Back to hospital

Tomorrow mum has her echocardiogram to find out what is going on with her heart. She is desperate to be given the go ahead for her hernia operation as this impacts her life so much, but also we are really worried about her heart.

Then Tuesday dad is back to see his consultant and find out where we’re at with the dreaded ‘c’ word.

So a week of hospitals and worries really..

Being an Infp empath in this heartless world..

I can’t change the essence of who I am. I’m a caring, kind and forgiving person. I look for the best in people, I want to believe the best of people. I will go out of my way to help someone. I value these qualities about myself, and I do not want to change them. I just want to get them under control because sometimes they are to the detriment of my own well being.

What I have come to understand in recent times, is how much other people see my kindness as weakness to abuse. Time and time again this proves to be true.

One thing I want and need to work on is the ability to recognise when people are abusing my good nature, and the strength to put myself first and walk away.

The problem is that, even when I know a person is not treating me right, I still feel very bad for them if they get upset when I try and walk away. This is something I must accept about myself, but my brain must learn to overrule my heart.

I do tend to reach a point where I draw the line, but it is usually after being treated like a fool for sometime and forgiving numerous times. I’m not quick to write people off.

But I have my own problems and inner demons that I deal with, and sometimes I could do with someone else being kind, caring and forgiving towards me..

I don’t like selfishness as a character trait.. But I am going to start being selfish and putting my needs first. I’m trying to survive in what to me feels like a hard, cruel and uncaring world. I need to do what I need to do.

I will never stop being kind, but I will stop being taken for a ride. That is all.

The Lines of a tough life

The first time I went to see D at the graveyard, a thin drawn face full of the lines of a tough life came towards me. It was heartbreaking to see him dissolve into tears as he saw me approaching. I remembered back to a young, cheeky chap full of life who seemed to almost live at our house. My parents loved him, especially my dad who exchanged lots of jokes and ‘banter’. Many a tournament on our mini snooker table was had. My brother taught him to play guitar, and few will have picked it up so quickly. Before long he was writing his own songs which I still remember now.

He was always telling us stories that seemed too far fetched to believe.. Some were true, some were not. The one in which he saved a drowning person from the sea proved true when we read about it in the paper. He received a bravery award for that. The one where he was marrying an older woman was also true. We attended a very unusual wedding reception. The marriage lasted two weeks.

My brother and D used to play the occasional gig in a run down pub. I enjoyed watching. I remember his alcoholic father turning up at one of these gigs and yelling out a lot. You see, D was from a difficult background. His mum was abusive and uncaring, dad alcoholic.. And I now know he was being abused by a neighbour. Our house was his escape, and we were delighted to have his company.

At some point D introduced my bro to another guitar playing, song writing friend. My brother hit it off with him (B) and as time went on, a disagreement between D and B meant my brother had to choose between them and B was chosen. He and D drifted apart.. D became a life guard but at about that time was also becoming addicted to heroin.

A combination of his girlfriend and sister introduced him to this delightful life destroying habit. I might add that his sister is now dead as a result.

I can’t speak of what has happened in the interim years.. I wasn’t in his life other than some contact on Facebook. But I know he completed rehab and got clean. I bought him a guitar a few years ago as I could see he was struggling and I wanted to reignite his gift of songwriting. He was delighted, but he doesn’t have that guitar now.

I was in Malta when I saw on fb that he was homeless. I contacted him straight away and arranged to go and see him as soon as I got back to the UK. He told me he had gone on prescription methadone because he was afraid he would relapse.

So, I arrived at the graveyard in which his tent was hidden. His beautiful dog S was the first to greet me.. And then I saw D standing there dissolving into tears at the sight of me. All I could do was hug him. That was all I could do.

I took him to meet my brother for a drink and then home for a shower and to catch up with my parents. I bought him food and then had to take him back to his graveyard. It broke my heart to leave them there. But my parents were not happy to have him staying in our house at such a difficult time.. And they were sure that if he stayed one night he would want to stay more and more. My decision would have been different, but it’s not my house.

There are a few things I find incredible about his situation.
1. He ended up in a graveyard out of town from just walking and hoping to find somewhere to hide his tent. By incredible chance, a friend from his old aikido classes lives directly across the road, a stones throw from his tent. So he has been able to pop in and get support from her.
2. His tent was visible from the path, but he was not asked to move.
3. He happened to meet the lady who lives in the cottage at the edge of the graveyard, and she has let him move his tent into her garden and use her shed with electrics.

I feel like someone is watching over him. He says his faith in humanity has been restored.

I’ve visited him a number of times, and I’ve been trying hard to help him raise funds and fund a room to rent. We went to see a room last night which he loved.. But we have to wait to hear. Fingers crossed please..

In just two months..

It has been an eventful two months..

From someone getting back in touch and me being delighted to hear from them.. To them promising they’d never just cut me off and hurt me again.. To them cutting me off and hurting me again two weeks later.. To me going to Malta with a friend I didn’t know well.. To discovering we weren’t suited as friends.. To an extremely awkward flight home avoiding each other during which I discovered a strength I didn’t know I had.. To meeting lots of new people.. To becoming a year older.. To my mum having regular attacks from her hernia, being in pain and vomiting.. To scaffolding, men and chaos all around as roofers bang and crash from early in the morning.. To helping a friend clear her flat of rancid rubbish.. To starting counselling.. To discovering my brothers best friend from school and his beautiful dog had become homeless.. To the last two weeks trekking to and from a graveyard where he had a tent hidden.. Supporting him as much as I could, mostly letting him know he is not alone, bringing him home for showers and food.. To me now being ill with a chest infection.

