not known at this address

She lived here once, we think,

A faceless ghost that drifted through the rooms.

We thought we heard her whispering

Through netted curtains stained with time,

But we knew it couldn’t be.

So we pulled on thicker sweaters

And closed the windows closed.

We scrubbed her name from envelopes

That poured in through the door in spades,

Even that would not convince them that

She was once known at this loved address.

I got another bag of stuff through from the house that has now been sold. I’ve learnt to harden my heart when they come through because I know that something bad will be in each delivery. And today’s was no different.

In the bag was a letter for me and in my aunt’s handwriting, on the envelope, is written ‘NOT KNOWN AT THIS ADDRESS’. I can’t fathom what would make her wish to scrub me. She has been vicious and it actually hurts my heart. I’ve also been blocked by my mum on Facebook and I know that’s down to her sister.

I think that rejection by a mother is possibly one of the toughest things to go through. To know that your mother hates you so much that you are no longer a known person at the family home.

I literally want to crumple. There is no air in my lungs and my body hurts. This pain is immense.

Much Love

Rachel xx

the end of the story

black handled key on key hole
Photo by PhotoMIX Company on

Front door keys balanced on a window ledge

As all the boxes rumble from the cul de sac

Where all those memories formed within

A set of walls no older than the flares

That hung inside the wardrobe, eaten by the moths.

But when the door clicked shut, for the final time,

The clothes and books and ornaments all packed

And only slender shafts of dusty light

Occupied the heavy space that once was bright

Strung with little bursts of laughter like

The bunting in the garden when we held our parties

Underneath the pin prick stars that sauntered down,

Extinguished with the rising of the Sunday sun,

Tugged away by the moving van, that sputtered

To a place I think I’ll never know or love.

I don’t know about anyone else but I still can’t watch the final episode of Friends without crying. That moment where all six of them are together and they all put their keys on the kitchen work top before they leave the apartment for the last time.

There is something about the memories that we create inside a set of walls, and how leaving that space feels like we are leaving a little piece of ourselves behind.

The sale of my parents’ house was finalised yesterday. They left their keys on the side in the kitchen and we will never set foot inside that building again. I didn’t go while it was being cleared out, but I can only imagine how sad it was to see it without the furniture; without it’s clothes.

I feel very contemplative today. I hate my mother for what she has done but there is nothing that I can say or do so I just have to let her go and hope that she doesn’t live to regret the choices she has made.

I hope that you never have to put the keys down on a place that you have loved. It hurts, but this is the stuff that our lives are built on. This is another story that I will learn to tell with a smile. One day.

Much Love

Rachel xx

the frustration of knowing it’s a lie

anonymous woman screaming underwater
Photo by Francesca Zama on


That is my poem today,

Because sometimes it builds

Inside your chest

And all that comes out is an


No words are enough,

Just screams in the void.

Have you ever had somebody tell a lie about you and you’ve not been able to defend yourself. It is possibly the most frustrating feeling I think that a human being can feel.

My mother is just terrible for spreading lies. She’s told people that I have stolen thousands of pounds from her. Then she said that actually she thought I’d taken a book and now she can’t even remember which book it is.

But today she really topped it off by claiming that she needs her sister at the house when dad collects his stuff because he has threatened her with violence. Dad wouldn’t hurt a fly and it’s crushing to hear her say these awful things.

I heard a while back the the royal family use the saying ‘never explain and never complain’ and I really think that is such a classy way of dealing with things. Even if somebody completely slags them off they won’t say a word.

Obviously I wouldn’t be very good at that because I’ve just spent ten minutes writing about my woes. But I have to say that it is so bloody frustrating when you know that there’s no truth in what has been said. I wish I didn’t have to scream. I wish I could be quiet like Kate Middleton and the Queen.

Maybe one day.

Much Love

Rachel xx