Greif like Gremlins

I have decided that my grief is like a Gremlin, a lot of the time it is a reflection of the love I have for those that I have lost. I welcome that. I love them so don't want them to be forgotten, like a cuddly toy to a child, some days I may leave them on my bed or a shelf, other days I need to keep them physically close to me.  If you were a teen in the 80's as I was, then you will know what happens when a cute looking Gremlin turns bad.  If they get wet, are exposed to bright light or fed after midnight they turn into the most horrid evil little monsters.

Sometimes my grief turns bad, the Gremlins in my head start to tease and taunt me, I no longer have the people in my life that can tell me that the bad feelings I get are not real reflections of how they thought about me.  So today I have decided to write some of these things down.  I don't need comments or sympathy, I just need to put some of them on paper (so to speak) so that I can acknowledge their existence. So here goes:

"Your mum took her own life so she could be with your dad and youngest (favourite) daughter."

"You were never good enough"

"You took on your niece to try and please others not to do the best for her"

"When are you going to get over your past?"

"You obviously like to wallow in grief"

"Just stop feeling sorry for yourself"

"You should be grateful to not be juggling ageing parents as your children leave home"

"look what a crap parent you have been"

There are many more but that is quite enough for today.  Until now I would cope with all these things in my head by counting the hours til 6pm so that I could obliterate these gremlins with alcohol or sleep (or both).  That time has passed, I can acknowledge that this is a bad way to continue regularly coping with these thoughts. That is not to say there will be times when that will still happen.  Another coping mechanism I use is to keep busy, this has it's limits too, my poor broken body can't keep doing that.  So for today the only thing I can do is be, I know deep down that the things these Gremlins say to me are not true, but I also know they still feel real now and again.  So if I see you in real life then you might notice I'm a bit shut down, I cannot do everything without the crutches of alcohol or busyness.  Thank you in advance to those of you that know me well and will still be there when I reemerge, it could be later today or next week, who knows?

Much love xxxx

What a decade!

To say that the last 10 years has been eventful sounds dramatic, but I mean it, it really has been:

December 2008 we had to cancel my 40th birthday trip to Prague with my husband as we had my 36 year old sister's funeral the day after my birthday.

January 2009 we help move my (maternal side) grand-mother to the midlands and sell her house in Surrey.  She was moved into a home as her dementia was deteriorating after a brief physical illness.

May 2009 we took in my 12 year old niece to live with us as my parents could no longer manage her behaviour.  My children at the time were 8 and 9 1/2 years old.  Over the next two years there were legal implications that resulted from her father completely disowning her which led to tribunals and court cases.

July 2009 I had surgery on both of my knees (the result of my rheumatoid and oesteo arthritis).

January 2010 my 65 year old father had a stroke, he was at this time the main carer for my mother who was suffering from a complete mental breakdown following the death of my sister and not being able to manage her grand daughter.

March 2010 we finally started to get some mental health support for our niece as her school work and behaviour were all deteriorating very quickly.

April 2010 my father appeared to have physically recovered from his stroke however it left a significant cognitive impairment, which turned this incredibly laid back and un flustered man to become a persistent worrier.  

September 2010 my Dad managed to convince my mum to downsize to a bigger house!!!!! (Why did we not question this move more).they were still in the same town in the midlands a little further away from my brother.  He was convinced that getting her out of a house that needed work doing to it and was full of memories of my sister would do her good.  It didn't.

February 2011 my niece made her first suicide attempt, we woke up to the sound of her being ill in the night and managed to find out what she had taken and get her to hospital in time.

May 2011 we could no longer manage my nieces behaviour and she was taken into the care of social services.  After several failed foster placements (some only managing 1 day) she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. For the next two years she was in and out of various hospitals before being admitted long term to a unit 200 miles away from us. I also had to cope with her accusing my father of sexually abusing her (something she did later retract) but fractured my relationship with her and him non the less.

October 2011 my father unexpectedly died from an dissected aortic aneurysm. My mothers mental health deteriorated to the point of having to be hospitalised near us (she was staying with us at the time).

January 2012 we moved my mum into rented accommodation near us on the south coast.  She needed constant mental health service support over the proceeding year.

February 2012 my Grandmother died.

June 2012 I had to give up my part time job as I couldn't cope mentally or physically with home life demands.

January 2013 my mother succeeded in taking her own life.

2014 was quite uneventful except for the continued caring for my niece.  I was still the only person that kept in regular contact with her ( sometimes up to 4 phone calls a day from her mental health unit).

May 2015 we noticed that my youngest daughter was not eating much.  By the time we realised it was serious she was already dangerously under weight. We were immediately offered help which was difficult to accept at the beginning having had so many negative experiences with my niece.

September 2016 my daughter was admitted to a mental health eating disorder unit.  She stayed here for almost 6 months.

March 2017 my eldest child then 17 told me that they knew they were trans gender - I knew they were troubled but didn't realise this was the case.  We were asked not to tell anyone except the gp so that we could get a gender clinic referral.

May 2017 my youngest daughter was discharged and a week later started her GCSE exams at school. She managed to pass them all except one and was able to enrol into sixth form college.

September 2017 we were told by our vet that our dear dog Pippin was very ill and might just have weeks left not months.  We were so blessed to have her for another 9 months after this.

May 2018 our world was completely rocked to the core.  We discovered a deception that meant contact could no longer be kept with my niece. This story belongs to my youngest daughter if and when she decides to tell the world.

 

June 2018 my eldest daughter finally felt able to publicly transition to female, she had chosen her new name and was ready in her self to go forwards.  We also lost my darling dog, Pippin.

September 2018 we finally had  NHS appointment for my eldest at the gender clinic, we had already started on treatment privately and are still waiting on the NHS to take over this.

October 2018 my eldest daughter moved to York to start her degree course in maths.

Which takes us to my birthday this year, yes it was the big 50.  I had a lovely intimate party with just a few friends ( I don't cope well with big gatherings anymore).  I was totally spoilt rotten by friends and my small family.  We had got our puppy just a week before hand called Merry by my youngest  and my eldest daughter was home from university (which she is loving).

