EVER TUESDAY

Mother's Day without a mum

By Charlea - Sunday, March 15, 2015

Mother's Day without a mum. Now there's a sentence I never thought I would be saying! Reality, and the trajectory of life has altered so dramatically since I wrote this post last June, that I really felt it was time for some good old fashioned writer's therapy. If you've had enough of me penning my thoughts and experiences of grief, then just look away now - your opinion isn't relevant here anyway.

Mum: it's been 10 months - can you even believe that? All that time ago last Mother's Day, I couldn't imagine myself ever being in this place. The "after" bit was just a big, fuzzy, uncertain scramble. I didn't know where I'd be, how I'd be, what I'd be doing next Mother's Day. All I knew is that I wouldn't have you around for it.

I've always tried to make Mothers Day special for you, because you made every other day of the year so special for us. Jack and I always used to make you burnt toast and soggy cereal in bed, or pick you some last minute daffodils (and ruin your flower beds in the process) to make you feel a bit special. Even when you were ill, this didn't change. I baked you pies, I made cakes, I bought you special presents - that bracelet you wore until the end; I still have my one. Mother's Day was always our thing, and I couldn't have imagined it being another way.

Until this year. My senses are heightened to the mass consumer onslaught of advertising, sales and content all centred around how we should spoil our Mums this Sunday. Even at work, I've written blog after blog urging loyal customers to splash £70 on a necklace for their Mother Hen. The pub opposite my flat is offering a Mother's Day special; even Sainsburys is in on the game with strategically placed chocolates interrupting my lunch break dash. It's everywhere, and there's no other way to put it: it's sh*t.

However it did get me thinking (now there's a miracle). Just like Christmas, and exactly like Valentine's Day - why does it all focus on the day? Why should there be this one, clear-cut moment when we're all supposed to shower our Mum in love and presents? Shouldn't we be doing this everyday? Aside from the endless meals, aside from the nappy changes and even aside from the life advice - she did push you out, which y'know was pretty painful and also a pretty big reason to your existence. Be grateful for that every day. You're the only person who knows what her heart sounds like from the inside, after all.

I can't aptly put into words the pain that twinges every now and then when I suddenly remember that I am mother-less. It's those moments, when I'm in Paperchase buying a pen and everyone else is buying a card, that I suddenly remember how different my life is now. I try to fight it as best I can, but it's always there ebbing away - waiting to surface. Subsequently, I've been absolutely dreading this Mother's Day. I'm feeling the absence of that bunch of daffodils, poorly cooked breakfast and weekend baking. I'm feeling the absence of not being able to show my appreciation to the person I love the most.

Except, it's not as absent as it sounds. For me, Mother's Day is every day. As each day goes by I remember something new about her, and I get to appreciate and be thankful for her all over again. I don't feel the pressure to show her my love on one specific day of the year; I get to do it every single day. As a wise person once said, your fingerprints will never fade from the lives you've touched. And Mum, yours are etched on my life.

This Mother's Day? I'll be writing you a message and sending it up to the sky. I hope you're there to read it. I hope I'm making you proud.

All my love forever. X

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grief

This storyboard about grief is everything

By Charlea - Wednesday, March 04, 2015

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humorous

10 phrases to leave in 2014

By Charlea - Thursday, January 08, 2015

"Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools just because they have to say something."

Nowadays, people talk a lot of sh...

No, seriously. Notice how many teenagers use words that you don't even understand anymore, or how many abbreviations, compounds and strange words have been created in recent years ("selfie", anyone?)

Well frankly, I'm annoyed - and a little confused. So it's time to give my writer's two pence, and whinge-list ten of the most disgraceful, English-offending, dismally, incomprehensible turns of phrases that I definitely think should have been left in 2014 (but probably won't...boo)

1 | "BAE" - Just when I was beginning to get used to males pet-naming me the same thing as a very tiny, very cute pig, the "b" in "babe" has suddenly become redundant. And now it's all "my bae..." this "bae did" that... JUST NO. Linguistically, I think "b" is one of the easier letters to pronounce, so let's put an end to this lazy madness (that incidentally makes everyone sound like they are trying way too hard to sound like some sort of glamourised Ali G) and bring back the B. Props to my super cute bf here, who thought "bae" was still the shortened version of "Beyonce", and was uncharacteristically confused about why memes saying things like "Waiting for Bae to text back" were meant to be funny. They're not funny, just for the record.

