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A Mother's Day Post

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

I've wanted to write this post for so long and I think, with it being Mother's Day on March 26th this year, that I've timed this pretty well. This is the stuff I should say to my mum, but I don't, because I don't like sounding all soppy and ew, feelings and all that. I know that it sounds stupid given how frequently I've spoken about feelings on the internet - specifically here, on my little corner of the web - but it's just how I work, and saying nice things about anyone other than Jack to that person's face is a struggle I've had for as long as I remember. It's just not my cup of tea.

Speaking of, thanks, mum, for making me constant cups of tea even though I'm shit at returning the favour (and when I do make them, it's probably not that good a cuppa).

For being there when even the golden boy (Jack) is impossible to reach. Thanks for letting me rant, letting me run my ideas by you, and for listening even though I say the same shit over and over again.

For supporting every venture I decided to go after at a moment's notice. Whether it's trying to figure out a career; applying for college; supporting my move to change my hours on night shift; or looking (hopelessly) at how I can save for a deposit for a house worth £250k. 

For phoning the doctors for me at 8am on the dot so I can get an appointment with my consistently late but lovely doc because I don't want to see another one...

...And by that token, cheers for not pushing me too much to adult.

For all the times you've let me borrow money - from your own personal pocket money stash earned from sorting granny's garden, nonetheless. I'm grateful that I was able to keep up some sort of a social life even when I was earning pennies from being unemployed or off sick from work. 

For all the pub meals and the cocktails we've shared, and for all the random buys of pizza, knick-knacks, chocolate and lipsticks.

For giving me the most real advice I could ask for - without putting your foot in it.

For changing your meal plans to make me mac and cheese because I feel shite and just want all the carbs.

For having the right balance when it comes to money. You'll encourage me to buy £50 handbags but when money's tight, you'll remind it's best to save if I want to see the sun abroad this year.

For not moaning like fuck when I want to take a day off work every so often cos my mental health is naff. For being empathetic of everything I've been through and for having a sense of understanding about any and all mental health issues, whether it's mine or those close to me. 

For being open and welcoming to anybody that I've ever brought home. Whether it's the boyfriend and you know he's in my bad books; the newfound friends group; or the guy who couldn't make up his mind. Thanks for never getting involved in what is essentially my business, and for never treating anyone any different. 

For the endless amounts of lifts.

For understanding that yes, things with Jack can be hard, but that there is nobody I'd rather spend my future with, even when he's pissing me off, and for encouraging me in having a relationship that's nothing like my yours and dad's (it's not exactly goals to say the least). 

For being calm and level-headed during the aftermath of the assault.

For relinquishing control when you realised I'm an adult and have been through more than enough in the last seven years to qualify me to make adulty decisions even though I still hate calling the dentists.

For understanding my boundaries - there are just some things that aren't up for discussion.

For understanding me as a person - I am creative, I don't like to do things that make me unhappy, my mental health is a constant struggle and I love to add black and grey ink to my skin. These are the things that make me 'me', and nobody gets that more than you.

There is nobody, nobody that knows exactly what to cheer me up with; nobody who puts more time and effort into our relationship; nobody who understands my frame of mind, the struggles I've gone through and the fact that I've come out alive anyway; like my mum. I would genuinely be lost if she wasn't constantly in my corner, if she wasn't trying to repair the things that go wrong in my life, if she wasn't there just to talk to and get advice and opinions from. My mum has the perfect balance of telling me things I want to hear but dousing it with realness when it needs to be said. She won't sugarcoat the shit things, but she won't say stupid stuff when she knows it's unrealistic advice and won't help me at all. She is everything I need from a mother and more - she's like a best friend. 

Thanks for encouraging me to live life how I want to live it. I don't want to work full-time night shift? Then don't. I want to go on four holidays this year? Do it. I want to spend £300 on a tattoo? Absolutely. There's being sensible, and there's being overly cautious. My mum knows that it's silly to constantly save for a rainy day and never have anything to show for it, and she understands that life is about treating yourself and doing the things you want to do. Work to live, don't live to work. YOLO. All that stupid cliché stuff that I'm actually kinda totally 100% behind most of the time.

Thanks, mum, for being there through every twist and turn the world has to offer, and thanks for being you.

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