Georgia’s story
Georgia and Olivia
Georgia shares her story of her grief following the death of her sister Olivia.
My sister died less than a year short of seeing adulthood. However, what defined her is not the tragic loss but who she was as a person when she lived. Olivia was strong willed, highly intelligent with a sharp-tongued humour and always - without fail - unapologetically herself. With only 16 months between us, we were a team to be reckoned with. I idolised her (as many younger siblings do) and was always in awe she could see the world so clearly. She was completely convinced it was one day going to be hers for the taking.
We fought, which is not uncommon for two teenage siblings, but within minutes of the screaming and punching we would be falling about hysterically laughing. We were each other’s partner in crime, cheerleader, and shoulder to cry on. She was attached to every fragment of my being and me to hers.
“Losing a person so prominent in your life can leave you feeling that you were lost the day that they were.”
On the 15th December 2010, I had dragged Olivia to a party because I didn’t want to go on my own. We had moved to a new school, and I always felt safer in social situations if she was around to take the pressure off the awkward experience of making new friends. Towards the end of the night, we had split up to spend time with different groups at the party and had agreed to meet up to head home later.
Shortly after separating, Olivia was hit by a speeding car while crossing the road. When I started to head towards the meeting point, I began noticing that there were blue flashing lights ahead. Once I had reached her and realised what was happening, the paramedics were attempting to resuscitate her. The shock and horror that went through my body felt inhuman – but there was a glimmer of hope when Olivia’s heart successfully started to beat again after several minutes. She was rushed to the nearest hospital while I was dragged home kicking and screaming.
Olivia sustained a severe brain injury and was immediately rushed into surgery. After this, she remained in an induced coma until finally opening her eyes on Christmas day. After battling with her injuries and various complications, she passed away on the 16th March 2011.
Although she had fought to stay alive those several months after the accident, a part of me knew that the Olivia I had grown with and loved had died back in December.
My initial reaction wasn’t just the most immense pain I had ever felt but also a debilitating sense of guilt. It was me who made her attend the party and, in my head, it was concluded that her death was my fault. She was the smart, confident, and outgoing sister and I wanted to take her place so she could continue to thrive. It would only be years down the line that this would be defined to me as survivor’s guilt.
“Grief is anything but straight forward. I knew what I was experiencing but I had no tools to manage the countless emotions I was feeling every second of the day. Therefore, I chose to shut it all out and continue life as if the trauma and loss I had experienced never took place.”
I attended school as usual, refused to discuss with peers and became angry at myself if I let any emotion that wasn’t “normal” get the better of me. This approach very quickly started to show that it was not working. I began to have graphic recurring nightmares every night when I did finally let myself go to sleep. I also experienced severe anxiety and fear whenever I went anywhere near Olivia’s bedroom and physically froze when I tried to touch the door handle. This continued for months. However, I still never spoke about this to my parents as I knew they were dealing with the loss of a child, and I didn’t want to burden them further.
I carried on for the next few years not processing what had happened. I hoped that it would eventually go away. I didn’t want this to affect what I expected of myself and what was to be expected of me soon ahead. I refused to miss milestones that someone my age should be hitting like turning 18, going to university and having fun as a young adult with independence. Once I did reach these points in my life, I was disappointed to find out that I felt nothing. I had denied emotions for so long that I was completely numb.
After starting University with the fear of not knowing if I would ever feel genuine happiness again, I began to lash out – at both myself and others. If I had a self-destruct button, I pushed it daily. I started to show erratic behaviour and would let myself get into negative situations because I completely lacked care for my own wellbeing or safety. I spent days disassociating from my work and friends and had no confidence left in myself. After my second year, I suffered a nervous breakdown and had to drop out of my course and go back home.
A few months after returning home, my now husband contacted my dad to express his concerns about my mental health. After a discussion, I finally booked a therapy session – 6 years after Olivia had died.
After warming up during the first few sessions – the floodgates opened. 6 years of built-up trauma, grief and guilt all came out at once. It was the most relief I had ever felt. Although I wasn’t immediately “fixed” like I had hoped in my head I would have been, the opportunity to have a safe space to open and not be judged had an immense impact. I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression, and finally given those tools and resources I so desperately needed to process my grief.
It has now almost been 13 years since I lost Olivia. Although not a day goes by where I don’t miss her, I am a completely different person to who I once was. I am happy (yes, happy!) and so grateful for the life I have built since then. It gives me such joy every day knowing that if Olivia was to ever see me now, she would be incredibly proud seeing how far her little sister has come.
Wisdom I wish I knew:
The world can wait. Don’t feel like you must commit to achieve things in your life if you have not faced your feelings first. Take your time to work on the grieving process. You’ll enjoy those big life events far more when you are emotionally ready.
Look after yourself. If you’re having a bad day, week or month then take some time to acknowledge that. Have a sleepover with your friends, slow down, go for a walk, have a bath, watch your favourite film or look at your favourite photos of you and your sibling. On days I am really missing Olivia, I treat myself and act like it is a present from her. This can be from getting a massage to buying a bunch of flowers.
Talk. Whether that is with a friend or therapist when you’re struggling, you should never keep it to yourself in fear that it may make others uncomfortable. When you’re having a great day, reminisce with others about the amazing memories you did get to have with your sibling.
You’re a hero. The fact that you can experience something so extremely horrifying and life altering to then find a way to carry on (even if that is just one day at a time) is a big deal – your sibling would be VERY proud of you.
