Apryl

Meet Apryl

My mother, Apryl, is one of the strongest people I know. She was the kind of woman that makes friends with complete strangers down the street and leaves them with their day looking ten times brighter. She was the woman everyone goes to for their issues, her compassionate and non-judgemental personality drawing them to her. Apryl was the woman that volunteers for all the jobs that no one wants. She was always willing to lend a hand to anyone that needs it and was often found cooking meals for a million different people. 

Even though she spent so much time caring for the people around her, she always made time for my siblings and I. She was also a teen/young mum and battling depression. We moved towns and her mental health picked up. We were fine for about 3 years, before she got sick. 

Apryl was bedridden for weeks. Our dad took time off work to look after her and us while she got better, but days went by and there was no change. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and her entire body felt like it was on fire all the time. Her mind was working in overdrive as her body ceased movement. Most days there would be silent tears streaking down her face, the only indication to us that she was in pain. She picked up a little by the end of three weeks, which was when dad's boss started demanding that he come back to work. Apryl forced herself to get out of bed, even as her body screamed not to, and convinced dad that he could go back to work, that she was fine. 

For two months she kept up the charade, forcing herself to look after us kids, go to the shops, do the bills, do the housework and keep up with the million other commitments she had. But as time went on, I would have to help her walk through the shops as her energy drained rapidly at the smallest of tasks. We called her major drops in energy 'crashes'. There were times where she would 'crash' at the shops and just collapse, sitting curled in a ball on the floor. People make rude remarks as they walked past, or accuse her of being on drugs, they'd poke and prod her, try and drag her to her feet, but she didn't have the energy to move, and there was nothing she could do about it but let silent tears fall. There were times when us kids where with her and people would sneer at her for 'being a bad mother'. Eventually, it got so bad that dad had to resign from his job and become a full-time carer for my mum. 

When my mum got sick she was 30 years old. I've only brushed the surface of about 3 months of her sickness. She has been fighting the illness for the last 7 years and is only just making a recovery now. 

Strong. Smart. Feirce.