A New Year, A New Rant

How was New Years Eve?? Did you have fun and celebrate in style?? Then, when the clock struck 12:00 you beat yourself up for allowing you, and your life, to be such a failure during the past year?? Did you then vow to stick to your new year resolutions, the resolutions that would ensure that in 2014 you become a better person???

Oh dear.

I know New Years Eve can be a strange time. It can often spark melancholy, regret, reflecting on all kinds of good and bad experiences and emotions. We all reconsider what the past year brought us, and how we lived our lives. Can this reflection help us in the new year to come though??? Can regret ever be healthy?

I am not going to tell you to make resolutions or not make them. I’m not going say that 2014 will be your year, that you have the power to transform and achieve. Personally I don’t get all that. I see all of that as negative life assassination, and unnecessary pressure. It is assuming that with the new year we will suddenly all transform and morph into wonder women or men. In 2014 we will definitely be destined to become another person, a wonderful person, in fact a person you were probably never actually meant to be.

Resolutions are very like false promises.

Why is it we always allow ourselves to perceive that the previous year was a failure, a let down, we didn’t perform and weren’t good enough? Isn’t that really what the notion of resolutions allude to – we are all failures, and therefore are required to modify and rectify that at all cost? Why can’t we just be us, and not need to change a thing?

Isn’t the notion of changing, of morphing, of transforming just a little bit delusional?? Just because it is a new year doesn’t mean anything has fundamentally changed. We are still, by virtue of our genetics, who we were upon birth; we haven’t grown extra limbs or suddenly become impervious to disease. We can’t shrug off the past; we all have our individual life experiences, thoughts, ideas, desires and so on.

Why is it with a new year we then become washed clean??

Or, more importantly, why do we want to be??

Isn’t life, from one year to the next, merely about the experiences we have and share, the learning curve, the path we travel, the thoughts and desires, hopes and dreams we harbour?

Isn’t life about those things??

To say we can be transformed, and washed clean assumes that we can all be famous artists, discover the cure for cancer, travel into space, be elected to Government, be an Olympian or whatever else! We are, most of us, normal folk with normal lives – average wages, children, mortgages and wrinkles. No amount of new years will ever change that either!!! We will never really transform.

So, why torture ourselves with pie in the sky -‘this year will be different’ – NO IT WON’T BE!!!!

Sorry, I get that positive thinking and hope are a great combination to have on your side in life, and I do adopt their principles as much as I can. However, I am also a realist and a little sceptical. I wonder how much we can actually change, transform, morph, and wonder if we really want to? If we don’t achieve, create, progress, succeed, dominate and control (or whatever!!!!) why is it seen so negatively? Why is it we can’t be just satisfied with being us?

This year I’m not going to become a millionaire, a success or even a glamour model who adorns the covers of popular magazines. I know that isn’t going to be what 2014 has in store for me.

I know it’ll be more of the same; living day to day, trying to survive, building relationships, trying to maintain motivation, good health and keeping some faith in me and what I want; basically boring stuff, not very inspiring or exciting!!! So, doesn’t matter how much I wish for miracles, money, fame and whatever else, it doesn’t mean it will come to fruition!!

I can make a million resolutions, but it doesn’t mean I can or will fundamentally change!

I’m just trying to say; be real, be kind to yourself and stop applying the pressure to be what you’re not. ALSO, stop viewing you and your life as a failure thus far, see your life as experience and a journey (which won’t be over, until it is over, and your six foot under). Stop stalling with resolutions and waiting for another new year to come and go; live without military precision, live and have fun amassing experiences to reflect on, not to feel negative and guilty about!

Live your life now, while it is here, and see what it brings you! All the ups and downs are welcome, it is life and you can’t just pick and choose the best bits and edit the rest, it isn’t a script after all!

Let 2014 be what it will be – life as we know it!

Back At It

So, after leaving Madrid for the UK and worrying myself sick over the flight, and all the messing about that is associated with flying in this time of paranoia. I am once again returned to Madrid; my week away gone all too quickly.

Getting myself back into the routine of life here in Madrid is proving a little difficult, although I know I have only in theory really been back a few hours.

What is making the settling back down harder is the fact that this time I stayed at my parent’s house. I am a person who is used to and likes time alone, but I didn’t get much of this back in the UK. So, now I have become accustomed to having people that love me around me more frequently, and I am used to talking about things with them throughout the day.  Plus, I have become a little too reliant (and enjoyed) my families home cooking – so I feel I was spoilt whilst there.

Yet, it isn’t just that.

My Grandmother (Nanna) was taken into hospital the second day I was back. She had fallen and broken her hip and thigh bones. I was immediately struck with shock and worry. I knew that if she had to undergo an operation she might not survive it. My Nanna is 81 in April, and she has never before had an operation (nor general aesthetic).

Yet, regardless of this my Nanna came through a lengthy op to wake and discover she had titanium extras in place of her broken bones. Relief, well, yes, I felt over the moon all was well. My Nanna and I are very close, and I love her dearly.

