The Goodbye of a ‘Villain’ Part 1

Have you ever got into a relationship with a friend just to realise down the line that you shouldn’t have overstepped that mark? While my partner’s ex may have disagreed, I was never inside her brain to know her side of things, this is exactly what happened to my partner. They were good friends. Her ex was a good, selfless person. My partner got burnt in an exploding bonfire and lived there during her treatment, which is how and when they ended up taking things further, the development to more ‘easy’. But there were never any fireworks. Never massively a honeymoon phase. And during the couple of years they were together, they lost everything, including their friendship. They completely cohabited, my partner on the sofa every night by the end of the relationship.

They’ve been broken up over two years now, both agreeing it wasn’t working, and I’ve been with my partner a couple of months shy of two years. She moved two and a half hours away to be with me. They started talking again via text and Facebook messages every so often right at the start of our relationship. I can’t lie, I didn’t particularly like it. I did feel threatened. Two months into our relationship, me having issues with my partner’s side of the family not giving me much of a chance, she told my partner that I’d always have a family in her. Whoever my partner chooses to be with is her family. Once again, I struggled to understand. Why are you being nice to me? This is where my partner stepped in: ‘We were great friends before we became more. I guess it’s sad to think we’ve thrown a friendship away because of that choice we shouldn’t have made.’

My partner’s ex was ill, something we all knew she’d eventually die of. There were talks of us all going on holiday. She’d get to take her kids away but we’d be able to do the things with them she couldn’t. We had more energy. She invited us over for drinks, said we could stay the night. But we had financial issues, so were working seven days a week and couldn’t afford to take any time off. We said we would when we were in a more financial position.

They started talking more and more and then she ended up in hospital in an induced coma. My partner was on the phone to her daughter every day, checking on her, making sure she was ok. I was the only one who thought she’d survive. She did. And then she sent me a birthday card. At this point, I put my pride aside and took her words for what they were. I messaged her myself. And I’m so glad I did. I kept in contact with her while my partner went between her and her child. There was genuine friendship building. We spoke about us going to visit her. When the time rolled around, she said, ‘soon. I’m not feeling too well right now.’ Next time never happened. She died before it had the chance.

Part-time Panic

We overcame hurdle number one: long-distance during a pandemic. It took us eight months to find a house, my girlfriend to secure a job here and for us to finally be together after more months of us not being together than being together. Her job was good. Trying to start a career in an industry hard to break into, my pay was and is nowhere near enough to cover us both. But my job didn’t need to pay well. My job was pocket money, which paid all my bills (phone etc), the rest going into savings towards a house deposit. Between us, we could reach up to, and sometimes beyond, £3,000 a month. We were more than comfortable.

What we weren’t expecting was my girlfriend’s boss’s charming ways revealing themselves to be a cover for his misogynistic/narcissistic ways. After months of friendship between my girlfriend and her boss, within weeks, he became the enemy. A man of empty promises and selfishness. A man who would do anything for you, to purely money-driven. He broke my girlfriend down bit by bit. It started with a promised pay rise he didn’t deliver. She worked for months doing deliveries in a tiny car, having to go back to the depot countless times daily to collect deliveries. She picked up after other couriers, often delivering more parcels than anyone else working there. Her pay rise was because she “deserved it”. He promised a 10p rise per parcel, knocked it down to 5p. We were fine with that… he took on three more drivers and started their pay at the exact pay he’d promoted her to. It was a kick in the teeth after months of him saying she’s his favourite, his hardest worker, promises of training for her to have managerial qualities under him, making her able to run the depot on his absences. It was more hurtful than anything. But we brushed it off.

Around that same time, my girlfriend developed tendinitis in her wrist. Upon having it looked at, she was told she needed to rest it for at least three days. If she didn’t, she could end up needing injections in it or even an operation. He made it pretty clear it was a no-go. She was in severe pain, couldn’t lift parcels, struggled to use her handbrake or change gear. I ended up having to take a week off work. I get monthly deadlines, so I just have to complete all my hours within a month. By taking this week off, I fell massively behind. There were more talks for time off, all met with a response of, “Take some paracetamol”. During this time, he was allowing another employee to have as many days off as they wanted so they could sell Christmas trees. After a week, I couldn’t give any more of my time. My girlfriend spoke to her boss, saying he was putting my job in jeopardy. Ever the nice guy, he said, “Oh well, you earn more than her anyway. You can support you both if she loses her job”.

