174: A Very Sad Death

Been a week now since a very beloved cousin passed away - probably by taking her own life. She was - by far - my closest connection in the family. I looked forward to growing old alongside her. She was going to be my support if / when I decide to leave my wife. But she is now gone.

M. was my cousin - only ten months older - and we, I believe, came to be very close. For a quiet, reserved, not so confident person like me, M. was outgoing and vivacious and absolutely full of life. She had her downs, and depression and drama were constant companions, but she was my hero in so many ways.

And, of course, despite our closeness, there is still an inside and an outside. The dramas that I saw and sometimes was part of were in a continuum that stretched over decades. And that would have been tough on her husband who supported her throughout and her daughters. She, never once, spoke ill of her husband and so I can only assume that he is what he appears to be - a good guy, attentive, who tried his best. Of course he will live with regret with what he might have done differently on this one occasion and she might be alive. And that goes for all of us.

My counsellor always asked me about 'feelings' and this past week I have been trying to look outside in while going through my emotions. Her leaving has surely left a hole in my heart. She was my confidant and someone I could speak to about anything. Through the nineties - as young adults - we met very often and exchanged real, proper letters. Long before I learnt to be open and share with my friends, M. was my outlet. 

Through married life, things became a little tougher as my wife really did not like M. - similar to how she made life difficult with other female relations and friends. One tiny example. One pancake day - mid-nineties - I had invited my friends home, saying that I had found the biggest lemon ever; I had misread and it was in fact a grapefruit!! On hearing this story M. bought me a set of coasters with pictures of lemons on them. Of course, like cards thrown away or a cup with 'Friends' written on it given to me by a dear (woman) friend disposed of, these were put in the bin. Except that I had given a couple of them to my friends as a memento of the story, and one of my friends still has is some thirty years later - he has his, I do not have mine. That is a microcosm of how she felt about my cousin. 

Definitely, I had to maintain a distance for fear of having to manage issues at home post-marriage but M, and I remained close. When issues reached peak discord, my wife wrote to M. to tell her how terrible a person I was, presumably trying to break the bond between us. I asked M. to reply as if she were responding to a friend and not as my supporter - and to ask any questions that she might have of me. And she did, and I never confronted my wife about going behind my back.

And, for sure, M. had her weaknesses. She was self-referential and even selfish sometimes. More seriously, she simply could not leave her past behind and appreciate the present that she had helped to build. But read comments and tributes and speak to people and she built this huge community of friends and supported so many people who adore and love her.

Her mental trauma and depression were not 'weaknesses' but an illness. And that, in the end, destroyed her. It will always be a matter of regret that I didn't contact her more, that I did not realise the gravity of the situation better - we were exchanging messages even the day before she died. On the Wednesday, she had stopped on a bridge in Boston and thought about jumping, but been stopped and taken to hospital. If I had just happened to call on the weekend - where was my famous instinct? Bollocks.

At the same time that I write about the rawness of her leaving, I appreciate the pretentiousness of it - from not helping her enough. And I worry about my son's exam results - so how much do I really care? And would things be different if the externality of my wife did not exist. These are unknowables.

In the end, she is no longer here. Love you M., always.

173: Shouty - a chat with my son - and hypocrisy again

 I confess I cannot even remember the topic now but a couple of weeks ago she was once again in her shouty mood and went on and on and on about something to my son. Perhaps I intervened, perhaps I did not, I cannot remember.

But, later, I had a chat with my son. 'I know,' I said, 'that mama loses her temper and can be difficult. It tires me out too and my mother was somewhat similar. Do the simple things well - wear your slippers, have your fruit - and you know the best solution: work hard at your studies, do well and escape.' (one day I will tell him that that will help me too but not just now!!)

And I remember asking whether a minor fault deserved such heavy reprobation (Entry 170). So, she has bought this flash, new car and that's great. We come back from somewhere in the morning and I come into the house first, leaving her to lock up the car as she is doing something.

Later in the day she asks where the keys are. 'You were locking up.' We look some more but can't find them. 'Maybe you left them in the car?' I ask. 'Oh, yes,' she says. And, indeed, they are still in the £29k brand new car.

