Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Good Deed Feed. 

19 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by in Friends, Life, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

A few months ago I took the decision to do something nice for someone everyday. It seemed like a big deal at the time, I mean, I’m not normally horrible to people, but having to do something nice everyday felt like a big task. Especially given that I have the worlds worst memory; how was I going to remember to do it? 

So I started out on this good deed journey a little daunted, thinking that possibly this was going to cost me a lot of money, because one of the easiest ways to be nice is to buy someone something, and I’m all for the easy route! 

Sometimes it does cost money, but not the bucket loads I was expecting.  In January I asked for 5 friends to let me know if they wanted a random gift from me at some point in the year. I signed them up, and I’m gradually going through them sending them small gifts that are not for any reason but that I was thinking of them. So that’s 5 days of the year sorted. 

There being another 360 days in the year to account for, I started to look out for more opportunities to do a good deed. Things like helping carry a buggy up the stairs at the train station, or going out of my way to open a door for someone struggling with bags etc. 

Some days no specific opportunity to do a good deed arises, or maybe I have just been tired, and can’t see for looking, so I have had to think of other ways in which I can do something nice and I soon realised that I don’t actually have to do a lot to be nice. For example I might just tell someone that they look lovely (only if they actually do), whereas maybe in the past I would have just thought it. I stopped to check that someone at the tube station was ok, when I noticed they were so drunk they couldn’t stand. He was fine, waiting for friends, but I was glad I’d checked. 

In our services we have Peer Mentors who work with others to help them achieve recovery from addiction. At a couple of meetings I’d seen and heard what a fantastic job one of them was doing, so when she told me that she was moving to another one of my establishments I told her that I would email them to tell her of the good work she was doing and that I’d love it if she could continue it after her move. I wrote a 10 line email to the service. It took me 30 seconds or less and I copied in her manager. The next day I received a lovely email thanking me for putting myself out to help her. That she was amazed I’d bothered and it meant a lot to her. It made me think about how the little things we do can have a ripple effect. 30 seconds of my time could mean the difference between her sinking or swimming in the move to another prison. It reaffirmed my commitment to being nice. 

This good deed feed has had unintended consequences too. I stopped to help someone broken down on the M25 and unbeknown to me it was an old friend I hadn’t seen for years, we had a quick catch up before I jumped his car and he went on his way. It did my soul good to see him alive and well. Another time I helped someone with some work and they helped me out when I desperately needed it. I like to think of it as a kind of karma. 

I’m no angel. Some days I go to bed thinking of all the harm that I’ve done by arguing, shouting or my other actions. I struggle to cope, I feel like crying; I’m sure that I am a terrible person. Poor C may think I’m actually a slight psychopath what with the neediness I portray. At times like those I cling onto doing a nice thing everyday, no matter what else I’ve done, hopefully I’ve made some one smile, or their day a bit easier, even if only, sometimes because of my complete stupidity. 

Papering the cracks. 

14 Tuesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Friends, kids, Life, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Since my last blog about splitting up with P I’ve been amazed at 2 things:1) the number of people who took the time to connect with me, to check that I am ok, to let me know they are there (thank you all), and 2) the number of people who said they were stunned. That they thought that we were a perfect couple. 

It’s made me think about how social media can allow us to share the life that we want people to think we have rather than the life we actually have with our friends and colleagues. I mean, we have all probably done it; we have a day off, at home with the kids, it’s been a hell of a bad day, they have spent nearly all of it fighting or arguing over important things, such as who is going to get to sit next to Mummy or who broke who’s biscuit. You wonder how you could possibly have borne these Devils, You are just about ready to kill them, and so, in desperation you make them put on their shoes and take them to the park. 

The only reason you are taking them to the park is the hope that they might put 100 metres between you and their constant bickering. This is not about fun, this is survival! It works, you can finally see the arguing but not hear it, and if you don’t look up you can pretend not to see or hear the constant whines of “Muuuumm, he, pushed/hit/punched/licked/looked at me funny!” Ignorance is bliss and so you sit back and enjoy the peace. And then it happens; they stop arguing for 1.5 minutes, the sun pops out for 2.5 minutes, and so you seize the opportunity to take a few pictures of them, in the sun, playing together like angels. 

