Mission Acomplished

''Liz you could go tidy your room''


I literally shat myself because I haven't properly cleaned it for months, I mean emptied all the make-up i'd just buy because I thought I needed a new bronzer and the crap foundations that are nearly empty but end up in the; ''You'll probably need this soon'' draw. That to be honest never gets opened.

I also threw away some perfume my nan bless her thought i'd like but would end up being a toilet spray or a spray that when your room smells you'd spray to hide any random stench if your friends were coming round for a ''lets get ready before we go clubbing'' night. Yeah my house was always that house because I live so close to the clubs & taxi's would be cheaper from mine to The Cuban.

I spent probably a good 3hours cleaning, because it was an absolute shit hole. I changed the time on my clock that i've been waking up to thinking was correct for probably 4months now. ( doesn't help my confusion). I threw away old photos of me and people I don't talk to anymore clubbing because that probably didn't help me realise I can't do that every weekend anymore.

I also stuck up a ''unhelpful thinking habits page I received when I was in hospital and threw away every unwanted or needed hospital letter, making me realise how far i've come from everything and giving me at least three new places to put more crap that will just be hoarded and not cleaned for a while (my bad but everyone does it) don't even deny that if you read this...


Oh my god the best thing about all of this was teaching myself to light a candle and light a match with one hand nearly setting fire to a bag full of the hospital notes (luckily my house is still standing and the bags are in the big bin safe and not burnt) quite pleased about that to be honest.

I had a read through all the cards I received in hospital, finding old birthday cards from my work mates and old school photos nearly breaking down thinking ''can't I just go back'' (even though I hated school) You would if you went to Chaucer though...


I then got so tired I actually text Dan asking him to drive to mine and help me because I was so tired I got confused and forgot where I was..


I sat on my bed sorting out a folder labeled ''Lizzie's stroke notes''
Inside was full of things i'd had from hospital and lists of goals i've achieved one of them being ''learn to shower independently) I read two bits of paper that had things i'd done and how upsetting being stuck in hospital was, I just threw them away and thought ''meh been there done that''


I kept replaying music over and over, putting all my old heels into a box and hiding it so I don't have to see them looking at me and making me feel like crap after seeing everyone's ''yeah we went clubbing and got so drunk I get to spend all day in bed eating crap'' photos. who'd do the  ''hand on hip we're so attractive'' photo's (everyone does and I have) . Or ''lets pout until we look like a duck'' photo's, could go on forever...

I then found a drawing my dad had drawn on my oldest set of draws in my room which quoted:
''While Lizzie is in bed reading me a book before bed''
Can't remember the date but I must of been about 3/4.
That got to me most, as I should cherish the draw and fill it with the most important stuff, but nope it became a '' Unused make-up draw'' again.  ( sorry dad if you read this).


I find it so hard to get rid of stuff, like you might think it's easy, it's probably a side affect of my stroke, but I don't really know, I have like 5 bags that have bloody designer names on them, which I know for a fact I only kept because they have like; Chanel, Pandora, Tiffany & Co etc...' written on them, my mums always coming into my room grabbing them and just shaking her head saying 'Liz, really?' Makes me laugh because yes girls we see your Instagram photos of your bed but making sure you've squeezed a glimpse of a bag with some designer name written on it, hiding the Sainsbury's bag thats full of your rubbish in the corner. We've all done it, And I am guilty.


I remember being about 15/16 and getting people to write on my wall that led up to my room (when I was in the attic room, for people that came round mine before my stroke) my mum hated it. I know why now, the numerous signatures of different people and some of the gayest quotes like;
''Life might be hard but keep strong''  Or some crap that didn't make sense. This took about 6 coats of paint to cover over (god knows why I actually decided to do it).


All that remains on my walls now is sheets of paper that have my leg exercises next to my bed.

I have no idea why but I really wanted to change my sheets,  oh wait I know because like everyone states over twitter and stuff:
'' fresh bed sheets are so good''
Because they are, i've never actually changed my bed sheets with one hand and this time mum did help, BUT I did one pillow and i'm happy with that. Obviously my mum gave me the 'Liz for gods sake really?' look... then laughed at me and told me I make her laugh because I couldn't get the bottom sheet over the corner and did my regular '' Fuck this shit I give up'' quote said in anger ALWAYS.


I was so tired and confused that when my mum left my room I threw up in a bag atatched to my door, Dan just told me I need to rest and stop, so I did :)