I ‘ran away’ last week…but from what?! Or towards what? Towards my daughter…

Last Wednesday, I spent the night in a hotel. I needed space, I think. I don’t know. It wasn’t safe. I arrived at midnight having caused too much stress for friends I care about by announcing out of the blue that I needed to spend a night away. I couldn’t rationalise their stress though. I couldn’t even comprehend it. I could barely make it through each moment, I just needed to get away. I felt like I was drowning. Extremely claustrophobic. Fight or flight kicked in, lots of adrenaline and blind panic, and I just wanted to run. I didn’t care where to. I had planned to go much further afield but I didn’t go too far away. Just away. In a hotel. Unsafe.

That pretty much sums up everything right now.

Friday marked the anniversary of the loss of (one of) my daughter’s, the one I bonded with the most. That was hard. Very hard. I can’t remember most of the day but I know it happened. It just went like a blur. I did a gig, at some point, during the day. The whole day felt like I had knives in my throat, cutting me everytime I swallowed. My daughter’s screams felt locked in my chest, and I just wanted to cry my heart out. But the tears wouldn’t come. I was scared if I cried, I’d lose her again.

In the last couple of weeks I have attempted suicide more than once. I hate my body for not giving up and letting this pain stop. I hate my body for not letting me stay with my daughter. For forcing me to plaster on a smile and make it through another painful day, somehow, gritting my teeth through student politics. Life is too short. I wish people realised this before it hurt them enough to be forced into knowing.

I so desperately want my daughter back.

I so desperately wish I was able to turn back time. Swap places with her. Have taken it all and got her safely to the friends I have now.

My friends and I went to the beach on Sunday evening. There’s an area of the coast here which, for whatever random reason, helps me feel very close to all of the children and be at peace somehow. I sat on the beach watching the sea and cried. I could feel her in my chest still. I could feel her in my arms, breathing into my neck, making her little chirping noises she made whenever she was contently curious. I could smell her baby smell, could feel the way her foot pressed onto my hip when I held her. She was back with me, and I knew I needed to let her go, to go and play in the sea….but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her go. I could feel her wriggling in my arms, keen to go and explore, but I couldn’t. I was so scared of losing her again, even though she wasn’t really in my arms. I know she’ll never really be back in my arms for as long as I’m on this planet, and she’s in the stars. But still, I was terrified to let go of her.

I cannot describe the power and intensity of maternal grief. All my head is telling me – you were her mother. It should have been you who died, and her who survived. You were meant to be able to protect her from everything. It’s true. Why am I here, and she isn’t?

It hurts. More than I can put into words. I miss her smile, her giggle, her silly facial expressions. Every second that passes, I’m scared the fine details in the memories will fade. I’ll forget her smell eventually. Maybe her face will blur. I can’t cope with that possibility.

I need her in my arms and chest even if it kills me to carry her. I need her to know I’m carrying her and protecting her now. I need the memories to remain crystal clear. I can’t lose her again.

Suicide attempts take me closer to her…why won’t my body let me go, and let me be with her? I’m her mother. I’m supposed to be with her.

So I sat on the beach and cried, and held her, and felt so grateful to be there and for my friends who were further up the beach laughing. I was grateful for their laughter. I hoped that maybe she would have heard their laughter, as she was so close.

I want her so badly… and I feel like I’m hurting my dear friends by wanting her… but I don’t know what else to do… she’s my baby girl 😥 😥

So I ran away last week to a hotel and wasn’t safe. But I don’t think I was running away really. I was just running towards her. I held one of the pillows into my chest, curled up on the bed, and sobbed heavily. I feel so alone in this pain. I feel so lost without her…

Life is so short 😥 😥

I love my friends.

But I love my daughter too.

And I hurt so so much.

I don’t know what to do.

 

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2 thoughts on “I ‘ran away’ last week…but from what?! Or towards what? Towards my daughter…

  1. I have no idea what it is like to lose a child. I cannot begin to understand your pain.
    I do know what it is to want to die and not succeed. I am so sorry for your loss.
    Hugs.

  2. Music has always helped you. Perhaps you could do an album of songs about your time with her and what you remember most? Or draw some sketches of your favorite memories of her?

    I know I am not a mum. and I also know I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you’re going through. And in no way am I saying that your question of why you’re here and your daughter isn’t is not a valid one, but the way I look at it is: As much as you miss your daughter because she is not here, I believe that one of the reasons you’re still here is to give your daughter a voice. In other words, she can’t tell her story herself, but as her mother, you can. So you tell her story. Make people care about her and see that she mattered. Tell them everything you can about her. What did she like? what did she not like? What are the things that made her unique? Share that. Give your daughter a voice.

    PLEASE know that you are loved by me and so many others.

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