Numb

chapter 4: Mummy and Me

The shock of mum's suicide rattled our community. I was confused, nobody could tell me anything other than sorry. leaving me with an unusual sense of guilt, which eventually rested in me never to leave. After weeks of agonising mourning we sat at the table, silent as usual. Dad took a deep breath in, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. eventually he found the words "she loved you both so so much. Elle, Natasha, she loves us." i dont know if those were the words that he wanted, but they were the ones he found, the ones that have remained in my mind for far too long.

even years later that memory haunts me, and just as we began to deal with the tragedy, another one was just around the corner.

i remember Natasha dancing around the room when we were about nine years old. she was extremely graceful and elegant. she would grab my hands and twirl me around. i hated it more than anything, and for years i had fought her off me, screamed and cried at the thought of spinning around the room with no real purpose. but this one time i let her control my body. we spun around the room, and i felt overwhelmingly happy. It was then been four years since Mum passed away. she had begun to fade into a memory, and i spent every moment trying not to forget anything about her.

but whilst we spun around the room i was greated by a feeling i hadnt felt since that day with dad in the park and on the beach. my world spun around me, and i could do nothing about it. i had no control. for a moment i felt free, and happy. But those emotions were soon overruled as i met an enemy i would have to battle for the rest of my life.

i collapsed on the ground hugging my chest, and gasping for air. i held my hands in front of me, they bent forming distorted shapes and colours. I couldnt breathe, my mind was racing. all i wanted to do was run. run away from here. but i was stuck, my chest was collapsing, my hands shaking uncontrollably, i had to leave. i screamed for mum over and over, Natasha held me, as she screamed for dad.

Dad called an ambulance, for hours i sat on a hospital bed in a room with three other children. within the hour of arriving at the hospital i felt nearly fine although a sense of fear still lingered over me. the nurse called it anxiety, i called it death. I couldnt help but to think about mum, and how much i needed her in that moment.

i was sent home with instructions to see my doctor. Those attacks occurred daily. they terrified me. i could no longer be alone, i begged Natasha to live by my side. she knelt by me, hand on my back comforting the ball of emotions screaming on the floor. and after eight months of torture, my psychologist diagnosed me with something she simply called 'generalised anxiety'.