His true colours were now showing. He didn’t see her as a friend; he saw her as money. Being his top-earning employee, if she took time off, he’d lose money and have to pick up the slack himself. Which he wasn’t prepared to do.

We tried to ignore things, depression setting in for both. My girlfriend felt like she’d not only been taken for a fool and been promised the earth, she’d also lost who she thought was a friend. We had to be logical. We had to remember we were adults with bills to pay and a roof to keep over our heads. No matter how low we felt, we had to continue.

But the unsettling behaviour and lack of empathy continued. My girlfriend arrived in the depot one day to a packet of batteries because “you’re a lesbian. Lesbians need batteries because they all have toys, right?” to him sitting around, watching everyone work, laughing at how “I make all this money just by sitting on my ass.”

And after months of my girlfriend begging for a day off after Christmas to go and see her family for the first time in months, as she’d relocated to be with me, he made it pretty clear it probably wouldn’t happen. And then gave another employee a day off for his birthday. Sick to death of his treatment, I told her she needed to fight. So, the next day she told him she would be having a day off. The day off was a bank holiday anyway—a day he’d told her she wouldn’t be working. Delivering parcels from 9 a.m. until 5/6 p.m., he told her, “Go, do what you want, but you’ll be coming back to double the work the next day because I won’t be sorting cover for you.” As the employee who covered all other absences as well as her own work, who could he rely on with her gone?

An out was offered to her: a different route to deliver on within the company. After months of tears and stress, we had a decision to make. Did we continue because of the money or leave for the sake of our mental health? We took it, knowing we’d take a hit financially. The hit was much worse than we expected.

To top off the financial hit, her ex-boss decided he would not be paying her her final wage. She’s tried messaging him and gets ignored. He finally responded to say he wanted it all invoiced for him. We sent the invoice, he argued the amount he owed. When we sent back proof, he started ignoring again. We’ve seen him in person, where he’s promised to pay ASAP and then avoided us since. We’ve taken it higher within the company. Every time we try and ask if there are any developments: “Keep us updated your end”. Well, there’s nothing to update you on. He hasn’t paid and he isn’t going to, what are you going to do about it?

Due to the pay cut and thanks to the ex-boss, we are thousands into our savings. We’ve been looking for job after job to bulk our money and haven’t got anywhere. If things aren’t sorted within the next two months, we’re going to lose our house.

Unfortunately, we were given choices where we were going to lose either way. I’m not sure what we do from here.

How COVID-19 Indirectly Affects Families Part 2

In order for my grandad to be assessed and accepted for radiotherapy or chemotherapy to hopefully prolong his life, we weren’t allowed to even social distance visit with him. I messaged him every now and again but he would hardly text anyone back. He was so weak from the pain and the lack of food that it was too much effort to pick up his phone and write a response. He found it hard to sleep because he was constantly being sick. His partner gave us times when we could message him (most of the time without receiving any sort of reply) because every time he’d eventually fall asleep, someone would message and it would wake him up. The puking and not being able to sleep would start up all over again. We just wanted him to be able to sleep as often as he could, as the pain meds weren’t even touching him.

Eventually, the pain and lack of sleep got too much and reached a new level. He’d always said he didn’t want to go into hospital, as he knew he wouldn’t come back out. It was a big fear of his. But he couldn’t cope anymore, so his partner rang for an ambulance. Up until this point, he was determined he’d fight it irrelevant. Due to reaching the place where deep down he knew he wouldn’t make it out from, we were told not to message or call him. He needed to be alone to accept his fate. He couldn’t deal with the upset of witnessing everyone else falling apart. It would have been too much for him. A couple of people didn’t realise and messaged him anyway—they never received a response.

The doctors said that his liver and kidneys were failing, and he was put on antibiotics. His life expectancy had dropped from potentially five years to six months at a push. And that was only if the antibiotics worked. If they did, once stable, he would be placed into private care. He was only allowed one visitor while in hospital, and the same would apply in private care. He would remain there until his death. Because of the pandemic, I was left waiting for my grandad to die at a much quicker rate than he would have; having to sit around waiting for his death, knowing I would never see him again.

