I'm not 100% sure on how to start one of these things but I'll give it my best shot. Here Goes.
Having being told constantly by family and friends that I have a story to tell, it's a little hard to ignore them. I'm not saying my story is more important than everybody else's, I guess it's just I feel like my story isn't being heard like it should be.
Before the story gets deep, let me tell you a little about myself.
Slap bang in the middle of 1999 ( well almost) my parents graced the world with my existence (is that pushing it?). There was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about me, and my parents were supposedly normal people. But who is to say what 'normal' is?
My parents named me "Levi" - YES, like the jeans. I am fully aware that most people hear or see my name and instantly assume I am a boy. I'd hate to disappoint you, but I am very much a girl.
From the minute I entered the world - maybe even before that moment too- everyone had a 'plan' for not just me, but themselves too. Nobody could have predicted how much that plan could and would change. Less that 13 years later everything would change; forever. Not just for me, but for my older sister and younger brother too. I am very much the middle-child and suffer from 'middle-child syndrome.' My brother and I share the same father, my sister (who beat me to the world by a whole 8 years) has a different dad. Don't tell them this, but I love them more than anything. Even my little brother! I'll admit, I wasn't that happy about his arrival in the beginning, but right now at this very moment of typing this I wouldn't swap him for anyone or anything. Of course, I still bully him, but isn't that what little brother's are for?
My life was pretty average; my parents separated not long after my brother made his big arrival into the world and for a while my Mum didn't seem herself. She lost her way a little, but no matter what was going on in that mind of hers, myself and my siblings always came first. ALWAYS.
Life was a struggle for my Mum - she became a single parent, with two young children (my sister was already off creating a life for herself at this point) and Mum always did the best she could for us. Making sure we always had food to eat and all the love any kid could ever wish for (her hugs were the best!).
I excelled at school - I've got to admit, I loved the place! Although, since leaving I just wish I'd made a bit more effort and realised how good it actually was for me. As I've gotten older I've realised just how much of an impact it has had on my life - especially the teachers. My advice, if you are lucky enough to get good teachers; hold onto them! They are incredibly rare to find and you just never really know when you are going to need them. I definitely learned the hard way just how important they really are.
You see, just a few months before my 13th Birthday, my Mum died.
I knew she was poorly, but was never really told how badly ill she was. My step-dad (the awful guy my Mum had chosen to marry before she died) and other adults in my life just repeatedly told me that she was "going to be okay" and that she just had to go for "check-ups" everyday. I was convinced everything was going to be 'normal' soon. These words were utter LIES. Looking back, I know they were saying it to protect me, to "sugar-coat" the truth, but this young girl was about to enter a crazy world of hormones, and those lies hurt. All these lies just made it harder to truly cope when my Mum did finally pass onto another place to look down on me everyday (I truly believe this).
Cancer. A disgusting word, an even more disgusting disease, for which the cure is unknown. This disgusting thing stole my Mum from me. Statistics show that cancer, as a whole, kills almost 20 thousand people every single day. On that particular day, My Mum became one of the 20 thousand. To society, she is just another number to add to statistics; to me, she was my Mum. My best friend. There isn't a single day which has passed in the last 6 years since she was so cruelly stolen from us that I've not missed her.
Living life having lost a loved one is difficult (UNDERSTATEMENT) but losing a parent is 10000 times worse than I could have possibly imagined. This is where my story really begins
.
Having being told constantly by family and friends that I have a story to tell, it's a little hard to ignore them. I'm not saying my story is more important than everybody else's, I guess it's just I feel like my story isn't being heard like it should be.
Before the story gets deep, let me tell you a little about myself.
Slap bang in the middle of 1999 ( well almost) my parents graced the world with my existence (is that pushing it?). There was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about me, and my parents were supposedly normal people. But who is to say what 'normal' is?
My parents named me "Levi" - YES, like the jeans. I am fully aware that most people hear or see my name and instantly assume I am a boy. I'd hate to disappoint you, but I am very much a girl.
From the minute I entered the world - maybe even before that moment too- everyone had a 'plan' for not just me, but themselves too. Nobody could have predicted how much that plan could and would change. Less that 13 years later everything would change; forever. Not just for me, but for my older sister and younger brother too. I am very much the middle-child and suffer from 'middle-child syndrome.' My brother and I share the same father, my sister (who beat me to the world by a whole 8 years) has a different dad. Don't tell them this, but I love them more than anything. Even my little brother! I'll admit, I wasn't that happy about his arrival in the beginning, but right now at this very moment of typing this I wouldn't swap him for anyone or anything. Of course, I still bully him, but isn't that what little brother's are for?
My life was pretty average; my parents separated not long after my brother made his big arrival into the world and for a while my Mum didn't seem herself. She lost her way a little, but no matter what was going on in that mind of hers, myself and my siblings always came first. ALWAYS.
Life was a struggle for my Mum - she became a single parent, with two young children (my sister was already off creating a life for herself at this point) and Mum always did the best she could for us. Making sure we always had food to eat and all the love any kid could ever wish for (her hugs were the best!).
I excelled at school - I've got to admit, I loved the place! Although, since leaving I just wish I'd made a bit more effort and realised how good it actually was for me. As I've gotten older I've realised just how much of an impact it has had on my life - especially the teachers. My advice, if you are lucky enough to get good teachers; hold onto them! They are incredibly rare to find and you just never really know when you are going to need them. I definitely learned the hard way just how important they really are.
You see, just a few months before my 13th Birthday, my Mum died.
I knew she was poorly, but was never really told how badly ill she was. My step-dad (the awful guy my Mum had chosen to marry before she died) and other adults in my life just repeatedly told me that she was "going to be okay" and that she just had to go for "check-ups" everyday. I was convinced everything was going to be 'normal' soon. These words were utter LIES. Looking back, I know they were saying it to protect me, to "sugar-coat" the truth, but this young girl was about to enter a crazy world of hormones, and those lies hurt. All these lies just made it harder to truly cope when my Mum did finally pass onto another place to look down on me everyday (I truly believe this).
Cancer. A disgusting word, an even more disgusting disease, for which the cure is unknown. This disgusting thing stole my Mum from me. Statistics show that cancer, as a whole, kills almost 20 thousand people every single day. On that particular day, My Mum became one of the 20 thousand. To society, she is just another number to add to statistics; to me, she was my Mum. My best friend. There isn't a single day which has passed in the last 6 years since she was so cruelly stolen from us that I've not missed her.
Living life having lost a loved one is difficult (UNDERSTATEMENT) but losing a parent is 10000 times worse than I could have possibly imagined. This is where my story really begins
I love this. I look forward to reading more. XX
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