I felt very much that God was saying it was time to put this decade behind me.  Within a week of my 50's my youngest daughter was accepted into a London music conservatoire to study saxophone performance.  She also got a distinction in her Grade 8 exam.  To top even that we then found she had been awarded a reasonably substantial scholarship which would help to fund a London placement!

So I am excited about 2019, I am learning to leave the feeling of dread of what will come next behind me.  There is still a long way to go for healing for all four of us but it actually now feels as though this healing is attainable and there actually might be a time of great blessing from all these bad times.

Tangled Emotions.

Do you ever wonder why you react to some situations as you do?  I have had a really hard time adjusting to my eldest child going off to university.  Now I know that I am not the first mother to feel loss in this situation.  However this feeling has been troubling me as much as the loss!  I was fortunate to go and visit her for the last few days but the journey home today has been extremely long and very emotional.

So I've had plenty of thinking time!

Every loss you experience changes the way you grieve.  This isn't always a negative thing, though I think in my case it does make me appear a little hard, especially when older people who have had the opportunity to experience a long life die.  I am not trying to imply that the grief people who lose an elderly relative or friend is any less worthy,  it is simply my reaction to the loss that I sometimes feel a little embarrassed by.  What I have discovered though is when I experience another loss in my life my emotions end up so tangled that it can take me some time to understand what is really the issue.

My beautiful first born is loving university life.  The only thing she doesn't really like at all is doing her laundry! (Though she was doing it when I arrived).  She appears to be adapting really well, making new friends, joining in with new groups, finding the studying interesting (how on earth does anyone find Maths interesting!).  She was interested to ask what was going on at home and in our area but it is was very obvious to me that she is not homesick at all.

So I have been giving myself a hard time because I have wanted her to be homesick!  I knew this was not how I really wanted to feel but have been a little bewildered by why these feelings are there.  So I have been wrestling with all this and I think I am starting to understand where all these feelings are mixed up.  I left home as soon as I could, by 18 I was working and had my own rented room (I really cannot ever say it was a proper home) and I was never homesick, if anything I just couldn't wait to be away from my family.  So what I think I have been doing is thinking that because I didn't get homesick that my daughter isn't for the same reason.  Now for those of you that know even just a little of what the last 10 years have been like in our home you might understand where this tangle has come from.

Enough!!!!! Can I try and start believing that my dear husband and I have just done a good job getting our eldest ready for leaving home?  I hope we can and that she continue to flourish as she journeys into adulthood.  She did tell me she misses me when I said I missed her, to which I did obviously reply "thank you, that was the right answer".

Essential Pain

A friend who is travelling along her own grief journey posted this video about Grief on facebook.  Its an animation by an amazing lady called Megan Devine, you can find much more about her and her story over on her website Refuge in Grief. 

I am sure I have shared before about the complexities of grief.  My journey into trying to understand and feel grief started after the death of my 36 year old sister in 2008.  In fact this blog was started just a few weeks after at the beginning of 2009 when I realised that something inside me was just 'not right'!

I grew up in an atmosphere where I was not encouraged (in fact actually discouraged) to feel emotions.  My mum's life had been a struggle for survival in a world where she felt (and was regularly told in actions and words) she did not belong and her 'feelings' were not valid.  No real surprise then that in her parenting of me there was something missing!!

The grief experiences that I was having were so alien it took a long time and eventually some specialist help to try and understand why I reacted to situations as I did (and still do occassionaly).  Discovering that I had real emotions that affected my behaviour and relationships also made me realise that I was in dire risk of passing on my emotional numbness to my children.

As a society I'm hoping we are moving on from having 'the British Stiff Upper Lip'.  However I can see that we still have far to go in acknowledging our emotions, accepting them in order that we can then continue on our journeys of self-discovery and maturity.  That is what this video made me think about this morning.  How many times have I tried to cheer someone up when all they needed me to do was be along side them.  How many times have I tried to encourage others to 'look on the bright side'? For those that know me well, I think you would agree that I am generally a 'sunny side up' person, my glass is usually half full not half empty.  This is a part of my nature and I really would not like to have to give it up.  It always has and I would like to think that it always will be a saving Grace on more than the odd occassion, helping me to keep my sanity.  What I do need to remember though is that when others are experiencing deep sadness, it is not my job to try and pull them out of it.  They have just as much right to feel their own emotions, just as I have mine.

After my mum died by suicide in 2013, I remember crying out in those raw messy moments following her last breath "I tried so hard to make her life worth living" to the deaf ears of my now estranged brother. The cold flat truth is, we can not make people feel the emotions we want them to feel.  I am now learning that in fact by allowing those we love to express, wrangle and own their feelings and emotions is the most precious (and helpful) gift we can be a part of. 

This video talks about acknowledgement, if you try and acknowledge how someone is feeling you may discover that you are not understanding them at all. That's also okay and might lead to a conversation, moment of better understanding, or even helping someone identify how they are feeling.

So  how can we practically help those who are grieving? I would like to add just a few suggestions of my own that I have felt to be helpful, it's okay to say:

• "I'm so sorry you feel so bad right now".  
• "Is there anything I can do to help you right this moment, a hug, a distraction, a walk, etc" - make sure you only offer what you can give!
• "Would you like to talk?"
• "Would you like some company?"
• "Can I bring a meal over for you?" - as long as you make it clear that you are not going to come over and sit and watch them eat it, reassure them it can be put in the fridge or freezer to eat when they are ready.

Of course, these things can be so hard to put into practise when we cannot predict how a person may react to us. This is the risk we have to take if we really want to show how much they mean to us.

Another story I found some years ago was a middle eastern tale -

A man was out with friends when he entered a river and started to panic, his friends kept reaching out to him shouting "give me your hand".  The troubled friend could not do this and the situation got even more dangerous.  A wise man saw a commotion and went to see what was going on.  He heard these friends shouting at their friend and told them to be quiet.  He reached out his hand and said to the troubled man "Take my hand". The troubled man took the hand offered to him and he was safe.  The moral of the story is, don't ask a drowning/troubled man to GIVE you anything, instead offer them something to TAKE.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, have you had any experiences that have helped you through emotionally tough times?

