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My sister was three years younger than me. She died of a brain tumour when I was thirteen. It wasn’t possible to operate because the tumour was too close to her brain so the doctors tried to deal with it with steroids and radiotherapy, but to no avail. It wasn’t just my sister’s death that undid me but also my parents, or at least my mum, turning away from me during my sister’s illness and after her death.
After my sister died my mum blamed what had happened on me even though I loved my sister and would have taken her place if I’d been given the chance. I remember feeling numb and confused and I was angry too, angry that it was my sister who had died rather than someone else. I was angry with my mum for making me feel it was my fault. I felt I’d lost a part of me, as though some part of me would be missing for ever, and it was as though I lost part of my feelings too.
My mum took all of her frustration out on me. She would hit me for nothing at all. My dad was different: he understood what my sister’s death meant to me. He tried to help me and he tried to stop my mum from hitting me. But he died when I was nineteen from problems with his heart, just when I needed him more than ever. I was told not to make a fuss because my mum had enough to deal with without that.
I didn’t deal with the deaths of either my sister or my dad. I couldn’t grieve for them partly because of my mum’s reaction and partly because it was all too much for me. I’ve only allowed myself to feel what their deaths meant to me now that I’m seeing a counsellor, all these years later. I started taking drugs after my sister died and once I started I couldn’t stop because I knew that if I did I would have to look at what I’d lost, and I couldn’t do that. I’m thirty seven now and I’ve spent all of those years addicted to drugs. During that time I’ve had three children. I gave birth to my second child in Askham Grange prison.
I’ve been clean of drugs for a year now. I work for Lifeline, which is a harm minimisation project in Redcar and I’ve trained to be a peer mentor. I think I’m doing well and I’m beginning to feel again, which is painful but I know it’s the right way forward.
