Living Without You

[Insert crap reference to November Rain here]

2009-11-22T22:37:00.003Z

Well another month has nearly gone by since my last post. I can hardly believe that in 6 days time it will mark 5 months since Brian left us. As before my life has been some kind of stagnant whirlwind, endlessly repeating the same bollocks over and over. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work, drink, sleep... I have to say it's gone fast, but I'm starting to sink a little more now that his birthday has passed and Christmas is well on it's not so merry way.

This morning I was in Birmingham helping his family to spread his ashes. Well I say help, I stood back and wept while his dad and brother did the hard work. I was given the option of helping to scatter them but as before with these kind of occasions I just kind of froze up again. It was surreal. Just 4 months ago I had seen Brian in his coffin, which was bad enough. Seeing him completely still and cold, like a waxwork, but still looking like himself. This morning I saw him again, now nothing but grey dust in what was essentially a glorified copper kettle. I know that sounds tactless but I think there's still an amount of anger simmering in the background. Anger at the situation, at him, at life. But now I can say that he's finally been laid to rest. I can't say that I gained any specific closure from it yet, but I know that his family were comforted somewhat by Brian being close to his mum again, since he was scattered in roughly the same area. And I suppose I'm comforted by it too, since I know that he was close to her and never recovered from losing her. It's where he went in his last hours, and now that's where he will stay.

Despite the circumstances, it was great to see Brian's family again. As always I'm eternally thankful for their amazing hospitality but my heart still breaks for them. He had (and still has) such a wonderful family, it just kills me that they're having to suffer through this pain. We celebrated his birthday last night with a meal at a local Indian restaurant, where much chilli and Strongbow was consumed and we started to reminisce. We didn't talk about him a huge amount, I suppose it's still a bit too painful to talk for long without choking up completely, but it's a start. Today we spent the morning at the crematorium then went onto his brother's girlfriend's new place for some of the most fantastic home cooked Indian food I've ever had and more talking. Lots of talking. I have to thank them from the bottom of my heart (even if that does sound corny) for everything they've done this weekend and in the past few months. Hopefully I will see them all again in the near future and they'll remain a part of my life for a very long time..

As for the other aspects of my life. Well, that disciplinary turned into a written warning. An entirely unjustified one I feel, one that I was going to fight but have basically just lost the will to do anything about. I was already traumatised by the experience, but as I said before it seems that they just want me to suffer more. Either that or they think I should be "over it" all by now and start pulling myself together. Whatever the reasons, I get the horrible sinking feeling that they are pressuring me to quit. And believe me I would LOVE to get out of that toxic environment, since I feel as if I'm being pushed towards a nervous breakdown. But it's not an option for me to just quit. Quitting means I have no income. No income means I have no home. I dread to think what that will mean. This weekend I didn't ask for the time off to go to Birmingham. I TOLD them I would not be in and exactly why. And my manager didn't sound happy with that at all, despite insisting that I shouldn't be at work if I'm not "mentally fit" to be there. Despite saying how "sorry" she is for what I've been through "but blah blah blah". If you're truly sorry, there are no "but"s. So what the fuck do they want? Now I'll have to deal with explaining myself, even though I already have, about this weekend. And also reminding them that I will not be working over Christmas despite being rota'd down to work over the period. Oh they're gonna LOOOOOOOVE me!

Other than that I do feel as though I'm doing sort of ok sometimes. I still cry for Brian most days. I have the occasional day where I don't cry at all. But I have been suffering flashbacks in recent weeks. I think that if it weren't for my employment situation I would have made more progress. I haven't continued with counselling, since I didn't really feel right being there and have actually figured out a lot of what they end up telling you for myself already. I know it wasn't my fault, I know I couldn't have stopped it, I know I will be loved and be happy again. I know about the "stages" of grief, even though it comes more in waves of confusion than easily distinguishable steps. And I know that I discovered a lot of this through spending time with my friends and being able to talk so openly about everything. They have been my grief counsellors in reality, even if they don't know it.

So now approaches the 5 month point in this, journey, whatever you want to call it. Christmas is on it's way, and I now feel that since I got through this last week, which I knew would be very hard, I will probably get through Christmas too with a little help from my friends (CHEESE!). Everything still feels weird, and there is a definite sense of "wrongness" about a lot of life at the moment, but I'm gradually learning to look after myself and not take any shit I don't deserve. And I think that's a positive step at last.

Still missing you desperately babe, and I hope your birthday was awesome wherever and however you may have celebrated it.. x x

Battling On..

2009-10-29T17:13:00.004Z

Wow, I can't believe I haven't written anything here for 2 months now. Starting this blog was such a crucial step in my grieving process, but for the past 2 months it's almost as if I've been too busy to grieve and too busy to vent. Of course I am still grieving. Not a day goes by where I don't cry for Brian and for the new life I didn't want but now have to live. The smallest things have the ability to send me spiralling into cess-pit of tears, snot and self-pity. The bigger things yank me straight back into the darkest days at the beginning of this entire mess. Horrible bleak moods accompanied by thoughts too disturbing to contemplate. Whilst most people in my life have been supportive and understanding, there is small contingency who seem to think I haven't suffered enough yet. It's amazing how something as tragic as this can show you so much of how people really are, the true depth of their compassion and empathy. Or lack thereof.

The past two months have been taken up by a constant cycle of working, sleeping and intoxication. I have kept as busy as humanly possible as a kind of coping strategy. Not to forget, but to make every day go that bit faster and have some kind of purpose attached to it. If I'm living one day at a time, I currently want those days to go as fast as they can. Sleep now comes much easier but doesn't bring much release, especially when I've found myself plagued by dreams of Brian. Some where he's survived the fall. Some where he's leaving me and I'm begging him desperately not to go. Others where he speaks to me and I wake tearful and depressed because I can't remember what he said. Despite this there are days where I don't want to leave my cocoon and face the world of shit that is now my life. There are days when I quite literally drag myself out of bed and to work, out of sheer necessity for survival, and my legs almost refuse to carry me to the bus stop. I ache. Constantly. Not just in body, but in mind. I have been pushed to the limits by my job, by people's lack of compassion, by pure grief and I find myself being pushed further every day.

Despite all this I have noticed some improvements, if you could call them that. There are times that I can talk about Brian without crying. There are days where I don't constantly re-live the events of that day and the weeks afterwards. I can go out and genuinely have fun with my friends and not feel guilty for living my life. I can cry without it lasting for hours on end. Yesterday marked exactly 4 months since his death and I didn't even realise until the early hours of this morning, after it had passed. I felt a mixture of surprise and guilt. The 3 month mark was incredibly difficult and weighed on my mind for the next week. How could I not notice it had been exactly 4 months? Is that an improvement, a sign of getting better or is it a sign that I'm forgetting? I don't want to forget him.

But behind these achievements it seems there are always things lurking, waiting to take them away from me. I have two significant black clouds looming over my head at this point. One is my dire financial situation, a part of life that has always caused me massive amounts of stress. The other is my job, which I have to go to to avoid my financial situation going from dire to cataclysmic, but which is only helping to compound my grief. I remember my GP suggesting that I go back to work less than a week after the funeral to start introducing some "normality" and routine into my life. Obviously I couldn't manage it so soon, but after only 2 months I returned to work full time. 2 months. That's no time at all. Other survivors speak of not being able to function enough to work until nearly a year later. I returned after 2 months. Mostly out of necessity, partially out of trying this whole routine thing my GP talked about. I must admit that were it not for work, I would be rotting away doing nothing most days and wouldn't have a purpose for getting out of bed. And there are days when I find my work seriously rewarding and am almost glad to be there. But those days are few and far between.

I am currently facing a disciplinary hearing at work, over an allegation that was made out of... what? Spite? Vindictiveness? An astonishing lack of compassion and empathy for a care home? I really don't understand why. There's certainly a large element of hypocrisy and lack of understanding in there. I can't go into too much detail as I know I'm being watched (tinfoil hat moment), but needless to say the allegation itself doesn't stand up to much scrutiny and I will fight to have any warnings over-turned. I have been through far too much in the past few months, in my entire life, to lay down now and stop fighting. My emotions have been so fucked up by this whole fiasco that I don't know where I am. I have flip flopped back and forth between crushing pain and despair to seething rage, which has helped to keep me pushing forward rather than fall back again. Apparently I haven't suffered enough in the eyes of these people. Maybe I'm just an easy target, after all I've had attempts made to push me out of the company before, attempts that failed miserably and only made the perpetrator look like the reprehensible cunt that they are. Maybe this is another one of those? I feel betrayed, let down, confused and angry. Like I said, major tragic events can show you so much of what people really are inside. They may claim to be understanding, they may claim to be on your side, but their true colours can be blinding.

