Nobody's Fool

Letters you write but don't send

First blog of 2022. 

The 3rd anniversary of your funeral has been and gone. I was talking to a friend yesterday about this blog and I thought about the letter I'd written to Sz in December. I took hours to put it together and used the tool to read it aloud back to me. Even with the automated voice, it was kind, full of pain, set boundaries but I didn't, I couldn't send it. It might have been I just needed to write it, to express myself and actually tap in to feelings. Identifying my feelings has been a huge learning curve these last few months, thanks to Atlas of the heart by Brené Brown. I have to ask myself what would the letter have achieved... anxiety mostly. Do they deserve to know my vulnerability, how much they contributed to my misery? Would they care enough to lean in or would they attack? They did post up a FB status about sending people things and not expecting anything back, so I didn't send anything, like I'd usually do, I did of course say thank you via a private message. I'm not into the habit posting all over my social media and tagging people who give me things either. Voyeurism isn't necessary when you give proper thanks directly. I have seen that they've recently been out with K and are still good friends. If I'm honest, I no longer wish to try and rescue this so-called friendship. No ill is wished but also no interest.

No one really reads this blog (because I still rarely share it) but I feel I need to include it as it's relevant to the whole sorry saga. 

7th Letter - suddenly I see

Wham, here I am again, feeling the big feels and hyper emotional. I'd pick up the phone about now and call you but you know, what with you being dead and all, this is the only way. I often tell people to write it all down, so they can get it off their chest.. so here's me heeding my own advice.

I'm mid-depressive episode. It's taken a couple of days to realise this but it's from a culmination of factors that have all happened at once. I feel like crap. I feel very alone and unseen. I've even put on my 'black dog howls' playlist on Spotify and I'm not feeling better, as I usually would. I'm forced to face why I'm so upset and try and process and understand it. 

• A good friend of 8+ years had a right go at me on a fb post. It was completely unwarranted and I wasn't rude or aggressive to them in my reply. I even left it 2 days before replying fully, so I could step back from how angry I felt at being attacked. I was able to tag them in the reply, which was very calm and measured response. They blocked me. I am deeply upset by this. I am so easily thrown away, betrayed, unvalued... forgotten, over looked, invalid. Have I asked? Fuck no! I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't attack or diminish them. If they wanted to discuss any aspect of the matter, they wouldn't have deleted and blocked me. I guess I won't be going to visit them this summer after all.
• FB keeps banning me for stupid shit! I've just got a 30 day ban for offering to kidnap my BFF who was upset that an event we'd all looked forward to, had been cancelled. I can't appeal it, only bots run FB now and the ombudsman only look at a handful of appeal cases. I started to use my backup account and today they banned that too. They can track my other accounts (all different names and email addresses) but they can't see that my comment wasn't a threat. I am deeply upset by this. I haven't done anything wrong, I can't have my say, I am not believed, I don't feel valid or valued. This is a major CPSTD trigger for me and ordinarily, I'd find solace from my FB friends and feel good groups but I am denied this human interaction. To make it more infuriating, all the hate posts, groups and pages I report that have vile content on, aren't breaking their rules. Because of one ban, the bots now have my account on watch for certain phrases. I got a ban for saying I wanted to kick racists in to the sea ffs. 
• There's nothing I can do about it. I am powerless to defend myself. I am forced to try and process my big feels on this and why my CPTSD is triggered so badly... I had been doing so well! 
• I don't like my relationship with my son. It has become toxic and I react to that, I want to run away from it. It reminds me of the abusive relationship I had with his father, feeling trapped. Last week we had a big power cut, he shouted at me that it was my fault for moving to a stupid village away from all his friends. He accuses me of not listening to him, when he doesn't actually talk to me about anything. He's rude to me, disrespectful, lazy, doesn't include me - we have a toxic relationship. Like I said, I react to that behaviour and it's now become a cycle of conflict and I HATE THAT! The guilt I feel is off the chart and I can't discuss any of it with him. I try to give him the same loving advice I do to all my friends but he doesn't value me. He will listen to his best friend's parents, come back to me with some positive spin on things and I bang my head on the wall because it's exactly what I've been trying to say for years. I do not feel valid. I feel that I am failing to instil any life lessons or pass on wisdom to my only child. All that I've done to protect him, to raise him to be a decent person, to feel worthy... and I've failed. He doesn't see me as someone to turn to. I feel so distant from him now, that I don't know how to comfort him, he's never been a hugging child, I'd have loved that and I tried to encourage it.. yet it's others he hugs, seeks comfort from. I'm glad he has that love elsewhere but it's a knife in my heart that I am not sought for it. I see my other friends with their grown up kids, they are so close, so empowering of each other and then I look at mine and my son and I feel like I failed. I did everything to protect him (or so I thought) and yet it still wasn't enough. 
• Conflict is rife, I'm having to fight and defend. My integrity has been challenged and rising above it is difficult because I revert to my defence mechanisms. 
• I want to run away. I want comfort. I am starved of intimacy. 