In the evening I ask, gently, that I hope she told herself off for leaving the keys in the car. I know what would have happened if I had done so. 'You are callous, that's a brand new car, someone could have just walked up and driven away with it, how can you be so stupid etc. etc. etc..' I make no further comment of course.

The lady Philippa Perry is a really good 'agony aunt' in the Guardian and I remembered this column. I particularly like the last line - 'you can change how you react to them or you can leave.' 

I have tried and tried and tried - leaving is the only option if I am not to survive in a living death. And while I had thought that I would wait until our son turns 18 and, hopefully, away at university, I am not sure I can now last that long. 

Our son is in GCSE year and so I will try not to disturb the equilibrium till the summer but can I really wait another two years until school ends?

There was also this other article - by Eleanor Gordon-Smith

I suppose 'hate' is a rather strong word but I have been there and when she is in one of her moods, that is where I return - no hiding that truth. We have so much and yet why the stress and the tone of voice that appears to catastrophise every little fault - as long as it is not her's. And this passage was impactful for me: 

'I think one way we get misled is by thinking the emotional pendulum of anger has only two resting places: loathing (self-defeating, tiring, preoccupying) and forgiving (beatific, peaceful, unburdened). As long as we think those are our only options, we’ll deny ourselves those more productive kinds of hatred. We’ll bounce between two ways of being unhappy: feeling the hate but being consumed by it, or trying to quell it and feeling walked on.

There is a place to rest between these positions – something I think of as “disinterested dislike”. In it, you don’t think about these people, but what you think of them is roughly “yeuch”. You usher thoughts of them and their vices out of your mind, the way you’d reach to mute the TV when a politician whose voice you don’t want in the living room comes on air.

Aiming at a more detached disliking is a less Herculean emotional feat. You will let yourself preserve the parts of your emotion that just feel true; these people aren’t helping. You won’t ask yourself to change your mind about them – you’ll ask yourself to change how much of your mind you give them.'

Living in the same house as husband and wife and parents to our son, it is not quite so easy, but this is what I try.

172: Happy New Year - at the end of 2021

Here we are, December 31st, 2021.

A year of Coronavirus - today is New Year's Eve and I wonder what the new year will bring.

Home life is ok with occasional eruptions of the volcano.

Our son is in his big year of public exams (GCSE) and he did very well in his practice exams - except for one paper in English Literature in which he was very poor.

These things happen but, of course, for a while it was as if the sky had fallen in.

But, then, we spoke to the teacher, understood the situation, he did a re-test and there was calm. She also appreciated how well he had done in the others and how he had shown resilience in performing well in the others when Eng. Lit. had been his first exam.

So, why, I asked her, could she not hold off on the anger - why erupt first and row back later rather than take the time to understand, reflect and coach?

But, overall, it has been fine. And so, what I am about to write may well come across as petty.

Close friends were coming to dinner on NYE. Generally I like to contribute to these things and, in the past, have often done all the cooking.

This time she decided she would make all the dishes and not allow me to do anything. Now, I can cook but I am no cook - and I do not have the patience for recipes. So, the unspoken message was that I do not cook very well and that the only way I could be useful would be to take the rubbish out and lay the table. And, even there, there was micro-managing.

Is that being unnecessarily conspiratorial? No.

When I have cooked everything, she has laid the table and all and I have not micro-managed as we had a division of responsibility.

Did she say, 'look, you have cooked the last couple of times, I will do it this time.' No, it was clear that I am rubbish and the best thing I could do would be to step aside.

I can handle that - no problem. And I see no need to fight against it - her choice.

The last bit to do was to make the rice. I suggested a measure - a certain number of handfuls per person. 'No, just let me do it.' 'ok,' I said. Clearly I could not even get that right!!

It seemed very likely to me that she was over-estimating and, in the end, there was way, way too much rice. Of course I did not say, 'I told you so' - though I would have been told in the reverse scenario.

So, in small things and large, I let go, I do not push, I do not counter the aggression when it comes - except when it might damage our son.

Therefore, while life is peaceable enough, I am reminded most weeks of what life could be without the stress of drama. And the desire to escape remains.