June 24th:
The day after his hospitalisation, my cousin came to visit, as I was a complete mess. We used to be best friends and hadn’t been close anymore for years but we needed each other in that moment. We laughed and cried. As she went to leave, Mum told her to hurry home, as there was news. Mum didn’t feel it was her place to say. Once she drove off, Mum sat me down. The antibiotics hadn’t worked. He wouldn’t make it to private care. The diagnosis was now days. We still weren’t allowed to visit, despite his Covid test coming back negative. We had no offer of a test ourselves to say goodbye. We were hoping for a miracle while knowing we wouldn’t get one. Five minutes after finding out he had days left at most, Mum called me back downstairs to tell me that he’d passed away. He’d gone for a walk around the ward while eating an ice lolly. The nurses had told him off and told him to get back into his bed. He had gone back to bed, gone for a nap and passed in his sleep. In the space of a day, I’d gone from six months, to days, to five minutes. I couldn’t comprehend that this had actually happened. We were told that if we wanted to say goodbye, the hospital would let us visit, but only one person could go in with him at a time. I chucked my clothes on and raced to the hospital. There was a small queue of family already there, my cousin included. We completely broke down in each other’s arms. We were still meant to be socially distancing at this point but watching each other grieve and standing back was too painful. Plus, due to social distancing, we’d all missed that last hug with Grandad. Neither of us could live with any more regrets. How did we know one of us wouldn’t die of a heart attack or something in the next couple of days? And that would be an added regret to what we were already coping with. When it got to my turn, I walked into the ward and was taken down a hall. I was already wearing a mask, but they gave me an apron and gloves too. I was shaking so bad that I couldn’t get the gloves on and a doctor had to help me. My grandad was in a normal ward with other people and just had a curtain across. I entered alone and looked at him. He had one eye half open and one shut. His open eye had already turned glassy and his eye looked misty blue instead of green. I sat on the plastic chair next to his bed and touched his belly. I’d hoped to hold his hand but the blanket was pulled up to his neck. He was now bloated, but due to the weight loss from the cancer, he looked back to his normal self. He looked like the grandad I remembered. The grandad we used to laugh with at his ‘pregnant belly’. I ran my hands over his face and cried. Kept telling him that I loved him and I was sorry that I hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly and that Nan would be waiting for him. Leaving was hard. When’s the right time to walk out of a room knowing that that’s it?

I’d kind of hoped that visiting my grandad would lessen my regret. But I still live with it. I’m glad I saw his body after he passed but… it’s not the same. It’s not the same as having that person’s arms wrapped around you, telling you they love you. It’s so hard coping day to day. I struggle looking back because every part of me wishes I hadn’t listened and had spent those last few weeks getting in as many cuddles as possible. I think that’s what I struggle with most. It’s hard to grieve. I try not to think that he’s passed. Because when I do, all I can seem to focus on is that regret. I’m really not sure how to leave that behind going forward. It’s been nine months now since he’s died and I thought maybe I would have learned to cope with it by now. Right now, coping is not dwelling.

How COVID-19 Indirectly Affects Families Part 1

Beginning of June, my mum gets a phone call from her brother. “I just think you should know, I spoke to Dad earlier and he’s opened up on a few things.” Turned out, Grandad had had blood tests taken on the Wednesday and was going in for an X-ray on the Saturday. He had been struggling to eat and swallow since January and had lost 2 stone. Now, my grandad is a very private man. He doesn’t tell anyone anything about his health concerns etc. More than once, he’s let slip about procedures he’s undertaken, for us just to find out it was years before. So, for him to speak up… was worrying. And it made you wonder why, this time, had he made the decision to let us in. His partner wasn’t happy that he’d told us all everything. Said that he was worrying us all for nothing. I lived with my nan and grandad until I was 2 and he’s always doted on me. I’ve always been the ‘favourite’, so while one of the other grandkids sent him over a text, Mum said she thought it would be best for me to give him a call. After three hours of staring at his number and crying every time I went to press the call button, I finally bit the bullet and did it. I asked him immediately if he was okay. As expected— “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Coming from a man who refuses to take medication for anything and doesn’t even numb when he goes to the dentist for fillings, I didn’t expect much else. He said the 5 blood tests they took came back clear and kept giggling to himself over the fact Mum had rang him up crying, him saying how silly she can be sometimes. We had a small chat and I thought… yeah, he’s okay. Words were slightly slurred. Other than that, he sounded exactly like himself. Mum said, “I’ve been researching his symptoms. They sound a lot like oesophageal cancer.” (hurts to swallow, pain going through his chest and shoulders, heartburn). I told her she’s overthinking and we don’t know anything yet.

