I have a confession to make, lately have been neglecting this blog. I have been struggling to write for a few years now. I have made up lots of reasons, like not having much to say or trying out new formats. In fact I have just given substack a go for the second time, seduced by the thought of becoming a millionaire and a successful writer. I quickly realised there were plenty of people on that platform trying the same thing, who had a lot more idea of how that it worked than me. Consequently no one saw what I was writing other than a few of you dedicated kindly souls that find my writing via Facebook. Substack made me feel more self-conscious, so I have knocked it on the head and come back to my wordpress blog where I feel comfortable. This is where I started after all.
I am however still feeling self-conscious about writing. I think like most people I worry what people will think about me. It doesn’t matter how much I remind myself that of all the things I say to everyone else I like everyone else find the hurdle sometimes too difficult to get over. I know that some people will think I am a knob no matter what I do, that there will be people that think I am great and the rest that can take or leave me. I know all of that but I cannot help but think about the people that have a low opinion of me and those that are indifferent and wonder how I am going to win them all over. I realise that is a fools errand but…
Anyway I am here and I am writing. I don’t know why I decided to pick up the laptop today, I just started to feel guilty that I have not used my brain creatively on my days off for ages, and I am feeling pretty fed up at the moment and I am sick of feeling that way so again it is time to do something about it. The thing is the physical act of free writing like this I find incredibly therapeutic. I had an idea of what i was going to write about when I opened the laptop and so far I have not managed to weave it in as other thoughts and ramblings have entered my head. I try to create a structure mentally before I start writing, sometimes I manage it, but most of the time I do not. Too be honest my structured writing gets a bit preachy (you may have noticed if you read my blogs regularly) and the rambling unstructured thoughts feel more authentic for me and from the heart so resonate more with me than most.
I did write something on substack the other week about my running and training for the Great Manchester Run and why I am doing it, which in turn came onto my thoughts and feelings about loss and bereavement. I did think about digging it out and publishing it here, but now I am thinking I am might write something new here for you all to read. That is why I have decided to come back to wordpress where most people access my writing through facebook, because loss, grief bereavement for most of my friends on facebook feels like an ever present at the moment as we get older and we lose our parents and sadly our friends. Learning to live with loss is an essential life skill that I for one neglected for too long, this is much more evident in modern society and the generations that are living through this now than probably at any other time. I appreciate that this is my view from a white middle class male living a comfortable life in the UK (lets be honest most of the people that read this blog share most of those demographics), but it is something we all notice acutely. I have noticed in the nearly 40 years (fucking hell how did that happen) I have worked in health care our attitude towards death in this country has shifted. We are much more averse to it than we were in the 1980s and early 90s, and we were pretty squeamish about it then. More people probably die in hospitals now than they did in the 1980s, and that is mostly down to the fact most people died before they got to hospital. Modern healthcare methods are science fiction compared to what they were like 40 years ago, including emergency care by the roadside and in your own home. Our awareness of illness and how to treat it is higher than ever. Death is not witnessed first hand by most people, therefore it is not considered as normal as it once was. I wondered if the pandemic would have a lasting impact, but it doesn’t seem to have done. Death is seen as something that is terrible and should be avoided. This is something we excel at in the UK, avoidance that is. If it causes discomfort or pain then we try to push it away in a vain attempt to prevent feeling it. We do the same thing with death. I certainly have for the past 24 years, more so with the loss of my Dad than my Mum where I have learned to live with the hole she left behind. The space my mum filled in my heart was defined and vast and the love I can articulate when I think of her can nearly fill that space she left behind. When I think about her I feel happy and sad, I am so sad I will never hold her hand again, and so happy and grateful that something so simple as holding my mums hand can make me feel so loved and cared for. I am blessed to have experienced that love. Grieving for Mum is easy and is nourishing.
Now the loss of my Dad 24 years ago is less straightforward, my emotions when I think of him are complex. I find it hard to remember feeling loved by him. There are memories I have that do create that feeling but they are not the dominant ones. On the whole the biggest emotion I feel is disappointment. Most of my memories involve waiting for him and him not following through on promises. Then I feel anger and frustration. These are all childhood feelings, because I never really formed a relationship with him as an adult. I was 30 when he died but by that point our relationship was superficial, and I could not get over the feeling of being neglected by him. I wanted to have a Dad that showed me how proud he was of me, who would talk to me sober and give me his attention, something he rarely did. When I would meet him as an adult it would normally be in the pub and be very surface. I didn’t understand him and he didn’t understand me. When he was dying I was so angry with him. He had let me down again, I wanted my children (we had Ben then and Jack was on the way) to have a Grandad that part of their lives, but his alcoholism robbed that of us. Now he had robbed me of a father that I could hero worship and my children of a grandad. At that moment I hated him, I hated him because he mad me feel like child, I still hate him because he makes me feel like a little boy every time I think of him. Then that makes me feel guilty, because he is my Dad and I love him. It has been 24 years since he died and I have not been able to learn to live with his loss. Because it hurts too much and I avoid it, and because I feel guilty about the strength of feeling I have for him. It is easy to talk openly about living with the loss of Mum because the loving memories outweigh the less helpful memories. That is why I have decided to write about it. Instead of just writing about my relationship with him, which I find nearly impossible (for a number of reasons) I have started writing a fictional story. This story initially cam from interviews I did with people during COVID about their experiences (some of them read this blog, I bet you thought I had forgotten about it). I interviewed 24 people and I have 24 hours of transcripts and recordings about their experiences during COVID. About 3 years ago I decided to write a fictional story based on these experiences. I realised recently there were aspects of the story where it was clear I was talking about my relationship with my Dad with the interactions between John (the main character) and his father who is dying from cancer. So that is the direction I have decided to take it in. The story is about John an ex Nurse who works in a Hospital during COVID, and how he navigates his work and home life, along with the people he knows and loves. It is not autobiographical in the content, however I have used the lived experiences of myself, people I know and those I interviewed to create the stories. John is far more troubled and leads a far more reckless life than myself or anyone else I interviewed, he is also much younger and much better looking than me (I did have one eye on who could play him if it ever got turned into a film lol). I have written about 50 pages so far. My plan was to stick on substack and make my fortune, but I have realised what I want to do it write it alongside people I now and love so I am going to serialise it on wordpress I think with you lovely lot. I will put up the first instalment later today and then see how I go. It is therapy for me so it might be a bit sporadic, and if you like that is great but also I don’t care if you think it is shit, I am just trying to come to terms with and learn how to healthily grieve my Dad.
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