Amongst all this though, there have been happier times. I have strived to keep going as much as I can, to seize every opportunity that comes my way and to enjoy life as much as possible. There are times when it's a struggle and I have to lock myself away for a cry, but I battle on. I recently went to see VNV Nation at Corporation and had to fight back tears for the majority of the show. After they played Illusion I had to literally lock myself in the toilets and sob for the next song. After the gig I had the opportunity to meet Ronan Harris and tell him that whilst I'd been really looking forward to seeing them, I'd been dreading it because of Brian's suicide and the fact that almost every song of theirs makes me cry. I felt like a pathetic 15-year old fan-girl version of myself for confiding that in him, but I got a hug for my trouble and he seemed to be truly sympathetic.

This past weekend I went to the Damnation festival in Leeds, one that Brian and I had been to last year and were both looking forward to this year. I had hoped that this year we'd do it properly, book a decent hotel together and have an amazing weekend. Unfortunately that didn't happen and being back in that building without him was very trying. I found myself looking around hoping to see him and feeling so sad when I knew he wasn't there. I cursed every happy looking couple I saw there. I did enjoy my day, but it just wasn't the same without him. I don't know how long it will be until I can go back to that Union building and not feel so empty, so alone in a crowded room.

Now I'm facing the winter and some more painful realities. I didn't think the idea of Christmas would bother me so much, since we were only together for one. Now that the adverts have started I'm actually dreading Christmas. I have never felt this way about this time of year. I always used to look forward to it. Now I want to hibernate until at least March. November also brings what would have been his 31st birthday. I remember last year that out of the blue he asked me to come to Birmingham with him for his meal out and to meet his family. I remember being so excited that this must really be serious! I remember being so nervous about meeting his family but being so pleased that it all seemed to go really well and we had a nice time. Now a year later I'm contemplating going to the crematorium on his birthday. It just isn't right. It isn't fair. There isn't much more I can say than that. I desperately want my old life back.

Two Months

2009-08-28T18:35:00.004+01:00

So today marks exactly two months since Brian left us. It's been a while since I've updated this, but then I've been kept rather busy over the past three weeks! It's actually flown by and whilst I still have terrible dark days where I don't want to move from my bed, I can see a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel.

So, for an update on some of the things I've been up to recently..

On the anniversary day and the day after I basically didn't move from my bed. I spent two solid days either sleeping or crying and refusing to see or talk to anyone. I remember feeling worse than I'd felt since it happened and just hoping to go to sleep and never wake up again. At that point I would have been relieved. However, on the Wednesday morning I was woken up by my phone ringing and banging at the door. I'd been texting my mum the previous evening basically telling her that I wanted to be alone and not see or talk to anyone. So imagine my surprise when she turned up at my door, with food and money to get me through this latest bad patch.

To be honest, I was thankful that she'd turned up out of the blue and actually enjoyed being able to sit and talk with her for a few hours. She then dropped another surprise on me, after I'd been whining to her about how that weekend was supposed to be Bloodstock festival and how Brian and I were supposed to be going together and everything's just shit and my summer is ruined! Whether out of pure kindness or finding a way to shut my emo self up, she chucked her credit card in my direction and more or less ordered me to buy a ticket at the last minute. So I did. And spent the next few hours in a panic making arrangements to travel down there the next day. It was the busiest I'd been in ages and actually took my mind off everything that had happened. I've never been more grateful for a surprise drop in visit in my life!

So, despite lacking one very crucuial thing, I partied and had the time of my life at Bloodstock. Of course I had to keep disappearing off for a quiet weep in the tent or a portaloo - there's not much other choice for privacy at a festival! It turned out to be exactly what I needed to clear my head for a few days and get away from it all. For the first time in 7 weeks I actually managed to enjoy myself properly and even forget about everything at times. Reality came flooding back when I saw a band I knew he was looking forward to seeing, but I felt that I had to see them for him. Brian helped me to discover a lot of new music when we were together, and it seems that this has continued in death. I am eternally thankful to him, not just for that of course, but for the amazing times we did have together. It still breaks my heart that there won't be any more amazing times to share with him in the future.

After Bloodstock I came crashing back down to reality and spent another 3 days pretty much not leaving the house. I knew that reality would kick me in the head ever harder with my official return to work that weekend. And so I hid away, not wanting to face having to return to that building where my life officially collapsed into the ruins I'm scrambling around now. As it turns out my first shift back wasn't so bad. I thought I'd be able to cope just fine. Then on my second day I had a panic attack and had to leave early at which point their blinding true colours came shining through - Even though they "understand" what I'm going through (they don't) I have to see it from their point of view. That they are running a business and shifts need to be covered. Of course I am rational enough to understand that, but I still saw red later that night. So much empathy and caring from a... care home... Hmmm...

I have been back at work this week for a few shifts. Two of which I attended fine, two of which I managed to sleep in and turned up several hours late for. All of which have stressed me to fuck and exhausted me beyond belief. I'm currently taking one day at a time, trying my hardest to regain normality, but inside I'm seething at the way people are being. Yesterday I turned up late after sleeping in - by ACCIDENT I might hasten to add. I don't slip into these mini-comas on purpose, they just kind of happen when I'm that exhausted that my brain refuses to let me hear my alarm and get out of bed. But despite that, I started my shift with people barely speaking one word to me. I guess they were in a strop about having to do a bit of extra work because of my lateness. I suppose it's "not fair" on them. Those poor poor flowers. God forbid something really bad should ever happen. What happened to me is unfair, somebody showing up late is a minor inconvenience. I suppose all will be forgotten tomorrow when I go in a for a few hours. To them anyway. I won't forget it. I never forget.

But through all the bitterness and snide comments I've started to re-discover a life affirming side of me that hasn't poked her head out in a good couple of months. I've realised that with everything that's happened I basically I have no commitments - no mortgage, no car, a minimal loan, no relationship (not by choice of course). Some people might look on that as being a bit of a failure for a nearly 25 year old woman. I've begun to look at it as a possibly positive thing. And so I've started to look at the prospect of travelling - yes that old hippy, student gap year cliche. Just me, a backpack, a tent and a one way ticket to Europe. Brian always wanted to do it and never had the chance. I've always been kind of interested but never had the opportunity. Until now. Nothing is certain yet, and may well fall apart like most of my other fleeting good ideas, but what have I got to lose? At least the thought has given me something to cling to and occupy my mind. Maybe even something to look forward to, through all the bleakness..

And so we come to today, the two month mark. I've kept busy. I paid my rent that was overdue by two weeks. I rang my gym to arrange finally cancelling that huge waste of money membership. I talked to my bank about my problems. And I joined the library and got out three books on bereavement and death. Tonight I have been invited out for drinks with friends. Despite being unable to afford it, I must say I'm tempted to continue my trend of going out and getting completely smashed on those difficult days and significant dates. After all, who could blame me?

An Unhappy Anniversary

2009-08-11T17:28:00.005+01:00

So it's now been just over 6 weeks, and I'm feeling less and less like I can cope with life. I've been back at work for two shifts which I barely managed to survive. I decided after two days of taking the anti-depressants that I didn't want them and stopped taking them, because they made me feel like a zombie. And I've been out and got absolutely wrecked. A LOT.

You see, yesterday should have been our anniversary. It should have been a really happy day, but instead I spent most of it in bed or sat crying and unable to do anything but remember that day in detail. I didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone. I still don't want to. I can't handle being around people at all, especially not people who seem to be carrying on with life as normal. In a horrible way I feel like I hate them for not feeling as shit as I do. A large part of me feels like I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I keep telling myself that I'm stronger than this, that I can't do what he did, but I don't know how else to get away from this pain.

I keep remembering how happy I was that day just a year ago, and wondering how the hell things came to this. How did I not see the signs that in hindsight were right there in front of me?

A year ago I was back at my mum's place, still feeling really great about the previous week and still trying to figure out what it all meant. I eventually plucked up the courage to ask him if he wanted to come to the pub quiz again and was thrilled when he replied that he was up for it and we arranged to meet an hour before my mates were due to go. From that point I was a nervous wreck. What was I going to say? What was I going to wear? What if I was too nervous and went all shy?? The excitement I felt was through the roof!

So after a can of Stella to calm my nerves I set off to meet him. The hour we spent chatting and drinking wine just flew by. When my mates arrived they said that we were talking as if we'd known each other for years. And that's how it always felt with him, like an instant connection. I want to say it was like it was meant to be, but that's obviously not the case if things turned out this way. But we had a brilliant night that I wish we could have recreated yesterday. We probably would have done if he'd been here.

