19th August 2018
I spoke with Q's mum tonight. Q is the young man I befriended last year; he was struggling with severe mental illness. In addition to mental illness he also suffered from complications arising from addiction and past injuries (brain and body).
I wrote 'Stay for the Picnic' within two days of his death. I felt like my mind was coming loose, the scattered pieces rising on the highest note available. I found myself almost screaming this note, hysterical, terrified of what I was not able to do for him. That's when he spoke to me. You might not be into that, the idea that the dead can connect with us. That's okay - this may not be for you.
I truly felt that his presence was with me for about a month after he died. I talked to him all the time and asked for his ideas on where to go, what to do, how to cope with the fact that he'd killed himself.
Since he died I chose to find some part time work in mental health and to look after my own mental and physical well-being with a greater sense of purpose. I have realised how much I tend to isolate myself, how I haven't been a passionate creator when it comes to performance or art work for a long time. That time precedes Q; but knowing him and losing him has high lighted how fearful I had become; how nervous I am about being rejected or judged. I'm extremely sensitive but outgoing and direct in my communication. If you are depressed or self-isolating it is hard to make yourself do things that are 'good for you'; but sometimes even a small thing can become a life raft.
I make dirty comments, laugh loudly, sing unexpectedly, talk incessantly and yet have to shield my eyes from excessively bright light, cover my ears when sounds are too jarring, notice things that others don't seem to notice ... and feel like I can feel people's pain. It's very overwhelming at times. I do also seem to experience beauty to a greater degree; if I see a plant shiver, I might shiver along with it! I have wept because the way a bird hopped was so beautiful and funny. The outgoing aspect probably helps me cope with the excessively sensitive side.
Here's the thing; we will be rejected and we will be judged. People will get us wrong. They will open their hearts to you and then snatch yours out of your chest and throw it on the ground as a stepping stone. These things happen. People hurt and then they hurt you. It's not fair. Of course it isn't - but it is part of life. During my friendship with Q he shared how much he wanted friendships and connection with others. He was also heartbroken and angry about a lot of things.
For years I have held back cartoons, paintings, stories, songs and poems because I always think 'it isn't good enough'. Good enough for what? The people who like it will like it, and the people who don't aren't my tribe. My tribe? My 'tribe' are rare it seems, but boy do I appreciate them when I find them.
I've been exhausted for a long time. Pain (physical and emotional) is an old companion, but in the last three months I've been getting fitter and finding ways to alleviate pain. It's amazing how much this has positively affected my mental health. A lot of things I offered to do with Q are things I am still following through with - aqua jogging, finding work in mental health, getting my environment clear of clutter, making music. Making music has been the hardest one (as it means the most). I'm learning enough guitar to sing a song at an open mic night. I want to do it before the end of the year, preferably in November when it will have been a year since his death. He would have loved it.
Q's mum and I had an amazing talk tonight. It's been just over 8 months since her son left the planet and I can't even begin to imagine what that is like. To lose your child. I was lucky enough to get to know him before he died, but it wasn't for long. I was scared to be friends with him (he'd already attempted suicide many times before) and knew I'd have to put boundaries in place to remain mentally healthy in the friendship ... but I also knew it was worth it. It was. He was worth it.
Loving someone who may not be able to give much back is a bit like loving a homeless person. You have to understand the context. You have to make a decision to love based on what really is, not how you wish it was. You don't stop and talk to a homeless person and then resent them for not inviting you to share their cardboard box. Many people are emotionally homeless - there's no point wondering why they can't communicate clearly or connect in the same way that you do. They might enjoy your company or tell you to fuck off, you really never know.
I knew Q could not be a friend to me in many of the ways a mentally stable person was - but I also felt a lot of kindness, interest and connection with him that seemed to transcend the usual conventions of friendship. It was like his soul was already known to mine. Hey, maybe that's co-dependence, but whatever, I don't regret it. He was funny, he loved music and he was deeply sad and extremely unwell. We don't get to be terribly easy as humans do we?
In this last week I've been misunderstood and it really stirred up a lot of sadness and grief for me. Fortunately I then had a friend take me out for dinner to Euro (we got oysters and they were so good that I could have cried) and he listened with such love and care. The next night another friend also took me out for dinner and he too explained what he thought had happened and that no matter how carefully I communicated it would probably not have landed well for someone who has to live a worthy life through an 'image'. He also gave me some great tips on how to prep someone if you're going to ask them a question (based on his experience in Toastmasters).
Instead of directly asking someone something like "do you like blue?" (which might blow their mind and then they hate you and never want to see you again because it's so full on) you have to go in easy ... like
1) "Hey, I have this question I want to ask you ...
2) "You don't have to answer this question straight away ...
3) "This might seem a little direct and I want you to know there is no anger or agression in my question, it really is just a question so that I know what you're into"
4) "The question is to do with blue
5) "You know how I like blue?
6) "I was wondering if you like blue?"
7) "As I said, you don't have to tell me straight away. If you can let me know in the next couple of days that would be good though.
8) "Thanks for listening to me ... I know you find questions quite confronting and I am not attacking you, I just really need to know whether you can handle it if I turn up wearing a blue jumpsuit the next time we hang out".
