Now is time…… Take Control!


My name is Kelly Harris, I am 34 years old and I write blogs for my own ‘therapy’ and ‘self help’… Below is a blog that I wrote a while ago, I wasn’t in a happy place and if I’m honest I really wasn’t sure I was going to post it! I wasn’t sure I was ready to be criticized, questioned or commented on…but now, I think the time is right! My blogs have helped others before and if they can do it again then that is a good enough reason alone to post it.

I can do this now because I am on the other side of this piece of writing, I have gained control of my life again, my family is back together and the future is bright!! Well… it is brighter than it was, I still have a long journey ahead but hey, on a serious note, the rest of the journey will be like a walk in the park on a sunny day, drinking lashings of ginger beer!!!…. So read on….

I don’t like the term alcoholic, because straight away, in true form we all create a minds eye impression of a stereotypical character, unwashed, unkept, smelling of urine, gulping ‘Special Brew’ from a can hidden in a brown paper bag!! A person drowning their sorrows, and nursing their woes, self medicating with a bottle of something cheap and nasty because they haven’t got the luxury of a “champagne salary”

I know this is a very judgemental, and a very naive and blinkered way of looking at life from one perspective.  Of course there are people that fit this description. But if we took the time to scrape away at that image, peel away at some of those layers that make a person, you may find that the ‘unkept tramp’ thats smells of urine and has remnants of greasy chip shop chips hidden in his beard, did once earn a spectacular salary that was worthy of a Ferrari, Rolex watch, and a Penthouse in the city. That he was once, and still could be a handsome man with designer stubble and not a face full of fluff which is more appropriate for nesting birds!

So, what led this stereotypical image to the bench in the park in all weathers? Scrape a little more at the surface and through tragedy he loses his wife in traumatic circumstances, loses the ability to cope with his two young children, loses his job, gradually his amazing life has disintegrated and fallen through his hands faster than quicksand. He now sits on a bench searching for answers in the bottom of a bottle… why? Because everyone who knew him always assumed that he would be OK, because until now he always was… he was the friend that was “leaned on” in times of need, not the friend that needed the shoulder to be lent, he was the brother that gave the great advice and was looked up to, not the one asking for help and direction, he was the man, that in his eyes and the eyes of others, had EVERYTHING! All his life HE GOT ON WITH IT, and not only did he do this successfully but he excelled in pretty much everything he did. So people turned away when he began to struggle, when things went wrong no one asked if they could help, because they wrongly assumed that… HE WOULD BE OK!!

Scrape away a little more, and you could have me…an independent, confident woman of three children, a good job, a fun loving wife, a five bedroomed house in a tree lined street, fantastically shamazing friends and family, successfully juggling motherhood, career, and family, better than a clown in a circus juggling with fire!!!!

So you may may be surprised to to find under that is a damaged woman, heartbroken through grief, a woman whose world fell apart after not being able to cope with the loss of three children , the breakdown of her marriage and so much debt she dare not open the envelopes for fear of red letters, final warnings. Unwinding with a fine glass of Beaujolais or Shiraz after work, then two, then three…. but theres only a bit left so she finishes the bottle and to add to gluteny “licks the rim”  to ensure every last drop has been taken, before you know it, the fine wine with aromas of ‘cherry blossom and a tang of Clementine in the winter frost’ as reviewed by the very over enthusiastic ‘Jilly Goolden’ suddenly becomes a carton of Value Red that’s suitable only for cooking with… surely??

Is wine enough to numb the senses, is it enough to hide from the a reality that’s haunting every second, or does she search for stronger and more dangerous vices not thinking or caring about the repercussions, not caring what path this will lead to as long as it takes her to that place that is free from pain and free from having to think about … “Whatever’s Next”?

When times are dark and the future looks bleak, thinking clearly and logically isn’t an option, because in this moment, at this time of her life the “control” button is lost!

Sometimes we all lose our element of ‘control’, people get through trauma and hard times of their lives finding their own coping strategies, and finding support from friends, family or practitioners. For me at this time, I couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, everything had mounted into an ‘Everest’ sized problem and I could not see beyond the catalyst that had manifested itself into an ugly demon which had taken over my ‘control button’. When we are ‘in’ control, we ‘take’ control of the path we are walking. Dealing with situations as and when they arise, talking when problems mount up, we have the ability to not catastrophize situations and we are clear headed enough to find the solutions ourselves! I am NOT an alcoholic and I AM NOT a drug addict but I lost my way for a while and I lost the ability to cope with my current situation!

