‘Cause I am the one, I rule my world
Nobody rule my destiny
‘Cause you are the one, you rule your world
No bad man own your destiny

It is so easy to forget that you are in control of your own life, your own actions, your own destiny. Don’t panic, I’m nowhere near having another relapse. That’s not where I’m going with this post..

I am currently awaiting occupational health clearance for university. This involves them obtaining a report from my GP / specialist (Community Mental Health Team.) This is fine. Except the over anxious, worrier inside my head is telling me to panic!

What an asshole anxiety is. Why oh why does anxiety even exist?!?! Who knows, all I do know is I have to learn to manage my anxiety. Every part of my brain is telling me that this is the last hurdle for me following my dreams and I am going to fall at it. They are going to tell me because I have Bipolar I cannot do the course. This of course, probably, maybe, definitely will not happen. Well I hope not anyway. My way of coping right now is to put this thought in a box in my brain and tuck it away. The OH team said it can take 4-6 weeks to obtain the report from my doctors. So what can I do. Panic and worry myself sick for the next month? Probably. NO BECKA!! I can’t. Lets be realistic here, I cannot and will not let this get the better of me. If I did, I would just be proving that I can’t cope with pressure and I can’t manage my illness, which I have been preaching I can do?

Of course, I am going to have wobbles and worries. Life isn’t plain sailing. Lets take Friday just gone for example. I was in Stratford, London, seeing Beyoncé and Jay Z. WOW they were amazing!

Then the last song, they played Forever Young the Mr Hudson and Jay Z version. Not even the Rod Stewart version I associate with my Mum and Dad. Yet it still reduced me to tears. Okay, I was about 8 beers in at this point and we all know alcohol can be a trigger for me. But still. I was an emotional wreck. Then I calmed down and it was all fine…

Then when we were walking back from the stadium, there were literally thousands of people all heading the same direction, all just trying to get home and there I was sat on the floor having a panic attack. I wouldn’t say a massive one, it was over and done in about 15 minutes but I still now remember the fear I felt. That in the pit of your stomach fear that you can’t control because you don’t even know where it’s coming from or what has caused it. Fucking horrible. Thank god I had my sister with me. Obviously, she managed to calm me down along with one lovely security guard called Jamie who talked me into a good place. We then waited for the crowds to calm down and I got on a train and went back to my sisters. Well not before we stopped at a kebab shop for sausage and chips lol. I woke up the next day with a sore head but I was fine. No lasting impact, other than embarrassment for it even happening.

Saturday morning, I had two choices. I could dwell on the panic attack and emotional outburst or I could remember how much fun I had and how very normal it is to have a panic attack and get emotional at songs that remind us of loved ones. The latter is what I chose to go with. Be my own best friend.

I mean after all. You can’t go through life dwelling on every bad thing that happens. Well, that is what I am starting to learn anyways. Trying to learn.

I don’t mean that we can’t have bad days and we all have to be this happy ray of sunshine. What I mean is we cannot let bad days consume our existence. We must all be kinder to ourselves. We must all be kinder to one another.
We have to take each day as it comes and hold on to the happiness, the positives and the love.

What I am about to talk about is hard to write and maybe hard for you to read. But it is a great example for me that I can get through just about anything. It is a sad truth, but it is one that has changed my life forever. I will never get over the pain and sadness, but I cannot and will not dwell on it.
I will remember and smile, even through the tears.

Sunday was Father’s Day, which is always a tough one for me. I am conscious that I have spoke about my Mum a lot but I never really speak about my Dad, at least not on here too much.

Sunday was hard for many reasons. It was almost bitter sweet. I was happy to celebrate Ash being Caleb’s amazing Dad. But I was sad I wasn’t even able to ring and speak to my amazing Dad. I’ll never be able to speak to my Dad again.  Sunday was hard because it was one of the reminder days that my Dad has died. Realistically, Sundays are no different from a Tuesday or a Thursday or any other day. But this Sunday was a little bit harder.
This isn’t me dwelling. This is me simply saying it how it is and just because I’m preaching about how we shouldn’t dwell on the bad. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about the things that are getting us down, that is quite obviously good for us. No one should ever feel that they can’t talk about how they are feeling, good or bad!

That’s why for the first time on here, I am properly going to tell you what happened with my wonderful Dad.

It was late November, I had been in the garden and bought a conifer tree to plant. I remember it so clearly. It was dinner time and my little brother, Sam phoned me. Which at the time was weird; he never called me. I answered and he was hysterical. I had never heard my brother like this before, and from that day I have never heard him like it again.