30 seconds later they are back to bickering and arguing and generally being little sods, what do you do? You retreat back to the park bench, you ignore the yelps and screams coming from the other end of the park and you upload those few rare peaceful moments to Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram. Look at how perfect they are, look how nicely they play together (Yeah right!). 

The point is, I didn’t bother taking photos of them arguing, and I certainly didn’t post them to social media. Anyone who looked at my profile would probably assume that my kids and I had a whale of a time at the park, smiling and playing together. Which we did. I mean those perfect 1.5 minutes of not bickering or arguing, in the sun were indeed perfect. However I unconsciously edited my day/life down to those few small moments in an otherwise poxy day when I uploaded those pictures to Facebook. 

 Too many people accept that what people portray on social media is the reality of other people’s worlds. And that is quite a scary thought. If I was friends with someone who was depressed or not coping particularly well, they may well be under the illusion that I am coping perfectly, that I manage to be the perfect mother/wife/girlfriend/sister/employee/whatever. What they may fail to realise is that they are only seeing the highlights. The best bits. The parts that I want to show the world. They don’t see the me, snot hanging down my face, sobbing down the phone that I am a failure, that I can’t cope, that I am too tired, too sad to deal with this crap; because that’s not they way I want most people to know me. So those times get conveniently missed out from my Facebook feed and instead you see the times I’m winning at life, you see the good and I edit out the bad. To someone who is depressed or struggling to cope this can make them feel a failure, they may see everyone else’s lives through the rose tinted glasses of social media and this can make them feel worse. 

And that’s how people form the impression that everyone else’s life is better than theirs. That they must be doing something wrong. They don’t see the cracks in the lives of their friends, they only see the paper that their friends have covered over the cracks with. But nothing is perfect, everything has cracks, and so you know what? Those 1.5 minutes of perfection, in the park, sun shining and kids loving me were the closest to heaven I’ve been for a while. And so I’ll carry on sharing those moments, however perhaps we should all bear in mind that what we see is not always a reflection of our full time reality, it’s the reality we’d like. 

New beginnings. 

10 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by in Emotions, love, Relationships, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Yesterday  was a big, life changing day. A day that I never really imagined would happen and yet at the same time had become more and more inevitable. Yesterday  my husband and I separated. We had decided to do it 10 days ago, but it was only today that he moved out; at 18:13 on 9th April 2015 I became a single parent of three boisterous boys. 

I say single parent, even though I know that P will be there for them whenever they (or indeed I) need him to be. Still it’s a place I never imagined that I’d be. 

Ever since the decision was made on 30th March, my life has been full of firsts. There is the obvious first time that I have ever split up a marriage, and had to tell my children that my and Daddy aren’t going to live together anymore (which, in case you are wondering is heart wrenching) but there are also a lot of other firsts that I hadn’t really ever considered; things like not wearing a wedding ring.  I’ve had a ring on my finger engagement or wedding ring for over 8 years, I suddenly realised that I feel quite naked without it. It’s been off a while now and I still feel like I’ve lost something every time I touch my fingers together. I never realised that I noticed it that much. 

Last night I had to sort out the internet and tv all on my own for the first time. Given that I’ve spent 10 years deliberately not being able to do that so I’m never asked to, it was a struggle and I’m ashamed to say I gave up and ended up reading instead. 

Another first is having to ask my husband (ex husband?) if he will look after the children so I can go away on holiday, on my own. 

Today I am in the house alone. That’s the first time I’ve ever spent a night in my house with no one else in it. No husband no children. It is weird. The house feels empty.

P and I haven’t had a row in this process. I think we both agreed that our relationship wasn’t where we would both like it to be a long time ago but have been stuck in a quagmire of emotion around what to do about it. We know a couple who are still really good friends despite getting divorced. So much so that they go to the same parties with their new partners and all get along fine. We have agreed that we would like things to be like that. No recriminations, no blame. I’m hoping that we can stick to it. Interestingly since we called a halt to our relationship we have got on better than we have for ages. It seems as friends we get on brilliantly, not that we didn’t before, things had just changed. 

And so today came another first; I went and did a shop for P, so that he doesn’t starve to death in the next week or so while he gets used to being on his own. I dropped it off at his house and then walked away. It might seem odd to other people but I honestly truly care for him and hope that this is the start of something good for both of us. Life changes. People change. We are different people to who we were a decade ago and that’s no ones fault it’s just the way it is. 