I remember around 11pm he was flip flopping on whether to go back to his place or crash at ours for the night. With the persuasion of my mates as well as myself he decided he was going to stay. You couldn't have blown the grin off my face with napalm. At that point I was getting very flirty and tipsy and since there was so little room at the table I "accidentally" had my leg pressed right up against his. The next thing I knew he had his hand resting on my knee! I hadn't actually thought that far ahead and had no idea what I was supposed to do. I can still look back on that and smile at how nervous I was, but he made me feel so comfortable. Not much later we walked back up to my house with my mates and he held my hand the whole way up.

When we got in we sat in the living room and ended up watching Brass Eye yet again, with me snuggled right up against him on the sofa. I remember he kept kissing me on the head but I was waiting till we had some more privacy until we actually kissed properly for the first time. I won't recount the rest of the night, but the next morning I felt incredible. I ran around gushing to everybody about how I'd spent the night with Brian and everybody was really pleased for me. I miss feeling that happy. I miss being able to kiss him. I miss holding his hand, as lame as that might sound. He had a real romantic and affectonate side to him that a lot of people probably never realised he had. A few months later he wanted to know what date it was that we first kissed, and ever since then the 10th of every month became a mini anniversary, usually him reminding me of the date. I have no doubt in my mind that yesterday would have been a wonderful day for us, instead I spent it crying in bed unable to do anything but miss him. I ventured out of the house once to buy food and practically burst into tears the minute I saw that pub. I can't walk past it without feeling terrible. God knows when I'll be able to go back in there.

Up until 6 weeks ago, I was convinced that Brian was "the one" for me. Especially since I was the only girl he ever said "I love you" to. I had so much hope for our future together. I never imagined things would end up like this.

A belated happy anniversary to you baby, wherever you are. I love you and miss you so much x x

More Serotonin, Please..

2009-08-01T16:28:00.002+01:00

Well, it's been nearly 5 weeks now and I've taken some of my first steps towards regaining some stability. Yesterday I went to see my doctor and was frankly honest and open with her about how I've gotten worse since the funeral and have now joined the Citalopram Club. It was going to be the Prozac Nation, but for some reason they've run out or can't get any. Bad news for current natives I guess.

I was already dreading this weekend because it would have been an anniversary for us of sorts. The actual proper anniversary would have been next weekend, so that looks set to be a barrel of laughs too. Now being on my new meds adds a kind of wierd, funny, ironic twist to the whole thing. You see, this weekend last year was the free party in Attercliffe, where I was introduced to MDMA for the first time. Fast forward to this year and I'm on my second day of SSRIs. Funny what a difference 365 days and a 6.5 metre drop can make..

I've obviously been thinking about that weekend a lot lately, because it was that night that I realised I really wanted something to happen between us. I remember that I'd gone out on a usual night out with friends, a typical Saturday night at Corporation, until Brian came bounding over to me and asked if I wanted to go to a party afterwards. I remember thinking how it was kind of strange that he'd just asked me then realised that this could be my chance! Maybe he's interested too! So with that in mind I said a great big "Hell yes!" and after Corp got in a taxi with him to Attercliffe and some random field next to the Don Valley stadium.

The next few hours were some of the most amazing of my life so far. And I just realised that I've written "so far" - maybe there is hope after all? We got to Don Valley and Brian pressed this little rolled up bit of paper into my hand and told me to "neck that, it'll just keep you more awake" which I did without thinking to ask what it was until after I'd swallowed it.

"Oh, it's just a bit of speed, just enough to keep you awake"

"Oh. Alright then!"

I'll admit that I didn't get much off the speed other than what he told me. I was awake and blabbering away at people I'd never met before, which was odd for me then but completely normal for me now. Brian's influence on me, a massive increase in confidence and a huge ego boost. We were sat by a camp fire chatting away when Brian pulled a baggie out of his shoe (yes, his shoe) with more bits of rolled up paper in it. I asked what it was and he told me it was MDMA. Seeing as how I'd always been interested in trying it, I knew exactly what he was talking about and asked if I could try some. As it turned out he'd brought some for that exact reason. He also said that he wouldn't leave me or wander off after I'd taken it since he wanted to look after me. Aww.

So I bombed these bits of paper not really knowing what to expect and carried on chattering away. About 45 minutes later I quite literally RUSHED up. I'm not here to advocate drugs, but I will say that it felt incredible. Colours were brighter, music was euphoric, my skin tingled and god damn my furry boot covers felt awesome! Then Brian said, with his usual cheeky smile that he could use a hug about now. So I happily obliged. And spent the next hour glued to him watching the sunrise blabbering on about how amazing everything was and hasn't this song been going on for 30 minutes now?? I finally understood what people were talking about when they describe their first experience as being magical. And it was all the better for having Brian with me.

Around 8am, when police and kids (WTF?) started showing up we decided it was time to leave and Brian offered me crash space at his since he knew we wouldn't be sleeping. I remember getting back to his flat in Shalesmoor and crashing out on his futon and at first he laid across me with his head on my lap. We'd barely known each other 5 minutes and this felt comfortable and normal. I remember telling him that my stomach felt wierd, like I had butterflies and he joked that it was "internal bleeding" for which he recieved a playful slap across the face. He loved to wind people up, which was great because I'm very much the same in my humour. I miss sharing that with him.

We spent the day laid out on his futon watching Robot Chicken, Brass Eye and Peep Show. I rememeber feeling so conflicted since I really really wanted something to happen, but was too afraid to make a move. I talked to him about that months later and he admitted that he felt the same but didn't want to take advantage of me! If only he'd know I would have happily let him take advantage..

That afternoon we went our seperate ways, me back to my house looking like I was doing the dreaded walk of shame, him off to the second day of the Music In The Sun festival. I still saw posters for that months later and always smiled at the memory of that night. In my comedown, sleep deprived daze I invited him to the pub quiz at my local thinking he probably wouldn't show up since it was the other side of town. Fast forward to 9pm and he's walking through the door of my local and I'm thinking how this has got to be too good to be true. But no, it was true, and as it turns out he was interested, even though nothing happened that weekend. No, it's next weekend that's going to be the really difficult one, the day we sort of kind of finally got together. I'll probably write about that too.. The next few weeks are going to be full of anniversaries and remembering how happy I was a year ago. I hope I can feel that happy again some day..

One Month

2009-07-27T23:36:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow marks exactly a month since Brian's suicide and the end of the worst month of my life so far. I feel like I've run out of new things to say, constantly cycling through the same emotions and actions. Every time someone asks me how I feel all I can say is "up and down" because that's exactly true, although I wouldn't say I'm ever "up". I've had some good nights out and some good times, but not the happiness and elation I remember having with Brian. There have been times when the pain of missing him has been almost too much to bear. I know that I'm getting to a point where I really need help but I worry that a doctor won't really listen to me. I remember Brian telling me that at one point he had actually gone to see his GP for some kind of support for his drinking and he was shunned when he desperately needed help. I can't remember exactly why, but had they taken him seriously he might still have been here..

The last few days have been interesting to say the least. Well, they're interesting when I'm actually around people. When I'm alone I spend my time asleep or practically catatonic in front of the TV. I can't get up the enthusiasm to go to my work to sort out a return date, but wave the prospect of getting wrecked in front of my face and I can't get out fast enough. Twice in the space of 5 days I went out and didn't come home till late the next day. Normal for me, except I would have been coming home with Brian and chilling out properly. Now I feel as if I can't relax at all, not in the comfortable blissful way we did.

Wednesday night was my first time in the Nelson without Brian, which I expected to be hard since we'd spent so much time in there. It was even where we first met, albeit briefly. I managed, although had to break down later in the club toilets. It seems that I can't get through a night without having to run off for a cry at some point. It didn't help that I met with my first ignorant person that night, and am still bristling with anger over it nearly a week later. I'd noticed that one of Brian's friends was there and wanted to make sure that he knew what had happened, which he did, and then we continued talking about something else.There was a girl with him who asked me, with a straight face, "why are you laughing then?". Excuse me? Why am I laughing? Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, clearly I should be sitting in a corner crying for the rest of my life because that's exactly what Brian would have wanted. At the time I was too shocked to confront her, but since then I've dwelled on it and have realised that I'm probably very much at risk of losing my temper with the next cretin that opens their mouth without engaging their brain first. I hope I don't run into her again...

