Filed under: Relationships, Single life | Tags: death, depression, family, Relationships, single, stress
Today I heard that my grandfather has about three weeks to live. That is, unless he starts taking his medication. Which he won’t take because he so depressed that he’d actually rather be dead. The ironic thing is that he won’t take anti-depressants as he’s afraid they’ll kill him.
There’s nobody here to hug me and make this seem ok. There never is. I’m single, so I don’t have the luxury of splitting my pain two ways. I don’t even have a shoulder to wipe my tears on. My parents went home together, united in their anguish. My sister is putting the kids to bed, then she’ll sit down with her husband for the evening. A team, ready to battle against the sorrows of the world.
I’m alone. And I don’t think I’m any worse off for it. I find that during most truly sad occasions, there’s nothing anyone can say to take the pain away. Being held when you’re crying doesn’t make you want to cry any less. It just means you have to worry about your mascara or mucus ruining someone’s jumper while you cry.
I make myself tea. I think. I write. And I’m uninterrupted. I don’t have to listen to anyone else’s point of view, or pretend that their words of advice are having an effect. I’m not going to upset anyone by withdrawing into myself for a few hours, or hurt anyone’s feelings by snapping at their attempts to cheer me up.
Sometimes, we don’t need to cheer up. We need time to accept reality.
People in relationships develop ways of coping with trauma the same way smokers or alcoholics do. Stressed? Have a hug. Upset? Tell me about it. Anxious? There, there. The constant attention, the sounding board, the affection. These things become essential means of dealing with the vicissitudes of daily life.
What happens when you run out of cigarettes, or can’t get a drink? You realise you have no other coping mechanism. You’re helpless, waiting for someone to walk into the room or into your life who can help you deal with the world around you.
Filed under: LOVE, Parents, Relationships, Single life, heartache | Tags: alcohol, christmas, death, family, holidays, LOVE
Christmas is like being wrapped up by your friends and family in a big, warm cuddle. It’s about showing the people in your life that you love them by buying them novelty bottle openers and heart-shaped frying pans. It’s a time to bond with people in the pub by singing Christmas carols and relishing the annual free drink from the barman.
We’ve always had wonderful Christmases – two great parents, four excited kids, and a big family gathering in Dublin to celebrate on the day itself. The sad thing about our family gatherings is that the numbers have been dwindling since our childhood. This year is proving to be the most distressing so far – I saw my Grandfather yesterday, and he told me that he wishes he were dead. Wow.
I’ve mentioned my Grandfather before – an incredible, inspirational man who sadly has a tendency to see the worst in everything (and everyone) around him. He’s taught me so much throughout his life, and it pains me that the biggest lesson I’ll ever learn will be from his death. He’s alone. He’s alienated most of the people who care about him, he’s frightened and bullied the nursing staff he’s met over the last few months. He has refused offers of help and mocked the thoughtful efforts of his neighbours.
The lesson is so obvious that I’m not going into it. The message I’d like to spread in my last pre-Christmas post is one I’ve written before:
Love the world – it’ll love you back.
Tonight I’m going out with The Femme, a couple of her friends and… the man. Yes, the Unlikely Valentine is still on the scene. There have been phonecalls, messages, and a couple of rendevous. It’s all getting a bit pedestrian. I’ve made a conscious decision not to touch a drop of the bad stuff over the holidays – let the early mornings, extravagant meals and epic Monopoly games begin!
Happy Christmas
Filed under: Parents, philosophy | Tags: convalescence, depression, family, galileo, grandfather, problem, resolution, single parent
My grandfather is a wonderful man. Sadly, he wasn’t so wonderful when my mother was growing up. She suffered mental and emotional abuse at the hands of an alcoholic, depressed father who was miserable in his job and trapped by his family commitments. His own father, a single parent after his wife died at a young age, was an unskilled labourer on a low and unreliable income with four children to look after. The pressure on my grandfather, the eldest, to succeed in school and find a permanent, pensionable job had such a great effect on him that he is still recovering from it.
To me, he is the inspiration that has led me to lead an unconventional life. To value my freedom and happiness above all other things, to take responsibility for myself and my ambitions at an early age. He has always been supportive and encouraging, possibly in an attempt to make up for his shortcomings as a father.