I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I believe that if you can’t do any good for someone then, like the picture says at least you shouldn’t harm them.  Together we will try to do what is good for our children and also for us as individuals.  Hopefully we won’t hurt each other too much along the way. And I will always love him but maybe it’s time for new beginnings. 

 

The reason why. 

04 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by in Emotions, Life, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Someone I respect and care for recently told me that they don’t get blogs. They had been reading mine and felt that maybe they were too personal and gave a view into my life that they didn’t think needed to happen. I was interested to hear this. It made me consider why I started writing it and also to think about the depth of things that I share in my weekly ramblings. 

On the subject of why I started writing it, I am really not sure is the honest answer. I’ve been writing a book for years and I had found that my writing of it had been overtaken somewhat in recent years by work and parenting. I have always found writing quite a cathartic experience; I use writing about experiences as a way of understanding them; a way of processing what happened and why. So I suppose that I felt, in my stage of life at the moment, writing something slightly more specific and shorter would allow me to still focus on things and feel that I had actually achieved something rather than the constant nagging guilt of not finishing that next chapter. 

The other reason that I write my blog is because I honestly believe that as fellow humans we should share our experiences and be supportive of each other. I don’t think that most of my life experiences are that much different from hundreds of thousands of other peoples. In fact, whilst at many points in my life I have felt completely alone and unique in my problems, there were probably others out there who have felt exactly the same way. 

I have blogged about some trivial rubbish and I’ve also tried to talk about some of the big things in my life which have affected me and shaped me into the person that I am today. I hope that someone somewhere reads something that I’ve written and it kind of resonates with them. Maybe gives them another perspective on an aspect of life that they are struggling to deal with, after all there is nothing as sad as feeling all alone, especially when surrounded by people. 

 I have recently learnt that even some of the most crazy messed up things I have had flicker through my mind, have been similar to other people’s thoughts. I wasn’t the only one who had fucked up thoughts about crazy things however until I found the courage to share what I thought I felt alone. Turns out either other people are just as crazy and fucked up as me, or actually it is fairly normal to feel like that sometimes.  Unless we share how we feel and think we don’t know this. So, that’s why it’s important to me to share my random thoughts and feelings. Unless we speak out we can’t help each other. And goodness knows life is tough enough without thinking that we are alone. 

Eyes wide shut.

04 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

The other morning I had a meeting in London. On the way there I met up with a friend who works in London and because we arrived early we decided to catch up over a coffee. We bought our coffees and decided to saunter around St Pancras station whilst drinking it. Now I’ve been to St Pancras station about a hundred times. I know where Starbucks is, I know where Costa is. I can find my way to South Eastern trains, East Midlands trains and the Eurostar. I know where the pianos are and I know where the bookshop is. I could direct you to Fat Face, Boots or Matks and Spencer. I even know 3 different routes to the tube station.  

Suffice to say if anyone asked me if say I knew St Pancras station I’d definitely say yes. So when my friend suggested we killed the last 5 minutes before our respective trains by exploring the upstairs of the station I didn’t think much of it. We went up to the second floor via a lift near the bookshop and came out onto a concourse near the booking office. There was a restaurant/bar there and we could see the original features of the beautiful building. So far so expected. Then something caught my eye. It was something that I had never noticed before in all the times that I have been in that station; a humongous statue of lovers kissing. When I say it was huge, I mean it is gigantic in its proportions. At my full height I didn’t come up to the top of the pedestal that it was sat upon. I was in awe. I felt compelled to go up to it, to touch it. I was stunned that this beautiful and enormous piece of artwork was there, all this time and I’d never ever noticed it. 

Now I noticed it I began to look around me for other things that I had missed in the past. It was amazing; I must literally have walked through this station a hundred times with my eyes wide shut, because now, all of a sudden I was seeing a whole new place. There is a huge clock hanging on the rear of the station wall. It’s literally about three times the height of me and I’d never ever noticed it. It was huge and majestic and totally ignored by me until this very moment. There is also a statue of a man, slightly bigger than me, so lifelike at a distance that I thought it could be a real person looking for a train. Embedded into the floor are brass circles with quotes and words from poems engraved into them. It was honestly like I’d entered another world. 