See? Some people need a bit of palaver.
I'm getting a little better with boundaries, a little stronger, a little more sure of who I am. I can trust myself. I can start putting myself out there again. So it begins. Again. And again. And again. Goddamnit, I now really want a blue jumpsuit.
I truly felt that his presence was with me for about a month after he died. I talked to him all the time and asked for his ideas on where to go, what to do, how to cope with the fact that he'd killed himself.
Since he died I chose to find some part time work in mental health and to look after my own mental and physical well-being with a greater sense of purpose. I have realised how much I tend to isolate myself, how I haven't been a passionate creator when it comes to performance or art work for a long time. That time precedes Q; but knowing him and losing him has high lighted how fearful I had become; how nervous I am about being rejected or judged. I'm extremely sensitive but outgoing and direct in my communication. If you are depressed or self-isolating it is hard to make yourself do things that are 'good for you'; but sometimes even a small thing can become a life raft.
I make dirty comments, laugh loudly, sing unexpectedly, talk incessantly and yet have to shield my eyes from excessively bright light, cover my ears when sounds are too jarring, notice things that others don't seem to notice ... and feel like I can feel people's pain. It's very overwhelming at times. I do also seem to experience beauty to a greater degree; if I see a plant shiver, I might shiver along with it! I have wept because the way a bird hopped was so beautiful and funny. The outgoing aspect probably helps me cope with the excessively sensitive side.
Here's the thing; we will be rejected and we will be judged. People will get us wrong. They will open their hearts to you and then snatch yours out of your chest and throw it on the ground as a stepping stone. These things happen. People hurt and then they hurt you. It's not fair. Of course it isn't - but it is part of life. During my friendship with Q he shared how much he wanted friendships and connection with others. He was also heartbroken and angry about a lot of things.
For years I have held back cartoons, paintings, stories, songs and poems because I always think 'it isn't good enough'. Good enough for what? The people who like it will like it, and the people who don't aren't my tribe. My tribe? My 'tribe' are rare it seems, but boy do I appreciate them when I find them.
I've been exhausted for a long time. Pain (physical and emotional) is an old companion, but in the last three months I've been getting fitter and finding ways to alleviate pain. It's amazing how much this has positively affected my mental health. A lot of things I offered to do with Q are things I am still following through with - aqua jogging, finding work in mental health, getting my environment clear of clutter, making music. Making music has been the hardest one (as it means the most). I'm learning enough guitar to sing a song at an open mic night. I want to do it before the end of the year, preferably in November when it will have been a year since his death. He would have loved it.
Q's mum and I had an amazing talk tonight. It's been just over 8 months since her son left the planet and I can't even begin to imagine what that is like. To lose your child. I was lucky enough to get to know him before he died, but it wasn't for long. I was scared to be friends with him (he'd already attempted suicide many times before) and knew I'd have to put boundaries in place to remain mentally healthy in the friendship ... but I also knew it was worth it. It was. He was worth it.
Loving someone who may not be able to give much back is a bit like loving a homeless person. You have to understand the context. You have to make a decision to love based on what really is, not how you wish it was. You don't stop and talk to a homeless person and then resent them for not inviting you to share their cardboard box. Many people are emotionally homeless - there's no point wondering why they can't communicate clearly or connect in the same way that you do. They might enjoy your company or tell you to fuck off, you really never know.
I knew Q could not be a friend to me in many of the ways a mentally stable person was - but I also felt a lot of kindness, interest and connection with him that seemed to transcend the usual conventions of friendship. It was like his soul was already known to mine. Hey, maybe that's co-dependence, but whatever, I don't regret it. He was funny, he loved music and he was deeply sad and extremely unwell. We don't get to be terribly easy as humans do we?
In this last week I've been misunderstood and it really stirred up a lot of sadness and grief for me. Fortunately I then had a friend take me out for dinner to Euro (we got oysters and they were so good that I could have cried) and he listened with such love and care. The next night another friend also took me out for dinner and he too explained what he thought had happened and that no matter how carefully I communicated it would probably not have landed well for someone who has to live a worthy life through an 'image'. He also gave me some great tips on how to prep someone if you're going to ask them a question (based on his experience in Toastmasters).
Instead of directly asking someone something like "do you like blue?" (which might blow their mind and then they hate you and never want to see you again because it's so full on) you have to go in easy ... like
1) "Hey, I have this question I want to ask you ...
2) "You don't have to answer this question straight away ...
3) "This might seem a little direct and I want you to know there is no anger or agression in my question, it really is just a question so that I know what you're into"
4) "The question is to do with blue
5) "You know how I like blue?
6) "I was wondering if you like blue?"
7) "As I said, you don't have to tell me straight away. If you can let me know in the next couple of days that would be good though.
8) "Thanks for listening to me ... I know you find questions quite confronting and I am not attacking you, I just really need to know whether you can handle it if I turn up wearing a blue jumpsuit the next time we hang out".
See? Some people need a bit of palaver.
I'm getting a little better with boundaries, a little stronger, a little more sure of who I am. I can trust myself. I can start putting myself out there again. So it begins. Again. And again. And again. Goddamnit, I now really want a blue jumpsuit.
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