I have always been that person that offered support, not required it.. gave advice, not seeked it, nurtured others, not needed it… so this personal journey led me to learn things about myself that I hadn’t before realised, and it taught me about the traits of my addictive personality! So Knowing and realising how you operate as an individual can only give you more strength and vigor. With help, and with the right advice, support and guidance, without fear of feeling a ‘total failure’ or ‘weak’ there is hope for everyone who feel that they are alone in utter darkness!

If you know someone that looks a little lost…. STOP …. and scratch away at the layers gently, and you may find they are fighting demons too, ‘desperately’ trying to find their own control button!!!


Dear Guilt….

Dear Guilt

I am writing to you; to exercise some ghosts! Three in fact! I feel that you, “Guilt”, have become a part of my psyche, and a part of who I am. I really don’t want to feel like this forever. So I have to find a way of setting you free.

‘Guilt’ I need to be rid of you. I don’t need to be reminded every day of those fateful days, having to feel the pain and relive this tragedy over and over. I wish I could just be me again, a me without “guilt”, but realistically I know that you are just an additional new layer of me and that you’ll never go away, because guilt is what I feel, you are deeply embedded within my very being, your audible in every single heartbeat, your visible in my mindful thoughts, and when I close my eyes, you consume me.

So I guess if I can’t be rid of you I have to learn to live with you…. Now this is the tricky bit! I have to tell you … “Guilt, you’re not easy to live with! …. That metaphorical Idiom “Elephant in the room” is an expression that’s well fitting to how I feel about you!

I have deliberated, rationalised, and I have been counselled by various professionals assisting me on my path with guidance to resolve this torment I hold within. I deserve to be loved, I deserve happiness and I deserve to live my life and not let life pass me by while I spend it being taunted with “what if’s” and “maybe’s”, my children deserve a mother who is focussed on giving them the best I can possibly give, and love them without fear that they will be stolen from my grasp, and my husband deserves a wife that is all of the above and more. So, Guilt, here we are, it is what it is, nothing can change it, but we need to learn to get along before there is nothing left of my soul that’s worth saving, your destroying me slowly, devouring and eating away at what’s left!

I put it to you that from this day forward you need to take a step back, you need to compartmentalise yourself in a safe place deep within, because you need to allow me to breath a breath that doesn’t sting the back of my throat, you need to allow me to look at pictures of my sons without stinging my eyes with acidic tears, you need to allow me to speak out the names of my little boys without wanting to crumble at the sound of the letters as they leave my lips!

If you can agree to the above terms, I will allow you something, something that you need, something that you require to exist within me. I will give you… Time! Once a year, I will allow you time to engulf me and my entirety with ‘guilt’ and we can battle it out between us until the sun sets upon my three baby boys resting place, until the night sky draws close and I am emotionally exhausted and drained from all human emotion.

You have stolen time from me, I am angry, and I am hurt, and because I allowed you to control me, I have missed out on precious time with my children; alive and in spirit, this time that you stole from me and I will never get that back, and if I could, I would make you pay, I would make you suffer like I have, for every second that you took from me. I became a person I didn’t recognise and person I didn’t like and that’s a hard place to recover from.

So from today, I will take control of my “life” and “Guilt”. I’ve survived the worse, so, I have a few more scars, a damaged heart, and a part of me that will never be the same, but I am still me, a slightly wiser and worn version of the old me. I just lost my way, I lost that bit of me, that got up in the morning and stuck my middle finger up to the world and said “bring it on bitch, and give it your best shot”

So from me to you Guilt, this is the deal, take it or leave it, you are now my past, get back in Pandora’s Box and I’ll meet you on the 6th December 2014 at West Street Cemetery, Dunstable.
Until Then…….. F**K YOU!

Strength of Character

strength of character
What defines “Strength of Character”, I am curious about what brings someone to the place of willingness to ask for help? Is asking for help showing the onlookers your weaker side or is it actually defining your strength, being brave enough to ask through desperation I’ve realised that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong. Recognition that you may require guidance along your journey is probably the strongest thing a person can do.

For me, I am not mad, but I have that “evil irritating voice”, that is constantly demeaning my “strength of character”, telling me I am not worthy, that I must of been a bad person, I suck, “Jeeze your ass looks fat in that”, and “You’re really going to wear that?” etc, however I’m telling that bitch to watch this space, as I will come back fighting and prove “evil irritating voice” wrong, and anyone else that thought I would fall.

People display strength in all sorts of ways, but lifting a ton weight is very different to ‘living a life full of desperate and dark times and getting up every morning and facing it all over again!’