This episode comes at a time when I was on top form, feeling good about myself and actively improving my quality of worth. I'm listening to Waterboys Fisherman's blues and I feel NOTHING! I guess this really hits home how bad I feel at the moment! So what to do? The same that I have always done, overthink everything, withdraw and get on with it, alone.  However, that doesn't mean I won't 'do the work' to process and move forwards. CPTSD is a sneaky one. I'm heading to my craft room to listen to Brene Brown podcasts and do some artwork. I'll be fine. 

On cue, your song 'suddenly I see' comes on the playlist (it was played at your funeral). I knew you'd be listening. Thank you. Gods I miss you! 

All my love always

Niamh x

6th Letter - Letting go...

Dearest Florence

That was a great roadtrip we went on last week. I hope you like your new home, I did hear you when you said to leave you there. It was hard to but I know you'll be well looked after there. What a great place that was! 

________________________________________________________

I wrote that back in September 2020, it's March now, International Women's day to be exact... on this day two years ago, I discovered that you'd died two weeks ago. Two fucking years! So much happened in a short time, that I can't help but reflect on wtf happened. I've read this blog several times, each time feeling a bit further along the grief trail. I sit here now wanting to shout out how I feel but can't because it will fuck things up again... then I think, why should I censor myself because other's noses will be put out of joint? I didn't do anything wrong, that has been long established but they think I did. No amount of swearing on my life will make them believe that, so why bother trying to justify myself to those people. They are people I thought highly of but revealed themselves to be less than friends. Friends do not do that to a friend. So to recap, you died and then four so-called close friends dumped me the same week we found out. All of it was based on manipulation and lies - I had done nothing wrong. I was left to grieve without my circle of friends, I was attacked and defamed. 
With the FB memories popping up, I can see where I changed my profile pic to one of me and you and P commented and I wasn't allowed to tell her, I had to hide it from your really close friends. It makes me feel sick that one person tried to control who grieved for you, who was allowed to know 'they weren't even her friend'. How I was shunned at the funeral. Excluded from their wake. And for what? I want to shout it out and expose it for what it is but what's the fucking point? It won't bring you back and it won't undo what was done. I have to let it go. To a degree I had, after the trip to the Orkneys, I felt at peace for ages... then up pops these memories and the anger returns. Anger is valid, I wasn't permitted to mourn you. How is it so easy for people to believe the worse in me, when it was me they'd always turned to for help? That is some powerful glamour, one that isn't worth my energy fighting anymore. Those who count, know now what happened. Florence knows, she hasn't really left me. Back to the trip.... 

__________________________________________________________

I had always wanted to go to the Orkneys, it was a pilgrimage of sorts. I had no plan, other than to visit some sites on the way up that my sister hadn't seen before and be on Orkney for Mabon. Mabon is always the time of change for me. Weather was good. Every site we visited, I took a pic of you there. Orkney was as magical as I imagined and the hostel we stayed at was a place you'd have absolutely loved, plus the owner was crackers, like you. He had this great art room and I asked if I could leave you there, he was thrilled to give you pride of place on the shelf. I left a piece of my heart there, I left you there. That was me letting you go. You're still with me, I feel you around me more than ever... it was akin to scattering your ashes. 

eyesight test

Little Meg and her moonions

Long Meg & her sisters

Castlerigg

Ferry to Orkney

Standing stones of Stenness

The ring of Brodgar

Scarpa Flow

Home

I will be back to visit you again soon. This part of the world holds my heart.

x Love Always x

Niamh 

5th Letter. Few and far between.

