Sunday 14 September 2014

Empty Nest Syndrome - the journey continues

12th and 13th September 2014 Empty Nest syndrome Friday Today is the day that my youngest flies the nest and starts his new university life in Bristol. My nest is now three quarters empty, only my daughter remains. I am excited for him, proud and also anxious. He has spent the whole summer out of the house in parties, pubs, clubs, festivals and caravans saying goodbye to friends, we have joked that three months is one hell of a goodbye. When I first left home to study nursing my parents must have felt the same mixture of emotions. My Dad drove up to Cardiff with my mother in the passenger seat and me and all my teenage paraphernalia in the back of the car. We pulled up outside this imposing old Victorian Hospital the wind and rain lashing against the windows (it was akin to the beginning of the Rocky Horror Show) dark and gloomy. As we unloaded the car and rushed in to the main hall like refugees from the Titanic, various patients milled about wearing hospital regulation clothes, one curiously approached us blocking our way, “Got a fag, got a fag for me Sir?” he said to my father, it was like a scene from a Dickens novel, my father looked taken aback and I heard him whisper to my mother “We can’t leave her here” I ignored this, collected the keys and took directions to the Nursing accommodation from the porter at reception. Trudging up the long corridors laden with my belongings we met other patients on the way, each one stopped my Dad (he must have had a sign on his head) each one asked him for a “fag” by the time we reached the entrance to the Nurses home he was a bag of nerves and minus 10 cigarettes. The Nursing homes were above the canteen, there was no one around, it was like a ghost town which only added to my parents unease. My mother this time. “We can’t leave her here” We found my room and unloaded my possessions. I could tell they didn’t want to go. My father started up “Are you sure you’ll be Ok, you don’t have to stay here you know?” I reassured them even though I was quaking in my boots. Hugs and kisses and then they left. My mother reported later that my father did not speak a word all the way back home apart from the immortal line “I have just left my daughter in a lunatic asylum” I laughed at this as it sounds as though my Father had committed me to a Mental Hospital Dad clearly did not see that episode as the start of my bright new future. It was all very different for my youngest son, no drama, the most tricky part was negotiating the network of roads to get into the student accommodation in Frenchay Campus. Five minutes to unload, up in the lift, quick look at the room, bye bye Mum and Dad. Finally a text four hours later to say “I’m unpacked, and I’m fine” When you’re in active addiction you don’t realise that not only have you been absent from your own life but you have also been absent from the lives of everyone else too, including your children. That for me was a hard lesson to learn as addicts by nature spend their time minimizing or laughing off the damage they do to others or in certain circumstances blaming them. We can’t change that fact that we have effected them, but we can resolve not to start the whole cycle rolling again in choosing not to partake in harmful behaviors, hopefully changing in to positive role models for our children with a powerful message of how not to manage your life. I never want to hear the words “Mum, you’re a horrible drunk” or the looks of hurt on my children’s faces when confronted by my antics ever again. It’s just not worth it. Moving swiftly onwards: It is my first whole day without the band, it feels so strange to be eating like everyone else again. The other half and I went for tea in The pot on Crwys Road it has the number one rating on trip advisor and I had wanted to try it for ages. I sat down and ate a sandwich (unthinkable yesterday) and I stayed at the table for the whole snack! Later on in the evening I had steak, a big juicy medium rare one that I had craved for four years and it was bloody great! Saturday 13th September I went to Living Rooms Saturday group this morning, this was followed by the first week of our creative writing project. It was a very enjoyable session, the group all had lunch together before the session and I didn’t feel self-conscious of eating with others or need to leave the table to partake in my usual regurgitation ritual. It feels odd and I’m still very aware of what I’m eating the tendency is still to go for foods that I know would “beat the band” but that’s habit and I know that will leave me. The creative writing session was really good, relaxed, fun, something to get your teeth in to and helpfully guided. We had to do several small exercises, there was no pressure, we could share as much or as little of our writing as we felt comfortable with in a safe environment. We all benefited from each other’s experiences and gave positive feedback and reactions to the individual work and pieces of work by others, given to the group to discus and dissect what message the piece gave to them. There are no rights or wrongs and your own writing is designed to express your thoughts feelings and reflections on paper with sometimes surprising results. You gain so much by listening to the accounts from other group members and this encourages you to participate yourself. I can’t wait for next week’s session and the lovely Sharon was a great facilitator. My eating has increased but this could be the novelty value (hey, I can eat normally again) and the typical addict head of “I shall ram as much down my neck as I can now before the 21st” like Custards last stand, you’ll never take me alive! This was a self-fulfilling prophecy, I told myself it would happen and it has. The difference being there is an end in sight and a plan of action to be formulated that I will follow come hell or high water. Only I can do this (with help) and only I will continue to be controlled by something external from me if I don’t honestly participate and throw myself fully in to this recovery plan. That said we ended up in the Fino Lounge in Whitchurch where I ordered tapas and followed it off with Red Velvet cake. I have one week to go before recovery begins, (this has to happen or or I’m going to end up the size of a bungalow) Julie

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