I always classed myself as a strong person, and I have always been the person that helps others, the person that shows support, talks sense of things, has the shoulder filled with ‘Kleenex’ shoulder pads, the strong independent gal that can offer an unbiased opinion, but now, I couldn’t talk sense of anything, all that comes out is noise that barely resembles the English language, a whole load of bravado and utter nonsense. I have been dealt my fair share of blows and never do I fail to get back up again, I “take it like a man” … and while I’m on the topic!!!!! REALLY!!! …Seriously what a dumb ass saying that is. I’m really not trying to be mean, but if some people didn’t take things in their stride and deal with problems internally, we’d all be a bunch of squealing whining babies, and without sounding sexist there are many women I know that “take it” like a man….in fact probably better than most…. no pun intended..

So for me Character is the most important essence of a person, it defines you and your individuality from everyone else. Strength of character is being able to control your instincts, passions, resist temptations, overcoming prejudices and displaying tolerance, love and respect for all who are deserving and to be the eternal optimist, which is hard to conquer when you are used to a lifetime of knocks and blows that can only be described as a heavyweight fight with life, but I do believe from positive thinking comes positive outcomes, focus on the positives and being pessimistic just creates a defeatist attitude and with that you can’t win any fight! But this is real life and now after many KO’s from my battle of life I have decided that for me you can’t be either, but you can be a leader… a leader of your own life! Below is a phrase I read ….

“A pessimist complains about the wind, an optimist expects the adverse wind conditions to improve, but the leader takes action to adjust the sails and ensure that they’re ready to cope whatever the weather.”

….. ‘bravery’, be brave enough to take calculated risks, brave enough to stand up for your beliefs and walk alone if required for an “eye for an eye will only make the entire world go blind”…. and having the power to fuck people over and you DON’T, well that’s when you get to show who you really are….. AND THA’TS STRENGTH OF CHARACTER!

New Beginning….

I haven’t blogged since October 2013 and I don’t know why today is any different, my head hurts, my hands are trembling, my eyes are red and my throat stings as I fight the urge to scream and cry at the same time. Since October I have started a new job, my marriage has broken down and my ex husband and I are strangers to each other, it would of been Elliot’s 1st birthday, it would of been his first Christmas, its was our first Christmas as a broken family, and I have entered in 2014 feeling …. totally broken!

Living in my head feels very messy and cluttered lately, I can’t seem to think straight or rationalise anything properly any more, a new wave of emotions swamp my very muddled mind. Anger, confusion, sadness that cuts so deep I fear nothing will repair my damaged soul!

I’m more lost then I was a year ago, I’m less of woman, less of friend and mother, and the reflection I see in the mirror is staring back at me and I look terrified that I’m out of control, I feel like I am standing at a crossroads with no idea where to go, so now I have to make some choices, some life changing choices to change this destructive path I am stumbling down, but how do you begin to help yourself when you don’t even know where to start. “At the beginning” I hear you say, for if only it was that simple….

Beginning of what? Again and again I have started over, picked myself up, brushed myself down, painted on the lippy and brushed on the mascara, and with a fine set of heels I put my best foot forward and’ keep on keepin on’ only to be thrown off the path again and again. I am left feeling hopeless and utterly overwhelmed about my future. My mind has overheated and I am having real difficulties in communicating what I want to do and how I want to fix myself.

There are obvious times when we consider grief to be a natural reaction to life circumstances like when someone has died or moved away or when an important job or possession is lost or a marriage or relationship breaks down. But grief is not only stimulated by losing someone, grief is also an emotion we feel when someone loses a way of living or a way of looking at themselves which had been a way of life for them. My life has changed so dramatically in such a short time its very hard to come to terms with, and acceptance for what has happened seems like “forever away”.

I have embarked on a journey of counselling and its shaken everything up – my beliefs, my personality, and my sense of reality. After a couple of sessions, it appears I am suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, this shocked me and naively it was completely unexpected. ME!!! I was always the strong person, the person people come to for help and advice, the fighter, the good time gal that REFUSES to sink….. so I feel weak, downtrodden and defeated.

So I ask myself WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TITLE I HAVE BEEN given….. I always wanted letters after my name but PTSD was not the sort of letters I was imagining….

I begin to look into this a bit deeper to get an idea of my new “label” and try and work out where this “beginning” is?

My findings were scarily accurate I find myself ticking yes to a lot of boxes and realising the counsellor woman I was so terrified of seeing could be right!!! So do I have vivid flashbacks and a feeling that the trauma is happening all over again…. YES I do… and I fear that it will happen again to my living children.