Jane x

Heart wounds.

A phone call ends and blood flows from the gaping wound left in my heart.  Eyes stare at those hopes, those much prayed for hopes as they burn leaving only ashes ahead.  Don't ask me how I feel, I don't know...... Angry? Furious? Tired? Resigned? Mournful? Sadness? oh yes, there is definitely sadness, I can feel it flattening me to the ground.  That is something I suppose, I can identify something correctly, practise makes perfect.

Thirty minutes before the phone call I was walking the dog, laughing out loud at her antics as she first got stuck in a stream and then swirled into madness as the squirrels in front of us suddenly all took off in different directions.

Madness....... I wouldn't have been giving that word any more thought now if the phone call hadn't come.  But it did, Madness, Mental health, Self Harm, Suicide, oh yes, more and more thoughts are tumbling out of their neat little boxes in my mind where I can usually keep them tidy AND under lock and key.

I could of course could just quickly vacuum all those horrid thoughts up, get them back under lock and key, hey! what does it matter if they are not neat and tidy in their little boxes. I'm so tempted, that way would be so quick, so.... I might need to wear a mask again for a while but who cares?

Actually I care.  There is also that gaping wound that needs dealing with.  A wounded heart needs attention.  A quick patch up job will fail, I know this and have some ugly scars to show for it.  What this heart needs right now is a healing touch, I need the hands of my maker to come and hold his hand over this wound.  He will stem the flow of blood.  He won't mind the mess, the redness, the rawness.  His hands will work with such care. His patience will be forever enduring. There will be another scar but it will be different. I'm learning from Him to have patience too. No human can say or do the right thing, right now. I shall just wait and wait some more.

New hopes will come too, in their own time.

Luke 12:7  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Finding Joy on the Journey

A week last Sunday my husband and I had the pleasure of leading our all together service at church.  We could choose anything we liked as the subject!  I had originally intended to rehash something I had done when I was working for the church as a youth and children's pastor.  I never got round to doing it as my father died the night before, it was still used but someone else did it for me.  Then I had been given the title Admiring the View and had to come up with an interactive slot for newly confirmed Christians at our local Cathedral.  It's funny how God works though, as when I looked back on my computer the only thing I could find (I thought I had all sorts of stuff) was a power point which now looked very dated.

Admiring the View had ended up being all about remembering to stop on our Christian/life's journey and look around us and see the good stuff that God is always up to around us.

I set about writing some notes, looking through google at posts about similar topics and eventually I heard God loud and clear and the title had to be Finding Joy on the Journey.

The verse I was drawn to was this one

Philippians 4 4 - 11

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: rejoice! ⁵ Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. ⁹ Whatever you have learnt or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put it into practise. And the God of peace will be with you.

I felt able to speak about this because it was something I had first hand experience of and just felt God prompting me to tell others about my experience.  The last 5 1/2 years of my life could be described as a journey through grief.  Not only did I lose my younger sister at the age of 36 after a brief  3 week illness,  I then suddenly and unexpectedly lost my dad from a heart attack and then found my mum after she had taken an overdose and had already fallen into a state of unconsciousness, though she didn't die for another 30 hours.

As well as this my health deteriorated after a knee operation left me in a worse state than I had been prior to it.  I had to give up my job.  I became a full time carer of my niece who was 12 when she joined our family and then after two years had to hand over full time care for her to the health service, where she remains to this day, though I still have daily contact with her.

These are just all the surface issues that you could see, there was a whole lot more emotional stuff that was going on.  So life hasn't been easy.  There have been many comments made to me over the years about getting on with the good stuff that has still been left in my life, but somehow this has just made me feel discounted.  However this one bit of scripture from the Bible has been the thing that has shown me how to appreciate and find JOY on this journey.

It is so easy to only focus on negative stuff when it is surrounding you.  I truly believe that one of the things that excites Satan most is when he can see us drowning in a whirlpool of negativity.  

The whatever's in the verses start to point us towards the joy - we just have to choose to go and look for it.  I find also find it helpful to think about what this verse doesn't say:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is UNTRUE, whatever is IGNOBLE, whatever is WRONG , whatever is DIRTY, whatever is UNLOVED, whatever is UGLY – if anything is negative or not praiseworthy – DON'T think about such things. 

My own experience has led me to praise God for the small joys in life - the first cup of tea in the morning, - the sound of my children getting on, - my dog always so happy to see me.  And when you Praise and rejoice with God - then the peace is there for your taking. 

Choose Joy!  God Bless,  Jane x.
 

Moving On.

It has taken me far too long to get back to my blog!  But I wanted to update you all on some exciting times.

I last posted about my mums inquest and the great mess the community mental health team had made, causing a huge delay and much upset.  Well the inquest took place the day before we went off on holiday and I am pleased to say that it was all concluded.  I felt very listened to by the coroner who questioned the mental health team very well to get a clear picture of what had happened with their input.  The psychiatric nurse that was looking after my mum is no longer working for the trust (although still had to attend the inquest) and it was good to hear the coroner say to the manager and consultant that he hoped they had learnt some valuable lessons.  I may still go on to ask for a formal apology from the NHS trust at some point but for the moment I am letting it go.

The following day we jetted off to New Zealand for what turned out to be a most Blessed time.  I just wanted to tell you today though about two incidents which have totally helped me to move on from all the happenings of the last 5 1/2 years.  The first was a visit to some beautiful gardens called Little Paradise gardens and lodge.  It turned out to be one of the places we went to because we saw it by chance and though on first and second passing of it we were too tired to go, there was that niggle that stayed with both my husband and I, that we needed to go! So off we went, and it really was like tasting a little bit of paradise.  If you click on the link above you can see much of it's beauty. 