Sunday 7th June:
Me and Mum decided to visit grandad. A social distance visit because of COVID-19. We were let in through the back gate and sat apart from him in the back garden. He’d just been fishing—his favourite hobby—he was cleaning his fishing rods, still smiling and joking around. But the loss of weight… was immediately noticeable to me. He’d had his X-ray the day before and, paying private, said he should know the results in a few days. And this is where everything started coming out. Grandad hadn’t just noticed the symptoms in January, he had gone to the doctors. They had booked him in for tests. Then, COVID-19 happened. And with the whole world in panic etc. they had cancelled all my grandad’s tests. His ill state had gotten worse and worse and they eventually contacted him to reschedule him in… nearly 6 months later. Doctors, nurses etc were so focused on COVID-19 that they’d let other illnesses/cases slip through the cracks.

Saturday 13th June:
Mum called me from her partner’s house. She’d been to visit Grandad with her brothers and they’d spent a couple of hours drinking in the garden. Other than Grandad, who had managed a couple of sips of water just to keep hydrated. I was due to visit him the day after and this call was a ‘warning’. A warning that he had.. deteriorated since the weekend before and to prepare myself.

Sunday 14th June:
Grandad and his partner arrived home from fishing as I got there. His partner stopped me as I was walking past. Said he was too weak and ill to fish and they had watched for an hour and then came home. I went into the house, still keeping my distance, stayed in the hallway. He was in his computer room taking off his fishing gear. I laughed and said, “What are you wearing, Grandad?” as I saw his paint-spatter effect overalls over his green camouflage top. Usually, he would have laughed and made a joke, but nothing. I said, “Are you okay, Grandad?” expecting the same response as the week before, but this time he said, “No, no I’m not.” Hearing him speak like that was a shock and hit me. I know it’s normal for people to say they are not okay, but in his case… it’s really, really not. I said to him, “We’re going to have a barbecue soon, aren’t we?” and he just looked at me and said, “Maybe, if, you know…” and yes, I did know. “It is what it is. We all have to go one day,” he continued, like he was preparing me for the end. And I could feel my heart sink and I was struggling to hold back tears. He told me that he was now living off milkshakes and pureed food, but was puking them back up all the time. My grandad has ALWAYS said, once an older person ends up on pureed food… there’s no going back. I left soon after. Said, “I love you.” He said, “I love you too.” Not much of a big deal to a usual person—that’s pretty normal, right? Not with my grandad. His usual response would be, “You too.” I got into the car and just broke down in tears as Mum drove away. That night, the ambulance had to be called as my grandad was in excrutiating pain and couldn’t stop puking. The ambulance medics couldn’t give him anything for the pain without knowing the outcome of his results, so they rang his doctors. The response was, “There’s a growth in his oesophagus.” Well thank you, thank you so much for letting us know sooner considering you already had the results.

Monday 15th June:
Mum gets a call from Grandad’s partner to say she wants his children to come over immediately for a talk, so my mum rushes over. Apparently, due to COVID-19, there were no such thing as private doctors at that time, they were all NHS, even though they were strangely happy enough to take his money. I had to wait around to find out from my mum what it was she wanted to talk about, what the outcome was. I had to go to the post office for my mum to send a parcel as she’d been in the queue when Grandad’s partner had called. She drives to the post office and waits for me in the shop; I can see her smiling and think to myself, ‘This is all going to be okay.’ We leave the post office and get into her car. And nothing is okay. Nothing at all. Secondary cancer. Started in his oesophagus and is now in his lungs and liver. It is now incurable and a matter of time. All they can do is make him comfortable for now. Grandad’s partner had had to ring the doctor to chase up his results after waiting 9 days. Why, if they had the results, did it take them 9 days? Why would they not contact sooner considering the news? The doctors apologised for the fact that he’d been left without any pain meds, admitted that at this stage my grandad would be in immense pain. My uncle said it’s too fucking late now and you can shove your apology. So where do we go from here? Well, right now they would be running a camera down the throat test, but they’re not allowed due to COVID-19… so, my grandad has to wait 2 weeks in complete isolation before they will run the test. Then they need to weigh up their options, look at chemotherapy and radiotherapy to prolong his life, NOT cure it. That could take another 4 weeks and they will want him to isolate again. So, now, we all have a long wait ahead and have to just HOPE that my grandad doesn’t die during this period of time so we can have some more months left with him.