I cant get the image of Louis, Corey and Elliot out of my head, the image of them and their last moments of life haunt my mind daily, every day I relive the days all three died, when my mind isn’t busy, and I have time to reflect those days are relived and every painful memory is replayed in my head again and again, so I guess that’s why I fill my day with task after task and chore after chore.
Do I have intrusive thoughts and images in my head – another YES, the image of my dead children, is a an image that won’t leave. I see myself as the third person in my head, and I am holding Elliot in my arms as he lays lifeless, kissing his face and sobbing. I’m holding Corey and his tiny premature body so fragile and he bleeds from his nose and mouth and I am sobbing, feeling helpless. The final image is Louis and his last tiny breath he took in my arms and the feeling of utter shock and devastation.

I avoid almost everything about them by keeping busy, avoiding situations that remind me of the days my life changed forever. I feel detached from my emotions that surround the losses of my baby boys, I feel numb and I feel its affected the way I parent my living children. I don’t plan anything too far ahead, my opinion of my future doesn’t feel like it used to, it feels bleak.

I am angry a lot of the time, irritable and often feel aggressive, my concentration is poor and I have become so forgetful, I leave myself notes to remind me of the notes I have already wrote, and I laugh about it thinking to myself ….. AM I UTTERLY INSANE!!! My sleeping pattern is diabolical and I’m awake more than I sleep, but I am tired, I am so tired…. tired of feeling this way.

So I guess this is the beginning….. beginning of a new journey!

Accomplishment and Unaccomplishment

treading water 4-12c

My life has felt like a list of ‘To Do’s’ for as long as I can remember. I thought it was because I liked to be busy, but in hindsight I fear it’s because I am running. Running from confronting something I’m scared of tackling, or something I am hiding from because it’s just to painful to remember, reminisce or speak about! I wonder is this a coping mechanism I have subconsciously and unknowingly carried out.

When I do something, I do it to the very best of my ability, and I apply myself fully, going above and beyond what is often required. Before children I worked damn hard for approval and recognition in a job I loved.

I bought a flat; I worked harder, in my head… challenge accomplished!

I got a promotion; and I worked even harder…challenge accomplished!

I got pregnant, not quite challenge accomplished…but a new challenge!

Louis and Corey died, saddened to the core, I return to work and I fall pregnant again, Challenge accomplished!

Almost 1 year later our rainbow Lilly-Ella arrived into the world screaming, followed 18months later by rainbow Toby and the start of a combination of two very new challenges. Our own business and two children, 18mths old and a new-born little boy.

A thriving business 24/7 and a daily struggle of kids, paperwork, emails, stress and no life, one miscarriage later and beginning to feel like a failure.

A perfect little rainbow ‘Isla’ comes along, and we now have a struggling business with piling debt and a thirty something mother of three little children, feeling like I am on the edge and the strain is becoming visible…. Accomplishment is far from my reach.

Another pregnancy, a folded business and plans for an extension, mission accomplished until………….Elliot grew his wings on 6 December 2012 and nothing will be the same again……. Guilt, pain and failure accomplished.

I ran, I busied myself, I ran, I planned, and I ran some more and I planned even more filling voids and busying my wondering mind.

Ploughing forward with the build of an extension which was only being built because of our growing family, bittersweet was every brick cemented in place. Reminding me of who isn’t here now and in Elliot’s place there is a spare room and agony. I’m wondering if this spare room will ever fill me with comfort or whether to me it will always be Elliot’s ‘empty’ Room.

One Fundraising event after another, and still putting one step in front of other, mopping up tears, and holding my children dear. Survival accomplished.

A new job, which comes with a new focus, a strained and broken marriage and our baby girl starting preschool, a mixture of accomplishment and failure, I feel like I am treading water but my legs are tiring.

Months of planning and preparation comes to an end when I hold a party in memory of Louis, Corey and Elliot to raise money for the Neonatal Intensive care Unit and Improvement to Bereavement Facilities. Mission Accomplished.

Over £3,000 raised and a massive total of over £6,000 since I starting fundraising but I am left feeling deflated and very much underwhelmed after the huge high, and the amazing feelings of accomplishment.

But a deeper sadness taints my fundraising because the dark truth is ‘would I really be doing this if I had all three of my sons here?’ and sadly but honestly the answer is probably no… and that leaves me feeling confused?

I see my innocent children changing, they have seen, heard and witnessed so much for their young, tender age, there is sadness behind their eyes that only a mother can see, sadness similar to the sadness that mirrors in mine. I see I have changed and the life I lived is now a memory of a life I had. I wonder how much longer I can tread water for…. Feeling unaccomplished.