2 | "Weight loss secret" - You kind of have to feel sorry for people like Vicky Pattison, who after dropping from a size 16 to a 6 over mere months (super healthily, and super impressively FYI), have constantly had the media on their back, threatening to expose their "weight loss secrets". It seems like everytime one of these celebrities eats a pot of Oatso Simple, is photographed doing a squat, or dons a pair of gym leggings, it becomes their newest "weight loss secret" that is exploited and splashed across newspapers and magazines in an attempt to inspire and motivate the public's own weight-loss efforts. I'm not going to bang on about it, as I already think I've made my reasoned, researched and proven opinions on fitness, health and nutrition clear, but there IS no finite "weight loss secret", "miracle cure" or "quick fix", Just eat better and move more. Simple.

3 | "Slips into" - The Daily Mail absolutely LOVE this turn of phrase "(insert celebrity) slips into slinky minidress for night out on the town", and frankly it's absolutely ridiculous. "Slips into" conjures up images of demurely sliding one's perfectly moisturised, babysoft leg into trousers made of feathers before elegantly leaving your home. Interrupt me if this is just me, but I honestly cannot remember the last time I "slipped into" any garment - infact most of my dressing sessions involve (pick one): breathing in, hoiking, belting, hooking, adjusting, taping, and more often than not writhing around on the floor.

4 | "CRAY" - This is along the same lines as "bae", but this time the "z" in "crazy" has been made redundant, which I suppose I can sympathise slightly more with, as z is a bit of a difficult letter. That said, it would appear that people don't realise just how dumb it makes them sound to say things like "that bitch is cray". Leave it to Jay-Z, please.

5 | "Turn down for what" - It says a lot that I'm a young blooded, magazine-reading, social media surfing 21-year-old, and I don't even know what this means. End of.

6 | "Conscious uncoupling" - When Gwynnie and Chris Martin decided to use this phrase to glamourise their divorce and make it seem like a mere natural, friendly, mutual, magical, soft, gentle, delicate end to a longterm marriage, most of the world vommed in disgust and hated Chris Martin even more (sorry, personal vendetta shining through). But seriously, for the love of god - what is wrong with just getting straight to the point: "WE'RE DIVORCING" ?!?! Brb, just going to consciously uncouple with the blanket currently around my shoulders.

7 | "...-porn" - E.g. "food-porn". Although this was mildly acceptable initially, its overuse and application to too many different words has lead to the burning questions: Who wants to associate porn with food for goodness' sake?! Who wants to associate porn with anything other than porn?!

8 | "#nofilter" - A popular one on Instagram, and basically a pretty person's way of saying "Oh em gee look at how sexy I am I don't even need to use Amaro to make me look better". I really don't care if you used a filter or not to achieve "selfie" perfection. By pointing this out, you just look like a bit of a vain idiot.

9 | "Sorry not sorry" - Admittedly, I actually use this one myself more than I should. But again, the 2014 evolution of "I don't care" begs the simple point: JUST SAY YOU AREN'T SORRY.

10 | "Selfie" - Unfortunately selfies are here to stay, and I bet you use the word almost daily (I know I do). Despite that, giving a special word to taking a picture of yourself is still allowed to be annoying, it really is.

- - -

If you have further suggestions to my list, please do not hesitate to vent your linguistic anger in the comments beneath. Until then, feel the wrath of this very unamused pug.

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13 times Beyonce's 7/11 video proved she's cooler than you

By Charlea - Friday, December 19, 2014

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my life

The smart girl's guide to the grieving process

By Charlea - Friday, October 17, 2014

It's been a bad week.

On Monday evening, I found myself subsiding into an unstoppable tear shower. This was a partial product of my rotten cold, spending the entire day alone in my flat applying for jobs, and tiredness following a particularly gruelling workout session. However, upon further reflection, it appeared that my sudden, unexpected and irrational outburst of tears and whingeing could be yet another wave of grief passing over my heavy heart.

This really made me think. It's been four months since my mum passed away, and a lot has happened in that time: I've finished and got my degree (2:1 booyeah), moved to London to try and launch my career, and less importantly, learned how to make a healthy cauliflower crust pizza (obv an essential recipe). Surely I should be so busy with all the new that I don't have time to think and mourn any more? Hadn't I done by grieving by now, in summer's tangle of funeral preparations, time at home with my family, and Mum's birthday celebrations? Surely four months on, I should be okay?

