Being open and honest in dark times…

I wrote a few weeks ago about being very very down and living through very dark moments. Although at the time of writing that post I didn’t express how truly dark those days were, but at the time I was considering ending it. Now, before I continue, I have NO point of life I can place this on, and really there is no rhyme or reason for my “black” thoughts, but all the same, they existed, they were real and nothing at that point moved me from this runaway train of thought.

Over the years so many rock icons had taken their lives by hanging, and I thought this to be a horrific, almost barbaric death. Then, this year our dear nephew hanged himself with his “best friend” dog by his side. He was at a point that this course of action seemed logical and to him his only friend was his dog, but even his dog could not chase the demons away. At the time of his death, I thought to myself how could he go through with it? What a terrible way to go. But, yes, there is always a but, in my head during those three or four weeks my thoughts changed and blocked the “how” question to something that now made sense to me. I even thought of exhaust fumes into the car, but my mind kept turning to the thing I thought barbaric and horrific, which at the time made sense.

These thoughts plagued me 24/7. In my dreams and my waking hours. It was monotonous and wore away at me. To me it was like something was daring, tempting, wishing me to follow that rabbit down the hole. Every song I listened to pulled me in the wrong direction and my head followed the trail of breadcrumbs to darker and darker places, like unseen hands relentlessly tugging at me, almost taunting me to the final act.

I can’t say what changed, what brought me back to a “sensible” train of thought, although still my head “goes west” but so far without the need for finality, however, it is still dark.

A week or so after writing that post I was wondering about the house and garden aimlessly and Mazikeen came to me wanting to play. Of course, I played with her and her ball and eventually, I sat in the arbour and she sat with me. She was leaning on me just staring at me with nothing but love in her eyes, and maybe the thought of a biscuit. I sat looking at her, holding her and asked knowing I was never going to get a spoken answer “will you miss me if I go? I need you to look after your dad for me!” She is a dog, indeed a very intelligent dog, but all the same, a dog, and I never expected an answer. She looked at me in the eyes, maybe sensing my turmoil, without breaking eye contact moved over to my knee and literally hugged me and gently licked me like she was giving me kisses of support, and maybe even telling me she would miss me. I have no idea what she was thinking but it was a gesture that unknown to me at the time made a big difference. Later that evening Harper did the same. Harper is a hugger, but again this probably made a difference.

Maybe that was what I needed. Maybe my girls really knew where my head was and formed a plan between themselves to help, or maybe they were being themselves and that was my point of return, a push in the right direction. Do not get me wrong, M knew I was in a dark place, but, I did what I always do, and pushed him back, told him to “leave it”, “don’t push it” and I am sure many other damning comments. Not that I wanted to hurt M, but I am someone that needs to deal with things on my own, and anyone trying to help gets pushed away. Not ideal, but I do not know any other way. I grew up with a hateful father who thought with his fists and “boys DO NOT cry” and the notion that emotions are weak. This is something I cannot change in myself even though I know it is self-destructive. I am over half a century old and old dogs don’t learn new tricks no matter what people believe.

Whilst in that frame of mind, the so-called sense is buried out of reach and dark thoughts emerge as sensible courses of action. Maybe my girls understood and their actions were just enough to pull me through, or maybe my head sorted itself out? I don’t know, and honestly, I’ll never know. I am still not right, but the edge of the precipice seems a little further away today.

One of the many songs I turn to when I’m down is “Hope there’s someone” by Antony and the Johnson’s. It is a beautiful song by a beautiful person.

A Poem From My Past…

I wrote this many years ago about my experience of being an unwanted child.  Not by my mother, but by my father.  Needless to say, I have not seen him for well over half my life.

My Dad & I

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
The words spoken by a grown man to his eight-year-old son.
A callous off the cuff remark?
No, it was a cruel and calculated remark.
His son could see in his eyes that he meant it.
Head down feeling ashamed of being a boy.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
Years of cruelty followed.
A backhander here, a punch there.
The boy’s sister was the father’s favourite.
Sweets for her, but nothing for him.
Don’t tell your mother or you’ll get a slap.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
The remark embeds itself in his head.
He watches other Dads love their son.
Fatherly love was something he never knew.
Fatherly love was absent, missing, gone.
Fatherly love was wanted, envied, but always denied.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
Get to your room, get out of my sight.
His room became his sanctuary from cruel words.
He worked hard at school and passed all exams.
A report card came home at the end of each term.
No praise did his father give him, that was for the girls.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
It was time to go as the divorce papers arrived.
Many years later, he met him again.
He told him this is my son, but it wasn’t this child.
A half-brother he never knew he had.
Realisation dawned and his head dropped again.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
A lie and a truth in the same sentence.
A letter years later confirming rejection.
A hate builds up, but he realises it’s wasted.
His father missed out on so much, he knew.
I know how this ends, as I am that son.

