That Year
Or how to handle it when everything falls apart
If I'm going to do this it seems inevitable that I'm going to talk about That Year. In fact, maybe the only reason I'm committing to any of this is because of That Year, and maybe that's what the real meat of all this "writing" business is going to be.
So, the year I am referring to is 2022. This was a year in which my 6 year relationship ended, my father died suddenly after a week long stretch in hospital, drug addicts came to kick down my front door, the house was without heating for 3 weeks in the middle of winter, long term projects ended along with long term friendships. I was victim to a level of betrayal that haunts me to this day. Emotional fallout included grief, sadness, hopelessness, despair, and huge, tower block destroying, tidal waves of anger. Honestly, the anger was out of this world, so intense at some points I would not of cared if I lived or died, I felt like wandering out to the motorway in the dead of night and letting the cars run me down, just for the fun of it. The month my father died has since become known in my memory as "angry August" (I always had weird, uneasy vibes about that month anyway).
It was in the midst of the most ridiculous heatwave I've ever known, almost everyday that month was too hot between the hours of 9am and 9pm to do anything apart from sit quietly in the shade.
I think possibly one of my biggest mistakes was assuming that when a crisis such as this hits, those around you will rally round and take care of you, wrap you up in blankets, feed you soup and gently tease your story out in bits and bobs. This is total sitcom horse piss. If the people in your life are leaning on you too much, letting you do more emotional labour than anyone else because you have the dubious honour of "being the strong one", then they will continue to do this if/when you have a massive crisis like a parent dying. People are basic as hell and are likely to stay that way whatever the circumstances.
Honestly, I'd tell people my father had just died and they'd look so uncomfortable that I'd end up having to look after them, even though I was the one grieving.
Of course, the other side to all of that is if you've let yourself become "the strong one" then people don't know how to relate to you or what to do. You yourself might not know how to express what you are feeling, particularly if you're used to having to take the lead. Talking about your emotions is not only risky, but uncomfortable for both the listener and the speaker. And for a while that summer, I didn't know what I was feeling, or what I should say or do. Of course there was the traditional crying behind closed doors and so forth, but the bigger emotion was of deep, existential change, like the solid rocks I had built my castle on had suddenly changed to churning quicksand. And that quicksand would dredge up all the issues I'd carefully buried under the castle over the years.
So the main form of emotional outlet became anger. People are so afraid, even repulsed by any expression of anger they forget how useful it can be. A deep burst of anger from the very core of one's being can see you through all sorts of troubles, that burst of adrenaline actually gets people through many a tough spot, it's like a wave you can surf. Unfortunately I'd come to a point where I'd become far too reliant on it, and my nerves were shot. It finally occurred to me that I needed to learn new ways to process my emotions, and not just letting them turn to anger every time I wasn't properly dealing with them. So Angry August gave way to Sad September. I became so ashamed of myself I started researching anger management. I started meditating everyday. I tattooed my face in penance. I sat with my difficult feelings and tried to acknowledge them instead of just rushing to the nearest thing to distract me.
Did it work? Well things are definitely better, and I would definitely recommend the meditation, but mostly I'm just pleased to put as much distance as possible, both in time and emotion, between that hellish period and now.