And that's where this blog post comes in. I don't know how many people reading this have experienced the loss of a close family member or friend, but I thought it was about time I shared my personal journey in order to help others see - you are NOT alone, and you are NOT weird because you feel a certain way.

My beautiful Mummy, Helen Louise Glanville

And thus comes the first and most important rule of grief...

1. Feel it all

I've been told that it's completely and utterly normal to be more up and down than the weather in England's summer, but still there is some stigma of it being "weird" to have soaring and dipping emotions. Newsflash, it's not weird. If you feel like crying, cry until you feel a little lighter and relieved of pent-up emotion. If you want to laugh, laugh like a mad person. Never feel crazy for acting or being exactly how you feel like being. And also never feel guilty to your departed for being happy after their death. In the first few weeks, I would often feel guilty for laughing and enjoying myself with friends - as there's another stigma there of "well shouldn't she be an emotional wreck all the time because she's just lost her mum?" The reality here is that as much as you wish it wouldn't, life has to go on, and the chances are that your loved one would want to see you happy. Releasing every emotion - no matter what kind - is one of the crucial steps to healing. Opinions be damned; do and feel EVERYTHING.

2. Retail therapy

OK so retail therapy is probably only my medicine of choice, but the point here is how important it is to look after yourself. I find happiness in new clothes that make me feel confident and look nice (I'm a total fashion victim, I admit it), and so in the wake of my Mum's passing I would often go on crazy spending sprees for new garments. A lot of family and friends would worry about this, but the motivation behind doing so is so crucial. In a time when I was sad and heavy much of the time, the arrival of a nice dress would give me an instant pickmeup and a little drop of happiness. Moreso when I wore said new dress to a social occasion and was showered with positive comments. Similarly, I had my hair lightened to try out a new look. This was all part of my medicine, giving me droplets of joy every now and then, and that is crucial. To me, feeling good on the outside helped to bring some feelgood to the inside. So go wild. Buy yourself that new book, redecorate your bedroom, get a manicure, have a bath every day - do whatever you want. It's finally time to think about you, so just do it. (NB probably good to have some spending budget - after all, debt and grief is just not cool)

3. Talk

I don't do this (or probably any of my own suggestions to be honest) enough, and it really is important. TALK. To anyone who will kindly lend their ears, time and tiredness to your droning. "They're only really gone once you stop talking about them" - so talk about them as much as you want to. In my experience, this also makes it feel as if your lost one is still with you somewhere...

4. Denial

This is hard to write, as this has been one of the worst parts of my grief. For a long time I was in denial that Mum had actually gone. This was partially because unfortunately I was not present at the moment of death, and also because I went back to uni too soon after her passing. It did not sink in, and inevitably this came crashing down around me. I moved back home in the summer, expecting her to be there sat in her chair for a hug, and she wasn't. It's too difficult to describe how this made me feel, but it also taught me that denial is not a good coping mechanism. As sad and horrible as it is, you have to accept the loss in practical terms. Although it's comforting, not much good can come in the long run from pretending someone is still there when they aren't. Don't set yourself up for this fall like I did.

5. Snail pace

Take all the time you need. If you don't feel ready for life - be it a job, returning to school or moving house, don't do it yet. There's no rules, no set structure as to how you're meant to feel and when. Nor should there be. This is vital to me, four months in to my journey and feeling I should be more "over it" than I am. Absolutely not - I should be as "over it" as I want to feel. Again, there should be no stigma of guilt attached to mourning - be it a week or a year after the loss of your loved one - and if anyone reading this carries this prerequisite attitude, I suggest they erase it immediately. The biggest thing I have learned through my journey so far is how personal grief is. My dad, siblings and I all lost the same person, but we have all had very different experiences and emotions, and that is what sets our grief apart from each other. If you are on the other side of someone's grieving, let them move at their own pace. Do not force them into feeling more "ready" for things than they perhaps do. Similarly, don't make them feel guilty should they immediately feel ready to move on.

- - -

Of course, there's so many other parts to grief than what I've described, but I hope the above points can help at least one person realise that they aren't alone in this, EVER. Take it from me - you're doing great.