The moments after…



6th of December 2012 and my life crumbled AGAIN… pain like a hot poker in my eyes, but multiplied by ten. How? Why? How? Why? ME again…? ran through my head over and over and over…

I laid awake the entire night holding my son so close to me, sobbing until my heart hurt, feeling his temperature go from ‘warm new born baby’ to’ ice cold skin’ that encased what was my beautiful baby boy ‘Elliot’, memories of my tiny twins, ‘Louis and Corey’ are vivid in my memory like their deaths were just last week, feeling overwhelmed with loss I cry, and I cry so much my eyes feel like they are awash with acid, and my heart aches, and I wonder for a second if it were to stop beating would I be relieved of the pain and the guilt that I am engulfed with in this moment!

7th of December 2012 and it was time to say my goodbyes, I had been delaying the moment to leave the hospital and leave Elliot, alone in this cold stark room. It just fights against all of your motherly instincts to leave your child, just because mine had died, it doesn’t mean my instincts have died too.

My coping mechanism set in and I do what I do best. I simply stand up, raise my head high, brush myself down like I have just stumbled over and dusted my down my outfit, not like I have just left my dead son laying in a cot, in a cold haunting, side ward, of a hospital. The reality that this would be the LAST time I would ever see his him, hold him, cherish him and be his mum hadn’t quite dawned on me.

I opened the door of the side room where I had been imprisoned since my admission, in a strange way I felt a familiarity with this room, a safeness that was inside the room that I wouldn’t have when I leave, because then I will be subjected to a million sorrys, a million sorrowful looks and million tears, where there should be a million ‘congratulations’ instead.

I was overwhelmed with fear, the fear of walking out the door of my safe haven straight into the path of a labouring woman or new born baby being cradled and nurtured by its mother. The sound of the ward around me was echoing in my head and appeared to be much louder than it was in actuality but my senses were working in overdrive and my emotions were raw, so each new born cry that came from each baby that was born rang in my ears 10 decibels higher then in reality.

So I counted to 10 in my head, I took one large breath, took one last look at my beautiful son with silent tears still steaming down my face, I opened the door and I walked, I put one foot in front of the other, striding forward and focussing on the next door in front of me and never once looking back. Once outside the cold air met my breath but the sun was shining, my lift was waiting and that’s when a lump in my throat so large I could barely swallow and I fought against the urge to cry. I was so tired of crying, so tired of hurting and just so so tired of everything!

The brave face was painted on, thicker then ever before, impenetrable, as I prepared myself to see my children, to tell my children about their little baby brother, whose gone to the playground in the sky with their other brothers, Louis and Corey.

It was time to be strong, time to be a mother to be proud of and try and help others through my losses and that was when I began fundraising in the memory of Three Little Stars …



One step at a time …

It’s been a while since my last blog, there are a few reasons for this, some of which are commonly known as ‘I cant be arsed reasons’ and ‘there are never enough fecking hours in the day’ reasons; but the other more sincere reason was, that I was finding wearing my heart on my sleeve to reveal my deepest pain to the world of cyberspace quite a surreal experience, although often a comforting experience, however the thought was somewhat daunting at times that I may be judged by people that I have never set eyes on.

So after my time away, where am I?

I’m still battling daily with my emotions, a constant argument in my head with the good the bad and the ugly.

The good, telling me I’m one of life’s survivors and I will not be defeated by grief, and the little friendly voice pushing me on to my next venture in the memory of my three little boys whom I miss so much my whole body aches, the good that always tries to see good, and use my losses to help others.

The bad, is the part of me, that when I listen to people moan and whinge about utter rubbish, when I have to fight the urge to stop my arm raising, my fist clenching and smacking the innocent party straight in between the eyes and shouting out loud…. ‘Now you got something to moan about, that’s not insignificant’ ….

Then there’s the Ugly, the part of me that I am embarrassed to reveal, the part that I am ashamed to admit, the part that’s jealous, that’s vindictive and quite frankly very angry and bitter. The good part occasionally dipping in to whisper “its ok to feel like this” but the bad taking over and stomping the arse out of all rationality of thinking…

But as much as I tell myself there are good days and bad days, nothing prepares me for when the emotion takes over; it creeps out of nowhere, like the monster you dreamt of as a child, like the how the darkness of night swamps the daylight sunshine in what seems like a millisecond come the winter months.

But as for my earlier question where I am right now …..

I am still living after still birth, but still wishing things were different and still wondering who the person is that looks back at me through the mirror! I feel like I am in a transitional point between the pain of grief and the pain of accepting grief….