 

So, fuck you, COVID-19. And fuck how it has been put before EVERYTHING. Yes, it’s dangerous, and yes it can kill, but is it as big of a killer as cancer? No. So why is it being put before all these other way more life threatening issues? We could have caught this cancer much earlier if my grandad’s tests hadn’t been postponed for 6 months, we could have started treatment to prolong his life earlier. Do you know how hard it is knowing someone is going to die? Someone you’ve known your entire life? And you’re not even allowed to give them a cuddle. I have to stand outside, at least 2 metres apart from him, and fight every single urge in me to just reach out and hold his hand. Instead, I have to distance and watch him die and lose all these precious moments with him otherwise he can’t receive the treatment. Treatment to prolong that there’s a chance it’s too late for now anyway. Treatment that, considering what he’s going through, should be immediate, but no, instead we have to wait and just hope he doesn’t die in the meantime. Yes, oesophageal cancer is a big killer and success rates aren’t good even if caught earlier, but he could have had another couple of years and now we’re going to be lucky if we even get a few more weeks/months.

Learning my own lesson

I get it. I do. I’m out of a long term relationship, back out in the world, still finding myself. And I get that people want to shield me from making mistakes. Shield me from potential hurt. But sometimes you need to let people make their own decisions, even when you know it’s the complete wrong one for them.

So when I met a girl, despite everyone’s warnings, I went for it. My friends hated her but supported me, my mum did everything possible to try and get me to walk away. They all knew she was a bad egg. But as one friend said to me, “People need to make their own mistakes for themselves. You can be the only person to carry your own regret.” And, as I said to everyone, if you’re all right about her and she treats me like shit, I will take it as a lesson and learn from it.

So, yes, everyone was right. It was the worst relationship of my life. She treated me terribly, emotionally manipulated and gaslighted me. But, as promised to myself and everyone else, I learnt from it. So, here are the lessons I took from her:

• Looks aren’t everything. Looks don’t make you happy. A major problem I faced in my mind was the massive attraction I had for her. I was worried that we would break up and I would never find anyone as good looking as her again. My mum kept saying there are so many people in the world that this theory has no chance of being correct and if I leave I can have someone who I find amazingly attractive AND treats me well. At the time, I ignored her. Looking back… well, she was right. And after her screwing me over so much… the attraction isn’t even anywhere near as strong anymore.
• Take notice of red flags. Yes, I saw them at the start. And yes, I chose to ignore them. There were a few things I should have listened to like the rumours about her, the fact I noticed she maybe drank a lot more than she should. Once the red flags started revealing themselves, they didn’t stop, they just kept getting added to.
• Your worth is not based on one person’s opinion. My ex never ever wanted to even kiss me. I could stand naked in front of her and get no reaction. I felt ugly, fat and worthless. But, the truth was, she was too drugged up to even notice. And just because she took me for granted, didn’t mean that others did or do. I have amazing friends that tell me I was always way too good for her. And I realise now how much bigger my worth is than I thought at the time.
• Don’t give in to emotional manipulation and gaslighting. THEY ARE NOT THE VICTIM! The amount of times she would try and make me feel bad for her were unreal. Even down to when she kissed my friend—it was my fault because she wouldn’t have done it if I’d gotten back with her; it happened on a night out, could I not see that it was purely because it was a night out and wouldn’t have happened otherwise? Yet again, I was another person who couldn’t look past her flaws. Like, shut the fuck up!
• Don’t push your friends away for a partner. Luckily, I didn’t do this completely. But she sure as hell tried to get me to. She was jealous of my friendship with my best mate and would make comments about me hanging out with her too often. It didn’t stop me though. The only one time I pushed someone away was a new friend that my ex decided I’d clearly met on a dating site and fancied. I didn’t meet up with her like I was meant to. Second we broke up, I messaged this new friend who welcomed me back with open arms and now we are incredibly close. I worry about how I would have survived the breakup without the people around me that I had.
• Heartbreak doesn’t kill you. I couldn’t handle how bad I was feeling at the time. I considered turning up on her doorstep, I thought I would never get over her. But I have and I am.
• But I guess the hardest lesson I had to learn was that one of my friends wasn’t as loyal to me as she always made out she would be. She straight out said my ex partner (we’d been broken up a few weeks at this point) was good looking, and I left them alone together not thinking anything of it. A few weeks later, my best friend who worked at the bar I’d left them in was shown CCTV footage of them both kissing. It literally killed me that those two people could do that to me. I was angry, I shouted, and I cut them both out of my life. It hurt like hell, but… it helped me get over my ex and it showed me my ‘friend’s’ true colours. Enough to rid me of them both for good.