For more information, try visiting http://www.cruse.org.uk/ where you can even arrange to speak with a bereavement counsellor to guide you through the process.

PS. I love you Mummy, and I miss you more every single day. X

henry scott holland - death is nothing at all

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my life

Goodbye, Mummy

By Charlea - Friday, June 27, 2014

On the 7th June 2014, my beloved Mummy - Helen Louise Glanville - lost her fight with lung cancer after a long and courageous two year battle.

My Mum's disease has dominated most of my university life, and hence a lot of my growing up too. In between lectures, deadlines, partying and a "normal" student life, I was having to cope with chemotherapy sessions, prescriptions, ever-frequent trips home and trying to be strong for my family. At points I was going home every two weeks just to spend time with her. Remarkably, throughout this entire time, my Mum always put her children and family first. It almost angered her that I would spend so much time away from uni to be with her, and all she wanted was for me to do the best I could with my life and make her proud.

From diagnosis, we always knew Mum was terminal, but no one can ever give an accurate prognosis, and henceforth I almost tricked myself into thinking she was going to get better and that it wasn't really happening. She didn't. Time dragged, things slowly declined, and then the end came all at one - a two week horror story in a hospice that snatched my beautiful mum away from me and finished at 3:30pm on the 7th June.

Words can't describe how it feels to lose your mum, and above all how this feels at 21 years old. There are so many things I miss about her every single day. I miss being able to ask her for advice about my laundry, I miss hearing her comforting words on the end of the phone, I miss her cuddles, I miss the rare but beautiful sound of her jokes and laughter. My heart hurts a bit more every day knowing that there is so much of my life my Mummy will not be able to share with me - marriage, children and in my case, even my graduation ceremony next year.

However, I am blessed in a million different ways to have even had her at all - despite her life being cut short so cruelly. My Mum was put on earth to have children, and she loved all four of hers with unfaltering devotion and care. You could never push her away (believe me, 15 year old me had tried!); she would never leave your side. She would do anything for her family, from attending the most pointless piano recitals and poetry readings to driving miles in the middle of the night to pick you up from a party - all to make sure her baby got home safely. She was always more concerned about everyone else's needs than her own - a quality that remained prevalent and forceful even during her cancer, treatment and last days. I will never forget visiting her in her last week at the hospice, holding her hand and telling her about the first class grade I had just received for one of my university assignments. She was weak, tired and reasonably uncommunicative but even in that moment she managed to squeeze my hand and say "Excellent, darling". In her last days, she still told me she loved me every single day, and smiled at me whenever she saw me. She was, and will always be, the best mummy ever.

Now she is gone, there are no words to aptly describe the pain I feel. As well as a Mummy, I've lost my best friend and a sacred mother-daughter bond that brought us so close - amazingly even closer over the last two years of her life. Although my entire family has had two years to come to terms with everything and begin the grieving process, nothing can ever prepare you for when it actually happens. Grieving is a laborious and long process and the only thing that can possibly cure grief is to grieve. The worst part of the whole thing is you start the process again, each day; each day you wake you start grieving all over again.

There is a huge hole in my heart, but a hole that now means I carry her around with me all the time. I hear her voice telling me what to do when I'm cooking; I hear her disapproval when I'm getting my hair cut even shorter; I feel her hand still holding mine when I'm crying. I see signs all the time now that she's still here, somewhere..somehow. My Mum is not a physical being any more, but I am lucky enough to know I carry her in my heart and soul forever, and always will.

Cancer has taken so many things from me. It's taken a lot of my energy, it's taken a normal family life away, it almost took my degree and it took the woman who put me on earth and raised me so lovingly. However, there's things cancer can NEVER take from me: her spirit, her wisdom, her words and her love. And cancer cannot cripple my hope and ambition to live the duration of my own life making my mum so proud of me.

Sleep tight Mummy. I'll miss you forever, and love you even longer.

X X X

I am currently fundraising for St Margaret's Hospice, where Mum spent the last 10 days of her life in such amazing care: https://www.justgiving.com/Charlea-Glanville2/

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Mother's Day without a mum

This storyboard about grief is everything

10 phrases to leave in 2014

13 times Beyonce's 7/11 video proved she's cooler than you

The smart girl's guide to the grieving process

Goodbye, Mummy

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