Today is a day of very mixed feelings, its the day Emily's treatment will start. Part of me is relieved that we have survived and made it this far, but I know this is also the beginning of a hard path for her and one she has to take no matter what.
On Sunday morning we should have been running Race for Life together. Sadly Emily couldn't face being out of the house with so many strangers. So our group of 3 became 2 and instead I gave her my medal when I got home.
By Sunday evening I had started with a nasty head cold. The drawback to something like this, apart from obviously feeling rubbish, is that you don't want to pass it on. This has made it very difficult to comfort Emily in the usual way of hugs, kisses and holding hands. I was sneezing with alarming frequency and in between times constantly blowing my nose so we kept to opposite ends of the sofa.
Monday I felt even worse and at a time Emily needed me I couldn't be fully there for her. I knew she worried about going to the centre and as the day got closer her fear grew and she got more and more upset about it. I could only offer her short hugs and words from a distance.
Feeling no better on Tuesday meant a day off work. This is almost unheard of for me and especially not for 'just a cold'. Its ridiculous, I am totally shattered, coughing and sneezing with a pounding head and even dosing myself up on whatever medication I can has made little difference. I'm beginning to wonder if the weeks of worry have just left my defences so low that there is no fight in me for stuff like this? Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself, I'm just blooming annoyed that a) I'm ill b) I can't shake it and c) It's stopping me doing the things I need to do.
So back to today. Admittance was 10.30am. Emily flitted from being upset, doing practical stuff like getting showered, back to being upset. I was surprised though that when the time came to leave,I got her into the car, with me and my cold, with no real problems. I'd honestly thought I might not be able to physically get her out of the house.
She walked into the centre calmly, even going out and in again to retrieve my forgotten tissues from the car.
Once in the admittance meeting with four staff members it was a different story. She wouldn't look at anyone and I became almost like an interpreter as questions were asked. Her answers were barely audible and as her head hung down there was only me who could make out what she was saying.
All through the meeting she was crying and whispering that she didn't want to stay and didn't want me to leave her. The staff left us alone for a few moments and then offered us a tour.
The centre is very well equipped, with school rooms, leisure room, quiet area's, dinning room etc and the staff are kind.
When the time came to part, Emily started to cry again and begged me not to leave her. I held her face in my germ infested hand and asked her to look at me, really look at me.
I told her I loved her, I told her I was proud of how well she was doing. I told her that those bully's were not going to win because she was going to get the help she needed to get better and get her life back. I told her I would be there at 4pm to bring her home. I opened her hand and pointed at the felt heart keyring and told her that the heart was proof I would still be with her and I would be thinking about her all afternoon. I told her she was safe now and the centre would help her get better.
Through all this I did not shed a tear. Not until I was out of the security doors and in my car did I sit and sob.
- Mum of 2, suffering my own mental health issues, I began to write this blog as a way to release feelings and emotions. At 13 my daughter was terribly bullied which has led to her having serious mental health problems of her own. She is now 16. I wanted to document our journey and hopefully be able to look back and see how far we have come.