Getting me to shut up is usually a full time job, I love to talk, sing and generally make as much noise as possible. Yet when it came to starting this piece, I was lost for words.. I guess I could start by boring you with what I do for a living and by telling you how much I love life. Blah Blah Blah. But instead I am going to start with the reality of my life, and my existence as a whole.
I truly believe you are only dealt in life what you as a single person can handle. But fuck I have been dealt with some tough hands.

I had a normal upbringing with two loving parents, two brothers and a sister I now call my best friend. But I was not happy, I was not normal..
It all starts with an 11 year old Becka, a mouthy, misunderstood young girl who hated life. I did everything I could to be heard about how I was struggling and in the end what I was trying to say was heard the hard way and I ended up in The Priory in Ticehurst. I was 12. I was scared, alone and more worryingly I was suicidal. I tried multiple times to end my life, overdoses and cutting myself. But deep down, and I mean deep down; I knew I actually wanted help and I did want to live. After a 6 month stay on the young adults ward I was discharged with a diagnosis of Type 1 Bipolar. I reiterate, I was 12.

Life went on, I moved schools and got on with being an “emo” teenager (I’m sure we can all remember this fashion trend.) I still got bullied by people who were supposed to be my friends, and I still hated life. But I still knew deep down I did want to live and my time to be happy would come.. I hoped anyways..

So here I am 25 years old, managing my bipolar with medication but more honestly through sheer determination not to let this diagnosis be the better of me. And on the face of it I have everything to be happy about. A handsome, loving, understanding and funny boyfriend Ash, and a beautiful little boy Caleb. Oh and not forgetting my sassy little Shih Tzu Daisy.

But still I am struggling to see that this is my happy time. Reading this you are probably thinking what more could she want. And I’ll tell you..
I want my Dad to still be here. My first love, the man every man in my life has to live up to is gone. He died when I was 20. I remember it all so clearly. Following a heart attack in the November my dad; my hero was left with permanent, irreversible brain damage. 5 long weeks went by with the promise of rehabilitation and the hope that he would come back. But he didn’t, he passed away 26th December 2011. He was gone, my world came crashing down around me and my heart broke into a thousand pieces. Some pieces I am still trying to piece back together now.

Shortly after my Dad passed away, inevitably I suffered a severe bipolar relapse. My world around me was slowly disappearing and I had no way of getting it back. Or myself. I was lost. No one can tell you how to grieve or how to live life after someone you love dies, and I did not have a clue. To say I lost my mind would be an understatement. I would often go on drunken benders and harm myself in a multitude of ways. I restricted my food as a way to control some element of my life. And everyone around me was scared. They did not know when this was going to end, or if it would. Eventually I started responding to the doctors and the medication and I remembered I wanted to live. I wanted my happy time. You have to respond to the treatment to benefit from the treatment, this is something I would tell myself over and over imagining if Dad were still here this is what he would have said.
In the end I was okay, I was getting on with life. I finished my Law degree, Ohh yeah while all this was going on I was juggling completing my degree, which I did with a 2:1 YAY go me! But it was hard, I got myself a job in a law firm, it was alright, but it wasn’t me and I lost myself again. The benders started again and I was so close to losing everything when a wonderful miracle happened. I found out I was pregnant.
A completely unplanned ray of sunshine that blessed my world. This is what I had always wanted. Ash and I had been together for about 6 and a half years at this point and we were at a stalemate, we loved each other, my god so much but we were stuck. And without us both realising, this baby changed it all for us. Entering the world on October 7th 2016 Caleb William Munn, my darling little boy.

They are my world, my family is perfect to me and I couldn’t want more…

Except now my life has taken another turn. I have lost my Mum. Not physically, physically she is still here, although on a handful of occasions she has nearly passed away. What I mean is mentally she has gone.

(When I thought about starting this blog, I told myself I needed to be honest with you to be able to connect with you as a reader, with that being said it isn’t easy for me to write this. So bare with me and try not to judge. )
My Mum was an alcoholic. As a result of this she now has kidney failure and alcohol related dementia. When I say alcoholic, I know what you are thinking, and no she didn’t by cheap cider or beer and go and sit in a park. She functioned, every day. My beautiful Mum would go to work every day without having a drink that morning and she would go all day at work without having a drink. Then she would come home and have a few drinks. She wouldn’t get wasted and she would cook our family meal, but she needed those few drinks. My Mum had done this her whole life, granted sometimes it wouldn’t just be a few drinks it would be a few bottles. But this is what alcoholism is. This evil addiction that you don’t even realise it is taking a hold of you before it is too late. For my mum, it is too late..
So now we are left here, with a Mum who has not got long to live, maybe months, possibly a year. A mum who does not always know who I am, a Mum that in so many ways has gone, and where does that leave me.. It leaves me wondering why is life so cruel and so hard sometimes?
Don’t get me wrong when reading this, I am not trying to depress you or make you feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand me, and realise that elements of my life are hard too, and don’t always add up or make sense. I am a Mumma juggling life with bipolar and without my parents.

Not every post will be like this, I am simply setting the scene, good things have happened and will happen to me too I am just trying to be realistic in the hope that someone understands.
But one thing I always remember…

“Happiness can be found in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Being Becka x

Music is a massive part of my life, while writing this a few songs come on my playlist, the one that stuck out is Razorlight – Golden Touch