Loss Of a Parent (In Memory Of My Dad)

My dad was the strength that kept me going, and that was true even when he was alive and I was oblivious to it.

The photo above shows a picture me and my sister took on the last Christmas we shared with Dad- ‘the best wrappers in town’ being a reference to the fact that we are in fact, two of the worst Christmas present wrappers in town. Tiny detail you might have missed, but now you know.

Perhaps the presents would have been more memorable and extravagant if we’d have known it was the last one we’d ever have with him.

Perhaps we’d have spoke to him more often, besides on an iMessage group chat.

I know many of my family members have more to feel guilty about than I do when it comes to Dad, but when you lose someone, you pick at stupid little details that no one else cares about and dwell on it, like missed phone calls and ‘what ifs.’

Fucking what ifs.

He lived in a snowy place, which excited us stupid little kids no end. Sledging and throwing ice cold mounds of snow at each other (and sometimes random strangers passing by because we were evil like that) weren’t uncommon activities. As we all got older, well, not so much.

Not my photos, Dad sent them to a group chat and I found them a year later.

They have such good weather where he lived- snow in winter, sunny and hot in summer, perfect balance, you know? Also we lived on a new estate built right near 2 supermarkets and KFC and Maccys so just a bonus.

Fuck, I haven’t seen that place in a year now. I remember the streets like it was yesterday, I could give you specific directions on how to get to places we frequently visited.

Little version of me, washing one of Dad’s many cars over the years. Shot years and years ago, surprised it’s not visibly blurry, so blurred you can’t see me. Most cameras probably were. He owned a hell of a lot of cars, each time saying ‘I’m not getting a new car this time ‘ only to surprise us with yet again, another new car. The grey one in the snow photo is the one he stuck with, because it was heavy enough to pull our caravan. He loved taking us out in the caravan, usually to the Lake District, but other places were visited too.

Holy shit, this was all so long ago.

I’ve had so many dreams where Dad would just turn up at the house, to pick us up, like he did every Friday. Acting normally. And while I was dreaming, all that was going through my head was ‘Dad’s alive. It didn’t happen. Nothing happened. Dad’s alive.

Then I’d wake up and as my vision cleared, I saw that it was back to normal. Normal. Dad was still dead.

People say those dreams where you’re falling then you wake up before you hit the ground are bad, but these dreams, that i unofficially named ‘Dads Alive Dreams’ are far worse. Because instead of waking up and feeling relieved, you wake up disappointed.

That’s what’s at the base of it all.

The disappointment.

A pit feeling in the bottom of my heart that I let everyone down. That I let Dad down.

There was so many things Dad could have done with his life. He wasn’t old, he was young for being a Dad of 2 kids, and he was healthy. It was so unexpected, one day he’s alive and he’s picking us up on Friday to celebrate Father’s Day, next it’s Saturday and he’s not with us anymore.

It really is something else when it happens so suddenly.

There was nothing I could do to sto it, because I wasn’t there.

I wasn’t there.

I wasn’t there.

I should have been, but I wasn’t.

You can’t shove a price tag on life. Especially the life of a loved one, someone you held in your heart all your life then they disappear and leave a hole in your heart that can never be filled.

I wish I could see him again. I don’t believe in wishing on anything, because it’s not real, I’m old enough to know. But every star, every time it’s 11:11, every dumb childhood way of wishing you can think of, I silently say ‘I wish to see my Dad again.”

It’ll never come true.

I’ll never see him again.

Everything felt so normal.

It was a regular weekend. I’d gone shopping with my sister, we’d been happy. While our Dad was dying. While our Dad was dead.

Writing a blog post isn’t going to bring him back to life, I know that.

I think what hit me the most is that it wasn’t just for now. Its forever. He’s never going to be part of my life again. For the rest of my life, I have no father figure at all. As I grow up, he won’t be there to see it. My dad was the strength that kept me going, and that was true even when he was alive and I was oblivious to it. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate him when he was alive but I only realised what I had when it was gone. Too late for a last message or last phone call, we couldn’t even have that last weekend.

Not even a last weekend.

Posted in Life, personal

Body Confidence and Why I Probably Lack It

“I don’t make a big deal out of it 24/7, but I’m not too closed off about not being happy with myself. It’s not something I make a huge effort to deny, either.

