I turned to him when in conflict with my siblings, friends, family and more recently, myself. He would listen attentively, never judge or reprimand me, and always encouraged me to follow my heart.

He was young, healthy, and full of life in its purest form, so when I was woken up in the wee hours of the morning to be told that he had been taken from the world, there was nothing I could do to make sense of it.

I laid in bed for three hours, staring into darkness.

I pinched my arms, slapped myself in the face and did just about everything I could to wake up from what I assumed was a terrible nightmare.

Alas, I never did.

Flash forward a few months and I still hear Ma’s door open and expect him to greet me with a “Hello Til!” as he always did before. My eyes still well up at the mention of his name and referring to him in past tense is still excruciating.

To those of you who have REALLY been there for me, thank you. Thank you for the late nights of listening to my rants, for the impromptu days out, and for not treating me like a cripple (more on this later).

The next hurdle is something I’m sure all of the gossipers have been waiting impatiently for me to address.

My mother is sick. But as it is not my story to tell (and frankly, you have no business knowing), that is all the detail I’m giving you in that regard.

What I will tell you though, is that I’m (obviously) not ok.

When I thought life had pelted enough lemons in my direction, it grabbed another one- just for good measure.

Hearing the news forced me to start questioning basically everything I knew- much of which was unrelated to the situation.

1. My faith in God
2. My career
3. Every friendship I had
4. My extended family dynamic
5. Why everything was going wrong
6. Why I’m worrying about my problems when poverty exists
7. Why I’ve gone almost 20 years without ever coming close to being in a relationship
8. Why I care about anything anymore

But the important thing is, I’ve made it through that initial hurdle.

Obviously I was consumed with pain for a good portion of time, but now I have found a new gear and I’m overflowing with determination. My Mum, family, and I will pull through this, no matter how many more lemons are thrown our way.

But that isn’t why I’m writing this letter.

I know that everyone who has been through a similar ordeal will relate to this, but as soon as the talk around town started, it was like I was suddenly a completely different person.

I was no longer Claire- I was “that girl with the sick Mum”.

People with whom I had no relation were trying to comfort me and tell me that ‘everything would be ok’. Others would keep their distance, but tilt their head and sigh to show that they ‘cared’.

The most frustrating moments have been centred on those who have judged me for my lack of ‘mourning’ and tried to correct the ways in which I am choosing to assist in caring for my family.

Now listen, I know that the majority of people mean well and that in hindsight, this is probably an appropriate way to respond. I truly appreciate everyone who has reached out and offered to lend a hand where needed. But I feel that at this point, I need to make a few things clear.

1. I’m not a cripple.
2. Mum is very much alive.
3. The world is still turning.

Last week, I had a very important conversation with a close family friend.

My pent up frustrations with all of the judgement were pouring out uncontrollably and rather than telling me to grow up and get over it, she asked me a question that nobody had asked before.

“How do you want to be treated?”

In full disclosure, my response was slightly different to the one I am giving you, but as I’ve had time to think it through, I’ve decided that the only way to answer it properly is to be completely transparent with you.

I am not ok right now, but I will be.

I want you to know of the hurdles in my life, but I don’t want you to advise my handling of them.

I want you to support me, but I don’t want to be showered with pity.

In short, it’s pretty simple; I want to be treated normally.

There are still things that I haven’t told you and probably never will, and some of you are probably questioning why this was even necessary.

I considered waiting until New Year’s Eve to bid farewell to 2017, but I recently decided that I needed to turn over a new leaf and start fresh- and as I have learned the hard way this year, nothing should ever be left unsaid.

Goodbye lemons, hello lemonade.