Dear Jo....

How long will i love you? As long as the stars are above you.

It's been 17 months and i am taking hesitant steps to recognising my grief. (I think in pictures:)

I have a huge rectangular hole cut out of my sheet metal torso.
You can see through me where the hole is.
It was severed in a matter of minutes by a very large circular saw.
It hurt so much i was numbed by the pain.
I picture you climbing over the banisters, noose in hand.
I picture you calm, and at peace in your actions.
Balancing on the wrong side, silent with  fingers sweating in concentration.

how long will i love you? longer, if i can.

People say all sorts of cliche's, like time is a great healer.
But its only now that i realise that there's a gaping great hole in me.
One that i am unable to tell if it is mending or still as big as ever because i am so numb.
I long for the day i can tentatively gentle feel around the sharp jagged edges of this wound.
To hurt myself a new, feeling the hundreds of smaller details of this terrible void.
Defining the edges
Raking into the nothingness to quantify it.
Only once i have a wound can i become accustomed to it.

Only once i can define this can i move forward.

How long will i love you? forever.

This is how we know what love is- Perhaps what i should have told Lovely.

My starting point for understanding the principle of Christianity is this story:

 Imagine a pedestrian crossing your local residential road, tree lined street, houses everywhere, steps out in front of a car. It's an inevitable fatality but a middle aged man on the pavement sees. He takes decisive action, darts out from between two parked cars and shoves the pedestrian firmly to the side (and safety) but has no time to move his feet and save himself. He turns to face the oncoming driver  calmly accepting his fate and dies.

Now imagine that the pedestrian is a teenager, dressed in gang colours and darts in front of the car as he is running away from a mugging with an old woman's hand bag. The man does exactly the same thing. Perhaps he doesn't know what this lad has done? Say the pedestrian Is a girl, she's shouting on her phone while crossing the road, she sees the man looking at her and shouts out, 'what you looking at you Fucking Paedo?' He saves her from the car and dies.

Lastly, imagine the man knew all about the pedestrian. Perhaps he's psychic or something, a time traveler bespoke to their life. When the pedestrian goes to cross the road he knows all the bad things he has already done, he knows the hatred and racism in his heart, he knows what he will do with his life -nothing, and he knows that immediately after he dies saving his life today the pedestrian will accuse him of being the most evil person he's ever met, calling him 'fame-hungry' and 'disingenuine'. The pedestrian will claim that he managed to save himself from the cars path (but can't explain why this man is lying dead on the road), and nobody cares thanks to his carry on. Knowing all this, the man still steps in the road to save him and face certain death.

The man is Jesus. The pedestrians us. Imagine starting your life knowing that someone loves you so much that they died for you. Even if you never acknowledge it, even if you never become the best person you can, even if you never manage to have a career, or cheat on every partner you have. Even if you have a life time of stories that could get you on the Jeremy Kyle show.

How would you feel if somebody died for you? Knowing you intimately, bad bits and all. He did it, and loves you despite whatever reaction you give.

One of my favourite verses in the bible is Romans 5:7-8.
'7 It is a difficult thing for someone to die for a righteous person. It may even be that someone might dare to die for a good person. 8 But God has shown us how much he loves us - it was while we were still sinners that Christ died for us'

In anticipation of our reaction to this news, the bible also challenges us to, 'Be still and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10). Accept the above and know that many things in life are inevitable, you cannot change them, you cannot change God loving you, or the person he made you, so go with the flow rather than fight your way through on your own.

Suicide Mark II

I know mourning is a journey, so i am unsuprised to say that my thoughts around Lovely's death have already changed this week. I battle between wanting her to have been suffering a mental health break down, and not.

On the one hand if she committed suicide when having poor mental health it makes it more bearable in that she wasn't herself, and that explains why it was so out of character, and not deliberately harmful to others. It also takes some of her active choice away, and it seems less painful that she didn't deliberately choose to leave us all behind with these complex emotions.