“I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
I see him in the street, he knows not who I am.
The old man looks back but no recollection.
I smile to myself, I am the better man.
My want for my father has been and gone.
I’m strong through loss, I have coped with the pain.

‘I never wanted you, I didn’t want boys”
The time will come when you’re deep in the ground.
I may come around and speak to you then.
Tell you of cruelty made to your first son.
You’ll not answer back, and I will not hide.
I don’t want you, Dad, though I needed you before.

Goodbye, My Sweet Girl Lilu

Yesterday M and I said our final goodbye to Lilu.  My little girl was close to 17 years old and had finally grown tired of her life.

                           Lilu In the RSPCA

                     Lilu’s First Day Home

Back in 2003, we adopted her from the RSPC. She had been abandoned in south Liverpool and had gone from centre to centre and for some reason no one wanted her. Unknown to us she was in the last shelter as they were going to put her to sleep if no one adopted her. We found this out a few months after adopting her. She had arrived at the shelter and the next day we happened to go in and see her. She looked sad and thin and peered through the bars of the pen at us. It was instant love at first sight. We asked to see her, and knowing she was very timid, I sat on the floor at her level talking quietly to her. She came over to see who I was and looked me directly in the eyes, then stepping forward put her feet on my shoulder, never looking away, then licked the face off me. This to me was her adopting us and not the other way round. We brought her home and she instantly made it her home. I admit we did have difficult times with her due to her having abandonment issues, but we worked through it and in the end, she settled down and stopped being destructive. I have always had dogs in my life from when I was a toddler so knew that it would work out and what to expect. Even when she tore up two hall carpets and literally ate through a sofa, we carried on because we expected it.

 Lilu in Hydrotherapy

In 2010, whilst out on a walk she stumbled and fell on the field whilst running after her ball. A small yelp and she did not get up again. I ran over to her to find she could not get up and her back end was paralysed. We called the vets office which was closed but had emergency services and they took one look and referred us to the Animal Hospital 46 miles away. When we got there the vet team took her in and made her comfortable and would do MRI scans, X-rays and more the next morning as by this time it was late. We went home expecting the worse and hoping for the best. She was in hospital for about 5 weeks and each night after work I would drive home, collect M and drive to the hospital so we could see her, and on the weekends we would go in the morning and visit her for an hour or two, then go get lunch, visit her again, leave and have dinner, and go back to see her until it was late and we then went home, only to do it all again the next day. Eventually, she made a recovery and came home, but two or three times a week we would be back at the hospital for her to have laser treatment, infrared treatment, and hydrotherapy. This along with the exercises done by both us and the hospital enabled her to walk unaided again, although she would never walk properly.

2017 Lilu started to slow down, and although the vet said that she has life left in her she did have problems. Her heart was slowing down, her lungs scarred and she had a slightly underactive thyroid. She was given medication and seemed to respond well to the steroid for her lungs, and her cough seemed to go. However, after some time we were told to reduce the steroids so we could get a balance that was right for her, alas, her cough came back again and never went. The thyroid tablets did not agree with her and rather than give her more energy, she started to sleep all the time. In the end, we stopped the thyroid tablets and she picked up again, but her cough was still there, and she had bouts of vomiting and loose bowel movements. Again, we dealt with it as she seemed to eat well and was generally upbeat. Then she started to slow again, and the vet suggested we prepare ourselves as they could prescribe all kinds of medication, but to what end? Quality of life to us was far more important than quantity of life.

If you have been following my blog, then you will know that we had to go to Ireland, this was to see M’s mum, as she is in a nursing home, and he had not seen her for 18 months. We got back after being away for 5 days and Lilu was her usual self, however, the next day (Tuesday) her muzzle was red, she developed a temperature and had terrible diarrhoea. I booked the vet for the next day, this was yesterday. She had slept a lot of the day, would not eat or drink and just looked very tired.

The vet looked at her and said that she could keep her in, put her on a drip, give antibiotics and see if she would improve, but we knew deep down that the time had come. I asked her what her honest professional advice would be as we only wanted a quality of life for Lilu. The vet said it would only be a few days and we would be back again, and in the meantime, she could get worse. Her temperature was 2 degrees above normal, and the vet thought that she may have an infection that was running throughout her body and without invasive investigation they could not be certain. Either way, our hands were tied.