27 June 2020

Dear Florence

It's been 16 weeks since my last confession. Much has happened in this time! For starters, the world collapsed from a corona virus pandemic. People had to stay home, isolate, the economy crashed and a lot of people got ill and many thousands died. It bought the absolute worst out in people and also the best. I am already fairly recluse, so I adapted to the lock down reasonably well. I researched natural remedies in the event that medicines became scarce and I boosted my immune system with lots of good stuff. I also started a food diary and had 5 targets a day to stick too and it's been 75 days now of doing that.. so quite impressive for me. I've lost weight and not had a drink for 75 days, a lot of others are  now bigger and got proper drinking problems. I wanted to make use of the time and improve myself. Did I succeed? Hmm, that's a tough question. I'm definitely more hydrated lol. 

As time went on, I started to feel less positive about my future. Will I always be on my own? Why haven't I found that 'one' yet? Will I die in isolation having not discovered my true potential... alone? I thought about you. A lot! How would you have handled this.. you were already isolated, other than work and family. I've certainly had a lot of dead time, to think about many things. I've watched videos on how to process these feelings and understand them, I think I have started to deal with it better. I do have bad days but these are few and far between.

I'm on spotify listening to your namesake... bliss, her voice is beautiful and full of pain. It's why we both loved her so much. It's impossible not to throw your arms wide and sing along.. such joy. It made me realise that I'd not written to you for a long time. I had thought about doing so but I didn't 'need' too, so didn't. I haven't stopped missing you. I think about what you'd be doing now, if you were still here. I was singing your songs in the shower earlier but didn't realise I was.. I'm sure you're around me at the moment, I'd really love to see a medium and hear what you want to say. Feels like I should be giving you a call.. then I remember that I can't. The regret kicks in... self doubt, guilt, loss.

Right now, I'm doing okay. Grief is a little bit lighter. Every now and then it drops on me like Zorcovia. No superheroes on standby though, just me, myself and I. I had been really angry at the lack of loyalty from some friends, how easily I was discarded by others, how those involved were absolved of what they did to me but I'm still the bad guy. I heard the other day that it had been suggested that I wasn't even really your friend. That's really stooping low. I explained to someone that I didn't just lose you when you died but also L, K and S. My support group vanished. I was left to deal with all that shit on my own with added shit for stuff I'd not done. I get that people were grieving but why wasn't I allowed to? Why did they think they could do that to me? Instead of grieving together, I was excluded from that too.  I kept trying to extend the olive branch and it's not accepted... which leads me to the realisation that I was more their friend, then they were mine. That hurts as much, to be honest. Really cuts to the quick. People ask why I'm angry... I think I'm allowed to be angry. It's a valid emotion, more so because it's raw. 

I wish people could read these letters. I think they are too much for most people to understand or want to engage. I wish I was brave enough to tell the world how I felt about all this shit. I have been more brave lately... fear is a bitch though. It's all very well having self esteem issues, it's another when you know they are only echoes of what people have actually said/done to you. Maybe I'll share them publicly... but then I'm afraid of what people will think of me. I'm more afraid of their silence. I need to LET GO.. in so many ways.. why is it so damned hard?

My dearest Florence, I miss your everything. Please help me.

x Niamh x

4th letter - Groovy kinda love

Dearerst Florence

I went to a gig last Saturday and I fairly sure you were with me... going on the daftness, I'm certain of it! I had intended to go on Friday but by the time I'd got in, it was gone 7pm and I was pooped. So I left early on Saturday in time to get there for the first band. I wore my usual getup but did a lil video for a competition I'd entered. I was in minx mode hahahaha.

I get there and it's hugs galore and warm hellos. I crack open the rum and proceed to mingle. I danced to the Fisherman's blues and Rose tattoo covers and didn't cry. I had a great time. Even when K turned up and sat near me, she didn't exist in my bubble and I didn't let it bother me. I had a good chat about you to those who'd been close to you and to whom I'd not been able to talk to this last year because I'd not been out. I felt supported and loved. Had a great time. I drank a lot of pirate juice, I lost my skirt. True story, couldn't find it. Granted I'd had 7 pints at this point but I didn't even feel tipsy. I spent a good ten minutes in the toilet, trying to find the skirt, convinced it couldn't have just fallen off (it was a tube one under a floaty dress). Lifted my dress up, nope, no skirt. Pulled down tights, nope, not there. Where the fuck is my fucking skirt???!!! So I thought, I'd have a look on the dancefloor for it, still utterly convinced it couldn't have slipped off without me falling over it. People asked me what I was doing, so I told them.. because it was funny. I was chatting to S and re-enacted the search and what do you think happened? That's correct, I found the skirt! It was rolled up under the band of my tights ffs! So embarrassing but so funny. It was totally something you'd do.