Thursday and Friday are a haze. I know that I didn't sleep on Wednesday night and crashed at someone's flat for an hour before going out to meet friends. I know that I had a good day and managed to sleep very early that night. But then I didn't wake up until 3pm on Friday, apart from one very strange incident during the morning which I don't know if I'm ready to share here yet. All I will say at the moment is that it did help me to feel calm for the next day or two. But my sleep pattern was back asswards for the next night too, so resolved to stay up from 3pm Saturday afternoon until late on Sunday night. Because that's the sensible thing to do of course.

Saturday night was, I have to admit, lots of fun. I saw lots of friends, danced and talked bollocks all night and it felt like a proper night out, like the kind I was used to having. I still missed him desperately and wanted to fire off text messages to him all night, as if he was just in another city. Despite that I really did enjoy myself until towards the end of the night when I noticed everyone pairing up. Couples. Everywhere. I couldn't stand it. I had to pretend I was ok when in reality it just killed me. I saw these people, paired up and happy and felt so jealous and sad and angry all at once. I HAD THAT. I had an amazing relationship which I was so sure was going to go on for years. What the hell happened??

But I put on a brave face and attempted to enjoy the rest of the night and Sunday, spent with friends crashed out. I did enjoy it but I had thoughts constantly gnawing at my mind, refusing to switch off. For some reason I played the moment I was told "Brian was killed this morning" over and over and over again in my head. I couldn't switch it off, couldn't bring my mind into focus on the films we were watching or the conversations. And being sat with couples made it worse. I couldn't look at them, couldn't bear to see them. I wanted to run out of the room. I missed him being there so much and I wanted him there with me so desperately it actually hurt. I was aching to be held by him, to lean against him, just... Anything. I'm amazed I held it together until I finally got home and cried. I even cried during the taxi journey because he should have been there with me. I feel like I'm drowning and I'm so scared that I'll never feel happy or normal again. This weekend we were supposed to be going to the Nozstock festival together. It would have been our first festival and I was so excited about it. Now I can't face the thought of going and I wonder what there is to look forward to now. All of my plans for the future involved him, now I feel like I don't have a future.

Tomorrow (if I can get out of bed in time) I've decided that I'm going to try to do SOMETHING. I'll try to go to work and talk to them, I'll try to contact Cruse about their counselling, I'll try to phone my GP and get some help because I know I need it. I'm lucky that I recognise the warning signs of what's happening to me. The reason I know isn't lucky, but at least I do know and I can do something about it. I know he wouldn't want me to end up the way he did, but at the moment it feels almost unavoidable..

I Guess I'll Never Know

2009-07-22T03:06:00.002+01:00

I've put this off for so long, but this is a song I've known for ages and has always made me cry.. Now it holds much more meaning for me than I ever thought it would.. I wanted to share it with those of you that have never heard it, because I think it sums up how I feel and how many of us who knew Brian will feel at the moment..

Clawfinger - I Guess I'll Never Know

After all these precious years you chose to just give in
Why did you leave so many things undone


I only scratched the surface of the thoughts you had within
and for me your life had just begun


Why did you think that you were never good enough to give
when you accepted me right from the start


I never saw the side of you that didn't want to live
and I miss you from the bottom of my heart


What was it that you never told a soul about yourself
what kind of thoughts were buried inside


was there really no one there you thought would understand
or was the only barrier your pride


with so much love around you I just wish you'd loved yourself
'cos no one here can ever take your place


you were someone special and my words just can't express
how much I miss the warmth of your embrace


Why did you just give in
why did you just give up and let it go
I guess I'll never know


It's hard to see you disappear without a real good bye
there's so many things I wish I'd said


But all the little things you did that made it all worthwhile
meant more than all the tears you ever shed


You always seemed so happy but I guess no one can tell
what goes on inside a persons mind


you loved your children dearly and you did your very best
and someone new like you is hard to find


Chorus

All the things you went through for your children every day
and all the sacrifices that you made


were worth much more than anything that wealth could ever buy
and now that love can never be repaid


In the end I guess you couldn't take it anymore
so you closed your eyes and swallowed all your pain

I know that you've done the same so many times before
but all the questions in my mind remain

Three Weeks

2009-07-19T19:49:00.004+01:00

So today marks three weeks since Brian died. I've had an incredibly eventful, surreal, horrible, fun, empty and full weekend.. Once again, that rollercoaster has been going full speed and it appears I've got some time before I'll be let off to have a bit of a sit down..

Thursday night I went down to Birmingham ready for the funeral and wedding. I never thought I would go to both of those in one weekend, but I guess nobody ever expects that. I was mostly fine during the journey, until the train pulled into Derby station when I almsot completely lost it. I remember making that journey so many times and being so excited and happy to be arriving in Derby. That day I could barely even look out of the window. I just wanted to get out of there. But of course Birmingham is no easier place to be in. That evening I met several relatives that I can't rememebr the names of for the life of me, and had to listen to his dad tell us that the initial toxicology report had found amphetamines in his system. Something that I was sure of as soon as I heard what had happened. I knew he had a problem, that they made him paranoid and so did he. But despite that knowledge he wouldn't stop. And look where that got him. Brian was always careful about his drug use, being as discreet as possible and avoiding having his family find out. I think maybe because he didn't want them to worry or to disappoint them? I never really knew.. But now they ALL know about it and I had to sit there and admit that I knew all along. I'd been dreading the information coming out, but his family seemed to accept that I tried to encourage him to stop or cut down, even he knew himself that he needed to. It was almost a relief for the truth to be out though.

After a night of disturbed sleep, Friday morning finally arrived. Not a day that I'd been especially looking forward to, but after nearly three weeks I was kind of glad that it had finally come. My memories of Friday are both vividly clear and hazy at the same time. When it comes to situations like this, I think you just go into autopilot. That morning I went to see Brian in the chapel of rest. I can't put into words what a surreal experience it is to see a body, especially of someone that you were so close to. It's like it's not them. You know it is them, but that person isn't there anymore. It's like looking at a waxwork model, rather than a real person. It doesn't look like they're sleeping either. I slept next to him countless times, I know what he looked like when he was asleep. This was different. I was almost scared to go near him, which feels like a strange thing to admit. But it helped to know that it was just his shell in that coffin, rather than my boyfriend. As before with the bridge, I felt quite numb. I did cry a little, especially when I put a note I'd written to him in the coffin, but it was that familiar numbness that took over for the most part.

After seeing him we headed back to the house to get ready for the funeral. I felt ok, I socialised with family members and talked quite happily. Until the cars pulled up outside and I saw the hearse with his coffin in and the flowers spelling out his name. The journey to the crematorium was painfully slow, as they obviously are with funeral processions, but it was agonising. I saw people watching us go past, wondered what they were thinking, if they wondered who Brian was. I even saw on older man take his hat off in respect when we went past the park, which I was really quite touched by. But for the whole journey and funeral service itself I shook so much you would have thought I'd suddenly developed Parkinsons.. Arriving at the crematorium wasn't exactly joyous either, as I caught sight of a large group of our mutual friends, people I wouldn't have even met if it weren't for him. It broke my heart to see them all so upset, and again had that slight pang of anger at him for doing this to all of us..

The service was probably one of the most surreal I'll ever go to. We had a humanist minister perform the service, since Brian wasn't religious although I think he was searching for some kind of spirituality that was right for him. Whether he's sitting on a cloud with a harp playing Tool for a bunch of confused angels or partying with 72 virgins (who'll never be as good as me) I hope he's happy whatever version happens to be right. The minister read out posts from the Kerrang board, and I think did a good job of capturing who Brian was. My heart broke when his brother and dad did their own readings, seeing them in so much pain. As brave as everyone says I am, there's no way I would have been able to do what they did. In a way I'm proud of them too. I think it's the only funeral service where people have actually been able to laugh. And when they played Andrew WK - Party Hard for the walking out music, I actually managed to smile. It was perfect and he would have thought it was hilarious no doubt. I said my final goodbye to Brian on my way out, quickly said "I love you" through the curtain, and went outside to be hugged to death (pardon the expression) by a long line of friends and people I'd never met before..

The wake was everything that I'd hoped it would be. The hotel function room had been decked out with photos of Brian by his brother's girlfriend, including several that I'd taken actually, and his brother had set up a good sound system so we could give Brian the party he deserved. The food was great, the music awesome and the company fantastic. I just kept expecting him to bounce into the room and nick off with all the cucumber from the buffet.. After necking several pints of Strongbow first of course. I actually felt quite content and dare I say happy, despite the fact that this was a goodbye party and what you would think is supposed to be a solemn occassion. But that's not what he would have wanted.

