No words...

Last weekend, I heard some painful and deeply saddening news. 

A young man who’d attended school with and become a good friend of my eldest had taken his own life.

This boy was such a sweet natured child, I recall him coming to the house as a teen. Always polite, with a shy smile. Just a nice kid! I’m ashamed to admit his presence didn’t make as much of an impact as the gobby, cocky and downright arrogant buggers who also used to semi-squat in our house when T was an adolescent.

My poor boy, devastated, shocked and also feeling guilty for the times he wasn't there for his friend. 

This tragic young man’s story is one of emotional neglect, drug abuse, psychosis triggered by drugs and deep, deep desperation. As the story developed, I heard this was his third attempt at taking his life, he was determined not to be here anymore.

The same group of friends, who’ve been together since they were about 12, are all about 25 years old now. Trying to make their own way in life, having (mostly) turned their backs on the recreational drugs and the high they all thought was liberation when teenagers. Yet this poor boy turned more and more towards that release. His friends at first trying to help him, encouraging him in a clean life, trying their best to support him but becoming desperate and angry when he continuously returned to this destructive pattern. Finally, not always being available when he wanted to “hang out” because they knew what it would lead to, they just couldn’t do it anymore. That’s where the guilt comes in. Going even deeper are the stories of verbal abuse by his career driven, single mother. In the hazy recollection of their parties some tell of abusive and destructive insults thrown at the child by his mother. He was a disappointment; he was the worst mistake in her life…so many cruel and irreversible blows. Who knows if their memories are accurate, we all know how teens are able to justify and remodel statements made in anger but also in innocence. I’ve screamed them myself, when hopelessly confronted with the train wreck that was my 16 year old, unable to comprehend what was happening and having no idea how to help him. Yet just to hear some of these insults supposedly brought by the young boy’s mother, broke my heart for the child that never grew up. As for the kids’ recollection, if they think this happened, to them it did happen and being party to that (false memory or not) must be so painful and damaging. I pray that anything I said in anger hasn’t left an emotional scar. My boy’s on the right track now, so are his friends or at least that’s what I assumed until I heard this awful news.

What I do know for sure, is that his mother must be feeling an unimaginable pain and I feel so sad for her. Whether or not she was the distant, cold parent the kids remember, she has to live with that for the rest of her life, a position I never want to experience. 

How can you explain the reasoning behind suicide, when you can’t grasp it yourself? T said one of his friends became angry when another said that at least the boy was now at peace and no more tormented by a life he could no longer tolerate. I said the same thing, it’s the truth but possibly only a truth you can accept when having reached a certain age and experienced the loss a suicide leaves in your life, unfortunately more than once. A psych nurse once told me that interview research with ‘saved” suicides, stated it was also an act of punishment, that it was a means to make the people they felt were abandoning or hurting them, pay. Some people stated it was indeed, a cry for help and hoped they would be saved in time. This boy’s final act ensured that he could not be saved, again.

Whatever the reason, it’s the final act of a distraught mind that knows no respite from its demons. The only way to stop the pain.

Go with God, young man. I hope you have found peace.

"Death may be the greatest of all human blessings". ~Socrates

The Return of a Lost Rambler.

Hello there, it’s been quite a while hasn’t it?

So much has changed since I last blogged. Almost three years, goodness me it doesn’t seem like it.

I feel quite overwhelmed trying to condense the happenings of the last few years into a few sentences. So much so, that I've been sitting here staring at a blank page for about three days. Well, not constantly you understand. I have had the odd cup of coffee.

So, where to begin?  The biggest and happiest change in our lives is (..cue fanfare..) Rhys Williams. First grandchild, apple of our eye and bundle of boundless energy.  Rhys is now two and a half and already has the vocabulary of a child much older. He isn’t afraid to tell you off and is madly in love with his Grandad. This is no exaggeration either; just ask the poor toddler at the goat farm who dared to look at Pat and smile. Rhys was having none of that as he protectively stepped in front of Pat, gabbling the toddler version of “back off girly” and as menacingly as a two year old can, told her “My Grandad”.  From the moment he could focus, he’d be scouring the room for his hero. These days, equipped with these newly developed physical and verbal tools, he’s not afraid to push you out of the way and forbid any contact with “My Grandad”. Except when he’s tired or under the weather, then Nainy gets a go with the cuddles. Our blonde haired, blue eyed, cherubic  tornado.

A few of my last blogs were somewhat cathartic. Helping me to vent some of the desperation I felt when realising the place I’d happily worked for over a decade had become a snake-pit and all the scaly, hissing bitches were aimed at me.  Eventually it became impossible to circumnavigate the venom and I had to go. I did however retain a venomous type of my own, who ensured my exit was cushioned with wads of comfort and damned smug I felt about it too. I heart lawyers.

It’s been about 3 years since I set foot in that place or seen any of the women I fondly called “the coven”. I wish I could say I missed it. Well, I could say I missed it but I’d be a big fat liar. Funnily enough those qualifications being the requirements to join said coven, as well as the ability to wield a false smile…oh, and be really ugly…really, really ugly. Okay that was unfair; the one that looked like a horse was a fine, handsome mare! Quite often I bump in ex colleagues, or people I met via this place. These occasional meetings all have one strong thing in common: the negative experiences and destructive stories. It used to be a vibrant, pleasant place to work but it seems it’s now quite the opposite.  In the meantime, it appears that the coven and various other amoebas are being picked off one by one. Fired, forced to take early retirement or frozen out. Karma is indeed, the gift that keeps on giving.

''The name of the slough was Despond.'' – A Pilgrim’s Progress. John Bunyan.

 I’m currently working for a new company that does innovative, experimental and downright scary things in the field of life science. To say I love it wouldn’t be truthful but it pays three times as much as the old place and I do love that.

Then there's me and the Mr.
Luckily, we’re still married.  Hubs has been a huge support during all the histrionic and unexpected wendings. Although he says he’s listened to everything I’ve moaned and dramatized over.  I’m still a bit suspicious that the reason he’s stayed so calm and stoic is more to do with his ability to switch my voice off in his head, watch mental re-runs of “Match of the Day” and pretend he’s paying attention.

Hubs turned 50 last summer.  So not only am I sleeping with a Grandad, I’m sleeping with a 50 year old.  It's my turn to be  mercilessly teased soon, I just hope they don’t find my stash of sanatogen and sterident before I can use age an excuse.

I'm independent again. Gary moved out but it seems like he’s home more since he re-located than he was when he lived here. He’s following a degree in Event Management. This of course means he can justify all the partying as research.  Based on the amount of time he spends partying, he seems to be a great student. I look forward to high marks and an honours degree. If he keeps partying with such fervour, possibly even an early graduation. Proud isn’t the word.

I still have some of the loveliest friends ever.   Thanks for all your encouragement and support in everything.

“Go where you are celebrated – not tolerated. If they can’t see the real value of you, it’s time for a new start.” – Unknown