Talking of S, he was telling me about how you two used to message each other all the time. He was sad that he'd lost those messages because your FB was deactivated. I showed him how he could find them and he was showing me the messages and laughing, had tears in his eyes though. He misses you. We all do Florence. M was in tears, seeing a man cry always gets me in the feels.

It was an honest outing. I only talked about you to a couple of people, those who wanted to talk, like P, she's still devastated. I didn't realise how close you two were, until I put that memorial video together. I said that to her, she was your friend before you and I even met. You meant so much, to so many people.

I've been sharing my writing with a select few people. It's very difficult to expose my vulnerability but as Brene Brown says, 'dare to be brave'. Writing to you, is my grief diary, it's how I process my feelings and how I grow stronger. I'm reminded (by you in my head) that you were a pants friend too. You rarely answered the phone, your house phone was unplugged and the answer machine full up. You were hard to get hold of because you threw yourself into work and seeing family... which is fair enough. I'm beating myself up for not being there but you weren't either. I suppose this is the next stage of grief. As I told a friend on Saturday, grief is a form of depression... I was right about him too. I'd messaged him because I was worried about him and I was right, he was on the verge of doing something fatal. We had a chat about it. I hope he turns the corner on this. Please watch over him, I think you already are, I think you're the one who alerted me to it.. to a lot of things lately.  I'm hoping to see a clairvoyant in the next few months, a proper one. I have heard that you've come through for another friend......... I really want to hear from you via another's lips. I need closure on this. I need to forgive myself but not sure I can fully til I hear it said by you via another. We'll see.

I'm going out for afternoon tea next week. A lady from choir has arranged it for my birthday. I've no other plans but you know, my birthday plans always sucked anyway lol. The card you made me, still sits on my fireplace...

Much love as always

Niamh the rum drenched pirate

Third letter - One year on

Dear Florence

You have been dead for one year. I created a remembrance event on the womble group for us to share stories etc. The day went well. I was wired before bed and wrote a song, the tune has vanished from my head now but I think it will pop back another day. People messaged me to see if I was okay and I was strangely okay. Someone put a recording of B doing that song you loved. I cried then.. it was so wonderful, you'd have loved it. I ended up using it for a picture slideshow.. which ended up with other songs on and lasted over 13 minutes long. Of course Rose Tattoo and This Garden were on it!

I've been writing this letter to you in my head, all week. I was going to write one last week but I slept on it, as you'd always tell me. It is still weird that I can't just message you or call you. I miss your pocket calls lol. I haven't deleted your number off my phone. I can't.

There was a gig for you today. I wouldn't have gone but then again, it was made painfully clear that I wasn't invited. I'm sure it was a great success, I wouldn't wish it to be anything but. However, after nearly a year of being frozen out, I finally admitted to myself that some friends, hadn't been friends for a long time. So I've deleted L now. Memories on FB were of me and her four years ago, calling me wifey and bestie... what happened to that? It can't be because I told 6 people you'd died... I remember the good times and I recall all that I did to help her through the dark days. I don't begrudge those times, it is what it is. I'm sure my ears are burning for something lol. I tried to reach out to another this week. Had a very honest chat in messenger about last year and I'm hoping that we can move forwards with being friends again.