We chatted with the owner/gardener and it was funny to hear him saying that it was not looking it's best (they are just going into Autumn) as to us it looked beautiful.  He was not only the gardener but the sculptor as well and the picture at the top if of a life size is one of his.  So why was this sculpture of the many the one that touched something deep deep down inside me?  To understand I need to tell you about the counselling session that I had before I went away.  My counsellor asked me to imagine my 12 year old self sitting in the empty chair in the room and asked me what I would like to do/say to her.  Now I have often thought about what I might say/write to myself, knowing what I know now.  However I have never considered what I would do...........  I was very taken aback and there was quite a long period of silence before my tears started to fall.  It turns out what I would really like to be able to do to that 12 year old self is to pick her up, hug her and tell her how much she is loved.  Which brings me onto the photo.......

It struck me immediately, the identical clothing just confirmed it, this was me swinging, loving and enjoying my younger self - WOW!

I am sure this does not sound as profound as it feels for me but I wanted to get it written down.  I know there will be times when I forget about that moment and those feelings and I want to have a written reminder to go back to.

The next thing I want to tell you about is maybe a little more frightening!  I'll let the photo's tell the story.

 

 

 

192 metres + free falling +11 seconds of sheer exhilaration = JOY!!!!!!!

and if you want to know how much noise I made about it here you go

So I have left the past behind and am moving on, it feels great.  I am under no illusions, I know I will still have bad days but for now I feel like I can conquer the world!

God Bless,  Jane x.

Decisions and Priorities.

For the last week my mind has been mulling over a situation that is causing me a lot of angst.  For those that do not know, my mother took her own life a year last February.  She had been struggling with her mental health since the death of my sister 4 years prior to her death.  She then lost her soul mate, my dad just over a year prior to her death.  This caused a critical psychotic episode which meant she had to be hospitalised.  As she was staying with me 200 miles from 'home' when this happened she was hospitalised near me to.  After three months she was well enough for discharge and she was encouraged by the hospital staff to stay in the area so that she could have continuity of service.

The mum that was discharged was quite different from the one that had gone in.  For the first time in a long time she was talking about her very troubled, abused and traumatic life as a war baby in post war Germany. This life continued right up until she met and married  my dad at the age of 18.  She was treating herself to new clothes (and bought me things when it was not a special occasion - this never used to happen).  She was going swimming with me regularly and often persuaded me to get on and go even when I was low.  She went away on holiday with a friend.  She was making plans of things she wanted to do.  She rented a bungalow with an overgrown garden and was in her element sorting it out and making a vegetable plot.  This state remained for about 7 or 8 months.

She had booked to go away again in the October/November (with the same friend to the same place), she had hoped this would help her over the horrid first anniversary of my dad dying and the anniversary of my sister's passing.  By the time she went I had already noticed she was not so good.  She was far more anxious about what she would wear and couldn't make decisions about buying new things for the holiday.  She then had the trauma of discovering when she got back that her landlord had put the bungalow on the market without even telling her.

Within weeks of returning she told me that she wanted to die and was struggling to stay alive.  Having not heard her talk about the community mental health team that had been looking after her and knowing that her Community Psychiatric Nurse (cpn) had moved on, the only course of action I could think of was to contact the GP.  They were great, they saw her straight away and were horrified at the state of her and the fact that she appeared to have fallen through the net with the community service.  By this time she was asking to be readmitted to hospital.  It is only now with hindsight that I can see how big a deal this was.  Her time in hospital had not been a 'good' experience, she had not been happy to be there.  Therefore asking to be admitted was probably a very difficult decision for her to have made.  The GP got onto the community team and arranged for someone to come out that afternoon (it was Friday).  I made sure I stayed with her all the time.

When the CPN ( one I had never met or had any contact with) arrived, she informed me that she had taken over mums care and I should have contacted them not the GP.  However when I informed her that I had no idea that they were still involved as no-one had contacted me since the old cpn told me he was leaving, she was at least apologetic that she had not been in touch with me.  She then proceeded to tell my mum that she could not be admitted back to hospital, the unit she had been in was now a dementia unit and there were no beds.  A discussion had been had before she came out to visit with the community psychiatrist and her medication had been increased.  Medication was one area that I had refused to get involved with - I have enough trouble controlling my own!

By December there had been no improvement, if anything she was slowly going more and more into a depressive stupor.  She had almost stopped going swimming with me.  I was having to go and fetch her to come round for tea, whereas before she had happily walked around.  I had found her somewhere to live - a lovely place just around the corner from my home.  She was anxious about buying it, but was doing the purchase herself along with the estate agent and solicitor.  I had to ask my brother to invite mum to his for Christmas to give me a break as now my caring role was becoming a daily activity.  He was very shocked to see how downhill she had gone.

At the end of January she had a review with her CPN, I had spoken to the cpn before the meeting to inform her that mum wasn't washing and was spending most of her time in bed.  During the review, mum was very quiet but voiced her anxiety about the move and life in general.

Then February arrived, a date for completion on the property was made, everything was set for exchange.  Then out of the blue I could not get hold of her.  After eventually having to break into her property I found her conscious but unresponsive and a pile of medication packaging next to her.  After being blue lighted to the hospital it took about 6 hours before I was finally informed that she was not going survive.  I was told it could take several days for her to die, thankfully she only lasted until the following lunch time.

Because of the nature of her death we have had to have a coroners inquest.  The coroners clerk regularly called and updated me on the process of the inquest as reports came in (or didn't in the case of the community services).  I was then given a date in December to attend and all the reports they had received were sent to me to read before the court appearance.  However I noticed that there was still no report from the community mental health services.  I said this to the coroners clerk when we arrived, he then went and discussed this with the coroner.  It was then decided by the coroner that the case should be adjourned as it was vital for a full report from the community team to be there as they were the only ones with regular contact with mum.