It made me think about how many other things I haven’t noticed in my life. Have I not noticed the blaringly obvious stuff before? What have I missed? What other places have I walked past hundreds of time without ever really looking? Am I always in such a rush to get to where I’m going that I completely miss the awe inspiring beauty along the way? Alternately, have I raced through life missing the warning signs that things aren’t the way that they appear to be? 

And in that moment I made a promise to myself; I will try to slow down. I will try to see the beauty between the trees even as I try to leave the forest. I will look beyond the obvious and strive to see the small nuances that make a place or a person unique, individual. I will try to listen more, be more patient, less rushed, because sometimes there is great beauty beyond the obvious.  

   

Sick and tired. 

21 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

I got onto heroin around my mid teens, my first ever serious boyfriend introduced me to it and within weeks I was hooked. The circumstances leading up to the decision to try it are long and complicated. I distinctly remember when I first tried it thinking that I didn’t have the time or desire to get addicted. I was stronger than that, I could try it and leave it alone. That was day one. 14 days later I had used everyday and the gear finally ran out. I couldn’t sleep, L decided that if we got some more it would help us sleep. We bought some more. My next proper recollection is sitting in my kitchen 6 months later. I was withdrawing, I recall sinking down the cupboards to the floor and saying out loud “I’m a heroin addict. I’m a fucking heroin addict” I nervously laughed at this realisation. I don’t quite understand why.

From that point on my life changed. My childhood was gone. I was thrown into an existence of survival. Something which I learnt I was pretty good at. I could start the morning without a penny to my name and within hours be sitting there with £1000 of drugs. I couldn’t see the point of doing things in a small way, so I threw myself into my life of crime. I sold drugs, a lot of drugs. I was unrelenting in my quest to obtain more drugs. Enough was never enough for me.
Gradually, over the years things in my life changed. My partners changed. L turned into S and then my eldest sons dad P, then J. They all had one thing in common; they were addicts, fully ensconced into their addiction. They were broken people and the one thing I have learnt about broken people, is that sometimes you end up being cut on the shards of their lives. Each one of them brought something to me at the time that I couldn’t find in myself.
L brought me into the peer group that had previously shunned me. He gave me an, albeit fragile, position in the society of my youth. S gave me a more grown up and sophisticated facade, he worked up town. He held down a good job, he helped me to make believe that my life was moving on, as I had always anticipated that it would. While with S, I worked in London at a solicitors office, I presented a view to the world that I wanted them to believe.
P came into my life and gave me control. By gave me, I mean he arrived at a point when my life had spiralled into chaos, and he took control of me. Totally and absolutely. It took me years to escape his clutches. The control I craved turned out to be stifling and unhealthy, instead of taking control of my own life I had no control at all.
J came after this, and he was kind and he helped me to like myself again. To see that perhaps, with a little work, I could be worthy of love.
Throughout this my drug taking continued. At some point I added crack cocaine into my daily medication list. I don’t quite know when or how. It just seemed to have slipped in. An essential ingredient in the recipe of my life.
My weight dropped drastically as my health deteriorated. I was 5.5 stone and I felt like the living dead. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Battling daily to survive, literally, took its toll on me. My veins were collapsed, and my arms, hands, feet and legs were bruised and bloodied from the numerous attempts to inject into them. I nearly wanted to give up. Only I couldn’t, you can’t give up on life. What are your options. Live or die? Well much as it looked to the contrary I didn’t want to die. I’d been inadvertently committing suicide for many years with my addiction but dying was never in my plan. I just didn’t know how to live.

Going to prison probably saved me. It was god awful and painful and scary but it came at the right time. I will never forget the day, a few weeks after I arrived when I walked into my cell and realised that I was able to just lie there in peace. No worrying about being ill. No pain. I needed a safe haven and I needed respite. I needed time to recoup my strength and determine a new path. I needed to clear the space to grow new seeds of life. Prison gave all that to me. That is one of the reasons that I work hard for my clients. Everyone deserves an idiom of peace.

Reinforcing the chain. 

12 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by in Emotions, Relationships, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

Being away from people that you love is hard. It’s harder when you get news of their pain, suffering and illness. Every bone in your body wants to do something. Jump into action, help make it right, make them better. But sometimes you can’t. Sometimes the distance that you would need to travel is too great, other responsibilities too much or maybe it is financially unachievable. Whatever the reason, knowing that someone you love and care about greatly is not right and that you can’t do anything about it is heart wrenching. 

