Story Sampler : "Stories of WE"

Thursday, 17th of August 5:20pm

Hey guys! So a short while ago I began writing an autobiography that is loosely based around my own life and my life events, and I was thinking that you guys could be my critics! [If you're someone I mentioned loosely in this story, pretend you didn't see it x]

Enjoy and leave your thoughts below!

TW: Swearing, Mention of Mental Health

Chapter 1:

The sun splatters through the window, creeping its way further and further over my shoulder until it shakes me awake. The warmth of the sun radiates through my body like a comforting hug. Those first few moments of every morning are always the softest; the slow rise, the slow regathering, the slow recollection. Almost like awakening from the comfiest of clouds. Much like the feeling, clouded thoughts also fill my head as I rub my eyes proactively. A smile forms at the corner of my lips as I roll over subconsciously. I reach out a longing hand, in search of a chest to meet it; Only, I’m a single mum and haven’t had a single partner since forever ago.

“Ughh!”

I exhale in realisation. Cloudy, see? Sleep is like another dimension, another altered reality. Almost like a drug. The feeling of everything being right there; right where you want it. It sets you free, in hope of a better life. That is until it’s broken. Like most things in life, good things are usually temporary, so don’t get too comfortable sweetheart. Something I used to tell myself when shit would get hard. I just stopped questioning it at some point, and that made me a hell of a lot stronger.

On que, Blair starts crying instantaneously. I contemplate leaving her to cry it out, she’ll get over it, right? She pauses, I swallow my breath in hope that she’ll stop. Just as quickly as she stopped, she riles right back up again.

“Oh for gods sake!” I fumble to myself.

As much as I love Blair, those peaceful mornings are not so peaceful anymore. I ruffle my hair, almost as scruffy as the sheets that lay beneath me. I stretch every goddamn bone in my body, preparing for the long day ahead. My feet lead the way to Blair’s cot, used to the familiarity of my altered morning routine. As tireless as motherhood is, I consider Blair to be my sole purpose in life, the reason I was put on this earth; well, that and my job I suppose. God, if the 6 years of study wasn’t worth something, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve always dreamt of being a psychologist, to give others the life I always wish I could’ve had myself. I know, it’s cliché. Psychology just gave me a purpose, a reason to live and hope for the next day and those to follow. Knowing that one day I’d be able to fulfill and touch so many lives gave me that kick up the ass when life got difficult. And now, as shit as life still is, I’m living out that dream each and every day. Well fucking done mini me.

Back to my other (technically) mini me; Blair is my pride and joy, despite her father being an absolute asshole (don’t worry, I have plenty of stories.) Luckily, she looks just like her mama, beautiful brown locks (even though there’s only 3 as of now but still) crystal eyes, clearer than that of the ocean, and the most pleasant smile. Her smile, no matter what kind of day I’m having, will always mimic itself on me. I thank god every day for putting her on this earth with me. Well, not that I’m sure there is a god; definitely that there is an upper power of some sort. Otherwise, shit wouldn’t work the way it does, right? I think about that often, about the experiences and memories and déjà vu that we endure, day after day. Why everything occurs in the pattern that it does. Too many things are too precise, for someone not to be controlling this crazy game of life. I chuckle to myself, imagining someone up there, playing a leisurely game of pac-man with me and all the curveballs in my life.

I stumble into my daughter’s ambient room; of course she’s sitting there, throwing her arms and legs around like an octopus. Here we go again.

“Shh baby it’s okay sweetie, mummy’s here now!” I tuck her little locks behind her little ears. Her demeanour begins to relax, as I continue to comfort her. That’s another thing I’m always amazed by. As much as Blair helps me, I help her just as much. It doesn’t matter who tries to comfort her, it will never work as well as a mother’s touch. I love that feeling of connectedness, to something in my life that relies on me as much as I rely on her. I never understood that super power that mums somehow have over us, until I became one. Mums are the most super superheroes of all. I recall my mum, even when we’d fight, call each other names, disagree over everything, after everything was falling down in my life, the only one that could bring me back to life was her. I hope she’s proud of me for giving Blair the love she gave me when I was little. Blair falls back to sleep, and I breathe a sigh of relief, for now I can return to the bliss of my bedsheets. Before I leave, I stop and admire the beautiful nursery I have created for her. Rainbow[LPL((1] lines surround the back wall, little clouds on either end. The walls lined with pictures of us, pictures of Blairs favourite places and favourite colours. It makes me so incredibly proud, to see the life that I have created for her. With the rustle and bustle of life, it’s easy to forget the little things in life, and sometimes even the big ones too. It’s important to appreciate everything we have in the very present moment; is what my mum used to say to me always, and something I carry with me to this very day. I can almost hear her sounding it out to me over the dinner table, her calming nature echoing through her words. Mums are something else.

As proud as I am of myself for making it out here in this cruel world with nothing but me and my gorgeous baby, I can’t help in these moments reflecting on the past that has come before this. Another reason I think the whole universe is being played like a stupid arcade game. Why, at the happiest of moments, are we reminded of ALL the loss that came before this? On my wedding day, seeing that one empty seat, a seat that should’ve been filled by nobody but my godforsaken father. On the supposed “happiest day of my life” Why was it that I was reminded of the loss that I felt so deeply at that very moment? Did the game master just hit the “do not touch” button or some shit?

Doesn’t matter anyway, since my husband left along with my father and everyone before him.

Fuck. I did it again, didn’t I. Typical Kat move. My mum used to say (in her moments of disparity) that I’d tend to do this thing where I’d suck every positive energy in the room with the power of a few sentences. She used to call me the “soul sucker,” as I’d quite literally not be able to talk about anything invigorating, interesting or positive, without being able to shut it down with a remark. I thought about that a lot growing up, in every social situation after that night, I made a conscious effort to try and make people happy, to make people laugh, and to never shut down anybody’s light.

It was only a matter of time before that became clouded too.

Just a few more steps til I’m back in the comfort of my own bed. Clumsily, I slip over a stupidly placed (by me) slipper and fall in an exhausted heap onto my beige bed sheets. As if my fall couldn’t have been any more uncoordinated, my sun painting falls on-top of me like the cherry on the fucking cake. I throw a few rage-filled punches into my pillow before drifting back off into my pleasant abyss.

I sometimes feel, that despite my progress in life, it often feels as though it is not real. Like my life is a dream that I could wake up from at any point.

I suppose I’ll embrace it while I’m here, high up on cloud fucking 9.

Chapter 2:

Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. The overwhelming pile of dishes from the last eternity are drowning me, engulfing me in the pleasant reminder that I am heavily depressed. Ironic right, a psychologist who hasn’t even resolved her own issues yet. Some people might be quick to call me lazy, but I would beg to differ. I believe that depression presents itself in many different ways in people. For me, its procrastinating everything and anything. Including washing up, doing any kind of housework, sometimes even just basic things such as washing my body and face and even eating. Depression instantaneously sucks away at your ability to do anything effectively at all.

Soul sucking piece of shit.

END OF STORY [SO FAR]

-Thanks for reading guys and stay tuned for new posts weekly!

Poppy - The Poppy Field