Whether you’re skinny or slightly more on the chubby side, everyone pretty much has this issue at some stage. It annoys me a lot when I see cover models who are absolutely perfect say ‘oh I’m so fat LOL’ for attention, because you’re not and you know this. People who do that soak up all the comments from naïve people saying like, ‘no you’re not you have a great body’ and shit and I feel like if I saw that I’d just be like ‘Yeah you really are.’

I’ve recently been thinking I’m too fat for my age, which is ironic because I always used to think I’m too skinny.

I still do, if that makes any sense at all.

My arms are too skinny and my middle is too fat. Do I lose weight, do I gain weight, I don’t know! I’ve never been a fan of ‘health foods’, you know all the fat free yoghurts with the fruit bits in it, and all the vegetables, and the actual grossness that is brussel goddamn sprouts (they no joke taste like leaves, nothing else, just soft leaves) so I stick to food I enjoy.

The issue with food I enjoy is that it’s normally unhealthy, making my middle and my legs look more fat while my arms be stayin as matchsticks.

Great.

I’m actually pretty open about not liking myself. I don’t make a big deal out of it 24/7, but I’m not too closed off about not being happy with myself. It’s not something I make a huge effort to deny, either. Most of my friends can relate, honestly, and it’s nice to share those ‘I have crippling depression and I hate life and I wanna die’ jokes, even though to some people it could be concerning, but it’s just relatable to us.

If I could end this any way, it would be- don’t think you aren’t good enough, because the people who tell you that aren’t either. One girl called my friend fat, and while she is a bit chubby, the girl who said it is HUGE. Literally. I know you shouldn’t body shame people, but maybe her ego was too big to fit in a normal weight body so now she’s just really fat. To anyone who complains that I’m ‘body shaming,’ she did it to someone else, talk about kettle calling the pan black.

If you enjoyed this, like and feel free to follow, I’m a bit new here.

See ya next time.

~Mia xxx

Posted in Life, personal, Studying

Don’t You Just Hate it..

I just kinda winged it. I revised for like, an hour, in a whole 2 month preparation period, surrendering my ‘studying time’ to the call of Netflix.

hey. long time no see, haven’t been on this site in a while.

Truthfully it’s because I’ve been too busy with YouTube and life stuff and the fucking revision my school insist on ramming down my neck- but you know, I’m okay with it. To be honest, I don’t know what to write here. I didn’t want to launch into random crap when I haven’t even done a first post yet, or introduced myself or done anything remotely related to blogging in the past 2 years, so here we have this.

I had a blog, which is now deleted, talking about random stuff that happened in my life (that was around the period of August, 2016/17) and it was way more light spirited and innocent than this one may end up being. I wrote about stuff like my family trip to Portugal and my random antics with my weirdo friends, and I now wish I had that to look back on (and laugh at my extremely poor and inexperienced writing skills) and I’m kicking myself for deleting the site.

Imma try and be more positive now.

I got some really annoying exams casting a dark shadow over everything looming closer and closer until- oh shiz it’s here. Last time, with the end-of-years, I just kinda winged it. I revised for like, an hour, in a whole 2 month preparation period, surrendering my ‘studying time’ to the call of Netflix. I’m still to this day not sorry for that because I did okay anyway, not the most flattering results but nothing absolutely shockingly horrendous. See, I’ve grown. I can use thesaurus.com for at least 10 minutes now. (Look at me go, are you proud of me mother?)

I say screw people who say studying online isn’t “real studying.” Barely anything you do is considered “real studying” alright, cut us 2019 tech obsessed little freaks some slack. It’s not a “lazy way,” it’s an easier way that is better suited to people who don’t want to pull all nighters staring at a book. Why do they think these tools are created? For students to prat about? Stupid.

My desk is always an absolute mess, pens, random pieces of paper normally covered in ink from a stray leaky pen, sketchpads and things I don’t use- and of course that one cup of coffee is always chilling somewhere around the desk. I work sitting on the bed (if I do any work at all on that day) because my desk is pretty much a biohazard to any laptop that dares to be placed on it. Gotta hate that studying, amiright?