On the other hand, if she died not being herself, was she a victim. Someone who should have been helped, someone i failed by not noticing and forcing myself upon, to fix her. Someone mistakenly making a big statement whilst not being herself. If she wanted autonomy in death, mental health labels are erasing this.

Monday night me, Princess and Honestly were invited around to Lovely's widows house. He wanted to give account of her last few days, he wanted to explain that he had tried to help her, and he was clear that she had a mental health problem....

He painted a picture of a girl overwhelmed by a deep internal feeling of fear and dread, of an over consumption of thoughts about an inevitable demise with no respite. Someone very different from the person we knew, at least for her last two weeks. I didn't see her in those two weeks so i don't know what it looked like, and cant argue with this. But she sent me a very normal text message half an hour before she died.

My latest, very tough struggle, although perhaps it is just a sideline for me to distract myself with, is was Lovely my friend? I only saw her once in the last three months, and that was ad-hoc when she had come to London so see another friend she had recently made whilst travelling. She stopped answering the phone to me, she apparently phoned a list of people the day before she died in preparation - i wasn't one of them, she didn't once tell me how she was genuinely feeling. Without these things, what kind of friendship did we have? By the time i had found out that she'd died, another friend of hers had already flown back from Africa on an urgent flight, if i was such a good friend how did it take me so long to find out?

Were we even friends, or was i deluded? This makes me cry. 

Lovely had a lot of people in her life that she tried to pacify and make happy at her own personal cost, perhaps i was just another one of these. Whilst i thought we were close friends was i actually just another rope pulling her down. Another burden to be lifted only by suicide?

Born in the shadow of death....

So i should be logging on here to happily announce to my world that Cookie is here, alive and kicking and letting me know about the realities of having a 4 person family. However she's not. I am 40 weeks at the moment but still no sign. If i get to 42 i have a ceasarian booked ready. She's not even born and a sanction has been put in place, 'come or 'i'll come and get you'.

So my reason for writing now? Lovely died. She was 32, married and had more friends than.... average. But she committed suicide on Friday.

It's been hard to take. I've never experienced suicide before, i've never experienced the annoyance of knowing that if an individual had of done something different i wouldn't be in this pain right now. And that a deliberate and premeditated act to kill herself was capable of being part of Lovely's personality.

I've been REALLY struggling to reconcile the Lovely i knew, with someone who would take their life in a dramatic manner. Only a few hours before she died we were texting each other an inane conversation about Cookie. I call her Lovely as she would describe everyone as Lovely, if she said something even vaguely negative about someone,and often blatantly true, she would apologise, and say 'that sounded horrible, what i meant was...' and put it in a really nice way that couldn't even offend the person she was talking about.

I understand that she might not have told me that she felt suicidal as i am so pregnant, and i knew that she was 'down' but when did down turn into so depressed it is hard to recognise my friend amongst it all? Do you have to be clinically depressed to make the choice it is better to be dead than live anymore? Is poor mental health a convenient label for anyone who acts contrary to how society dictates we should?

Last night i looked up death by hanging on the internet and it really helped. It gave me not only the gory details so i can create a film in my head of Lovely's last few minutes, but also some very general comments about why people choose this form of suicide. And i think it's helped.

The Department of Health and Aged Care of Australia calls suicide by hanging a "particularly confronting display of resistance, defiance, individual control and accusatory blame"; it is "a rebuke and statement of uncaring relations, unmet needs, personal anguish, and emotional payback". Lovely conformed, she stood up for all the homeless people she worked with, she fought for asylum seekers with mental health problems rights, she was an avid support of amnesty international and would hold events for them, but when it came to her personal life she struggled to stand up for herself, she struggled to overthrow the middle-class values she was bought up in, stiff upper lip, don't complain and get on with it. It currently helps me to think that she was lucid and rational in her last actions, that eventually she got to breaking point and decided that enough was enough, she would be making a stand, a massive 'FUCK YOU' to the world.

