All the things I can not say:

I have endometriosis.

Every time I have a period I have a lot of pain. A LOT of pain.

When I was 22 I was in an abusive relationship and he caused me a lot of pain. A LOT of pain.

When ever I have a period, the pain mixes together and I can’t tell how much of the pain that I am in is anguish.

I want a baby.

My body wants a baby.

Every month, I have a shout and a scream and then a big cry, because there is nowhere else for me to burn off this energy.

I want sex. My god, do I miss sex.

I want intimacy. I ache sometimes because I go for so long without being touched, even by friends.

I would like a relationship, but I am terrified of emotional intimacy. I have a very serious problem with not being able to identify monsters. I can see them for other people, but I am incapable of seeing them for myself.

Every time I spend Christmas with my nephew, when I leave him, I feel like a hole has been blown in my hull. My ship sinks. I miss him so much, and yet, I am scared that my clinging love will stifle him. So, I make every excuse under the sun to not go visit: he lives too far away, I can’t afford the travel, I would be interfering……….

I am fed up of my drunk mothers self centred, self absorbed bullshit. I am tired of my stepdads refusal to go to counselling with her because he is terrified she will leave him. I am tired of my dad’s blasé responses because he is also incapable of talking. I am tired of feeling like a fucking teenager, because my parents never taught me to grow up, or learn how to spot a monster.

This Christmas, when my mother stood jabbing her finger an inch away from my face, snarling “You should let someone love you”. I died inside.

I am trying. I am trying. For the love of fucking love, I am trying. It hurts so much, and I keep on trying.

The playlist for this most modern tragedy is the album that was big when I was 22:
Lauren Hill – X-Factor.