I slept really well that night for the first time in ages. I was obviously exhausted from such a long and mentally exhausting day, but it was so nice to sleep and not wake up every hour or so. Especially since Saturday would also be a long day, with it being his step brother's wedding. That morning I was given Brian's bag from that weekend and given a chance to look through his things, to take anything I might want to remember him by. I found the necklace I'd made him for Christmas, which he'd obviously been wearing that night since it had been cut off. I'd originally wanted it to stay with him but when I saw it I knew I had to take it. He'd been really impressed that I'd gone to that effort for him and wore it all the time. I took his High On Fire hoodie, since it was almost like it his party uniform and I'd always loved it. I rememeber him wearing it on that night in August in Attercliffe, when I'd realised I really REALLY liked him. That date is coming up very soon.. I don't know how I'll cope. It actually occurred to me that a year ago today he was at a party at my house, and that's when I first talked to him properly and decided I quite fancied him. Strange how things change in a year..

Looking through his things was upsetting but I soldiered on and got ready for the wedding regardless. I thought I'd be ok but when it came down to it I cried through most of the ceremony. As happy as I am for them, to be frankly honest it was almost torture. I'd been to my boyfriend's funeral and then the day after I had to watch two people getting married. I felt jealous and devastated that I will never have that with Brian. I don't know whether I'll ever have that with anyone now. I can't even think about being with anyone else. I do want to point out that I AM happy for them though and I wish them all the best. Once again it was his brother and his girlfriend who kept me sane during the reception, although his entire family have been incredibly supportive. Hopefully I will always be in touch with them.

Halfway through the reception (and JUST as the dessert was being served!) I had to shoot off to London to see KMFDM, which we had both been looking forward to so much. I felt I had to go because he never got to see them live and I would have regretted not being there. In all the excitement and rushing around I actually felt fairly normal for a while, and I really did enjoy the gig although I think I may be the only person in the world to ever cry during WWIII. I cursed him again for not being there with me, but hopefully wherever he is now he saw how awseome they were live. I like to imagine he's sitting on the speaker stacks or dancing around the stage and smiling. I get that a lot at club nights now too..

Afterwards we went to Slimelight, which I fully expected to be harder than it was, although being completely and utterly trashed made the 7 hours much easier. The last time I was there was at the end of May, with him. I really clearly remember the conversations we had that night, especially when he told me that for the first time in a long time he didn't feel alone anymore, even when we weren't together. I remember laughing and saying how cheesy and sweet that was, but feeling so pleased and happy that I could make him feel that way. To go from that to what happened in less than a month makes everything feel all the more surreal and much worse when I remember how happy we were. It makes everything seem more unbelievable. I want to wake up next to him and realise it was all a dream, or have some kind of wierd Donnie Darko scenario where I get to go back in time and stop this from happening. I know it's stupid and won't happen, but a girl can dream..

So today, or rather from about 7am when I started to feel really shit, has been a typical headfuck comedown day. We got the coach back from Victoria station, which made me uneasy seeing several National Express coaches that were all heading via Birmingham. It was a NE coach driver who saw Brian climb over the railings and jump, and I presume called the ambulance. It was also a Sunday morning. On the journey I watched the clock and felt even more uneasy seeing it reach 9am, knowing that it was around then that he jumped. I wondered exactly what time it was that he actually died. I don't know why I did that. I seem to torture myself with the knowledge. I was really glad to be back in Sheffield later on, so that I could just be alone and finally have a bit of a cry and get off to sleep. I hate crying in front of people and especially in public. Now I feel really deflated, as usual after a heavy weeked, but this is the point when I'd be curling up next to him and finally getting some decent rest, feeling safe and happy in his arms. I don't know that I'll ever be able to feel that again...

I mourn for those who never knew you..

2009-07-16T16:34:00.003+01:00

Yes, that's right, I've gone all emo and spent the last few days listening to Killswitch Engage and oddly enough every single song of theirs seems to be relevant at the moment.. All about love and loss and misery and whatnot. It's nice to know I can actually listen to music again, although I still haven't attempted Apoptygma Berzerk. I think it'll take a while before I can manage that one.

So a short recap of the last few days is probably in order. I've yet again ridden a rollercoaster of emotions, and much as I usually love thrill rides I'm quite keen to get off this one and sit on one of those serene little paddle boats for a while.. Or something..

My current trend of feelings is numb. Completely and utterly numb. Also a distinct feeling of "what's the point?" when it comes to getting out of bed. It takes me long enough to get off to sleep, then it's disturbed and often dreamless, then I actually have to get up and DO stuff? But life potters on around me regardless, and despite my desire to spend the rest of my life in bed I have to carry on as much as possible.

So, onto this week. Monday was tattoo day. Not much to say about that other than seeing the design coming together is a very satisfying feeling. As much as it hurts (and it really does) I am halfway towards a memorial to Brian that will stay with me until I'm old and wrinkly and it looks fucking ridiculous. I'm having difficulty sitting and lying down or doing anything where my back has to touch anything, but it's worth it. It's cathartic in a way. I can't wait to have it finished.

Tuesday I went to see Nine Inch Nails. A gig that I'd been looking forward to for ages, then completely forgot about it when the shit rammed into the fan nearly 3 weeks ago. I didn't cope too well with that. I cried, I sang along, I clutched my jaw in agony (my wisdom tooth is coming through - yet more shit piled upon shit to deal with). And I felt anger. Real anger. More than once I thought "fuck you Brian". I really was angry during and after the gig. I should have enjoyed it more, I should have been texting him or calling him during the show and pissing him off, I should have been excited, but I wasn't. I wondered if it would be possible for me to ever really enjoy anything ever again. And I actually hated him for it for a while. Of course I don't really hate Brian, I love him more than anything. But I hate what this has done to me, and to everyone else. So yes, I stood crying during Hurt and cursing him for making me into "that girl" that cries at gigs and makes everyone feel uncomfortable..

Wednesday I didn't get up til nearly 3pm, mainly because my sleeping patterns are fucked beyond fucked but also because apparently codeine is not only a marvellous pain killer but a great sleeping aid. If you like your sleep disturbed and full of wierd trippy dreams. I dreamed about Brian for the first time. I don't remember what happened, but I know he was there. But I spent the day in a haze and was pretty calm and spaced for my doctor's appointment. Meaning that I appeared to be fine and have only been signed off for another week. God knows if I'll actually be ready to go back by then, but apparently a routine may help me, and she may have a point there. My current routine involves sitting watching Dave ad nauseum and refreshing several browser windows to the point of insanity.

So we come to today. Thursday. The day before the funeral. I'm going to Birmingham tonight to spend the next couple of nights with his family. Not only is Friday his funeral, Saturday is his step brother's wedding. Which is something we were really looking forward to going to, also because we had tickets to see KMFDM in London that night too. I was so excited about this weekend, now it all feels so surreal. I don't know if I'll make it to London, I don't know if those tickets were ever delivered. I know that this weekend will not be what I had planned though. At this point I'm still feeling quite numb, but I know that it will change once I see his body and have to say my last goodbye to him. I'm dreading what tomorrow will bring...

Two weeks...

2009-07-12T20:54:00.002+01:00

So it's now been two weeks since Brian left us. I've hit rock bottom, climbed back up again and now I'm sitting somewhere in the middle feeling slightly dazed at how surreal it all feels. After my major fuck up/cry for help on Thursday night I'd been feeling slightly ashamed of myself and it hit me that I didn't want to let my friends and family, and Brian, down. This isn't what he would have wanted. I may feel like there's very little point to anything right now, but I have to believe that there IS still a point to life and that I will get through this, no matter how impossible that seems at the moment...

So on Friday night I went for drinks with a good friend who managed to take my mind off things for a while. I still had to excuse myself to the toilet for short weeping sessions during the night, but I managed to put a brave face on as I have been doing for the past two weeks. I'm also becoming more and more aware of how emo this blog is beginning to sound, with the constant talk of crying and feeling shit. You'll be happy to know I haven't written any poems. Yet..

Last night was the Nottingham meet-up organised by the folks over at the Kerrang! forums. Brian was an admin there for a while a few years back and is credited with reviving the forums as well as being the life and soul of every meet up they had. I'd heard about the K! boarders from him and knew he'd been all over the place for crazy nights out, and was looking forward to meeting some of them eventually. This was not the way I wanted to be introduced to all these new people. As it turns out, he'd been doing a lot of gushing behind my back and they had been looking forward to meeting this woman who'd managed to calm him down a little! It was nice to hear how much he really thought of me, but in a way it doesn't really serve to comfort me. He's still gone.