9 years ago my Dad moved to the USA.  He has had a few health scares over the years, most of which he has brushed off without any fuss to us kids. This week he was taken into hospital, and it seemed like it could be bad. We found out in the middle of the night (mainly due to the time difference) that he’d been taken in with abnormalities in his breathing and heart. 

There is honestly nothing to make you feel more impotent than hearing that someone you care about as much as your parents are possibly critically ill and yet being absolutely incapable of doing anything about it. I wanted to make sure they were doing all the correct tests, make sure they were doing them promptly, and then reacting on the results. Everything seemed to be taking far too long, for goodness sake, this isn’t anyone, this is my Dad; you need to fix him now. There was also a nagging in my mind that perhaps he is worse than my stepmom is telling me. She could be trying to protect me from knowing how bad he is. 

Most of all I just wanted to see him. Give him a cuddle and tell him I loved him. Of course, I’ve told him that I love him hundreds of times, but it suddenly became important to tell him so again, to remind him. I tried to think back to the last time that I saw him, or spoke to him: what had I said, will he know I care? What if that is the last time I ever spoke to him? The time difference between us often makes it difficult to talk at a convenient time, he may well call as I’m cooking dinner or putting the kids to bed. Did I give him my full attention? 

I imagine how I would have felt if that initial message saying that my Dad was ill instead had said something else, imagine if it had been worse news. Would I have been happy that I had done everything in my power recently to make my dad feel loved? 

This week has made me realise the importance of making sure that I strengthen the chain that holds our lives together. Not just with my dad but with everyone I care about.  I am going to make the effort, go out of my way to let people know that I care. There are a million ways to do it, and they don’t need to cost money or even vast amounts of time. I can call someone I care about for no reason whatsoever, tell them or show them through my words that I’m thinking about them, that they matter. A text or a Facebook message can do the same thing, sometimes it’s not about how or what you say to people, it’s the fact you have reached out to them in some way. I can send small surprises to people I love. I can offer to help them out, pay them a compliment, it doesn’t really matter how or what I do, the important thing is to let them know that I care. That they matter. 

Kicking and screaming. 

03 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Emotions, housework, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Today I have had enough of being a grown up. I’ve had enough of being the responsible one. I’ve had enough of dealing with other people’s crap. I’ve had enough of worrying about how I’m going to pay bills. I’ve totally had enough of tempering the desire to rip people’s heads off their shoulders and drop kicking it into the distance.  I want,  desperately, to revert to a toddler like tantrum,  throwing anything to hand as far as I can. The urge to lay on the floor kicking and screaming is almost overwhelming.  

Being a grown up is exhausting. Well it is for me. My natural propensity to punching idiots in the face is constantly needing to be controlled.  Then there is the need to look after other people, constantly.  All. The. Bloody. Time. A lot of these people are other adults,  and yet somehow I still seem to have to (figuratively) wipe their arse and help them now their noses. 

 Now in general I don’t actually mind helping other people out,  in fact,  being a fairly bossy person, I can often be found telling other people what to do,  however, sometimes, and only very sometimes, it would be nice not to be the person making the decisions. To be the one spending the money and not worrying about how I’m going to earn it. To be the one making the mess rather than just tidying it up. 

 It would be lovely to have the food magically appear in the cupboards once a week without actually having to go shopping. Or for clothes not only to somehow be clean and ironed,  but also to be laid out for me perfectly coordinated and ready for whatever adventure (job)  I have to do that day. 

Days like today make me wonder why we chastise our children for throwing temper tantrums. Surely a 5 minute outburst, rolling on the floor screaming and ranting is preferable to feeling like I might snap in half under the pressure of holding it in? Perhaps there would be less stress related illness if, in a contained and safe way, we were able to express our entire range of emotions in a childlike and untethered way, rather than it just being ok to express happy, positive thoughts. Maybe my tension headaches would go away if I could actually tell some people how I feel (or rather how they have made me feel)  rather than just grating my teeth and clenching my jaw. 

Or maybe I should just break out a bottle of wine and some chocolate and grow the hell up. 