PS January 3rd: Dinner this evening. I had suggested I make a dish using some of the rice. 'I will make risotto.'

I go to tidy up a little and wash the dishes in the sink. 'Just do what I tell you to do.'

Well, you know, if I am that useless, just increases the argument for her to be better of alone!!

171: Continuation from 170 ... nothing big

Re-reading my blog, I came across the last entry - and something similar happened the other day. 

I was doing the dinner for our son and, by mistake, I had not moved some clothes that were drying in the kitchen. 

'Why couldn't you move these?' 'It would have taken a second.' 'You don't care because none of your clothes were drying.'

So, not only was I a complete incompetent rather than forgetful, I was also looking to get at her specifically and my actions were deliberate. Bollocks to this.

Ten minutes later, she is suggesting - all bright and bubbly - that she and I go out for dinner the following night as our son will be at a friend's in the evening. It takes me a while to 'come down' from being told off and some of that maybe shows in my response ... 'we don't have to go if you don't want, just say so,' she says. We go in the end.

I had to drain some peas for our son's dinner. Not noticing a strainer, I used a cheese grater that was to hand. 'Why are you doing that?! What if I want to grate some cheese?' 'But, you're not and I can wash it.' 'No, that now needs to go to the dishwasher. How stupid are you? How can you have such a low IQ? Who does this anyway. Your father was right - you are all technophobes.' And all in that shouty voice. 10 minutes later, I've gone upstairs, not reacted and it's all bright and bubbly.

She says she will wake up at 7 am the next day to get ready for work. At 8:25 am I knock on the door as she sings away to herself in the shower - I have to get ready for my work. 'Oh, sorry, I turned off the alarm and fell asleep. Anyway, I must have needed the sleep.'

Do I say, 'you are so callous. You said 7 am and I planned accordingly. How can you be so lazy. Just like your parents can't arrive anywhere without being an hour and a half late - so that is how you behave. Complete selfishness.' No, I don't - life's too short and what would be the point anyway. 

Another common trend is this obsession with saving little bits of money - not using a paid parking spot, not renting deck chairs on the beach - while being profligate with rather larger sums of money elsewhere.

She has been working for the last year. She did offer to pay the school fees for our son with her salary - it would have taken up all of it. But I suggested that she save that instead and it could be our holiday fund or maybe she could get a car - something material as reward for her labours.

A year down the road, she is about to spend almost £29k on a small (Mini) electric car. Absolutely not value for money. And that is fine. It is a luxury but there is nothing wrong with that, it is exciting and it is her money.

But I suggest that our cleaner - who earns £12.50 an hour - should get a modest pay-rise and the response is, 'no, she has to ask first.' Over the corona lock-down when the cleaner could not come, she initially objected to my suggestion that we continue to pay the cleaner's wages even though she was not coming - but later agreed, to be fair.

Situation remains relatively calm but, boy, am I tired.

170: My fault but is it just me ....?

 It's been really quite pleasant lately.

Now that travel has opened up partly as Covid eases a little (perhaps), she flew off to India to see her parents and brother - which she had not been able to do for almost two years.

Good mood on return, no aggro. with our son. A few days before she left she was quite bitchy about some topic to our son - I forget the topic - but he seems to be able to shake it off. I had been more upset by it and been sulky for a few days as a result.

So, yesterday she stomps upstairs and berates me outrageously for not having locked the back door. My fault entirely and not the first time, I have to admit. But the criticism is bordering on vicious. I do not debate, I do not apologise, I just stay silent. 

In the past, I have pointed out that she has left the keys in the front door all night - sometimes I have not mentioned it  - but I have never admonished in the tone that should, by now, be familiar to me. As if I had deliberately left the door unlocked and what a complete and utter incompetent for having done so.

When she has messed up in some way - as we all do - in the past, I have from time to time joked whether I should scold - yes, scold - her as she would us, just to make the point that anger is not always required or justified.

In the end I went to bed telling myself off for the amnesia that I appear to be guilty of all the time. Not for my not locking a door but her ability to be vicious and superior and just all round dramatic and unpleasant. Why do I forget? Why do I - after a small amount of sulking - genuinely overlook the faults and am pleasant and playful? 