The Breakup Part 2

Getting over the girl leaving my life after falling for her was hard. And I’m still not 100% out of the situation. She leaves me alone for a while and then every week or so she comes creeping back in for a day or two at a time. I know she’s not the one for me and is playing a game and my walls are up, but there’s still a lot of feels there for her.

Me and my ex decided we’d try for a friendship, but I don’t think it’s working out. He’s gone from putting a couple of kisses when he talks to me to none and deleted or unfollowed me off everything.

But what’s been the hardest is coping with how my family have changed towards me. I’ve always grown up being told that I will be loved no matter who I choose to love, that my parents wouldn’t think anything less if any of their children came out as gay, and yet… that’s not the vibe I’ve been getting. Especially when it comes to my mum.

She constantly tells me that I’m living in a fantasy land. She always had a massive issue when I’d talk to the girl I fell for and we’d argue about it constantly. We had a sit down and she said she’s got no issue with me speaking to women, it’s JUST that certain one. Yet, I have two lesbian friends I talk to all the time and she will cause arguments and roll her eyes when I speak to them. She says that I will realise I’m straight one day. I don’t really like women. It’s a big phase.

She tells the whole family that too. Doesn’t like discussing it. Rolls her eyes while telling them. Tells them I’m definitely straight, but my mind is messed up right now.

Which is really hard because my mum has always been my best friend.

And it’s affected our relationship to a whole new level. We don’t talk anymore, we just argue. Everything about me annoys her. It’s constant shouting matches. Today, I left a sock on my bedroom floor and she went mental and called me a twat. I went out clubbing last night, brought a kebab home and left the packaging next to my bin as I was out of it and now I’m not allowed friends over. She’s already told me I’m not allowed any relationship potentials over. We have two cats and split the day, so she deals with them in the mornings and I deal with them in the evenings. I didn’t go to bed until 6am today as I was out all night and she woke me up shouting at me, forced me to get up and clean out the litter tray at 9am.

It’s not massive things, it’s all these little, constant niggling things. And nothing about me has changed to cause her to be like this except for the fact I like women.

I feel like I can’t be here anymore. That I need to get away. I don’t think she accepts me for who I am anymore.

I don’t know if our relationship will survive much longer with the way it is now.

The Breakup Part 1

I’ve not written on this blog for a while, but my life has changed dramatically recently and I guess there’s a lot I need to get out of my system. I guess the major change is the fact that me and my partner of five and a half years have broken up. Neither of us did anything wrong, it’s just one of those things.

I guess our relationship had been in friendship mode for a while. Maybe not to him, but it definitely had turned to that for me. My eye had been wandering for some time and my bisexual preference had changed to mostly women. I felt quite upset that I’d never be able to get the chance to be with one. And surely I wouldn’t be worrying about stuff like that if I was happy, right?

I felt very alone and I started making friends to try and fill this weird, empty void I had inside of me. But no matter how many people I met, the void was still there. I don’t know why I did it, but I joined a group for lesbians. I kidded myself into thinking that I was just looking for friends, but I guess deep down I was pretty open to what I would find. And I soon found a girl.

She commented on one of my insomnia posts and we began chatting. We ended up chatting all night and all the next day. And it didn’t stop there. Soon we were Snapchatting constantly and when we weren’t Snapchatting, we were messaging, Facetiming or calling. I found myself unable to be without talking to her. We were just talking to each other at a friendship level, but deep down I was falling for her. And the void was gone.

She never once told me she felt the same, but I ended up breaking down to my partner and told him. He said he wasn’t shocked, that he’d noticed a change in me for a while and we went for a drive. He told me he didn’t want to lose me and suggested an open relationship. I considered this, but… I’ve always been the jealous type, so surely me being okay with him being with other people wasn’t normal. Instead, I decided I wanted a break.