Last week I finally had another letter from the coroners office to say a new date had been set for next week and they also attached a report from the mental health team.  This was no ordinary report, it was a critical incident report which they had, had to complete for the health trust.  It was dated MARCH 2013, just a month after mum had died.  So I am left wondering WHY?????, why wasn't I informed that the report had been done, why had they not sent the report back when information was first requested from them by the coroner.  Why was so much of the information contradictory and in some places wrong.  Why was the appendix that should have been attached with a time line on it of their interventions with mum missing.  Why was there not mention of the change in CPN.  To say I was furious does not give justice to how I immediately felt.  Grief and anger came clashing into mind.  One week on, thankfully I am becoming calmer about it all.

So now, what do I do?  I decided to try and get hold of the person that wrote the report or one of the people on the management team that were named on the report.  A call was made 5 days ago, I was told I would be called back and that still has not happened.

How much time do I invest in this?  I am concerned that I am going to get to the inquest hearing next week and get too emotional to voice any of the above whys to the coroner.  Will he be interested anyway?  Trying to discern the right course of action to take has been exhausting.  Fortunately I have been able to talk through with my counsellor this process and she has helped me to look at how it is all affecting me.

Nothing I can do can bring my mum back.  However if I do nothing about these concerns and I keep them to myself, it is going to feel like I'm keeping some sort of secret inside of me.  This secret will never go away, I might find I can box it up and put it on a shelf in my memory, but it will never go away and as my mums experience has shown me, sometimes those secrets can manifest decades later when the mind comes under pressure.

So I have written this all down.  That is my starting point.  Next I need to sit down with the horrid report and mark clearly the bits of it that are wrong or that I do not understand (contradictions).  I am then planning to email the coroners clerk on monday with all my questions, so that I am not able to voice them during the inquest they can still be brought up.  I think I have also made peace with myself that if the coroner decides that no further action is warranted, I have to accept this.  However if this is the case I can still write to the health trust and let them know how viewing that report almost a year after it was written caused me too much upset.  I can also let them know my concerns about the details of the report.

If on the other hand the coroner thinks it needs further investigation, I can leave this to him to do.  It is not something I can do.  I may have quite a strong moral and ethical stance on injustice, but I do need to look after myself as well.  I still have a young family to look after, I still have a niece in an adolescent mental health unit, for whom I considered next of kin even though she is under the care of social services.  I need someone else to fight this battle for me if indeed it needs fighting.  Hopefully I can start to let go of all this unrest inside of me.  I am very much hoping that by this time next week I will be at peace with all the decisions that have been made.

Dear Mum.

So I should be saying Happy 67th Birthday today!  But I am not am I, you ensured you stayed 66 forever - that is an extreme way of not getting anymore grey hairs!

I cannot imagine how you thought suicide would be the answer. 

I cannot imagine how you could have thought that being dead would have had anything but a negative effect on your two remaining children and all your grandchildren.

For me it has been the ultimate punch in the face, you wanted to be with your other daughter and not me.

Did you have any awareness that this is how it would leave me feeling?  I hope not!  That way I can fantasise that this is just my own interpretation of how I am feeling, not how you were feeling.

There are days when I want to slap you round the face and remind you that you chose to have children - so why did you bring me up feeling as though it was my own fault that I existed?????

Then there are days when my heart bleeds for what you had to go through as a child, and for the support that you did not get from family, friends or counsellors.

I know I am so very fortunate.  I have an amazing husband, and beautiful loving children.  There are friends surrounding us that are there to support and hold us when we need it.  To leave us be when we need that.  And to make us smile and laugh when we need that.

I do hope seeing me striving to break the mould has not made you sad.  I do hope that you can see that we are trying to nurture individuality and freedom for our children.  Yes  this means there are times when I have to let my children 'Show off', but who are they harming?  Yesterday when A was walking down the street holding her arms out walking like a catwalk model, I could feel you cringing besides me and chastising me for letting her do it.  But she was having fun, she was playing, she was using her imagination to live out fantasies.  She was enjoying herself!  She knew this was an extra special treat - time with me.

There are only three memories that I have of you and me spending time just the two of us, maybe more will come back to me with time.

One was off us shopping together when I was probably 12 or so, but we were shopping for you.  I remember you constantly telling me this.  I had known that is why you were going but had still wanted to come with you with the hope that you might treat me to something.  You didn't, you just got cross that I wanted to look at things that were not what you were looking for.

The next was when I took you for lunch when you were visiting your mum in Kingston.  It must have been when she was in hospital, before Sally died as otherwise she would have come with us.  That I remember being a really pleasant pub lunch.

The last memory is of your birthday present last year.  Do you remember I got us tickets to see a west end show - something you had never done.  But you hated the whole experience.  Even telling me this while we were eating our lunch out in a lovely restaurant.  That hurt me so much.

So today is a bittersweet day for me.  There is a part of me relieved that I no longer feel responsible for trying to make life worth living ( yes I know that I did not have to do this, but it is how I felt).  Then there is the other part that had so hoped that living closer to each other would mean spending more quality time together, maybe even getting to know and respect each other more as we grew older.  For this I grieve.

Swimming.

Picture taking from Google images, not the real thing!

Hello!  I am still here.  I thought I had better come and say Hi.  Life has been a little (ok VERY) consumed by a wedding dress making project.  I shall be blogging about that another time over on my Mrs Craftypants blog after the wedding next weekend, when the Bride has had the opportunity to show all her friends her dress first.

I thought I would write about swimming today.  (I know the last one was whirlpools - there is obviously something watery going on here).

Since mid May I have been enrolled at a very lovely independent gym with fabulous indoor and outdoor swimming pools.  It is at least a  20 minute trek to get there in the car (as opposed to our local baths which are 10 minutes away).  However the luxury of the place plus the expense means I am totally taking full advantage of my membership.

I arrived today to find the outdoor pool was empty.  I slid into the wonderfully warm water and out of the slight chill that was in the air.  I took myself off to one of the lanes and set forth with my usual rhythm, a length on my front followed by a length on my back.  I can continue like this for an hour.  I know that on my front it takes either 24 or 25 strokes to get from one end to the other.  And on my back it takes between 21 and 22 arm strokes.  I love this rhythm, it also means I don't have to think of much and I don't bang my head on the side of the pool when going backwards.