I managed to deal with the Nottingham meet much better than the Birmingham one last week. I'd never been to Nottingham with Brian, so it wasn't full of memories. I did however see a guy in the street with exactly the same hair style as Brian, which freaked me out a little. No word of a lie. The EXACT same haircut and dye job (when he had red hair). I suppose I need to get used to "seeing" him all over the place. Like I said, even cans of Strongbow remind me of him. And Red Bull. Which was mixed last night into a surprisingly nice cocktail - Brian would have been proud. Or maybe slightly disgusted.

So the night consisted of meeting a load of people who's names I don't remember now in the Rescue Rooms, vandalising a couple of toilets in his memory, hearing loads of great stories from his old friends and then moving onto Rock City for much drunken fun. And I have to admit that I did have lots of fun. Despite the fact that Rock City is pretty rubbish, as far as music goes. It felt good to get drunk and dance like a maniac. Like no-one is watching, as he taught many of us. It was a good release, despite getting emotional in the taxi back to where we (me and my housemate Sal, who has been amazing through this whole ordeal) were staying. I had yet another night of hazy non-sleep and a nice relaxing day. Next week is going to be incredibly stressful, so I need as much relaxation as I can get! I probably won't know what to do with myself after the funeral is over...

I'm back home now and feeling, well, nothing again. It's all over the place, from one hour to the next my mood changes so drastically it actually scares me. I wish that it would stabilise and I could just feel normal again, just for a little while, but I know that's not going to happen for a really long time. I'm dreading the next week and finally saying goodbye officially. At times like this Brian would have been the person I'd turn to for comfort and support. Now I just feel really alone. I know I'm not, what with all the support from friends and family, but I can't help but feel really lonely. I miss that intimacy we had together. I just miss him so much it hurts constantly.

Many thanks to the people that made it to Nottingham last night, and also to Birmingham last week. Brian would have been really proud and happy to see so many people having fun in his memory.

Hitting the bottom...

2009-07-09T19:58:00.002+01:00

So last night was my worst so far.. I'd been pottering about all day going about my business, seeing my finished tattoo design and spending time with friends... It all seemed to be going fine until I got the call that evening that Brian's funeral arrangements are being made. At that point it all just seemed to hit me really hard. The realisation that he's gone and I won't be seeing him again. That I'd see his body before the service and realise that it's not HIM anymore, just a shell... I hate talking about "his body" or "the body" when I'm talking about Brian. He's not just a "body", he's my boyfriend.

These thoughts just continued swirling in my head for the next few hours. I sat watching films and drinking with friends but I couldn't enjoy it. I couldn't even look at the couple sat in the room with us, even though they're friends of mine and I'm happy for them. I just couldn't see 2 people being happy together when just 2 weeks ago I had exactly that. It drove me crazy.

I managed to hold it together until getting home last night when I completely lost it. I started drinking heavily, I took painkillers I didn't need and took a huge dose of DXM. For the first hour or two I cried hysterically, but didn't want to burden anyone even though they'd offered me their help, any time day or night. I just didn't want to put people through what I was going through. I've seen people in that state, and it's just as horrible to watch as it is to feel it. I never thought I would feel like that. But I honestly stopped caring whether I lived or died. I honestly thought I'd be handling it so well, but last night I found out just how low rock bottom really is, and it's not pretty. The thought that Brian might have been feeling the same despair and hopelessness and couldn't talk to anyone about it is just heartbreaking. He knew how much I cared about and loved him and would never have done anything to hurt him. Now he's caused me the ultimate hurt, even though it wasn't deliberate against me. How can I trust anyone else not to do the same? How can I trust myself not to?

I spent several hours tripping balls after that. I posted on a forum I'd not been on in ages, a real cry for help, and recieved tons of messages of support and condolence. Nice as it is, the same words being repeated over and over kind of lose meaning. Yes, everyone is so sorry for my loss. Yes, they can't possibly imagine what I'm going through. Yes, they're all there for me. But reading it time and time again, you just stop taking it in and even stop believing it, no matter how true it is... I even sent my ex an email, a person I'd not contacted in over a year. I'd wanted to tell him how happy I was and that everything was ok. I ended up having to tell him that I'm not ok. I don't even know why I emailed him really.. I'm certainly not interested in "that way" anymore, and how could I be when I'm still so desperately in love with Brian? To be honest, I can't ever picture myself being with any other man now.. They're not Brian.

After spending several hours alone, I was in the company of my housemates and a friend. Who all scolded me for resorting to drugs and drink and not reaching out to anyone in particular... I know it was stupid. But when you feel that low you don't think about anything. Honestly, it was like I was on autopilot and not controlling what I was doing.. It's scary that I got into that state. I didn't like being there, I don't like how I feel now. Yes, I escaped for a few hours, but it did me no good. I woke up at 7.30pm and now my body clock is fucked because of it... I'll probably be asleep again in a couple of hours anyway. Grief is exhausting..

Just one more time, for the sake of sanity....

2009-07-08T12:47:00.003+01:00

So I concluded last night that my MP3 player does indeed hate me. Or has an uncanny ability to know what I'm feeling and what songs I really don't need to here. But we shouldn't anthropomorphise machines. They don't like it.

Anyway, last night was one of my darkest so far. I'd had a great night with my housemates eating pizza and watching Sweeney Todd. I tried my best to sing along, to get into the night, but my heart wasn't really into it for obvious reasons. Then I absent mindedly checked facebook, as I seem to be doing all the time now (oh hell, I was before too) and saw several status updates over Michael Jackson's funeral. Apart from the fact that I didn't even realise it was on yesterday, I instantly saw red over all these people mourning over some celebrity they didn't know. Sure, he's leaving a family behind and that's very sad, but these millions of people never KNEW Michael. They didn't plan on spending their lives with him. Well, maybe a small contingency of super crazy fans did, but the majority of them poured out a level of faux grief I haven't seen since Saint Diana died... One person even said it was the saddest thing ever and the most they'd cried in years. I envy them. SO fucking much right now. If a celebrity dying 5000 miles away is the most horrible thing they've experienced they are so lucky it's not even funny...

Anyway, after that my mood got worse, not only because of that but because I don't seem to be able to concentrate on anything longer than half an hour and my mind wanders... to him. By the time my housemates were off to bed I was in tears again and drinking heavily. Last night I honestly didn't care if I lived or died. I got steadily drunk, and found a baggie of some old rubbish disassociative drug we'd been given instead of MDMA once so in the heat of the moment took a fairly heavy dose. 1 hour later I was nicely disassociated from the world. Brian would kill me for talking about this so openly, but I don't hide things. Hiding things is what drives people to do what he did. Being open means people can get help, even if they don't particularly want it yet... At least people know what you're doing that way. And for last night it deadened the pain some more. Mixing with alcohol and codeine wasn't the smartest idea but I really didn't care. It wasn't an attempt on my life in any way, more an attempt to escape for a while. A spur of the moment thing.

After spending an hour watching mindless pop videos on late night music TV and debating with myself how nice it would be live such a shallow existence, free of any real meaning or emotion, I decided it was time for some form of sleep. So promptly took a sleeping tablet and curled up with my MP3 player for several hours. The problem with a lot of recreational drugs is that they often have a stimulant effect even if they are classed as disassociative. Add a sleeping tablet to that and you get... Nothing. Nada. Just dozing and occassionally being woken up by Machine Head blasting down your ears... But of course the first song to come on was the one in the title of today's blog. Disappoint by Assemblage 23. A song about a father's suicide. Of all the 987 tracks on my player, why THAT one? The theme didn't carry on thank god, but I couldn't help but have a wry little smile about how ironic it was...

Needless to say I've barely slept again. But I've had a phone call this morning. Brian's body is finally being released to his family, so funeral arrangements can begin. Another step towards some form of closure on the whole situation. I'm dreading it...

Just one more time
For the sake of sanity
Tell me why
Explain the gravity
That drove you to this
That brought you to this place
That pushed you down
Into the soil's embrace

Give me the chance
I was denied
To sit and talk with you
For one last time

CHORUS
Did I disappoint you?
Did I let you down?
Did I stand on the shore
And watch you as you drowned?
Can you forgive me?
I never knew
The pain you carried
Deep inside of you.

I can't forget
Having to see
The words that knocked the wind
Right out of me
It's not enough
I've come undone
Trying to find sense
Where there is none

Just give me peace
You owe me that
To help ward off the fears
I must combat

(CHORUS)

And so I ask
For one more chance
To understand
This senseless circumstance
Help me to see
This through your eyes
The reasons I've been trying
To surmise

Though you are gone
I am still your son
And while your pain is over
Mine has just begun

Random memories...