During the break I was upset. But not in a I want him back way, more of a guilt way that my feelings had changed. The girl stayed by my side over messages the whole time we were on a break, telling me she’d always be here for me, telling me I’m beautiful. Telling me I’m doing the right thing.

I left my partner.

The day after, the girl messaged to say she wanted nothing more to do with me.

It’s not all on the mental health system

I’ve heard a lot of people moaning about not getting enough help from the mental health system, but for me, I’ve had the opposite. my doctors have done everything to help me, to the point they’ve even tried persuading me to apply for disability allowance.

My issue is my family, most of all my mum.

And how much I wish it was them I struggled with over my mum is unreal. I mean, I can handle complete strangers not understanding, but my own parent?

It’s actually amazing how many times I’ve cried to my mum, just for her to tell me to think positive and get over it. My own mum, who’s meant to support me no matter what. Meant to love and care for me. Meant to do right by me. And yet, she makes everything in my head 10,00000 times worse.

I recently lost my job, which she’s so happy about. I was working from home, which was great for me with my agoraphobia, but she thought I was getting away with life too easily and I should be made to go out and get a ‘proper job’. Now I’m in that situation, I’m petrified, struggling for cash. I don’t know what to do. I can’t go to my doctors because she won’t allow it. And I still live with her so she has a say in what I do. But I can’t move out either because I can’t afford to. I’m in such a catch 22 situation.

She thinks that I exaggerate my mental health and just use it as an excuse to be lazy and that I think I can just go through life, everyone waiting on me hand and foot. But she doesn’t ONCE take notice or congratulate me for trying. I’m running my own Etsy shop, I’m a self-published author, I’ve been advertising myself as a line editor and also a pet sitter. She doesn’t see that I’m trying.

But today it’s reached a head. She has said something that she can’t go back from.

During yet another argument about her not understanding my mental health, she mentioned that I used to be okay working, and brought up the me being lazy excuse again. How many times I’ve had to explain to her that I used to have depression, but now I have anxiety on top of that, is ridiculous. And I reminded her of the time it all went wrong for me. The point where I stopped being able to leave the house and live a normal life. The time when I was sexually assaulted on my way home from university.

I was crying to her, reliving that moment that I hate thinking about because it upsets me so much. And scares me too. And her response was that I made it all up. Yes, that’s right. I made up that I was sexually assaulted. Her exact words, ‘it was hardly an assault, he only touched you.’ Okay, so it’s right that a guy touched me sexually without my consent? A guy that I didn’t even know when I was on my way home from university? And that’s not classed as sexual assault?

And when I left the house, crying, she said to my sister, ‘Oh, there she goes, being immature again just because I called her out about making up the assault.’

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive my mum for what she’s said, but I definitely won’t forget.

But I just hope that maybe some mums and dads are reading this out there and take a valuable lesson from this. I don’t imagine any other parents calling their child out on making up a sexual assault, BUT I hope you see that when someone is struggling with their mental health, that they need people by their side. They need their parents, their friends, their partners. Lucky for me, I have a supportive partner. Without him, I don’t know what I’d do. But just imagine the situation I’d be in right now: not being able to move out, forced to push through my mental health and ignore it because my mum isn’t supportive about it, being accused of making up a sexual assault. And then imagine I didn’t have a supportive partner on top of that.

It’s not all the fault of mental health services. Sometimes it’s the fault of other people too who choose not to understand.

13 Accomplishments of 2018

As someone with depression, I think it’s always important to step away from the negativity in your life and so I thought I’d look back at 2018 and list 13 personal accomplishments from it.

1. I have been going to Slimming World since the end of 2017 with a goal to lose all the weight I put on since starting university (4 stone.) Although I still haven’t reached that goal, I am now halfway there with a loss of two stone.
2. In December I finally become a published author. I submitted my story The Consequences of Grief to an anthology and was accepted to be included in it. The anthology is called A Flash Of Words, and if you’d like to buy yourself a copy, then you can purchase it here! (aff link)
   
3. Due to being published, I am FINALLY a Goodreads author!
   
4. AND an Amazon author.
   
5. I have also been accepted for publication in FLASH FICTION ADDICTION, although this anthology hasn’t yet been released.
6. I faced a fear of mine that I’d had for months – I walk my neighbour’s dog and there’s a garage which genuinely terrifies me. The door on it is diagonal, meaning someone could crawl inside if they really wanted to. It’s not in a busy location, and every time I’d walk past I’d panic about who could be hiding in there. Realising I was probably just being silly, one day I forced myself to stand in front of it and prove to myself that there was nothing in there. Well, there was something in there, but it was a friendly, stray cat. Needless to say, I’m not scared of that garage anymore.
7. Me and my partner went on our first holiday together, just me and him. We went to Massa Lubrense in Italy and it was really beautiful there.
   