With the luxury of the pool to myself I was revelling in watching the water still ahead of me whilst going forwards.  Whilst on my back the sky kept me entertained.  Pure blue at times, the occasional fluffy white cloud, the odd grey bubbly cloud, birds, aeroplanes, butterflies, bees - complete bliss.  I stroke away feeling blessed beyond belief.

Then I hear a splashy swishy sound, and I am certain I was not making it.  I was on my back so could not see what was behind me, but I guessed it - my peace had been shattered.  If only it had been a shattering of the pure bliss I was experiencing, but it wasn't.  Big Splashy Man had come into the pool.  Not content with  taking a space on the other side of the pool from me, he came right up against the lane divider next to me.  Within seconds the water was choppy.  Every time we passed each other I had chlorinated water splashed all over my face and up my nose.  On one occasion as I was just finishing off my back length he completely submerged me and left me gagging and gasping for air.  I was going to say something, but he had no idea of the carnage he was causing and continued a pace.

The peace was gone, a few more folk came into the pool and suddenly my back lengths of 21 or 22 strokes were taking 24 to 25.  On my front it felt like I was swimming in treacle.  The edge of the pool taking forever to come into reach of my fingertips.

I looked at the clock and saw that I had done almost an hour, I could hear my friends voice in my head, reminding me as she had to take it easy (having been ill over the weekend).  I stopped and looked around and saw big black clouds looming.  Sometimes it really is about knowing when to get out.

Sitting in the sauna afterwards I was musing on how much my grief is like Big Splashy Man.  I rarely know when it is going to rear it's head, however there are triggers which mean I know it may well be coming.  For me at the moment, it is seeing the lights on in the house where my mum used to live.  Or looking at the house she was going to buy just around the corner from us.  Even shopping in our little town centre where I would often bump into her.  Like Big Splashy Man, I have no control over it's intensity, sometimes it is worse than others.  It is also quite interesting to note that it is often following moments of complete bliss and feeling blessed that  Big Splashy Man, rears his head.

After a lovely quiet time in the Sauna, I decided to treat myself to 10 minutes in the indoor jacuzzi.  Once more I was peaceful.  I was also feeling very smug that I had been right about those big grey clouds, they were still hanging over the outdoor pool.  Then would you believe it Big Shouty Man got into the jacuzzi next to mine and started having a very loud conversation with his friend.  Typical I was just thinking when horror of horrors - Big Splashy Man got into MY jacuzzi.  That was too much, it was obviously time for me to go home.


post script - I do apologise to Mr Splashy Man and Mr Shouty Man for associating you with my grief as I have, it really is nothing personal, I am sure you are perfectly lovely people!!!!!!!!!!!!

post post script - the swimming is doing me a lot of good, I'm going 3 times a week and have so far lost over 5 kg :o) x
 

In the Whirlpool.

I have started back with my counsellor.  It was a wonderful God-incidence to discover that she had a client finishing just as I called, in a slot I could take.  The relief of being able to see the same lady was immense, I'm not sure I could have started again with someone else, with all that has gone on.  Being remembered and not having to go back over the past has made returning much easier.

Having said that it is not an easy business facing up to things.  We were discussing the whirlpool of grief today.  Trying to actually name some of the feelings that are swirling around in my mind at the moment. I have had a revelation - I am totally illiterate at reading my own feelings.

Growing up feelings were either ignored or worse, discounted.  I have always wondered why when in emotional moments my gut instinct is to run away and hide.  There have been times when I have actually done this.  I remember during a turbulent relationship in my late teens, finding myself on the M1 driving to Leeds in my car.  I even got as far as deciding I would find a hotel room, before realising that I was a young woman on my own and had a safe bed to go to if I really wanted it.

So how is my illerateness (I'm sure that is not a word) affecting me now?  It means I can't tell those closest to me how I feel, because I don't even know myself.  I know I feel pants (awful) but I can rarely put my finger on why.  This means those around me have no idea what to do or say.  It also means that I just build walls with no doors and retreat (runaway) into myself.  And I can tell you that is not a very nice place to be.

What has shook me most is realising that I am going to end up passing on something to my children that I really do not want to - maybe they will start thinking they have done something to make me feel bad.  Maybe they will just think that I am forever grumpy.  Even worse than this maybe I will not be able to teach them how to identify their own emotions/feelings enabling them to handle things that they are going to have to face as they grow up.

So I have a choice, to learn to identify and vocalise my emotions or to stay as I am.  It really is a no brainer, however I know it is not going to be an easy journey.

Hope for the Hopeless

What do you do when you are told that this might be as good as it gets?  What about all your hopes and dreams?

I am talking about my niece, her mental health has once again deteriorated very quickly, she is harming herself worse than she has ever done during this 6 month admission.  Three weeks ago we were planning her discharge as she was doing so well. 

I have sat in a meeting with all the 'professionals' caring for her for two hours this afternoon.  The general consensus appears to be that this could well be as good as it gets.  REALLY? FOREVER?

My heart is broken enough from all the losses that have driven her to the place where she is, how on earth can I keep it from shattering completely?  It isn't even just an emotional pain that I feel anymore, my heart actually aches so that it catches my breath.

I cannot possibly accept this is as good as it gets surely?  Where is my hope in a God that heals, whose heart is for the broken and the orphaned?  Do I accept what they say and so start to guard my heart from the pain that it is going to have to continue to endure for her?  Or can my God give me the strength to stand firm, to endure the pain and to hope eternally?

I so HOPE it is the later,  shortly after she stopped living with us I did much of the guarding myself from the pain.  I managed it for about 12 months before the cracks in this plan became to deep that the pain started to spill.  I then had to give up work because of the deterioration in my health.  I do not want to go there again.

I guess all I can do at the moment is make this my prayer and have that same HOPE.

