I’m still a little girl, really. I find adult life extremely hard to deal with and don’t enjoy it most of the time. I yearn for the vulnerability I could rely on when I was younger and am still in need of feeling like I am being looked after. Last year, I decided to dispose of every pair of pyjamas I owned that were not embellished with some sort of Disney character or scene. It became a thing. A very childish thing, but one that I was onboard with (the obsessiveness and intense personality lent itself well to this one). It’s quite sad really, and I know this is a life stage that I will outgrow. But in the past year I’ve felt it more intensely than ever. Depression has sucked some of my independence away and I have found that I need to be home, I need to be safe and I need to be around my Mum.

My mum is the only one who lets me live in a truly vulnerable state. I know her every ounce is committed to motherhood, and I honestly believe she finds it hard to let go of the full committal energy. Some people were just born to be Mumma’s and never really want to give even a little bit of it up. Mine is one of them.

When I became really unwell a few months ago, I know her heart broke. She was consistent in her questioning as to what she could do to help me, she bought me ready salted crisps and full fat coke when I couldn’t eat, she sat with me and stroked my hair, or my feet, or just let me hold her hand. She and my Dad, would probably say that they felt helpless, or that they felt they couldn’t do anything, in all truth… they did everything.

It must be horrendous seeing your child go through mental torture, if your child is physically hurt you can bandage it, take them to a doctor, feed them nice food and soothe them. It’s just not the same with mental illness, nothing can really be done to patch it up and fix it. However what I really wish my loved ones, my parents and especially my mum knew, is that she saved me, she saves me, every single day.

You should really appreciate the people you have close to you, maybe not a Mum in the conventional manner. But the person that keeps you afloat, that goes unrewarded and often unmentioned. Give them some appreciation, they bloody deserve it. And if you’re a Mumma, fucking go you! You’re smashing it every single day, we all appreciate you, we rely on you, our hearts, are made from and rely on you. Please give yourself a break and a bit of self love.

My Mumma went into surgery this afternoon, for a procedure that is going to change her life, for the better. It’s been a long awaited procedure, and she is in so much pain, she desperately needs this. I am and have been terrified. I hate the thought of someone I love being in hospital. I’m selfish and don’t want my Mum to not be able to look after me. I also hate seeing her vulnerable and in pain, it breaks my heart. But I wanted to kick start her recovery, for her to wake up from what I hope will be a very successful operation; by giving her this, an appreciation I guess, a thank you, for supporting me through every illness, but especially this one, for this year, and for every year. An apology for how much of her I have taken, and never given back.

I am often told that I am “just like” my mum, that I’m a “mini Maxine”. Something that I have, consistently rolled my eyes at, and at times not really liked. But I think that’s changing, I hope I am a different person, because no one wants to be a clone. But if I present myself like her, if I show the strength and resilience she has shown, and the willingness to carry on when in so much pain, I should and will take that as a compliment.

So here’s to us Mumma. Thank you, thank you so much for passing me parts of your strong willed, opinionated, kind, extremely loving, generous, emotional, naive, powerful, ambitious, approachable, devoted, punctual, honest and incredibly vulnerable and beautiful personality.

I’m just sorry I didn’t pick up the eloquence.

I love you, Mumma. Get well soon.

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx