Today is the anniversary of when I tried to kill myself.
Not the kind of anniversary that should really be celebrated, I don't
expect flowers or cards.
However reading back on a post a made a year ago, being transported back to a time where I sat on my bed and wrote my first suicide note, where I was trapped in my own mind and the whole world was just dark.
This time is always going to be difficult for me, not just for the way my body remembers the turmoil I put it through but also as 3 years ago I was living in a children's hospice caring for my little sister,
Holding her hand whilst she cried herself to sleep and whilst she was surrounded by nurses and doctors the only one she'd talk too or trust was me, a heavy burden to hold.
I never minded that burden, in fact it always gave me purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning because someone truly needed me, I couldn't be replaced I was the one she wanted and that was truly an honour.
When that burden was lifted you'd think I felt relieved but I didn't, I felt empty.
My whole life since I was just over a year old was being Charlotte's big sister.
She was deaf so used sign language and as she had four fingers on each hand her signing was unique and hard to understand but I had grown up learning with her making in fluent in how she spoke.
I could tell what she was saying so much quicker than anyone else that meant I never left her side especially as my whole family except my mum and my older brother didn't know sign language so I was her translator growing up.
You know how when you were in primary school as you had that best friend that you'd follow around everything, you'd do everything together, well that was Charlotte and I except she needed me next to her.
She needed me to tell people what she needed. how she was feeling, if she needed a drink or medicine or felt ill or was in pain.
She couldn't function without me,
I couldn't function without her.
When she died, part of me died too and it wasn't until she was gone I realised how much I needed her.
My entire life purpose had been ripped apart from me, the person I had grown into was all due to her and she was gone.
I couldn't understand how someone who was such a huge part of your life could just be taken from you. Just like that.
Who am I supposed to be if I'm not her big sister?
What use am I to the world?
So many questions screamed in my mind as I sat in her funeral surrounded by family who saw me as nothing else,
With her gone I felt myself fading into the background, no one could see me anymore.
It's been three years and my heart still aches for the loss but I can tell you who I am without her.
I am the big sister to 3 beautiful (yet slightly annoying) little boys, who think I'm the coolest person ever (I mean I'm not, it's a total lie but they don't need to know that)
I am the daughter who held up her mother when she needed me most, when she learnt Charlotte was dying My older brother Adam and I held the family together and made sure everyone was there for Charlotte.
I am the artist who can put my feelings to paper and create some not so terrible art.
I am the writer who uses her blog as a coping mechanism but also helps others going through similar heartache.
I am the girl who tried to kill herself and survived, using the same strength my sister had to carry on through my darkest hour.
I am the girl, who lived.