2 Chronicles 14:10-12

Good News Translation (GNT)

¹⁰ Asa went out to fight him, and both sides took up their positions at Zephathah Valley near Mareshah. ¹¹ Asa prayed to the Lord his God, “O Lord, you can help a weak army as easily as a powerful one. Help us now, O Lord our God, because we are relying on you, and in your name we have come out to fight against this huge army. Lord, you are our God; no one can hope to defeat you.”¹² The Lord defeated the Ethiopian army when Asa and the Judean army attacked them. They fled,

Suicide is Painless?

A few months ago I watched my mother die a slow and painful death (amazingly it only took 24 hours after I found her, it could have been a lot longer) after taking a huge overdose of paracetamol.  Why she chose this method when there were plenty of other prescription drugs she could have used that would of been much quicker is beyond my comprehension.

Why she chose to do it at all is also still really beyond my comprehension.  I am still waiting for the coroners reports to arrive with the views of the mental health professionals that had been dealing with her.  However I am quite certain that there probably won't be any answers to my questions within them.

I heard this week of another suicide, that of a young man who had been plagued by mental illness.  Is the relief that he ached for the same as what my mother did?

My feelings on the whole debacle change from moment to moment.  I have been very angry, I have felt very worthless, numb, confused, sad, relieved and many many more emotions.

At the moment I am really feeling that maybe it was not the result of a mental health 'issue'.  She had a life that was plagued by horrific experiences for the first 17 years.  These had scarred her so deeply that she was never able to accept any help in trying to come to terms with them.  Her last 5 years were also enveloped in great sadness after loosing her youngest daughter and her beloved husband.  She just did not want to be alive without them.

So was there anything that could have been done to prevent her from taking the action that she did?  I still have to believe not at the moment - partly because this is the only way I can stop myself from taking any blame for her actions ( I know this is a little selfish but hey - I still have a family to be there for).  At the moment I really don't think anyone else could have done anything to help her - she did not want it - in fact she very actively refused to engage with any help that was offered.

So my experience is that suicide is not painless for the person who takes their life, and most certainly is not painless for those that have to face the trauma of finding them and then dealing with the grief that inevitably follows.

Staying Out of the Kitchen

 

Do you like my new toast plate?  It was an early Mothering Sunday gift to me from my niece.  She has moved to a mental health unit closer to us and so I got to see her last weekend.  There should be a picture at the end of this post with what she has written on the back.  She got the opportunity to go to a Pottery Barn and designed it herself - very precious.

Toast is about all I am able to make at the moment.  My culinary skills along with all my general homemaking skills seem to have taken leave of me at the moment.  I read somewhere recently that this often happens during the early stages of bereavement.  It really is most queer.  

Last Saturday I burnt my plums - literally (stop sniggering), I had, had some hanging around in the fruit bowl until they had started to dry out so decided I really shouldn't waste them and could just quickly stew them and use them for a pudding.  Twenty minutes after putting them on, having got totally distracted by another task I suddenly remembered them.  Too late - it took 24 hours of soaking and then boiling water in the empty pan to get rid of all the burnt on bits.

Sunday I had one last load of washing that needed to go through the drier (having managed the others on Saturday - some success).  After putting the drier on I walked away thinking that it sounded a bit clunky, but then it often sounds a bit odd.  It wasn't until I came to empty it later that I discovered my daughters small metal Vaseline pot sitting in the bottom of the drier after taking the clothes out.  I suppose I should consider myself very fortunate that it only ruined three items of clothing, none of them being particularly special items.

On Monday I had a friend round for lunch and had thought to ask my dear husband to get a lovely broth out of the freezer that a friend had made and given to me.  All seemed to go well, we ate and it wasn't until about an hour (or probably two), that we started to clear the table and as I put the pots in the kitchen felt something burning on my hand - I had just left the gas hob on for the whole time - thank goodness there wasn't anything near to it!

Tuesday, husband made my lunch and I went to the Chip Shop to get the children's tea when husband was at work in the evening.  Tonight I will try and cook something simple - do wish me luck!

A Quiet Christmas

 
What does Christmas mean?  Family? Friends? Church? Jesus? Presents? Food? Pretty lights?  Over the years all these things have taken a turn.

This year for me it has been about Stillness.

Our Christmas Eve didn't go to plan, we usually go to the same cinema watch a Christmassy film and then go to the same restaurant.  We arrived at said cinema to discover the film had sold out (we hadn't thought of booking as in previous years films have never been full!).  We ended up having to go to another cinema to watch a different film, that turned out okay, when we came out no restaurants were taking new sittings.  We ended up going home and getting take out pizza, that would have turned out okay, except we rarely have take out pizza and it upset my stomach!  It was nice to see the children excited and I was very surprised when we went in the kitchen before bed and found this

The glass is full of water as she felt Santa needed to watch his weight!


My lovely husband was working on Christmas Day, it has happened in the past but this is the first time the children are aware of it.  This made me totally rethink our day.  Food was definitely not going to feature any importance, we had a special breakfast with lovely fresh pastries before any present opening, but that was the only meal we all at down together for.  For the rest of the day, I put a selection of nibbly food out on the table and we grazed through the rest of the day (the children did eat rather a lot of chocolate).

My mum had gone up to the East Midlands to spend time with my brother and his family (something I had to instigate to get a break).  My niece is physically closer and not in a secure unit this year so we were able to arrange for her to be brought over for a couple of hours.  She didn't want to come to church so we went to the 9.15 service which was lovely.  Sadly we had to leave before the communion to be home in time for our niece.

It was lovely to see her opening her stocking.  The children's stockings were given to the children when they were very small by my sister when she was alive.  The girls have the same ones with an angel on them and my boy has a Santa on his.  We spent most Christmas Days all together, either at hers or at ours.  This is only the second Christmas Day the children can remember not having woken up all together.  I didn't know that my husband was snapping these pictures.

In this one particularly my niece looks so much like my sister it took my breath away.  Her face profile, her body posture, her hair, oh how it makes my heart ache.

A very nice care home worker came a little too early to pick her up as we were having a go at using the girls new pom pom makers, but he very kindly was happy to sit and chat with my husband and son while we finished what we were doing.