The Music of my Life

I like listening to music; I am often in my car driving back and forth from my children’s school, taking them to afterschool clubs and various trips to supermarkets, the music is always playing in my car and the only way to listen to music in your car is LOUD!! Even my children now holler at me to turn it up if the volume isn’t above 25, My eldest daughter often sings along with me holding her hand to mimick a microphone, often putting in her requests prior to me even starting the car, my son is like a stuck record often repeating over and over the need for another replay of “Gangnam Style” or “My Heart Skips a Beat” by Olly Murrs, and my little Isla who is saying a few words even lalalaaas along to the “Diamonds” song by Rhianna…. The power of music is already visible as the smiles on there faces light up my morning when a song comes on that they like, equally the way they screw up their faces like someone’s wiped ‘dog poo’ underneath their noses if its song they don’t like. So its seems even at the tender ages of 2, 5, and 6 music has the ability to enhance your emotional state.

Music is a medium that can touch your heart and soul, and when you listen to a song and the words just seem as if they were wrote and sung just for you. It’s a special moment finding a song that you can relate to in that way. Does it give you an escape? Create an outlet for your emotions? Make you smile? Or Make you Cry? … for me its ALL of the above and listening to this song by Rhianna this morning in my car oober LOUD, singing along to it on my journey home has inspired me to write this blog and see if me and my followers can compile a music library of songs with a story!!!!!

This is SO where I am right now, listening to words of this song IM TELLING THIS WAS WROTE FOR ME….. Thank you Rhianna…

What Now – By Rhianna

I’ve been ignoring this big lump in my throat
I shouldn’t be crying, tears were for the weaker days
I’m stronger, now what, so I say
But something’s missing

Whatever it is, it feels like
It’s laughing at me through the glass of a two-sided mirror
Whatever it is, it’s just laughing at me
And I just wanna scream

What now? I just can’t figure it out
What now? I guess I’ll just wait it out
What now? Whoa, what now?

I found the one, he changed my life
But was it me that changed
And he just happened to come at the right time
I’m supposed to be in love
But I’m numb again

Whatever it is, it feels like
It’s laughing at me through the glass of a two-sided mirror
Whatever it is, it’s just sitting there laughing at me
And I just wanna scream

What now? I just can’t figure it out
What now? I guess I’ll just wait it out
What now? Please tell me
What now?

There’s no one to call cause I’m just playing games with them all
The more I swear I’m happy, the more that I’m feeling alone
Cause I spent every hour just going through the motions
I can’t even get the emotions to come out
Dry as a bone, but I just wanna shout

What now? I just can’t figure it out
What now? I guess I’ll just wait it out (wait it out)
What now? Somebody tell me
What now?

I don’t know where to go
I don’t know what to feel
I don’t know how to cry
I don’t know ow ow why
I don’t know where to go
I don’t know what to feel
I don’t know how to cry
I don’t know ow ow why
I don’t know where to go
I don’t know what to feel
I don’t know how to cry
I don’t know ow ow why

So what now?………………

I feel strangely empowered by this song, when I close my eyes I feel my energy renewing and gather my strength to get through another day.
These other two songs that touch my heart but for a completely different reason are Fix You by Cold Play and Small Bump by Ed Sheerin.

Louis and Corey my twin boys died in 2005, if you follow my blog you may of ready their story Fix You was played at their funeral on the 19th September.

This song was in the charts early on in my pregnancy with Louis and Corey and I instantly LOVED it … played it loud, windows open and the words touched the very depths of my soul even then. I had an attraction to this song in a way it haunted me, Id get in the car and itr would be the very next song on the radio, if I was shopping for my groceries it would be the song being played throughout the store. So when it came to choosing music to be played at Louis and Corey’s Funeral it was a clear choice because now not only did I love the song but the song now had hidden meaning and each word had a edge of pain to it because the words of the song are poignant and moving and remind me of how I feel when I think of the days when I was watching my babies fight for their tiny lives.

Fix You – by Coldplay

When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you’re too in love to let it go
But if you never try you’ll never know
Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I…

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I…

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

My final addition to this song blog is Small Bump by Ed Sheerin. I still cant bring myself to listen to this song in its entirety as it is just too painful, opposite to other songs when this comes on I instantly turn it off to fight away the unwelcomed feelings that come with it.