2009-07-07T15:37:00.002+01:00

I've spent the last few days going over and over the details of how Brian's life ended, the last things he did and said, the last time I saw him and how I was in a spazzy girl tizz over some silly trivial shit. And the fact that being in such a tizz meant I got to spend one last night with him.. I've been so focused on these things that I sometimes feel like I'm forgetting the good times. I can't afford to lose those, so I want to remind myself of who he really was. As I remember more, I'll add more of these...

The way you used to screw your face up and throw the horns whenever I asked if you were ok..
The way you used to go off into your own little world and smile at some random thought or memory you never explained to us..
The way you were so proud of your farts, much to everyone else's chagrin..
The fact that we both shared the same habit of leaving the best part of a meal til last.. even if that meant not being able to finish it!
The way you always used to steal cucumber off my plate and stare longingly at my garlic bread if you'd finished your meal first, which ALWAYS happened
Finishing your meal before me and smugly proclaiming "I win!" and my response of "Yes and your prize is indigestion"
The endless number of "it's not gay if.." jokes...
How frustrated you were by my "raspberry proof" clothing sometimes
The epic pillow fight we had after watching Die Hard 4
Valentine's day folding (fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!)
The way you used to blow kisses at me across the table and how cute I always thought that was
The little loveheart you drew in the air at me on the train back from Damnation
The endless music and films you forced onto my computer, eating up my hard disk space
You bouncing around my house at Sal's birthday party on a spacehopper shouting "I'm the meatsafe murderer, only I never done it!"
Watching the Final Destination DVD and it crashing just as you were about to go home, and you saying it was a sign to stay!
You being impressed that I was the only girl you knew to admit to crying when Optimus Prime dies in Transformers The Movie (the cartoon version of course)
Watching the sunrise with you over Attercliffe canal, sitting and hugging and talking all night then crashing at yours watching Robot Chicken and Brass Eye all day...
How excited I was the first time we eventually kissed and running around telling everyone that "I spent the night with Brian! Ahhhhhhh!!!"
The first time you said "I love you" - in the back of a taxi in Birmingham on the way back from Eddies
Curling up next to you in bed, running my fingers through your chest hair and you getting pissed off that I wouldn't leave it alone
Lots of memories that are far too rude to repeat in polite company...
That manic laugh you had whenever you found something really really funny
Your talent for wearing outlandish t-shirts and knowing that no-one else could carry them off quite like you...
Dancing with you at so many club nights, always you dragging me onto the dancefloor..
You telling your dad's cat Bagpuss not to give your girlfriend any shit..
You convincing me to come down to Birmingham for your birthday meal out to meet your family, and then saying how it was the "specialest birthday" you'd had in a long time and I was a big part of it (I still have that message saved)
Nudge wars on msn
How unbelievably hot you looked with your lip piercing in and how me telling you that never seemed to convince you to keep it in all the time, damnit...
GAY!
FART!

That's all I can think of for now... there's so much more. So much that I wish I'd carried a video camera around with me to record every single moment we had together. I hope that my memory doesn't become hazy over time. At the moment, those memories are all I've got.

Miss you so much babe...

(Photo shamelessly stolen from someone else)

One week

2009-07-05T22:21:00.002+01:00

So it's been exactly a week since Brian died. Saying that it's been the hardest week of my life would be as big an understatement as calling World War 2 "a bit of a kerfuffle". I've felt shittier than I ever thought possible, and felt nothing all at the same time.

Friday night was the Planet Zogg free party, something we'd both been looking forward to since being given the invitations at the last Zogg. I've felt since getting the news that Brian wouldn't want me to wallow in misery and miss out on everything we'd planned, so I reluctantly got myself dressed up and put on a brave face and lots of waterproof eyeliner. I listened to music properly for the first time since it all happened. Not as hard as I thought it would be, but then psy-trance isn't exactly weepy music. The hardest part of the night was right at the beginning, seeing loved up couples so happy together and suddenly feeling so alone. I honestly didn't think I could handle it. Fast forward several hours to being completely fucked and I'm suddenly smiling, laughing and joking with my friends. I managed to dance, I was thinking about my future, I was convinced I would get through all of this. But drugs will do that to a person. It kills the pain for a few hours, makes it easier to talk about things. The comedown will inevitably be brutal but you don't think about that. It's hours away.

Hours later crashing on my friends sofa I finally came down. And it really was brutal. I cried alone for an hour or so. Then I didn't sleep and went past the point of feeling anything. By the time everyone else was up and I was sat outside smoking and talking, I was completely numb to it all. I was almost proud of myself for holding together so well. All through the night people had been telling me how brave I was, that I'm an inspiration, that I'm so strong. I don't want to be an inspiration. I don't want to be brave. I hate that I have to be these things when all I ever wanted was a nice, normal life. I don't see myself ever having that...

That afternoon my friend Kerrie drove me down to Birmingham to see his family and friends. Despite insisting that we avoid the A38 (where he died) I was fine. I was fine when we drove up to his dad's house, if a little nervous. I was fine when we were sat around talking and when I was getting ready to go to Subside. Then we finally arrived and went out to the smoking area to find people. I recognised several of his friends but was suddenly lost for words. I had no idea what to say to anyone and memories suddenly came flooding back of the last time we were there. I'd defended him against some guy who didn't get on with him, which Brian thanked me for. Then he introduced me to a friend I'd not met yet and flung his arms around me shouting "This is Bex. This is my girlfriend. We're in love! We're going to get married and have babies!". I never told him, but that's exactly what I'd been dreaming of for a while. I really did want to spend my life with him. As soon as I saw the place where we'd been so happy I broke down completely. His family and friends were awesome, but it was all downhill after that..

Despite feeling incredibly low again, I kept as brave a face as possible and went along to Eddies. Again, as soon as I got inside and remembered being there last, I was a complete wreck. All through the night I only stopped crying for short periods of time. I attempted to dance but really couldn't see the point. When the DJ dedicated a song (Limp Bizkit, bet you would have really appreciated that, ha!) I tried to dance but broke down in tears. I stayed long enough for some of his friends to sign a remembrance book I started, but couldn't take much more and made my excuses and left around 3am. The taxi drive was yet more torture. Whoever thinks it's a good idea to play "heartbreakers" on the radio on a Saturday night at 3am needs a proper good slap around the face. At the moment it's one of those situations where every song I hear, no matter how cheesy and gay, is suddenly "speaking to me".

Once again I didn't sleep too well, and dragged myself out of bed around 2pm. After a phone call from my work asking if I would be on shift tomorrow. My boyfriend just died, what the fuck do YOU think? Anyway, today was a meeting the family kind of day. Despite the fact that I've never been good around kids and never had any desire to have any of my own, seeing his step-nephew (I think that's the right wording?) made me feel... Well I don't know. A pang of jealousy and sadness that I wouldn't have that with him. Slightly maternal, which freaked me out a little to be honest. Needless to say I couldn't cope very well with that environment.

Then it came to going out to see the bridge, the part I had been dreading so much but knew I had to do. The drive there was so nerve-wracking. And so heartbreaking to see how far out of his way he'd gone. Then I saw the bridge, with the flowers tied to the railings and my heart started racing. I felt faint and couldn't stop shaking when I carried the flowers onto the bridge and looked over the railing. Exactly how I'd felt a week ago when my entire world fell apart. Looking over the railings it's hard to believe a fall so short could kill a person. But the fact is that it did, and now nothing can change that. I shakily wrote out a message to Brian, telling him how much I love and miss him. How empty my life feels without him. I honestly thought I might have to be held back from jumping over the railings myself, but when I got there I felt numb again.

Everyone deals with things in different ways, mine is clearly to retreat into myself and push forward as much as possible. I tied the flowers on with one of Kerrie's dreads and stood thinking for a while. Or not thinking, as the case was. I couldn't think. After that point I had no more tears until a couple of hours later when it came to driving home. I have to point out here that Brian's family are really lovely people and it breaks my heart that they're going through so much pain too. I would have loved to have them as my family too, but I suppose in a way they are...

Since getting back I've felt numb, angry, sad... Everything. I look at messages on facebook and see some people making a bigger drama out of it than I think they deserve to. They weren't with him, they didn't plan to spend their lives with him. I guess I'm trying to re-affirm in my head that Brian was MY boyfriend, he loved ME and I loved him. I don't think there's any doubt about that, it's just misdirected irrational feelings that I have no control over. I remember people telling me how strong I am and I feel like I'm sick of hearing it. I'm not strong. Not at all. God I really fucking miss you and need you right now, you tremendous arse...

Up days, Down days, Nothing days...

