Please mods, can you leave this here if possible, because this part of the forum is where I feel comfortable and where the lovely familiar 'faces' are. If you do need to move it though, I absolutely understand.

I am a couple of months away from the 5 year anniversary of my mother's death. Today, I am haunted by all the things I did wrong. I want to really beat the absolute living sh#t out of my selfish 24 year old self.

I could not cope adequately with my consultant telling me I might be blind by 25. I could not cope with the invasive three monthly testing. I could not even ****ing cope with sleeping in a dark room, because when I woke I would panic and think my sight was already gone. I could not cope with my mother's dementia, which made her do crazy *** stuff. I could not cope with watching her disintegrate as a human being with autonomy and opinions and wit and warmth. I could not cope with life, full stop.

I did terrible things. I kept losing my patience.

- I shouted at her, over the TV remote, before we knew she had dementia because I thought she was just trying to wind me up by pretending not to know how to use it and constantly getting me to find the show she wanted.

- I shouted at her when my horse (my beautiful girl, who mum got me for my 18th birthday) stood on a nail and got infected and I was terrified she was going to die.

- I shouted at her when I was late leaving to drive to my pre-marriage course (probably because at that point, my gut knew the relationship was over already).

- The worst of all, I was fighting with my stupid, arsehole ex, and so tired from all the driving - I skipped a day at the hospital, and the next day I went back and she could not speak and had slipped into unconscious. I should have been there. I should have been there for her last bit of talking and laughing and conscious engaging.

I want to throw my computer at the wall and I want to burn myself with cigarettes. Obviously, I will do neither - I will content myself with smoking one instead, and drinking a cup of tea. But I deserve vast and severe suffering. I need rage and damage and pain and to destroy that pathetic, disgusting little loser piece of me. For failing to meet the needs of the person I loved. For not being good enough.