This was played at Elliot’s funeral,
Although this song is clearly about a little baby born far sooner that my Elliot is still is a song that I can empathize and resonate with the verse says “I’ll whisper quietly, and give you nothing but truth, If you’re not inside me, I’ll put my future in you” breaks my heart because I spent all night whispering in the ear of my still born son and felt that I would of done anything in those moments for him to breath and if that meant putting my future in to him, relinquishing my life for his than I would of done that in those haunting and unforgettable moments of extreme sadness following his birth, through that night when darkness fell like a dark blanket and the stars twinkled and had more life in them that my stillborn little boy this song was already going through my head and I new already this was Elliot’s song.

The eerie truth behind this story is that even throughout my pregnancy while I was carrying Elliot if this song came on the radio I would turn it off then too, the words to painful to listen to even then. Elliot was alive and kicking life cursing through his veins so WHY? Would this song have such an effect on me then…

Small Bump – By Ed Sheeran

You’re just a small bump unborn, in four months you’re brought to life,
You might be left with my hair, but you’ll have your mother’s eyes,
I’ll hold your body in my hands, be as gentle as I can, but for now your scan of my unmade plans,
A small bump in four months, you’re brought to life

I’ll whisper quietly, and give you nothing but truth,
If you’re not inside me, I’ll put my future in you

You are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
Oh, you are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
And you’ll be alright.

You’re just a small bump unknown, you’ll grow into your skin.
With a smile like hers and a dimple beneath your chin.
Finger nails the size of a half grain of rice,
And eyelids closed to be soon opened wide
A small bump, in four months you’ll open your eyes.

And I’ll hold you tightly, and give you nothing but truth,
If you’re not inside me, I’ll put my future in you

You are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
Oh, you are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
And you’ll be alright.

You can lie with me,
With your tiny feet
When you’re half asleep,
I’ll leave you be.
Right in front of me
For a couple weeks
So I can keep you safe.

‘Cause you are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
You are my one and only.
You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight.
And you’ll be alright.

You were just a small bump unborn for four months then torn from life.
Maybe you were needed up there but we’re still unaware as why.

So here are my songs… share yours too if you wish…..


lost path
I hate this path that I am walking right now…Even though I am married and have friends, I feel so isolated and its lonely path to walk, if I am searching for a confidant that has experienced what I have, then its pointless, I’m not saying for one second because I have lost my little twins boys Louis and Corey shortly after their birth and then my dear Elliot to stillbirth that my loss is any greater or any worse than anyone else’s because its not, I’m just aware that no-ones path of grief is the same and what I feel is maybe similar to another grieving parent, but its not the same and when I reflect back to my earlier blog about ‘living in the shadows of the old me”, I realise, know, and accept that I have changed and this is a scary realisation when you thought you knew who you were and what you stood for, I know my husband has changed but I’m still scratching about trying to find this new me and I’m lost in this whirlwind of emotions, opinions, anger and bitterness.

I know what I am NOT any more, I am not tolerant, I am not as forgiving and I am not as optimistically bright and hopeful that life is full of happily ever afters. But knowing what I’m NOT is very different to knowing who I am?

Guiltily, I want to inflict hurt on to people that have hurt me to ease what I am feeling. I know this is not an uncommon thought in times of hardship and grief, to want to do hurtful things, even to those you love. But I know it’s unkind and it’s unfair. I’m also aware that in those times when you feel empty and with NO love to spare, you can be pretty ugly and unbearable to live with. I want to scream out loud GIVE ME A BREAK! I know people grieve at different times and their paths are so very individual. Some accept things far easier, some dwell, and some hold on to the emptiness in their heart where their lost child should be because that’s all you have left.

I feel I need of distance and space. But with distance and space comes a lot of time to reflect and I’m scared of what that will bring.

When you can’t talk to your partner because the pain is too great and anger is the seething emotion that’s taking over all rational thinking it leaves little room for empathy for either party involved.

Dealing with the grief factor in a relationship is both physically and emotionally exhausting, sometimes I think I just don’t have the energy to care enough, because being emotionally exhausted is so draining on all you have to give, when your giving all you got and that’s not enough, when your trying but failing, when you screaming and no-ones listening, when your reality becomes a nightmare you want to escape from. It doesn’t mean the love is gone, just the energy to care. I feel harder than before my tough exterior hardened beyond penetration because if you saw the world through my eyes….. when people get struck blow after blow after blow and keep on getting up, when you give birth to, hold, caress and love three of your children only to bury them all too soon the pain that comes with that is so great and cuts so deep that nothing is comparable. So when your ranting with your mother, father, sister, husband, brother or friend and your called emotionless and hard faced, believe me when I tell you this is not the case it only looks like this because when you have already experienced the worst pain of all nothing else in life can equate to that. The worst has already happened.

