To his grave

April 26, 2019 It’s been 2 years since my brother acknowledged my existence. That is enough to break my heart. What REPEATEDLY breaks it is that my parents are OK with my brother’s treatment of me. HOW IS THIS OKAY?!? I currently have a blood clot on my lung and if it was to moveContinue reading “To his grave”


December 25, 2017 I had a great Christmas morning. Alun – who normally hates Christmas – was in a giddy. It was wonderful to see him so happy and even though I complained about it, it made me smile to hear Alun making songs up about Christmas. It was mostly Alun singing the word “presents”Continue reading “Ruined”

My family

July 11, 2017 Since my last phone call with my Mom where she suggested “smelling flowers” to entirely cure my depression and struggle with suicide (aargghhhhhh!!!) I’ve changed her contact details from “Mom” to “Do not answer this call until you feel better” on my phone. I’ve done the same for my Dad. “Do notContinue reading “My family”

The things we remember

January 29, 2017 I’ve read a lot of posts on FB lately about the same topic – what we choose to remember. “Do 100 things right, no one says a word, but do ONE thing wrong – and they’ll never forget it” “No one remembers all the good things you did for them – theyContinue reading “The things we remember”

The question

January 29, 2017 The question I always have when I hear that someone’s committed suicide is “Why?” I remember the first time I’d ever heard of it. I was about 14 and it was on the news. A boy about the same age as me had committed suicide. The television flashed with images of himContinue reading “The question”

memories of my Dad…and the dreaded musli bowl

March 11, 2013 Hey, There’s a random bowl of unappealing muesli on the Reception counter. It was ‘left over’ from one of the big meetings upstairs – along with a plateful of chocolate biscuits with vanilla cream in the middle. One guess which snack got entirely devoured first? Anyway, Bill and another Director from the meeting (fromContinue reading “memories of my Dad…and the dreaded musli bowl”