The picture is the homeless doggy.. Gorgeous

Torturing my Brain

I had a massive emotional breakdown the night before last. It was almost three in the morning, and I had just been lying in bed tossing and turning, with negative thoughts torturing my brain. I was feeling more and more afraid and anxious.. and the more I tried to calm my thoughts in the emptiness of night, the worse I seemed to feel. The loneliness kills me and feeling like I have completely failed at life, failed myself.. failed my parents and failed God. On top of everything, I was really sad that my dad had been bullied by our neighbour to get our tall conifer chopped down. It was a beautiful tree that had stood tall long before I came here 36 years ago and it attracted many birds. Stupid as it sounds, it made me sad.

Then, as I lay there I heard a massive thump, squeal and scrapping sound on my flat roof, I figured a fox had caught one of my squirrels who I love. I was so upset, and it felt like the final straw with how I was feeling. I couldn’t help myself crying and sobbing, and I became hysterical. Whenever I cry like that, for some reason it makes me start coughing and then retching.. so my dad who sleeps in the room next to mine heard and thought I was dying. He came in in a panic..

Anyway, what ensued was a long talk with dad and we ended up hugging. My life would be so much easier if I didn’t love him the way I do. If I didn’t feel so attached to both my parents.. because there really is nothing else for me to live for.

It’s a week until Mum’s cardiology appointment and two weeks until Dad’s oncology appointment. The nights are really drawing in and I feel so so tired and depressed most of the time. Tomorrow I have my first counselling session.. I hope it will go ok, i’m really nervous.

Peace x

Going into therapy..

I finally took courage and phoned the counsellor to arrange a first appointment. Now I just need to make myself go through with it.. I’m very very anxious about it.

I’m sure she won’t have come across many people quite as complicated and odd as me. Previous attempts at any kind of therapy weren’t great, and I think I didn’t put the effort in that I should have done. I was not present or willing to trust, I refused to make any eye contact and didn’t build a relationship. I was always convinced the person would not like me.

Of course, it’s hard to trust someone when you know they are charging you to talk to them. It’s not like they care and want to be in your company. That said, I suppose their career choice is indicative of their heart and motives generally. And everyone needs to make a living.

I pray that I will benefit from this. I need to do something, because i can’t carry on as I am. Something has to change, and that something has to be me. The way I think.. The way i process and deal with everything.. The way I react. I’m sorry it has taken me this long to be brave enough. But really I’m not a brave person. Extremely foolish, fragile and child like, but not brave.



And so it will be October tomorrow.. the decline of light into darkness, green into mush, warm into cold. I don’t like it, I never have. I get depressed all year, but it feels harder and harder to face the winter as each year passes.

This time a year ago we didn’t know that Dad would be diagnosed with incurable cancer, nor did we know that Mum would have a heart condition. I often think back to times spent with my parents when we lived as if we had forever. I wish I could go back and truly appreciate what we had.. but that is never possible for us foolish humans to do. We all know it will never be that way again. There is a constant cloud hanging over us, teasing us, taunting us. Reminding us that we are transient beings.

I’ve felt terribly lost and alone my entire life.. as if i’ve just somehow stumbled to where I now find myself.. 38 in October.. and absolutely nothing to show for it. I could blame a lot of things and circumstances.. but ultimately I must accept that there is nobody to blame but me. I fucked it all up and now I am here. If I could turn back the clock, I would do so many things differently..

Referring to my last post, alcohol and me have had a complicated and unhealthy relationship throughout my life. This is something that literally started the first time I drank a little at the age of fourteen..My parents had allowed me a bit of sherry with the meal, and I had then taken it upon myself to find the bottle which was almost full and drink the rest of it. I was so ill, I had at least two days off school. Of course, we never told the school the real reason.

So, whilst I beat myself up for the number of occasions I have abused alcohol, I partly feel that a personality trait exists within me that was there from day one and I couldn’t help. Recent events scared me a lot, because I did things that are not me and that I would never do otherwise, and in doing so I put myself in grave danger.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not your usual type of alcoholic. I do not wake up and crave a drink, nor do I have to drink daily, weekly or even monthly. But when I do, and when I get that feeling of relaxation from my anxieties and escapism.. I want more of that feeling. I feel like I am invincible.

I’ve finally decided to go and talk to a counsellor, and I have found someone who I will contact this week. I don’t know if it will help, but I want to start working on and addressing the things that hold me back. I realise i’m utterly lost and I can’t do this alone anymore. If i’m finding life too hard now, the future looks even scarier. I need help.

I went out this afternoon with my parents for a meal, but we were unable to finish because Mum’s pain she gets due to her hernia meant that we had to get her to the ladies and then leave quickly. In fact, I can hear her vomiting downstairs as I write this. Dad is due back on chemo in a few weeks.. and then he will be vomiting all the time again. I don’t think I can face this winter.

I do so wish I wasn’t so alone. On the way home I looked out at the people enjoying their afternoon.. and 99% of people were as a couple walking hand in hand. I have never had that sort of companionship, and I doubt I ever will.

I just need a cuddle. I’m a cuddly person, but there is nobody.. not even a pet to do it with. I always felt that my mum never cuddled me as a child, but then I felt guilty for thinking that and that I must have got it wrong. Then recently my Dad said to me about Mum “she never held you or cuddled you” and suddenly I felt validated in how I felt. She’s such an enigma because she’s so sensitive and loving.. but I guess maybe because her mum wasn’t warm.. she just didn’t know how to be that way. Or maybe she just couldn’t bond with me back then. I know she loves me nonetheless.. and I love her beyond words, as goes for both my parents.

All I know is that I know fuck all and i’m lost and drowning. Please hug me..

Anyway, i’m jumping around with random thoughts as always. I shall sign off with love and best wishes..

me x