I am a survivor of grief and I’m still standing …. JUST!

My New Found Escape


When times are hard and life gets you down it’s all to easy to become disheartened at the smallest of obstacles. Life becomes an everyday battle. An uphill struggle and you begin soul searching in attempt to remedy the hazy horizons before you.

People have often spoke about exercise to me and if I am honest I thought they were insane, what good can possibly come out of me exerting myself to within an inch of my life, breathing so hard I think I might die, getting so hot I might combust, working so hard every muscle feels its been pulled around the earths equator and released like a bungee rope….How in the hell can that make me feel good?

It was nearing the time of New Years resolutions and a good friend said to me, “Kelly, please join this ‘Couch to 5K’ programme and I will run it too to show you some support and we will get you running 5k in 9 weeks.” my initial reaction “I cant bloody walk 5k let alone run the damn thing, are you trying to kill me” and then she said something that totally struck a chord with me and found myself enrolling immediately… she simply said “I think it will be good for you mind, body and soul” so I approached the idea of running in new way and thought if this running could be my outlet for ‘headspace’ and freedom from my thoughts, then I’m in and so the 9 week programme began.

Spurred on with this thought of escapism from reality I found myself running in minus weather conditions, snow, sleet, rain and wind. No-one was more surprised than I!!! Initially it was very easy to follow the programme as it had been designed as a platform for people that have barely lifted a cheek from their sofas since the first airing of Eastenders. Week one involved literally running for 1 minute and then walking for 90 seconds…. Totally elated, with red cheeks and a sweaty forehead half an hour later, on my new found high “Yay I can run” and I began to believe I could actually achieve this and running, 1 minute isn’t a lot of running UNTIL YOU actually RUN IT…

Gradually week by week the programme increased by small increments steadily building on your stamina, I will never be a marathon runner nor will I be giving Usain Bolt a run for his money anytime soon, nevertheless I try and when I try to do something I will apply 100% of what ever it is I have got to give …. “All or Nothing” a motto I stand firm to.

My Monday evening jogging with my friends became a necessary outlet for me, daily my mind was a wash with a mushy mish mash of everything, a constant image reel of Elliot’s, Louis and Corey’s faces in my mind, flashing round and round like they are on a repetitive slideshow. Ill never forget them but I need space from them and space from this life without them in it. I found running gave me this. From the minute I began the steady ‘plod’ …… I smile from ear to ear when typing the word ‘plod’ as this was a term used to describe our running in the early weeks, described by my faithful friend Lisa… anyway back to the plodding… From the minute I began the steady plod around the jolly heights of Leighton Buzzard I found my mind was clear, clear from almost everything, another huge benefit of jogging. Allowing you the time to think about life’s problems or time to escape them for awhile, tension easily flies by the wayside. Speed runs are great for tearing through aggression and anger. Focus all that emotion into a few sprints and you’ll feel better in no time. I say the word ‘Speed’ loosely for many could briskly walk quicker than my sprint but in my head I was at least levelling and on par with our great Dame Kelly Holmes…. Weren’t I?

Week 9 came very quickly and I was nervous anxious and excited to participate my first ever 5K run…. I ‘plodded’ around the 5K route and completed my circuit in 36 minutes. Mission Accomplished.

So from being a couch potato I now run 5k 2-3 times a week and I am proud to say I DON’T ENJOY IT… If I’m honest while I’m running I don’t particularly enjoy it but at the end of the run or ‘plod’, that’s when I am awash with a great sense of achievement and that buzz people have hyped on at me about for years and years, and I have to agree with them it feels SHAMAZING! On these days accomplishment reins over sorrow and grief is placed to a compartment at the back of my mind because when I run, I run for peace, I run to escape the self persecution and self blame I have become all too familiar with, I run to numb my reality and be ‘Kelly’ NOT Lilly-Ella Toby and Isla’s mummy, NOT Robs Wife or the Bereaved Mother of Three…. I run for ME!

So I am eternally thankful to Lisa for offering me a direction and an outlet for soul searching and a shoulder to snuffle on (On THAT day) and I thank her whole heartedly for her continual support along the way and through her I am pleased to of met Laura a likeminded female with an amazing ‘minimum effort – maximum output’ type of run that I am yet to master and without forgetting the one and only Jayne, my fellow ‘stealthy remedial runner’ whom I have ran alongside and together we joked, laughed and breathed heavier than prank caller but together the team of us amazingly great women have jogged villages and countryside far and wide as a quartet of insignificant hobbits….