2009-07-03T18:36:00.002+01:00

Today has been wierd... My head has been so all over the place today that I've practically run the entire gamut of emotions a person can have... I know already that this thing is going to turn into a gay "dear diary" kind of thing, but sometimes writing is easier than talking..

This morning I had a doctors appointment. I managed to sleep in my own bed - again, substance induced and dreamless as it has been for the past few days - and I woke feeling rather numb. I had a definite aversion to getting out of bed - a combination of wanting my alarm to fuck off and wondering what the point was. But as it seems to work for me at the moment, I'd made several plans for the day so DID have a point to getting out of bed. And that's the important thing to remember, my life does still have a point. And now I'm smiling at an in-joke we shared many times, and I bet he is too.

So I started with a doctors appointment. Actually, I started by getting dressed and forgetting to look out of the window so wore a light cotton skirt and flip flops. In the pissing rain. Well done Bex, well done indeed. But it never occured to me and at that point (ha!) I didn't really care. The rain was a relief after feeling so shit in the sweltering heat and having to cope with emotional pain. I didn't really even complain when I was trudging through puddles getting wet feet. Why the hell not? It's fun to splash through puddles and damnit it made me vaguely happy for a few minutes.

Anyway, the doctors. As predicted, the minute I had to explain everything I broke down in tears and was immediately signed off for 2 weeks. I've already been off for a week. Part of me is panicking at the thought of having almost no money coming in, but how am I supposed to go straight back into work? How could anyone? My company gives 3 days of compassionate leave. 3 fucking days. 3 days is not enough time to get over a lifetime of loss and grief. So at least now I have time. Time to do all the things I'd had planned - meeting his friends, seeing his family, saying goodbye.

Last night I sat up drinking wine, crying and designing a tattoo. I'd always wanted a tattoo but have never known what to have done. I had vague ideas floating around, but wanted something that really meant something to me. Now I have the opportunity to have something that really means something to me. The circumstances suck, but this will be a permanent reminder of him, something I can take with me everywhere so I never forget who he was and what he meant to me, how he changed my life and will always be here in the changes he inspired. And again, I bet he's reading over my shoulder shouting "GAY!" in his trademark way.

The rest of today I've spent chatting for hours with a friend, talking about the usual crap that girls talk about. It's nice, it's a distraction from the reality of everything. And I managed to talk about things that he'd said and done and didn't totally lose it every time I said his name. Sometimes it's really easy to say his name, sometimes I can't even think about him without bursting into tears. Right now I feel.. nothing really. I've been laughing with friends and crying this morning, but at the moment it's all a bit numb. I know something will set me off sooner or later. Tonight is going to be my first night out without him being there or at least texting me all the time. It was something we were really looking forward to and I know he wouldn't want me to miss out because of him. We'll see how it goes... I'll have a can of energy drink for you Brian and I'll miss you bouncing across the dancefloor..

Can you tell me why? Can you tell me now..

2009-07-02T12:05:00.003+01:00

Hey all

My name is Bex, I'm 24 and living in Sheffield. Up until this weekend, I was living a really happy life. I was in a relationship with an amazing man who I loved and he loved me. I was doing great in my job which I struggled to get into, but was starting to enjoy more. We had plans for the coming weeks and months and life seemed amazing. I felt invincible and deliriously happy.

Then on Sunday 28/6/09 my life was turned upside down. I was at the end of my shift when I was called into the office by my deputy manager and told that my boyfriend of the last 10 months, the person who I thought I'd be spending my life with, had been killed that morning. I didn't cry. I didn't do anything. I sat and shook while they told me the details. He had taken his own life that morning by jumping from a bridge.

There were no warning signs, no indications that he didn't want to live, nothing that would raise any suspiscions. It didn't sink in until I had to let my friends know, and even repeating the story over and over again hasn't made it really sink in. Everything still feels very unreal. I wanted to create this blog as I find writing about things cathartic and it will help me preserve his memory. I also wanted to provide support and encouragement to people who have suffered the same kind of loss, to make them realise they are not alone. I've had a huge amount of support from truly wonderful friends, but there are very few that really know or understand the pain, although they try their hardest.

As I said previously, Brian and I had been together for the past 10 months. We had our ups and downs as every couple did, but the impression most people got was that we were very happy together. And we were. I still remember clearly the first time he said "I love you" and how amazing that made me feel. It still makes me feel good to remember it. It's one of many treasured memories that I'll keep forever. But I don't want memories, I want him to be here. He'd probably rip the piss out of me and call me "gay" for making such a schmaltzy first post, but it's true. We were in constant contact and I keep expecting his name to pop up on msn, or for him to update his facebook profile. I keep watching my phone for a text message or listening out for his personal ringtone. I know that I won't be able to listen to Until The End Of The World (Apoptygma Berzerk) for a very long time without crying my eyes out.

Nobody can ever prepare you for the shock and rollercoaster of emotions you feel after something like this. Last night (1/7/09) was the first time I managed to sleep in my own bed and that only happened because I was so drunk, stoned and exhausted that I just passed out. But waking up without him next to me was unbearable. I can't believe I'll never be able to roll over and curl up next to him on a morning, or spend an entire day in bed together just talking and being close. My room feels cold and empty and is full of things that remind me of him. The crazy digital clock he bought me that randomly tells the wrong time and date. The shells I got from the beach in Swansea on a trip with him just 3 weeks ago. He was even kind enough to leave his stinking gym trainers here as a souvenier. Thanks for that babe...

Over the past few days I've cried for hours, laughed with friends, felt numb to the core and smiled at memories of him. I've stood outside with a spliff at 3am and talked to him. I've told him how much I love him, how much I miss him, how I'm going to kick hiss ass for doing this when I finally see him again and how he needs to stop watching me pee just because he can now. I've joked with friends that flies or wasps coming to buzz around my face and annoy me are just him, checking up on me and saying hi. Humour has kept me going, and I feel like a part of him is still alive in the shared, off the wall sense of humour we had. Only two days before he died we talked on msn trading Michael Jackson jokes. I have that conversation saved now and the window still open on my laptop. I never want to restart my computer and lose it from my taskbar.

People with experience of things like this have told me that all of these feelings are normal and that I shouldn't feel guilty for any of them. I'm devastated that I've lost the person I wanted to spend my life with. Angry that he would do such a stupid thing and leave us all. Relieved that he's finally resting, since he never ever seemed to stop. I know that he would want life to carry on as normal without him, but that's easier said than done. I keep walking past pubs we drank in, friends houses we partied at, even bus stops we waited in together, and I well up immediately. None of these places will ever be the same to me again. Everything reminds me of him, which is probably a good thing even if I do burst into tears when I look at a can of Strongbow...

My way of coping so far has involved being as busy as possible. The night that I and all my friends found out we went for a gathering and drinks in the park, I would say there were at least 20 of us and that wasn't even half of his Sheffield friends. It was a beautiful afternoon/evening and we'd always meant to go laze about in a park with friends. So that's what we did. I was in a mess, having to repeat the details over and over again, but hearing friends chatting about happy memories was really touching. Over the last few days I've spent time with friends, talking and drinking, laughing and crying. Anything to keep going. Being with people is so important. Right now is the first time I've been on my own since Sunday. It's hard, but not as awful as I expected it to be. At least I can talk to him and not feel like a crazy person since no one will walk in. I know he's reading over my shoulder right now (stop that) and smiling.

Over the next few days I have various nights out and meet ups all over the country to attend. Brian was hugely popular and had so many friends in different cities. He could never sit still for long and moved about all over the place. During our time together he lived in Derby, which he hated (it IS rubbish to be fair) but we saw each other all the time. I was excited at the prospect of his next move, possibly taking me with him to Swansea. I daydreamed about it even on the day he died, before I knew what had happened. Because of him I went out in so many different places and met lots of new people who are now good friends. He inspired so much confidence in me and I've been left with strength I didn't even realise I had. I changed for the better because of him and will never forget it. From the tributes pouring in it seems that he helped so many people and made an impact on so many lives.

I don't want this blog to focus on the horrible facts of his death, although I will probably reveal more over time in my rambling. The purpose of this is to vent my feelings and to help other people come to terms with their own feelings. I want this to serve as way of remembering Brian in general and as the happy, fun and affectionate person I loved. I still love him and always will do. There is a huge (well, 5'4") gap in my life that will never be filled and I'll miss him so much. I believe people when they say things will get easier. Right now life is a struggle and my future feels bleak without him there, but I hope in time I will be happy again. I know it's what he would want.

Brian Shields, 19/11/78 - 28/6/09
I love you so much, sleep well and I'll see you again in time...