That was last evening - this morning it was all bright and chirpy and good morning. The bitchiness never happened. It is as if I should forget all those moments of unpleasantness and rudeness and just live in the moment. How does someone do that? Tear a strip off and then carry on as if it didn't matter / never happened. The Confrontation story again. How does anyone even speak to another like that? No one has the right to speak in that fashion - but it is in her nature.

Well, if we are to stay together, there is no point in being unpleasant I suppose. But I am tired, so very tired - and angry for my naivete in forgetting / believing in something better. 

My situation is dire but not threatening. But is it parallel in some small way to an environment of harm? 'This time it will be different, this time we have turned a corner...', except that we never do,

169: My Mother

 So, as I wrote in Entry 166, my mother passed away in October 2020. I argued then that, because of the atmosphere at home, I did not really have the mood to write about this at the time. But I note that it took me a few months to get around to writing about my father as well.

Why is this? Guilt, because I was undoubtedly stand-offish and not very nice to both towards the end of their lives? Taking time to 'process'? I don't know.

I never saw us as a particularly close family. The word 'love' hardly ever passed between us - and I am talking about me here, not my brother and his relationship with our parents.

It was in 2012 or so I think, when I played a part in helping my uncle and cousin reconcile over some fairly serious issues that were threatening to tear them apart, that ma wrote, 'I also feel very proud that you are my son  - who has the compassion and understanding that everybody should have but they don't. Lots of love, Ma.' That was probably the only time that that word was shared. With both my parents I had a convivial relationship and I probably listened too much to what they had to say - making life choices that, in retrospect, I should not have. (which is not to say that alternative choices would not, in turn, have made me think that I should have listened more!!)

Through all my troubles, not once did they speak to me, once I had shared with them - and I only shared because my wife had written to my cousins behind my back about how horrible I was. My mother did share a letter I think - which I threw away - that basically said, 'you have to carry on, just like I did.'

And that did not work out wonderfully well for her really. Ma completed an autobiography before she passed away and there is significant ill-feeling against her husband and her mother about choices imposed. In my case, 'imposed' would be too strong a word but, for sure, there was a level of certainty and a set of fixed ideas that did not move over half a century - there was very little grey. And I wish I had been invited to share some of the grey, to consider some of the pros and cons of situations - whether university, work, marriage etc.. 

I 'own' every choice and every door that I went through but the relationship between my parents and me was 'transactional'. In the early years I was influenced by them but never looked to them for advice or have them act as confidants. They were dutiful parents who provided wonderfully well for their children and others, and I believe I was a dutiful son in return.

So, do I miss them? To have a conversation now and then - yes, I miss them. Just to have them around - yes, I miss them. Simply to have them healthy and happy - yes, I miss them. But this is not the great love affair that other kids seem to have with their parents - and I am sorry for that. In the end, perhaps, I miss the 'essence' of them and the 'idea' of them more than feel an emotional or physical loss. Nevertheless, I will be forever grateful for what they did and what they were and the benefits that I have accrued.

Rest in Peace.

168: Confrontation 3

 Haven't written for a while - been quite depressed. Like everyone else I suppose.

The dog-days of January have not helped - still in lock-down, terrible weather, uncertainty on work contracts. 

So, while our son fell below his usual high standards at the end of the winter term, he received good reports in the front half of the spring term. 'If your child were to get G in all subjects, we would be delighted', was the school's marking scheme - and he did.

But two weeks running, a few weeks ago, there was some reason for Her to get angry and go on and on and on at our son. This time I lost my temper. 'How is it that every weekend we have to put up with this tension? Why do you think shouting at him will make him do as you want?' 

I was expecting some comeback, but there wasn't any. I don't kid myself that she saw reason in some way or that, because I do not lose it often, that she had some second thoughts. No, it was just one of those things and I am sure resentment and anger is boiling up somewhere.

Our son is not perfect - he could be a little less stubborn and selfish but he is 15 - and, certainly, shouting at him is not a solution to anything.