Okay, so I don’t know if this is a unique trait to me, though I doubt it, but I have this really annoying feeling that makes me feel constantly disappointed. I want to be loved and valued as much as I love and value other people. I always have felt this way, ever since I was small. There are so many people in my life that are enough for me. Their happiness and their general being is enough to make me feel joy. But rarely do I feel as though it is equally returned.

Now before you all switch off cos you think I’m throwing myself some kind of bullshit Sunday pity party, just let me explain how much that is certainly not the case. My life, generally, is pretty fucking ace. My wonderfully sassy, independent and charming beans would alone be enough to make that statement true, but I have more than that. A fucking awesomely inappropriate family who I couldn’t be without, friends who have this amazing habit of never judging me (even when I’m a complete an utter dickface), a job that pushes me to my absolute limits every day and a husband who 100% gets me and, despite my many ungrateful and highly needy ways, loves me.

But having said all of that just like Ariel, that selfish little mermaid, I want more.

This weekend my mum thought of me before I had even thought of me. She came to stay with me and the beans, took us out for lunch and listened to all our bull shit. Originally, I was going back down south to see her, but she didn’t think it was fair for me to pack the kitchen sink into my car and travel down, so she came to me. I hadn’t even thought of that. As far as I was concerned I wanted to spend some time with the fam, as the husband was away, so was gonna make the trip. SHE thought of my convenience before I did. She went out of her way so I didn’t have to go out of mine – even though I didn’t think I was going out of my way!! How fucking crazy is that?! How awesome are mums?! They think of you when you don’t even know you need thinking of.

But, the catch is, it doesn’t count when it’s your mum. It’s a mother’s instinct. It comes naturally and in some sick joke, Mother Nature made it so we actually enjoy going out of our way for our children. From the small things to the beans having roasted chicken and potatoes with vegetables for their dinner and me having a slice of ham, to the larger things, like driving a 240 mile round-trip so your daughter isn’t lonely for less than 48 hours.

Actual craziness.

If I have this love from my mum and I feel it for my beans, why isn’t it enough? Why do I still want more? Why do I feel this craving to complete someone’s life and to be the centre of their thought process? It’s fucking disgusting and I’m ashamed that I feel that way. It’s not that I’m not content in what I have, I mean fuck, sometimes I can hardly manage what I have so defo couldn’t deal with anymore.

I know I’m loved by the people that matter, I know I’m good at the things that count and I know I have so much to be grateful for. But it’s still there, that feeling of not being enough. Not being someone’s enough.

I’ve never hidden away from the fact that I’m a needy prick. People who know me well know how needy and clingy I am, and they love me despite that irritating aspect of my personality. I guess the fact that I always bring alcohol or food or lower the tone of pretty much every conversation makes up for it.

Anyway, who really gives a shit why the people in my life love me? Who really gives a shit if I feel like I love them more? All I should give a shit about is the fact that they are there. They clean up my spew, let me be big spoon, bring garlic bread and always wait until by glass is empty before topping me up. That.Is.Love.