8. While in Italy, I visited Pompeii, which is somewhere that I’ve always wanted to go!
9. I set up a new Etsy shop to display my artwork. If you are interested, then click here to check it out!
   
10. And despite only creating my shop at the end of 2018, I still managed to make my first sale (plus a few extra!)
11. I fostered a stray cat called Kohl (I will post about him in my blog soon), but basically he was living under my mum’s partner’s shed and we managed to entice him out and get him to the vets. We fostered him for a week until he went to his forever home.
12. I learnt how to create wire pendants.
    
13. And made a total of 53 sales in my jewellery shop.

 

And now, here’s to hopefully a wonderful 2019!

Suicide isn’t selfish

I used to think suicide was selfish. I could never understand how people could not think about the consequences of their actions on everyone else around them.

I used to think I went through stages of being ‘suicidal’ when I was younger and first developed depression, but now I think I was wrong. I think I just wanted people to understand that something wasn’t right with me and I needed help. I was literally crying out for help. I didn’t want to die, not deep down, I just wanted to see if anyone would actually miss me. I wanted to punish people for not caring more and for not realising something wasn’t right.

And then at 17 I was diagnosed, and although I still hurt myself and thought about dying on occasion, it wasn’t as often as before my diagnosis and it was still done out of anger, without me really wanting to deep down.

I guess that’s why I thought suicide was selfish – from what I knew, people reached a stage where they were angry at the world and wanted to punish those around them. And the ones around them truly did suffer after.

But I was wrong.

About a month ago, my depression took a turn for the worse. My mum gave me a time frame in which she wanted me to move out; with my anxiety it was a struggle to leave the house so I couldn’t find what people consider a ‘proper job’ and so I was working from home, making less than £300 a month. When I was younger, I would have loved that money, but at my age £300 is nothing. That’s not even enough to cover half the rent if I moved out. And I pay towards rent now, I give my mum half of what I earn and I’m still struggling to survive on what’s left. I spoke to my partner and he made it clear there was no way he could support us both on his wage.

I was stuck.

I had a certain time in which I needed to move out, but I wasn’t making the money to do so and my partner couldn’t help support me.

The doctors told me from all my medical notes that I have a good chance of being entitled to PIP and they’d support me in going for it, so I looked into it, but my mum doesn’t agree that mental health should be seen as a disability and therefore there was no way for me to get her details, such as wages, to apply. My partner didn’t used to think of mental health as a disability either until he saw how it affected me, and he was happy for me to apply to help support us when we moved out, but I didn’t have the money to move out in the first place for support due to my mum. It was a never ending cycle.

I stopped seeing a future.

All I saw now was a blank space and no hope.

And what was I? I was a burden. A financial burden to my partner and in the way of my mum being able to move in and be happy with her boyfriend.

And then the thoughts started and I couldn’t drown them out.

I’d sleep with the TV on as I always do, but I wouldn’t hear a single thing being said on the TV, as my thoughts were louder. I’d still be led in bed, eyes open when the sun came up and the birds started singing. And it wasn’t that I wasn’t tired – I was shattered – but my brain was having none of it. I reached the stage I was passing out in the middle of the day from tiredness.

And I felt down constantly. I wasn’t getting the extreme lows like usual, I was just low all the time, and when I wasn’t low, I was numb. Any form of happiness had left me completely.

And that was when I truly reached the suicidal stage.

I was nothing but a burden, couldn’t see a future for myself anymore, happiness was now nonexistent and replaced with constant lows and numbness, I wasn’t sleeping and my brain was in constant negative overdrive.

I didn’t want to die because I wanted to punish anyone anymore, I wanted the pain to stop. And I couldn’t see any other way out.

I didn’t do anything because there was still a bit of strength in me keeping me going and it’s still with me right now – no, my situation hasn’t improved, but I’m not quite ready to give up just yet.

But I have been taught a valuable lesson and that is not to judge others who see suicide as the only way out. I have been where they’ve been and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.