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Day 676

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One of Saagar’s close friends, a young lady reminisces:

You laugh till you cry, squinting your tiger eyes
But tell us to hush when your parents call.
In your Dulwich voice you say, ”Be quite guys!”
And in your Indian voice you pick up, making us fall about with laughter, like when you do your godly pose or carry Seb around your waist, provoking hustle and bustle to get a good shot of you as you put on a show wearing a quite tight t-shirt to show off your muscles.

As the parties continue, drinks are going both ways (Who owes who drinks? I’ve lost track of the debt) whilst you start charming the ladies with your le francais and protect them from drunks proceeding to get with them. Then when all is nigh you third-wheel on a couch, never in bed, you can be found asleep on the floor, snoring like a silver spoon is clanking in your mouth, a noise that not even sleeping logs could ignore!

And when we wake and board the train I stare at your long toe-nails, forever on my mind. I beg you to cut them as you offer to share your pungent fish curry, which I have to decline. I am just glad you didn’t wear flip-flops that time we ate dinner at mine with my religious uncle and aunt(who you mistook for my grandma) and they both said that you wanted to marry me, me thinking “you can’t be serious” as it would have been like incest.

Plus our music tastes conflict (metal’s not my thing) but back on track now to mention that you give the best hugs and your previous girl-friends continue to sing your praises, more or less along the same lines…

Day675

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It was on the 21st of August two years ago that Saagar was officially diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder by an Honorary Consultant Psychiatrist. He was the only one in the family who was informed of it. I wonder how it made him feel. I wonder if he felt weird, confused, traumatised or all of the above. I wonder if it made him question who he was and what this means in terms of his future. I wonder what it did to his self-esteem and confidence. I bet it was scary. I am sure he looked it up on the net. He handled it very well. He made no big deal of it. He took his medicines, did not drink or go out too much, he waited patiently for the medicines to work and they did. He got better for a bit but then…

In 8 weeks time he will be dead. I didn’t know it then. I know it now and it kills me.

I bring myself back to this moment over and over again. Right now, I am chopping tomatoes. Right now, I am walking up the stairs. At this moment I am writing this blog. Right now I am folding towels. Right this moment I am watching the flickering flame of the candle in front of his picture. At present I am sitting here loving him with all my heart. At this present moment I am feeling sad for all the suffering he endured and I am admiring his dignity, strength and courage.

Right now I can see that this present moment is inevitable. It is here in front of me and all I can do is honour it.

Day 674

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Coming up to Saagar’s second anniversary in a couple of months, this piece of writing by another mother really touched my heart…

The Forest

When I first embarked on my grief path after my child took her life, I thought that it would be linear and each step would become easier until maybe one day I would walk out into the sunshine again. And in the first few months, I looked at others I met who were two or three years down the line and wondered why some of them seemed to be still stuck in what I thought were the early stages of their grief. How naïve of me!

I have come to realise that this grief journey is incredibly complicated and is more like being lost and stranded in a forest. To begin with everything was dark and foreboding; it felt like the forest would completely engulf me and at every twist and turn there would be branches catching at me and roots making me stumble and fall, and muddy, murky swamps wanting to drown me. I felt I was living in a horror movie at worst or a frightening children’s story book at best. After a while I was so determined not to let the forest take me over that I created a glade where I thought I would be safe from the shadows. I tried really hard to be positive and see some sense in my loss.

Now, coming up to three years on, at times the path can be straight and I think I know where it is going and there are more and more times when it passes through one of those sunlit glades and I can bask in the warmth and feel nothing can touch me. But I never know when the trees will close in and what monsters might be hiding behind them; and sometimes the path feels like it’s doubling back on itself and I have no idea where I’m going. But I have come to trust that I will always find a way through the tangled undergrowth eventually and walk with my eyes looking forward and upwards towards the light rather than into the darkness and despondency.

Along this path I have been so privileged to have met others who are walking the walk in their own way. Some sadly are completely engulfed by and lost in their forest and can barely put one foot in front of the other; and others seem like they know where they are going and walk strongly and steadfastly, sometimes wearing the cloak of invincibility to the outside world as a means of protection, but they too can stumble and fall and need a helping hand or a kind word.

But it is a difficult, painful and exhausting path however we travel it. And there is no right or wrong way to walk it and each person must find their own way through their forest. If you are one of the people I have met on this trail, I want you to know how much I respect your fortitude, courage and strength.

If you were there before I entered the forest and are still walking alongside me through the darkness and the light, I give you my love, my thanks and my heartfelt gratitude, particularly as I know many of you are finding your own way through your own heartache and grief.

And if you are reading this and know anyone who is stumbling through their own dark, tangled place then please reach out a hand to them and maybe catch them before they fall.

And to my beautiful child I want to say thank you for often showing me the way.

Love and light

Day 673

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stress

The stress vulnerability model was proposed by Zubin and Spring (1977). It proposes that an individual has unique biological, psychological and social elements. These elements include strengths and vulnerabilities for dealing with stress.

In the diagram above person “a” has a very low vulnerability and consequently can withstand a huge amount of stress, however solitary confinement may stress the person so much that they experience psychotic symptoms. This is seen as a “normal” reaction. Person “b” in the diagram has a higher vulnerability, due to genetic predisposition for example. Person “c” also has genetic loading but also suffered the loss of mother before the age of 11 and was traumatically abused. Therefore persons “a” and “b” take more stress to become “ill”.

This model is obviously simplistic. However it does help with the understanding of psychosis. Vulnerability is not a judgmental term but a different way to approach the variables involved. We all have a different capacity to take on stress depending on how vulnerable we are. At different times in our lives we can be anywhere on the curve, depending on these variables. 
Increasing coping skills or altering environmental factors (family, work, finance, housing etc.) and specialist help can reduce vulnerability and build resilience. Attending a peer group may help to build self-efficacy, self-esteem and self-acceptance all of which may be protective against relapse and form a buffer to demoralisation. It gives hope!

Day 672

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image

Scarlett Lewis is Jesse’s mother.  Jesse, her youngest son, six years of age was one of the twenty children murdered in the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre in Newtown, Connecticut. Brave Jesse helped save the lives of many of his classmates by encouraging them to run while he stayed behind to protect his teacher—both he and his beloved teacher were killed.

Before going to school, in what may have been a premonition of the day’s tragedy, six-year-old Jesse wrote on his home chalkboard, “Nurturing Healing Love.” Working through her grief in the midst of the emotional devastation felt by all of the parents who lost children, Scarlett embraced Jesse’s words and consciously chose a different way to manage her distress. While many parents vented their pain through anger, blame, and overwhelming grief, Scarlett went on an alternate path by deciding to consciously choose Love to come to terms with this heinous crime.

To send her message into the world, Scarlett founded the Jesse Lewis Choose Love Foundation (http://www.jesselewischooselove.org) whose stated mission is, “To create awareness in our children and our communities that we can choose love over anger, gratitude over entitlement, and forgiveness and compassion over bitterness.” The foundation’s goal is to help manifest a more peaceful and loving world. Scarlett’s efforts in advancing Love to resolve the world’s problems has become her path to healing.