Hello my dear friends,
And welcome back to a segment I like to call: Syd explaining her stories with some deep and meaningful reason! (Catchy right!)
Now, right where you left me, I'll miss it. It was fun; different; and gave Leah a happy ending (which she deserved after It's Our Secret).
But, now, here's where it gets deep.
Tippah's story, although not like anything I have personally experienced, reflects something I have been affected by.
Drinking is an addiction. It hurts those around you. My family has been a victim far too many times of the impacts of alcoholism and its generational curses. My father, the sweetest, most loving person in this world, has told me stories of growing up in an environment wreaked with drinking and its effects. He told me of when he was young, trying to avoid the hole that his own father found himself in.
My dad grew up thinking he was a problem. He grew up thinking the hurt and pain that my grandfather had was because of him and his sisters. He was the youngest of four, and loved the joys of a big family but the pains often outweighed that.
I never met my grandfather. He died before I was born when my dad was only young, a teenager in fact. He had too many health problems to count, apparently and it was only a matter of time. But there was still something so painful about his death, I've been told, that my dad tried to find his purpose. He didn't know what to do. Even though he caused so much pain, and anguish, he still loved him.
He was his dad. That counts for something, right?
But what brought me so much contentment, was my dad learned to accept help from those around him. My parents met when they were very young, and had me and my sister at only 19. He would always speak that we were his miracle. Without us, he didn't know what he was going to do. We gave him purpose.
We were something to think about away from alcohol and his own father. And he always promised to us that he would never let what happened to him, happen to us and not once he has never fallen to the depths that his own father did. Not once has that ever occurred in my lifetime.
He lived up to his promise. He lived up to his own expectations of himself. His kindness and love is radiant. He's there, for me, throughout it all. He was my shining light through most of my own darkness despite his own demons. He was my hero even though he often thought of himself as the villain.
But he never was the villain.
I've always loved writing about beautiful father-daughter relationships, some of which we kind of see with India and John in Only Friends, and my dad is my own inspiration, for all of those.
So, writing about this strained relationship was difficult. Writing about Tippah and Michael did hurt. But I knew that it was important. Important to show that not every relationship can be beautiful. Some come with hurt, and pain.
But Tippah's strength, particularly towards the end of the story, as she fought through the addiction, was hard. It was hard to think of my own father having to push through the same. Tippah had Leah, who helped her. My dad had my mum, who helped him. There is something so beautiful about that: your pain doesn't need to be only yours. Those who love you want to help you. They would feel that pain if it meant you didn't have to.
And that's what I wanted to show.
Indigo, or Goey, was Tippah's final light. It was her push towards freedom. Just like how me and my own sister were my fathers.
Now, before you ask: no I do not know anyone who has/will commit murder (lol). That was a lovely sub plot in my mind that ended up making the final book. (Btw that happens a lot and it's cause I do not plan... but you know what, it's worked so far. Right?)
Anyways, I hope this offers a glimpse into my life. I swear you guys know more than my in real life friends do about me. My secret in real life nature is very very different to this girlie who writes all this stuff.
Get ready for what is to come,
Syd x