However, I am left wondering how well the after-care will be now. I am not there to witness this. I told her before I left her on Sunday that if I hear of any problems I will not hesitate to return back to the UK, and ensure any wrong doing is rectified, and any mistreatment is punished. After writing previously about the shocking NHS standards, I am under no illusion that they are perfect. How these people are able to treat or mistreat older people in their care is grotesque.

I also wonder if now my Nanna will actually receive more ‘professional’ help about the house, or even be entitled to some welfare benefits. Currently she gets nothing at all, she survives on her pension, which after scrimping and saving towards for over 40 years, has become a meagre amount. My Nanna still pays her way and even is taxed on her pension, after working all her life, she still has nothing for free. It infuriates me, when there are others who receive more in benefits than she does in pension, and they do have plenty for nothing.

This idea that the elderly are rolling around in money they all stuff under their mattresses is ridiculous. Yet, even if they are ‘well off’ at least they have worked for it – a generation of people who had to work for it, otherwise they’d receive nothing.  They didn’t expect anything to be handed to them on a platter, and the world didn’t owe them a living like most of today’s generation believes. These people strived and struggled to have security in their later years (a good pension), and yet many of these people aren’t even receiving that little luxury.

The other thing I had been questioning was myself.

A friend of mine was happy enough to lay the guilt trip on me, during these initial few days of extreme worry. She believes herself to be ‘Mother Teresa’. Her Father was dying and she felt compelled to ‘care’ for him, though she has children and a husband. I say ‘care’, but in theory he passed away, which they knew he would, before any real care could transpire. The care that involves 24/7 support didn’t come to fruition; the washing, dressing, lifting the person, toileting the person, housework, shopping, preparation of meals, feeding them, dealing with he household bills and so on and so on.

My friends ‘care’ of her Father consisted of taking her Dad out for day trips, sitting and talking to him, reminiscing and offering comfort, having a drink with him, putting his affairs in order and that was that.

I wonder how she would have felt in an alternate situation whereby she had to suspended her life with her family to really care for her Dad?

I know I am no martyr to the cause; I am inherently selfish. I knew when it all came down I couldn’t say I would sacrifice myself and life to care for my Nanna. Am I brave or stupid to even acknowledge such limitations; who can tell.

I have always thought professional care would be the better option, as they are supposed to know what they are doing. I don’t mean I would abandon anyone to their fate in the hands of strangers, but I couldn’t be as proficient as trained carers would be. I wouldn’t know where to begin.

My life too is no longer in the UK, so that alone poses a major barrier. I couldn’t say goodbye to my ties here, and return to care for my Nanna. Not that she expects that of me; she wants me to live my life and is happy for me. Yet, see what doubts are implanted from a few unthoughtful words from a friend.

I doubted myself, and still do – what am I worth if I can’t give back to a person I love? I feel like a shitty human being, but this isn’t helping. I mean having these thoughts during a time when all I needed to think about was whether my Nanna would actually live through the operation and trauma, it just added distress.

Why did my friend think it was OK to upset the apple cart even more, with her few words of ‘wisdom’ on the matter of caring for a relative?

What was she thinking?

A friend who thought I shouldn’t return to my life in Madrid. A friend willing to add insult to injury, and stress to an already stressful situation. A friend who judged me when I needed her, who threw back in my face all my impartial support of her through her Father’s illness and ensuing death.

All because I wouldn’t bow to her ‘ideal’ of what a person, a relative should do.

So now I am back in Madrid with threads left in the UK, which aren’t tied up into neat pretty bows.

I suppose I shall have to find a way to square all this, or face feeling a juxtaposition with everything I have here.

 

Death Is Not The End

Nothing can prepare you for hearing those words, of realising that too soon you have to face up to such a harsh truth. Its knowledge that once gained alters everything else from that moment on. It is like the moment freezes, and suddenly normal body functions, such as breathing, become laboured as though the weight of this awful thing is physically, as well as emotionally bearing down on you.

A friend of mine has recently gone through the trauma of the death of her Father. When the news that his illness had taken a turn for the worse and had become life threatening, she was actually with me.

I felt futile; what can anyone say or do to relieve such sorrow and the empty hollowness that such events bring; nothing, no one can make it all better and take that from you. No words fit such a dramatic and profound event, it is beyond such things.

Such events change us I heard, and not just mentally and emotionally but actually physically too. For two years after a death those who are left behind have to also endure a physical change to their bodies as a result of loss and grief. I think this change never heals, how can it? You are not, nor ever will be the same person before that person died.

‘They’ do say a lot of things about death, like if we all experience things the same way. I am aware that grief moves in a process, and it does; after time this process should be completed and the individual remaining should be free of the feeling of loss and sadness (so ‘they’ say). For me that has never been the case.

