The following is an extract from Clare's book 'Living Without Marbles'. Chipmunka Publishing have released it as an e-book, and it's available from their website www.chipmunkapublishing.com. It's well worth checking out! xxx Rachel

You Have A Choice - A letter to my mom

Dear mom,

I sit here, watching my son as he sleeps, my love for him overwhelming at times, even though it is such hard work being a mom. I wonder whether you ever felt the same way about me, the bond of love that a mother has tying her to her child, did you feel it? I have so many unanswered questions that i want to ask you. Why didn't you fight harder for me? Why didn't you try harder to find me? I needed you, mom, just like every girl needs her mommy. Every time there was a knock at the door, I prayed that it would be you. Every strange woman on the street, I would stare and wonder if it was you, if you were finally coming back. Then, I would realise that it was just another dark-haired stranger. But, to be fair, by that time a dark-haired stranger was what you had become to me.

I see in my head the day I started school, and you weren't there. When I had bad dreams, bruises or scrapes, you weren't there to hug and kiss me and make it feel better, like other moms did. I used to make up stories about you, but eventually the other kids found out the truth, and kids can be so cruel. They would taunt me, tell me you didn't love me because I was so weird, or because I was so small. They would sing, "Where's your momma gone? To the mental home!" and then run off, shrieking with laughter.

Remember those times that you tried to kill yourself when I was little? I do, and so do the neighbours who looked after me until my dad got home, while you went to hospital to have your stomach pumped. Yet, you got better, managed to live a normal life. I have this image in my head of you playing with your new kids, taking them to school, teaching them to read and how to tie their laces. All of the things that my dad and nan and granddad had to teach me, because I was the girl whose mom had LOST HER MARBLES. When you got your marbles back, why couldn't you have come to me, and explained what losing your marbles meant? I grew up with a deep fear that I would be like you, that I would lose my marbles, too. As I got older I would imagine the madness, lurking inside me, waiting for the chance to pounce.

Yet, I did grow up. I had a son, whom you didn't come to see, even though you had been to see me the day before I gave birth. Then I didn't see you for seven years, until one day I set out to find you. Instead, my brother found me. You were dead, a possible suicide. He took me to see your grave, but we couldn't find it, as it was unmarked still.

The madness was inside me and I have now been diagnosed with manic depression. Genetics can play a factor in it, apparently. With medication, a healthy diet, sleep and therapy, I lead a full life. I have to, you see, I have a child to look after. All I have left of you is one picture. I miss you, mom, even though it is said that you can't miss what you have never had.

Clare Hill