Memoirs Of A Graduate

I never met my grandfather on my dad’s side. He died when my dad was two years old. He was a sailor, his boat sank. I remember once my dad showing me a scrapbook with a newspaper article; something written by one of the survivors about how they had heard him screaming, he’d been crushed by a bunk bed, they couldn’t get him out so they ran from the sinking ship... and he drowned.

It’s a horrible way to go. But – other than that thought; I never really dwelled on it. He was a stranger; he died a tragic death, but he was a stranger to me. Even to my dad really.

It’s only recently I thought about my nan.  She was 23; nearly the age I am now.  I guess those days it was how it was done, marry young. She was twenty three years old; left with a dead husband and a two year old son to raise on her own. She never took her wedding ring off.... never moved on, found someone else.  It’s been over 60 years.

I always sort of never really clicked with her; because she was so miserable all the time. She hated the world and everything in it. When I was a kid I couldn’t understand, and even when I grew up a I didn’t really give it much thought. But now; I get it. Why shouldn’t she – she went through hell; and it consumed her.

Our lives and the events within them shape the people we become. We grow older, wiser, learn from mistakes and get to know what makes us happy. The important lesson is; don’t let it mould you completely.... you still have that control to choose the person you are.

I’m going through my own personal hell at the moment. Perhaps not on the same grand scale as my nan faced – but everyone’s troubles, regardless of how big or small, are still troubles. I know I briefly discussed it in my last blog and honestly; things have only got worse since then. I’m not going to lie I’ve been struggling to cope. I’m not in denial about the whole wearing my heart of my sleeve thing, and while generally speaking I can usually keep myself relatively composed if the time and place isn’t right; I haven’t been.

People keep acknowledging me and how shitty I look.  As soon as they say the words – “You look awful. Are you okay?” I can’t help but feel my eyes water and that traitorous bottom lip starting to quiver. If I try and mutter any semblance of words in reply it comes out in a high pitched noise so I’m just standing there, tears down my cheeks squealing at them. It’s not a good look.

The problem with emotional sickness like depression is in many ways it’s worse than the physical. You literally shut down. For a girl who normally orders a double burger with extra bacon, extra cheese and has a Mary Poppins bag of chocolate for snacking on at all times.... I’ve had no appetite whatsoever. The amount of food I’ve eaten in two weeks is probably equivalent to the amount I’d normally eat in two days. I don’t sleep at night anymore. Those rare bouts I do manage I wake in a cold sweat after a nightmare. I’m run down and then you feel worse because everyone’s going round telling you how crap you look. Which makes you feel more sad. It’s a vicious cycle.

I’m faced with several options. I could continue to wallow and hope that in the eventual future it will get better, it will improve on its own. I could give up completely. Or I could start taking control of my life and not let it mould me into someone I really don’t want to be moulded into. I don’t want to be the little old lady hating the world cus the world hates me. I want to smile. I want to eat and sleep and go dancing, laugh. That’s the option I want to choose.

One thing I have to say is when you are going through hell there is nothing more uplifting than other people. I can’t name you but I’m hoping you know who you are; you people out there – whether a grand gesture, or just a hug, an arm round my shoulder...  a text, a message. It’s helping so much. It might not seem like much to you but to me; it’s everything. Unfortunately it comes with a negative, when those that are there for you step forward, it makes it easy to see who didn’t. Which sucks; it’s never nice thinking someone cares about you only to learn they don’t. But I won’t dwell on that because I can honestly say it’s been a minority. So thank you to the good ones. The good people. I hope I never loose you. 

I don't really know what else to say. I don't want to harp on about my misery, I'm going to try and keep positive again from now on. It's going to be one step at a time and there's a big chance it will involve a massive change for me. I'm not a big fan of change; sure I like to mess with my hair style, try a new look. But, I like familiarity. I guess that's one of the things I'm struggling with at the moment, that something so familiar changed so suddenly, it was a shock. I physically suffered shock, then grief. Denial. Anger. Sorrow. ... I'm still working on the acceptance stage. 

But, time will tell I guess. Keep watching this space.