I'm not saying she was justified, and i'm sure soon I will begin to feel cross with her for choosing to make this statement than to live it out and make the changes she wanted to see happen, and remain my friend and companion. But it helps me to consider her an active participant, not a victim of something else taking over her. As you can tell I have a very primitive understanding of mental health. Although I'm not convinced that mental health plays a massive role in this. Am I being naïve?

RIP Lovely. 

Blackpool - trip of the year

Myself, Honestly, Princess and Lovely went on our 'annual girls trip away' (we dont often go). It was AMAZING. I'd like to say I love Blackpool, but i don't. I love being away from everything (including Starbucks) and spending time with my girlfriends talking about everything, drinking, sleeping, talking about everything again, etc.

We did so many fun things in one day it was immense. Unlimited by a baby and set meal times (my main grumble about having a small person in our family) we walked from out hotel to Blackpool pleasure beach doing EVERYTHING fun along the way. We played pirate crazy golf, i had fresh made doughnuts for lunch, drank pitchers of mojito, ate chips with every meal, went on the pier and realised that once you win big on the 2p machine the joke is on you and your pockets for the rest of the day. We sat at the end of the pier and drank tea and listened to an waltzer- and in Blackpool you can officially share a pot of tea (i'm sure in London they make up rules about having to have only 1 cup per pot or frowning on you if you dare suggest sharing- like it's stealing because if you ask for more hot water, or more milk, you technically are getting something for free?). At midnight we went on the feris wheel whilst eating ice-cream. Some people were so scared that there was a volume of melted ice-cream dripping over cluched metal handles at the end and very little eaten.

Blackpool was fun, but it is obviously struggling with poverty. Behind the front beach lined road it very quickly gets poor and dischevled, and the locals seem to have fallen out of love with it, perhaps guilted by years of promise with no regeneration. Watching their town decay around them. Luckily we only stayed 2 days and left them to it, to enjoy the luxury of London. It was odd to be pretty low earning girls in London, living plain, simple lives but to feel relatively affluent and free to spend  unrestrained up there. There are various issues with this north south divide, but i as i often do, (often wrongly) ignored it with the thought that i'm helping my own poor teenagers in Peckham. Thats a kind of get out of jail free card on any other caring issue isnt it?

 Princess on the beach at sunset.

 Princess (pretending not to be scared of the donkeys), Honestly and Lovely

P

Tea on the pier: Lovely, Princess and Honestly.

We got ID'd everywhere we went, but i think it was because they were illequiped to judge how old people not wearing make-up, revealing clothing nor caring that they were all dressed in sensible walking shoes and coats, were. 31.

16/52 Happy? having the choice and resources to do new things

How to solve a problem work style.....

I have no major problems in my life, so i like to get overly worked up about the small ones. The latest of these is Xss going to bed late and waking me up when he does. The first night it was loud whistling in the bathroom, the next shaving with his electric razor (at 11:45pm!!). Rather than get mad (i was silently mad- but when you're in bed, in the dark this might just seem like you are asleep- the opposite of what i wanted). (i tried some angry tossing and turning,to try and make him feel bad). Anyway. whats the adult way to solve a problem like this with your partner? Go to work mad and fire off lots of passive aggressive emails to my friends Honestly and Lovely. All prefixed with, 'Xss is really great BUT.....'

So i asked for inspiration from their jobs. How would they tackle this problem at work?

In my work i would:
- tell him his behaviour is 'unacceptable'
- work out suitable rewards and sanctions for good/poor behaviour
- Issue Xss an Acceptable Behaviour Contract (ABC/ASBO) detailing what specific behaviours are not allowed in the bathroom at what times (which takes a lot of work, and then means nothing once broken)

Lovely, who works for a well known homeless charity suggested that her work would:
- swear
-  write a letter saying that if he looses his home because of his behaviour, he’ll be found intentionally homeless and then no one will help him.
- tell his mum (this is one of Lovely's very effective and non-protocol techniques with her younger teenage clients)

Honestly would:
- Use a Measurement framework (a flow diagram) so that you can measure progress of your responses to his behaviour, learn from that and then adapt your response until it’s perfect (and you sleep well!)
- campaign for change by getting large organisations and MP's involved

12/52 Happy? Having only small things like this to 'worry' about.