After she left, so did dear husband.  We ended up watching a lot of television! My daughter and I did decide to start a project with her pom pom makers though, did you see the wreath in the first photo in this post?  It was full of plastic ornaments, but in common with my door wreath which you can see in my previous post we decided to fill it with pom pom's

My lovely friend in New Zealand came on line later in the evening which meant I had some adult conversation and a bit of scrabble playing.  The day then ended with the extra surprise of my husband getting off work three hours early!  Which was so lovely as we would have all been in bed otherwise.

So all in all it was different.  It was quiet.  It was peaceful.  God was there with us, it feels as though we were able to keep the real meaning of Christmas at the heart of our day.  I am now determined to celebrate the Christmastide season and not just leave Christmas behind now that the 25th has passed by.  I haven't decided what we will do, I know it will be quiet, but I hope we can keep it Christ centred.

Overcoats.

It has been a difficult month so far.  As a family we have just had the first anniversary of my fathers very sudden unexpected death.  It has got me thinking about grief as it has rather enveloped me more than at any other time since he died.

I was doing some reading a little while ago on the Internet (unfortunately I now cannot find what I read).  However it likened grief to wearing an old tatty overcoat.  This resonated straight away with me as it made me think of my mum.  Since my dad died she has been constantly wearing his old waterproof coat.  It is tatty, it does not do up properly, but it was his.  I did manage to persuade her to purchase herself a new one about 6 months ago however even now she seldom wears it.  However she does occasionally.

It seems to come very easy (natural?) to try and coax people out of their grief.  Just like I did with my mum and her coat.  However grief is something that we need to go through and if you use the metaphor of it being like an overcoat you can take it further.  If you don't wear your overcoat, it stays the same, if you wear it well, it slowly starts to wear out.  This might mean that it gets shabbier but this will encourage you to consider the new overcoat that might some day need to replace it.

My experience of grief is that I have not felt 'able' to wear my overcoat.  It is not attractive, it is drab, it does not make other people feel comfortable when I wear it.  However I am trying to grasp hold of the 'need' to wear it.  Hopefully with time I my overcoat might start to wear out.

It has been far too long since I have written down any blessings, but through these dark days there are still many many blessed moments.

830. Swimming a mile for the first time in one go.
831. Watching a film in a cosy warm house.
832. Sales starting to happen on my Folksy site.
833. Kissing my husband in the rain.
834. Autumn sunlight in the garden.
835. Lovely pumpkins ripening in the garden.
836. A meal with friends with dishes I had prepared and frozen so that I was not too exhausted for their company.
837. Encouraging my youngest to spread her wings and watching her fly on a band weekend away.
839. Godly blogs that bring his word and wisdom when I can't get to church.

False Memory Syndrome

Did you know that it is possible to truly believe that something has happened to you when in fact it hasn't?  That you might have flashbacks and nightmares that are your mind has created because of other trauma that has occurred?

I have been doing lots of reading about this recently as I am currently having to deal with allegations being made against people I know and love.  Unfortunately it seems that the only way of ever getting to the bottom of false memories is by getting all parties to talk about it to find where the distortions of memory may have occurred.  For my situation this is not possible as there are no mentally reliable people left to talk.

Most of the reading I have done seems to centre on sexual abuse by parents or grandparents, the majority of stories and research also centre around poor therapy where abuse may have been inadvertently suggested.

However there is a smaller body of evidence that seems to show that it is possible that people are able to start to recount false memories or flashbacks in order to avoid looking at real trauma.  This is not done on purpose but is a coping mechanism of a damaged person.

I am now tasked with finding a way of living with the information that I have been given.  Reading this article has helped.  This encourages the focus to remain on the person who may be having false memories and remembering that they are occurring for a reason, even if it is not the reason they might believe it to be.  What I am surprised by however is the lack of conversation that has occurred with any professionals that we are involved in to discuss False Memory Syndrome at all.  I have stumbled across it (and the fact that there is a British society of it!) because of deep gnawing feeling and some pretty reliable evidence that suggests these allegations are not true.  I had presumed that they were just lies - but now I can see that there is far more to it than that.

I do not know whether there will ever be a conclusion to the situation that I am in, I have been told not to expect one.  It has made me turn whole heartily to my faith in God, it is a burden far to big to be able to bear alone.

Matthew 11:28  (NIV)

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

Amen to that! 

Sad Birthdays

Today should have been my Daddy's 67th birthday, but sadly for us, along with my little sister who will remain 36 years old for ever more he will always remain 66 years old. I miss you both x.

Easter Worship

We were in a bit of a quandry about what to do on Easter Sunday morning.  It is such a special time of celebration for Christians, that being on holiday was not a good enough reason to let it pass by.  None of us fancied trying to find a church, I didn't want to be going to a theme park.

In the quiet I felt the prompt of His Holy Spirit to go and see the sunrise over the Atlantic ocean, something that is not possible in the UK.  We had planned to go to the Kennedy Space Centre at some point and as that is by the coast a plan came together.  My dear husband did a search on the map to find a good place to go.  We ended up at Jetty Park and when we arrived we noticed there were lots of people despite the very early hour.  It just so happened that the local church were having an outdoor sunrise service.  The beach was big enough to accommodate everyone with some personal space, the added bonus of worship songs playing was fab.

It has been quite difficult to get into Holy Week, away from home and friends. However being forced to rethink and spend time alone with God has been great.

What I was not expecting while reflecting on the glory of the sunrise I was watching in the photo above,  considering that morning when Mary went to the tomb was the shadow of grief that passed over me.

Grief is a funny old thing.  As time passes you get used to the fact that the world is different when wearing grief glasses, you get used to that being the normal.  However I now seem to going through a new phase of grief shadows.  I don't know how long they are going to keep me, sometimes they are long  and sometimes they are short.  This Easter Sunday it was thankfully short, though the intensity of loss was deep.  So much has changed since last Easter, important people in my life are now missing.

The tears that flowed so freely were so welcome that morning, being on holiday has been stirring lots of memories and emotions but the release of tears had not come.  Praise Jesus for the freedom and release he gave us by his ressurection.