When I made the decision to move away from home to start a new life in London for university and to be closer to Joe, I never thought that one day there would be a huge part of me that questions whether I did the right thing. I don’t regret it, not one bit. Joe and I have started our lives together, we’re happy. The thing I do regret, is going back on what I told my family.
I told them I’d be home often and that they wouldn’t need to miss me too much, or I them. But the truth is, I rarely go home. I haven’t been home since May, haven’t seen my Mum since July and it kills me.
It’s especially hard at the moment with Granddad being so ill. He’s in hospital at the moment. He’s in a really bad way and Mum said he’s really not good. It breaks my heart that everyone is so far away and there’s nothing I can do to help. I can’t get anywhere. I can’t be any closer. I just don’t know what to do. The worst of it is, I don’t even have any family near me. None that you could call family anyway. I have “Dad” and “Grandparents” up the road who couldn’t care less, an Uncle who hasn’t spoken to me in over a year because he thinks the world owes him something. The only family I have nearby is Joe. Joe and his family.
All I want is to be closer to my family and to make my Granddad better. I just wish I could make it all go away. It hurts way too much to even think about.
Sorry for the emotional post on a Friday night, it’s just a horrible, stupid feeling that I hate more than anything. I need my family right now and they need me. But the only thing we can do is make sure we’re available to talk.