He was shouting at me that Dad was having a heart attack. I could hear in the background someone struggling to breath, I knew it was my Dad but I didn’t want to acknowledge this at the time. My Mum was screaming “Someone help him”
These words will haunt me forever.
I rung my sister and told her what was going on. Dad was having a heart attack. Then I hysterically waited about 45 minutes, until my brother called me again and said the paramedics had revived Dad, but it still wasn’t looking good. Dad had been down for 38 minutes and brain activity was a concern now. He was rushed into hospital and had a stent put in to open up his arteries. Now it was a waiting game.

My Dad has always been and always will be my first love. The man I will always look up to and listen to. This man was amazing. I will never forget his jokes and his sense of humour. He would try with everyone and give everyone he met the time of day. A kind, loving man that was taken too soon. As I’m sure you can guess from what I have just said, my Dad didn’t make it.

It was the longest five weeks of my life. After the operation and once all life support had been reduced, Dad was left with severe brain damage. He was in a vegetative state or as they called it a partially conscious coma. Basically meaning there was little to no response from Dad. Although, still to this day I know he was there. I was reading a book to him one afternoon and I stopped for a minute or so and my Dad moved his eyes to me as if to say please don’t stop.

Maybe wishful thinking, but still, I will keep that moment with me forever.

The days came and went, the weeks passed and then it was Christmas. We spent Christmas morning in the hospital with my Dad. Laughing and joking amongst ourselves. My nephew Ashton cuddling his Grandad. What a moment that was.
Little did I know, this would be the last time I would see my Dad alive.

This guy, Steve Parkes, my Dad was a wonderful person. He loved animals as you can see above he loved Archie so much. They were obviously best friends. Archie would wait on a Friday evening for my Dad to come home from a week away with work. Poor Archie never got over losing my Dad, he had to be put down just 6 months after Dad passed away.
Don’t get me wrong, my Dad could be the grumpiest sod ever, and heaven forbid you EVER asked him for a lift somewhere. That would be a big no, “You have legs, now use them and walk.” He would get on my nerves so much sometimes, always having control of the TV remote, even when he was asleep. We would go to get the remote and change the channel and then BAM he was awake. It would have been fine, but the programs were always about the Wars or old planes or the armed forces.
(All subjects, me and my family are all quite knowledgeable in now.) But I loved him, with all my heart. The laugh he brought out of me was something else. The cuddles he would give me were the most comforting. The advice he gave me was always so carefully worded and honest.

Steve Parkes, my Dad was and always will be one of the good guys. I miss him.

 

It was boxing day 2011, we had all agreed we wouldn’t go and see Dad today; to give him and us a break. Just for one day. It was just after 7pm. The house phone rang. It was the hospital. They told us that Dad wasn’t doing so well and we needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible.
Everyone left, me and Ash were last to leave the house. Just as we left, the house phone rang again. I couldn’t not answer it. Deep down I knew what was coming. The nurse asked to speak to my Mum, as she herself was crying.
The nurses had grown fond of my Dad after hearing all the stories we would tell them and just how wonderful he was. I guess even still for them it is hard to lose a patient.
The nurse couldn’t tell me anything as my Mum was Dads next of kin. But I knew and I said it.
“He’s dead isn’t he, he’s gone, just tell me.”
All she said to me was you need to prepare your family and get here as soon as possible.
So I called my sister. This burden on me that I was going to have to tell my family that Dad had passed away.

I was heart broken. I remember running into the room and the nurse just holding me and I begged her to tell me it wasn’t true and he hadn’t gone.

He looked so peaceful. Finally at rest. There was a grace about his face.
He just looked like he was asleep.

The days, then the weeks passed by. All without my Dad. He was truly gone. We said our goodbye to him on 13th January 2012. It was a party. There were hundreds of people. Our family far and wide came, Dads army family were there, his work family old and new. Everyone was there to celebrate my Dad. I will never forget the stories and the smiles through the tears. No one had a bad word to say. Even to this day I have his friends on Facebook always checking in to see we are all doing well. Cheering us on to succeed. Truly amazing people.

I’m not telling you this truth to make you feel sad, although you might do. I do not want you to feel sorry for me. What I would like is for you to see that even on your worst days you can try and maybe even smile. My Dads funeral was one of the hardest days of my life, so far. Having to leave him knowing I will never see him again, alive or dead. But I pushed through. Every day you have to push through. You have to fight your demons. I know you can, because no matter what you think; you are strong and you deserve to smile.
We all  have to remember we are worth everything and more.

“To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.”
Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone
“Always”
Severus Snape, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

My Dad loved music just as much as I do. There are too many songs we both loved, but to name a few, I start with Brooke Fraser – Something In The Water. This will forever remind me of my Dad, how he would happily whistle along to this song. Another one is Fleetwood Mac – Tusk and Fleetwood Mac – Everywhere. Again, my Dad would whistle along and dance away to these songs. Truly happy, perfect memories.