Next to Godliness.

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in housework, love, Motherhood, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

It’s been a long week. I’ve worked some long hours recently and as a result Paul has been taking on most of the household and childcare duties. The problem with that is that we have glaringly different ideas of acceptable levels of tidiness in the home, and in dress codes for the kids. In my world odd socks are not appropriate attire, (unless it’s 6am and the only other option is no socks at all), in Paul’s world this is not only acceptable but also to be encouraged. Equally, my idea of housework is to actually do housework, his is to hide whatever he can and get the kids to hide the rest.

I’ve got my niece staying with me at the moment, she is two days younger than my eldest and I love her being here. Not only is she company for the eldest, but she is fun and I can pretend I have a daughter without all the hassle of actually having a daughter!! I get the good bits, the cuddles and the girlie chats, without having to 1) give birth, or 2) nag her about the amount of make up that she wears! Anyway, as you can probably guess, life is hectic in my house at the moment!

As the cleaning fairy appears to have given up and left me to my own pathetic devices, I spent a few hours yesterday evening cleaning and tidying up the downstairs, (I mean honestly, no one sees upstairs so why bother?) it actually looked presentable by the time I left home this morning. It would never have passed an inspection by my nana, but hey, if someone (God forbid) visited unexpectedly I could probably pretend I was yet to tidy up and apologise for the mess!

Anyway, I’d mopped and swept the floors, tided up and washed up, put the washing on etc. I went off to work safe in the knowledge that the house looked ok (ish). I received a few missed calls from the eldest during the course of the day and when I rung him back he said he’d sorted out whatever he wanted in the first place. He also asked if he and my niece could go out on the bikes. No problem, says I, be home for tea. It was raining, I told them not to make a mess.

I picked up the younger two and got home around five. I walked into the front room, all was well. It was when I got to the dining room that I started to notice that things weren’t quite as I had left them. The mop and bucket were sitting prominently in the centre of the room, there were a few bits of mud on the floor. The dustpan and brush were on the dining table. Nothing much. A bit annoying but 2 minutes of sorting it out and things would be fine. Then I walked into the kitchen. Ah, the kitchen. It was a sight to behold: first off the bin was open and there were about 50 sheets of kitchen roll covered in some sort of black gunk. There were also the remains of some sort of doughy cooking, which I quickly identified (from the half empty bottle on top of the pile) as burnt pancakes!

I cast my eyes over to the cooker hob. It was covered in smears from where someone (only eldest and niece were home) had obviously made a mess when cooking and had wiped up rather ineptly. The work tops shared the same coating of smeared food. The draining board contained a huge pile of semi clean pots, pans, glasses, and bowls. It was piled up like a game of jenga, ready to topple at any moment! Actually in the sink was a massive over sized sponge, covered in mud and the wall, cupboard door and floor had splashes and slightly muddy puddles. I felt my hackles rising. I’d cleaned this place. It had looked ok. Why did they do this? I was annoyed.

And then I realised something. I was getting annoyed but actually I was looking at this all wrong. I was looking at the mess, what I wasn’t seeing was what is was evidence of. Instead I was seeing it as a bad thing, they had ruined all my hard work, but in reality it was evidence of many things and none of them were bad.

It was evidence they had been cooking, that they had tried to cook something that they had never done before. And they had failed, and continued to try. They had also recognised the mess and had tried to sort it out, because they knew that would make me happy. The smears on the cookers and worktop were evidence that they had attempted to tidy up.

The muddy puddles and splashes were from where they had tried to wash the mud from their bikes, they had tried to make me happy and in the process had probably made more of a mess, but the intention was good. And I was proud of them. They had also given me evidence that they had been out of the house, having fun and not watching TV or playing XBox.

The huge pile of jenga style washing up proved that they’d not only tidied up their own mess but they had also tried to tidy up the breakfast things I hadn’t had time to wash up before I left the house.

Sometimes, people may not always get things right, but the sentiment behind what they do can mean even more than the action itself.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, those two kids will never be His right hand man, however. In that moment they were Angels to me.

Elephant in the room.