I’ve always been aware of the strained relationship he has with my mother, and since my grandmother died two years ago that relationship has been tested to its limits. Although I understand that my mother sees a different person than I do when we look at him, I have to admit that her reluctance to travel to his bedside during hospital stays, or provide him with company during periods of loneliness, has infuriated me. Last night I somehow resolved our different opinions as we discussed his plans for convalescence on being discharged from the hospital today.
I realised that we’ll never agree, that she’ll never love him the way I do, and that there’s nothing anyone can say or do to change the dynamics between them. It’s a personal journey that we have no part in, and something that they can only ever resolve between themselves. Instead of arguing, disagreeing or confronting her, last night I simply agreed with her, and I can already feel the relief of that unspoken tension dissipating.
Ah, the simplicity. I agreed last night that there is no point in considering my mothers’ home as a possible recuperation pad for my grandfather. I emphatically pointed out that there is no point in her feeling guilty about it, and no point in pretending things are any different to the way there are. I encouraged all present to discuss alternative options, and we agreed on a Plan A and a Plan B that suited everyone involved.
As my mother realises that the next generation are willing to take responsibility for her father, she might also realise that she is free to work on her relationship with him. She is still a child herself when he is around; she hides behind inane anecdotes and trivial conversation to avoid her personality or intelligence being judged by Daddy. He loves her, and is proud of her achievements (and the beautiful grandchildren she has produced!) but they can’t seem to communicate these feelings to one another.
“You cannot teach a man anything, you can only help him to find it within himself.” Galileo
Filed under: Hobby, LOVE, Parents, Pets, Relationships, Single life | Tags: family, fish, Fred, new pet, nightclass, pirate, sage, Single life, terrapin
I was recently told that my Spirit Guides want me to cut all ties with The Pirate. I’m not quite sure who these guides are, or if they are, but I went against their advice today. The Pirate and I have bought a pet – a terrapin who has been named Fred.
It wasn’t planned; a trip to TK Maxx led to the purchase of a vase and a desire to fill it with fish. The ensuing visit to the pet shop was the beginning of a love affair with a reptile, who has been happily installed in the corner of our sitting room. Does this make us a family?
The fish are on the coffee table, which means I can see them out of the corner of my eye when I’m sitting on the couch. I like to keep busy, but I DO spend a lot of time on the couch – my bedroom is strictly for sleeping, and the couch is where I watch TV, work, Google things, and keep an eye on any culinary projects that I have running in the kitchen. The fish have been here for a couple of days now, and there’s a big change in the energy in the room. It’s much more alive, and I’m slightly on edge. I’m sure it will take all four of us (the terrapin, the fish x 2, and me) a few days to adjust.
The Pirate and I have already agreed that whichever one of us eventually keeps the terrapin will financially reimburse the other. I’m sure he’ll lose interest soon enough – he was a bit shocked to discover they can live for 25 years.
The fish are mine.
The Sage is once again asking when we’ll both be in the same city at the same time… part of me wants to jump onto a bus and head straight there in order to relive our wonderful night together. But most of me wants to stay here, Googling Terrapin info and choosing nightclasses to attend this year. Uncomplicated, single life is a treat.
Filed under: LOVE, Single life | Tags: bedroom, break-up, ex, family, pirate, violence
I’ve mentioned the breakup. It was amicable. The aftermath has been wonderful. The Pirate and I realised, a long time ago, that we’re not ’soulmates’. What we were then, and are now, is housemates.
I’ve moved back into the small bedroom (because I love the cheap rent, and because his huge TV wouldn’t fit in there anyway) and I’ve decided it’s time to make it feel like mine. I’ve been telling myself for the past year that my situation here is temporary; that I might get back on a plane and jet off into the sunset at any moment. Now I’m glad to realise that life here is worth sticking around for, and it’s time to make this house a home.
I’ve been picking up beautiful things this week, and reluctantly deciding whether they go in the office or in the house. Both places are starting to feel inhabited. Loved, even.
I spent the weekend with my wonderful grandfather again. It’s scary how some people in your life can fall by the wayside when one person is on the receiving end of most of your love and affection. I think I’m a better person when I’m single – more generous with my time, and my feelings.
The Pirate is fine. We chatted last night when I got home, sitting on his bed drinking Capri Sun. The main topic of conversation was my friend M, whose life is a soap opera. Her ex-boyfriend became her fiance for a brief moment on Saturday night. Yesterday he hospitalised the man M had been seeing since the break-up.
Somehow I think he wasn’t the right man for her.