What else? The British weather!

I know i am home, as today when i went to meet Tx and Lovely in Green Park, i took a backpack containing a bikini, short skirt, hooded jumper, and waterproof coat. Its been so nice coming back to such nice weather, and has certainly eased our transition to 'non-traveller status' being able to sit in the Somerset sun enjoying the scenery in all its real colours. However, on this day trip to London (we don't move back until next week) the old annoying quandary of an impossible guessing game of what will the day bring and what should i be wearing in order to survive it began.

I needed none of the bag items, as it remained nice, but not too nice. It was great to see friends and be able to discuss anything i like. During the 300 days of Xss certain topics quickly were banned from conversation, i don't know why, but discussing what colour underwear i want to buy next (but not actually buying it), or what the optimum bra to matching pants ratio is.

The highlight of my Green Park adventure was recounting to Tx and Lovely the story of how Xss, in the amazon heat of Peru, licked an ice-cream ball off the top of his cone right onto the floor. At this time we all had our own 99 ice-creams, but as the story and consequent laughter progressed, Lovelys' flake fell to the floor due to the laughter vibrations travelling down her arm. Much laughter ensued and then disaster struck twice as my flake gravitated towards the floor also. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

Bikram Yoga? It's full of hot air!

Dear Rowl,

Thanks for the advice: I have now been to Bikram Yoga, and got ringworm. Yes. I got ringworm from a sweaty yoga mat! I did enjoy many aspects of Bikram yoga (yoga in a sauna type room) like the poses where you have to pretend you are flying (i only needed a small amount of encouragement on any day and towels make very good capes!) I also felt that i wasn't terrible at it, which is unusual for me when trying new things.

However, the negative aspects usurped these positives, namely the incident of my naked bum flesh touching a complete strangers naked thigh flesh when trying to squeeze into those titchy showers which even though they pretend to be built for 6 (note no curtains for modesty) should only accommodate one buck naked stranger at a time. This shower appeared to be the lesser of two evils, the other being seen on a tube on the way home in soaking wet, semi see-through cycling shorts and untamable hair which looked like I'd been on an adventure sports weekend. I'm not vain, but its got to be rude to stand up from your tube seat and leave a wet sweat mark for the next person to inherit!

Now i realise that i might be in the process of offending my already nominal blog audience by taking about this, but what is a blog for if it isn't for espousing unqualified opinions about topics only cats care about: I THINK YOGA IS CRAP. There I've said it. I think my body is a pretty technical but well- erm, well.... good machine, i don't think it benefits from an hour of improving my blood flow (if you blood doesn't flow well, doesn't that mean you are already dead?) or from improving my breathing (again, dead if i don't breathe). I can understand that some postures might help these things more than others- but if so, well surely a deportment style finishing school where i am taught to do these continuously as part of life is better than a sweaty 90 minutes, a few times a week. People are convinced that Yoga changed their life; i don't think so. They changed their life whilst attending yoga and they haven't managed to work out what it is they changed. What most people need is to slow down and spend 90minutes a few times a week investing in themselves and feeling good. it is an enforced calm and time to forget about daily hassles, a time to get in touch with your body. Great, but why not diversify, read a book for those 90 mins, watch a film, walk round the park and smell the flowers, have a bath, do proper exercise!


Well i hope that Rowl, Nman and Lovely will forgive me this rant, but you can keep your yoga values, i'm sticking to kick boxing. There were only so many times i could hit the person next to me in yoga and still make it seem like an accident.

So with less modesty, some great new ideas of how to pose as if flying, an ability to breath better and a tasteful array of pink spots i think i have definitely, well and truly earned my Bikram yoga badge.