02 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by in Emotions, Friends, Relationships, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

Death is nothing at all… That’s a line from a popular choice of readings at many of the  funeral services that I have attended. The thing is,  death is a big thing. It’s that elephant in the room, the thing we all know is coming, and yet we try our best not to acknowledge.  We ignore it,  we try not to even speak it’s name, we say someone has passed on gone to meet their maker, become an angel. Very rarely do we say someone is dead, it’s euphemisms all the way.

The thing is, we need to deal with Death. We need to accept it,  after all,  as a friend of mine says, good health is just the slowest possible way to die!  It’s an unfortunate truth. No matter how much we don’t like it, it is one thing we can guarantee. 

I have recently been faced with Death and the dying fairly frequently.  I’ve been working on the ambulances and have seen a lot of ill people. Most of these are old people,  people who have lived full and varied lives,  and are proud, strong and fascinating human beings.  All too many of them have been reduced to the remnants of the people that they once were. Some may be unsteady on their feet,  and so have fallen and injured themselves, or just don’t have the strength to get up. Others may just be weak with age or exhausted from breathing or heart conditions,  many have dementia. 

But it’s not all elderly people who die. My 7 year old son came home today with news of a school friend who died at the weekend. Younger people die too, no matter how much we want to ignore it. And it’s heart wrenching and horribly sad,  and doesn’t bear thinking about,  but think about it we should. 

In my mind, death shouldn’t be taboo. It should be a subject that we talk about, without dread, we plan so many things in our lives, but very few people plan for their deaths. We leave this most important part of life to our family and friends,  people who, with the best will in the world are the least likely to be in the frame of mind to make rational, life or death decisions. 

My Nana was probably the person who I have been closest to that has died. I loved my Nana fiercely,  and she loved us all fiercely back. None of us would ever want her to be in pain or distressed.  She was very ill,  she had been fairly I’ll for a long time. She had COPD and was on oxygen constantly, but she was still firing on all cylinders and bossy as hell!

Then one day, she got a chest infection,  and was admitted to hospital. Despite treatment, she didn’t improve.  The Dr’s wanted to withdraw treatment and in that moment,  I would have done anything to save her. Even in the poor health that she was in, I wasn’t ready to let her die. It wasn’t about her. I was selfishly thinking of myself, i didn’t think that my Nana was suffering and would hate to be like this. I just felt that I could not let her go. Luckily I was able to cry it out,  talk to my friends and family and ultimately, it wasn’t up to me to let her go. Probably a good job,  as I don’t think I would have had the strength. I’d want them to keep her alive, not for her but for me. My Nana slipped away quietly in her sleep early one morning soon after.

The funny thing is that after she died I felt relief. Not that she was dead,  but that she was gone without suffering:  she never lost her mind to dementia, or her independence. She died after a short illness and was peaceful. It took my mum and aunt a lot to allow them to withdraw treatment but ultimately it was the right thing to do. Nana would have hated to be a burden and if she had survived she wouldn’t have had the life she was used to.

And that’s why it is important that we face that elephant in the room, that we talk about death and dying, and give our loved ones an idea of what we want or don’t want to be done to keep us alive. It’s not fair to leave a grieving loved one to make decisions on your life or death completely in the dark. It’s not fair on them,  and it’s certainly not fair on you. As humans we are ultimately selfish.  We don’t like pain,  and the pain of losing someone we think we can’t live without is too much. Some people can’t put that aside and think of the other person.  And that says nothing about them,  and more about being human.

So we should all make our feelings clear. Talk about them,  write them down.  Be unequivocal.  Speak about death, and life,  and the conditions in which we would choose death over life. How much should we be prepared to let Dr’s intervene to prolong our life?  If we lose our ability to choose the best for us,  who do we trust to choose it instead. What do we want done with our bodies when we die, are we leaving them to medical science?  Being buried, cremated?  How do we feel about organ donation?  All of us,  none of us, or only some parts? All of these things are important, they mean that we know what will happen to us, and it takes the guilt and pain and decision making away from a loved one who is in an impossible situation. 

So I’ll start it now: if I get dementia,  or have a stroke or any other condition that means I have no mental capacity and no hope for recovery,  I would like treatment to be withdrawn.  I would like my family with me and I’d like to die. If I am able to,  I would like any of my organs to be donated. I don’t mind if I’m buried or cremated but I’d like a grave that people can visit if they want to. And most of all,  I want my family to know that it is my choice and not theirs. There is no guilt,  it’s what I would want.