Oh Florence! Last week I wanted the ground to swallow me up, I was mortified. I wrote something on my wall instead of the private group... and I didn't realise for twelve hours! Proper Home Alone moment. That was the beauty of the group, you could have a rarrrrr without upsetting people. I really hope I haven't upset anyone. I was angry and still being called a liar and not being able to even discuss the accusations made against me. Why is it everyone phones me when they've been drinking? L and K did it consistently. In fact the night you died, I was on my way back from Steely Dan and K rang me. She was on the phone for nearly two hours and cannot remember one thing about it. They all forget that, me being the one who answered their calls at 2am, them falling to pieces, drunk and needing a friend to talk too. Anyway, I posted lots of memes on my wall and asked my long term friends to vouch for my integrity and character. I was blown away by their honesty. I did it to show those who said I lied about telling people you'd died, that I am an honest person and if that's what I said happened, then that's damn well what happened. I hope people took screenshots and showed those two, I really do. That's where I posted comments, instead of the group. One of which was about this blog... you can't lie to the dead, they know if you're full of shit. And that's what this is, it's a brutally honest, raw outpouring of feelings. My feelings as I try to process this grief. MY grief, which has been ignored by some and hijacked by others. It's mine, I don't impose it on anyone. Well I hope I don't! Fuck, I really hope I don't. The memorial group isn't about me, it's about you. If it was about me, I'd have removed those pernicious bitches... but they are grieving too. I loved them once, I don't wish them any ills.. although I am prone to having a good bitch about it. I don't want to do that anymore, I don't want to be that person... it was too easy to get caught up with their spite and I'm embarrassed that I did for so long. I gotta move forwards. I wonder what you'd say to all this.. I think you'd be really cross, it wouldn't be the first time. Why did I listen to them!?

I decided to read our old messages yesterday. Four years of silly nonsense, made me laugh and then cry. I took some screenshots, because Facebook will archive them at some point and I didn't want to lose them. It reminded me that we were like two peas in a pod. I hadn't imagined it all. It also made me utterly sad that I had been such a shit friend at the end of your life. The guilt is still awful. Making the tribute video for you, made me happy seeing all those people dancing with you and smiling, full of smiles at just being with you. I miss you so much. I'm sorry I was so crap at the end. I regret that more than I can bare. You'd tell me not to be silly, that you wouldn't think that at all. But I do, Florence, I do. I let them sway my opinion. I was so angry that you'd tried to kill yourself, we all were.. and I let that get in the way of not being your friend. I don't think I will ever forgive myself. I will regret that for all my days.

I gotta go to bed, it's gone 2am. Come and visit me in my dreams Florence. Come and tell me it's alright, that you're alright, that I am forgiven and there's nothing to forgive. I already know all of that but I won't allow or accept that at this time.

I must end on a happy note! My clairvoyance is really kicking in this last year, I'm picking up signals off friends in distress who need healing. I shelved it when I was in my 20's and I think I'm now ready to accept those gifts. I keep seeing Ozzy, destroys me.  I'm also become very musical lately! I picked up the penny whistle that I bought in 2006 and finally played it. Then picked up the recorder I've had since I was 5, and played it well. I've remembered how to read music. I've even gone on ebay and bought a treble and tenor recorders. I'm thinking that the breath control will help with my voice.. which is sounding really good lately! These last 3 years have been about finding my Voice and as I'm working on the 'letting go' lesson, I hope I can really let go and let rip with my voice.. cos it's range is more than when we were singing Madonna in your front room that time. I have so many happy memories of our time together... I must remember those and not your death. I have to practice what I preach... and you know that, we talked about it at great length, many times. Remember how they lived, not how they died... I don't know how you died though Florence. A head injury and 'we think it was suicide' isn't answers... but that's by the by, you're gone. No more pocket calls. No more silly messages. No more manic posting. No charity shop mooching. No more Florence, my partner in crime, my kindred spirit, my friend.

All my love

Niamh

Glass Goodbyes

Glass Goodbyes

A suicide bought us together

Oh how we all raised The Glass

We sang and danced at the front

Until you too did pass

It was a rainy Thursday they said

Some time in early spring

When you decided to leave us

Only no one knew a thing!

You're not here anymore

You're not at the front of the show

You're not dancing around, arms raised

You left and we didn't know

How could you leave us like that?

How can you just end?

It's not sunk in, that you're really gone

It feels like it's all pretend

It was a Thursday, that's what they said

How can you just end?!

Now we remember the way you left

And forget the way you lived

A year has gone by but it feels like yesterday

Since you upped and went away

And maybe one day, I'll let it go

But it won't be today

Niamh 21/2/20

When words rattle around your head and won't let you rest, you have to write them down. The first two verses were written a week earlier, the rest wrote themselves as a song. I was cleaning my teeth and getting ready for bed and they took 10 minute and there was music behind the words as I wrote them out. Maybe it will be a song... it seems that's where my writing is taking me.