6:30pm Lilu had a line inserted into her front left leg and we sat with her, stroking and talking to her. She had been given a sedative, so was very calm. All the time she kept giving us “kisses” and just after 6:40pm, the vet started the procedure. My heart broke and the tears flowed down my face, all the time stroking her, keeping eye contact, more “kisses”, then she lay her head down and fell asleep.

My heart is broken, and dare I say will be for a long time. Her bed, bowls and other bits will stay where they are until we are ready to put them away. Her collar is in her memory box along with all her documents, and other collars she had through the years. Her name tag and contact barrel are on the wall next to my computer, so whenever I am sat here I can see them and imagine here curled up at my feet.

This is the last photo I have of her taken jin Liverpool on 5th August. We had just been for a walk along the dock front. She was tired, as mentioned her mobility was not all that good, but she always had a go. Coming back to the car she slowed right down. She had dragged one of her back paws and it had bled, so she was getting lots of deserved attention and fussing which always made her happy.

I will miss the smelly farts, getting woken in the middle of the night so she could go for a pee. I will miss that she was deaf and when she yawned she made funny yowl noises. Her constant want to sit on the sofa with us, then getting of minutes later only to want to be lifted up again to sit with us. Her playing with her teddy bears and stripping their stuffing out all over the house, her last one given to her only on Monday which she walked about with it in her mouth, just chewing on it softly. But most of all I will miss her unquestionable love, her cuddles and kisses, and that beautiful face that has been in our lives for 14 years.

Our dogs have always come with us wherever we go, from shopping to holidays. The only exception was Christmas 2009, and when we went to Rome, Amsterdam and last week in Ireland. We have decided to have her cremated, and her ashes put in a wooden box that will come with us whenever we go on days out and when we holiday in the UK. She loved to go out in the car on days out and to new places, especially on holiday.

I love you little girl and will miss you until the day we are reunited again.

Reminders of the past

Growing up in the country there were many smells/fragrances about, from livestock to equine to rapeseed, but there are other smells that also take me back in time. The smell of an outboard motor reminds me of a holiday when I was about 10 in my uncle’s speedboat, fishing in the North Atlantic. Lavender, scones, evaporated milk, streaky bacon all remind me of being in my maternal Nans kitchen, apricot brandy and advocate of her at Christmas.

There are fragrances that I just cannot describe, but on the odd occasion, I smell them and whoosh, I am in the 70’s at my paternal Nans home, part of the fragrance is wax and a metallic element, but I have never been able to discover what.

Gunpowder has memories of clay pigeon shooting.

There are many fragrances that take me back, some with fondness others I lament, but all, memories of my past.

Fragrance

Screw this, I’m outta here….. Update

If you read my previous post “Screw this, I’m outta here” that I was pissed at my Mother and step father for all the pissing about and lack of thanks. We the update is, still no thanks or even an apology for their stupidity.

I turned up at my Mothers unexpectantly on Tuesday, this is something I hate people doing to me, just turning up, but I thought screw this (again) I just turned up. I said one word “hello” and went to the camera system that I had installed and entered the pass code that I had told them it would be and was in the system with no problems. The said that it was not recording, but it was, and never had stopped. She then tells me that one of the lights is off, and there should be a light for each of the cameras. I told her that she was wrong and if that was the case there should be 8 lights on, but there are three, and that it only has 4 lights on the main base and the “out” light, if she cares to look again is an alarm light, and if that is on there is a problem. So the system was running perfectly and on no account was there ever any problem. I even showed her that it was the same pass code into the system that I had told her. Her response was “Oh you know what P is like”. That was like lighting the blue touch paper, so I told her that I was mega pissed off as to the way her husband handled this and that apart from him being incompetent and an idiot, that he needs to change his tone and not blame me for something he obviously isn’t able to do. She quickly defended him saying that he did not mean it that way, but the texts he sent me were full of blame, that she seemed to have a blind spot for.

I plugged in all her Amazon sticks and showed her that they all worked now I had removed the illegal software, apart from one that I proved that the streaming had been blocked, then deleted it. At that she then gave me an Amazon Dot to install which I thought was cheeky since the crap that was thrown my way for helping on other occasions, however, I did it. When all this was done I left and went home as I really did not want to stay longer than I had to.

No apologies or words of thanks came my way. The only message I got was referring to her having no sound on the new PC, which I pointed out that she would need to buy speakers for it.

Needless to say, I will only hear from them when they next need something, unfortunately, I have found this will a lot of people these days, not just family