My friend’s loss resonated with me; in that poignant and raw moment, that to be honest was fairly surreal for me, my own experiences of losing a loved one was quickly revived. I realised I was uncomfortable with the whole thing. I wasn’t able to deal with or cope with the unresolved feelings in myself, that were brought forth by my friend’s own heart breaking news.

My lingering grief remains extremely difficult to discuss, and for me the emotions and sadness are like raw and exposed nerves, which to this day cause me great distress. Even typing this, and thinking about what I want to say here, is more overwhelming than I thought it would be. I can feel the emotion sitting like a mound in my chest; it feels heavy and tight, I feel stressed and dizzy, afraid and upset. It’s almost like shock.

I am obviously not detached from the death of my loved ones, especially one in particular.

What prompted me to want to write this entry was something that happened a few nights ago. I have been thinking about this, although trying not to. It has been a while since I dreamt of the person I lost, but this dream was more vivid than ever I recall. They were back, standing in their house surrounded by other family members. I recall being immediately eager to see them. I pushed through a couple of people to get to this person, and we hugged each other tightly. I told the person I’d missed them so much, and feared I’d never see them again. This person said they knew that, but that they were with me, and had been watching me and were proud of me.

It was my final dream before waking. I got up and sat on the sofa and cried.

I haven’t told anyone else about this, the reason I write it here is that it is anonymous, and no one knows me, nor will anyone in my life have to know that right now, I am crying typing these words. I am obviously still affected by a death that occurred over 10 years ago. This is something I cannot resolve for myself, I haven’t the power to make it OK for myself.

The person I still mourn was special to me, that person shaped my life and is part of who I am. If I am selfish for wishing they were still here to talk to, ask advice of, hear their opinions, debate politics with or just laugh with, then I am and I don’t think that is a flaw. I don’t want them not to rest wherever they are, they deserve to be free of their body and to be happy in a good place; but I still miss them.

This death was an unexpected event. People used to say, ‘Oh, that is a good thing no suffering’; well let me tell you it wasn’t a good death for those of us who loved that person. That was just un-thoughtful and infuriating to hear. It was like they made light of the trauma and loss, as though we should have been grateful.

There were no goodbyes for us, no time to put things in order, hear the last words, and give one final kiss. No way of understanding, coming to terms with anything. How could it have been that one moment this person was alive, and the next gone forever, where no one could follow them. I couldn’t understand the difference in those moments, like a light had been switched off. Why that person had be extinguished in such an extreme manner, with all the evidence left behind that they had merely just stepped out, and would return at any given moment. It was cruel.

I couldn’t get that straight for years; that severed separation without warning left a deep wound. I kept asking the questions, wanting all the medical reasons and I hated everything and everyone for it being as it was. It was like unfinished business. I felt cheated, lied to and deceived, guilty too. In those moments I would have gladly shared my own life with that person so they could have lived on. I begged for that and prayed for it. Death couldn’t be the end.

What made it worse was the fact there had been this over bearing feeling of doom. A lingering and awful feeling that wouldn’t leave. I felt something terrible was going to happen, something I couldn’t change. In fact I felt it on that very morning of that person’s death, and ignored it. I didn’t go and see that person as something inside my self urged me to. I thought I was just being melodramatic, but after gaining a call when I was nearly 70 miles away that day to return home, I knew immediately it was going to be the worst news that greeted my return.

People don’t have to believe what I felt, but I know what I felt, and those around me know too, because they were there every time I told them something bad was going to happen. I felt that it was going to be something horrendous, so bad, it would make me cry hysterically.

I felt guilt, if only I had said and done something as a reaction to this feeling. Maybe I could have intervened and changed what happened. I felt I had let them and myself down. I felt I was a terrible person; by ignoring my bad feeling, I had just let the person die.

Writing this now was something I thought I’d never do, as I even avoid talking about it, because as I have mentioned already it is painful and distressing. I don’t like how it makes me feel still, sick, all through my system. Yet, it is there and somewhere I feel I have to let it go.

I can cope with most things life throws at me, but this is one thing I still cannot cope with and feel it still. This has created a great concern in me; that those I love will end up the same, and I won’t be there to see them, to comfort them to tell them I love them. That they will leave me the same way, without goodbye. I am frightened of that, not of my own death, but anyone else’s. Even admitting that scares me, it’s like tempting fate by exposing that weakness publicly, that something terrible will happen.

I’d like to know if anyone else feels like I do. I’d like to know I’m normal, and that amongst all these faceless bloggers I am somehow not alone in these emotions. Maybe this is my post where I truly write for personal therapy. I don’t want sympathy or to pull the ‘hard luck’ story, I don’t feel hard done by. I just suppose I want to gain an understanding of why I feel this way still, to gain comfort from knowing of others who have felt or do feel like me. Maybe I just needed to admit what damage grief has done, even after the years have ticked by the pain still can endure, and affect us who are left behind who just don’t understand why.

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© Bex Houghagen and The Savvy Senorita, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bex Houghagen and The Savvy Senorita with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.