So this is how I remember it.

A year and 10 days ago I woke at 5am feeling fine.. at 5.30 it felt like I had been hit in the back of my head with a cricket bat. I spent until 2pm lying in bed clutching my head in agony unable to keep pain killers down and being sick. I asked myself if this was what it felt like to have a stroke and even did the FAST tests.. At 2pm I finally kept pain killers down and at 3.30 I drove to work to pick up my laptop so I could do some work from home, I was told by my colleagues I looked rough. I had spent the day with the worst headache I have ever experienced. The headache lasted all weekend, but was subdued a little with copious amounts of pain killers, how I didn’t OD I don’t know. Monday I went to work. Called the NHS helpline as told them my symptoms, the nurse I was finally put through to said it was just a migraine. Tuesday I got an appointment with a paramedic practitioner at my docs. He said it was probably just a migraine.

Friday I drove up North to Cleckheaton with my son. My head was feeling a little better and the drive although long was bearable. The only real headache was my Son, he gets bored after 20 mins in the car! I dropped my son off at the site of the music festival we were helping at and I drove to Beverley to see my friend. As I was pulling my bag out of the car, bam! Cricket bat to the back of the head again. I remember clinging on to the side of the car and praying not to fall over, getting my bag out and walking into my friends garden. I spent the next few hours at her kitchen table feeling so sick and again the worst headache ever experienced. Despite her and her partners suggestions I should eat something and go to hospital I refused and went to bed (too stubborn for my own good). I spent the night being sick and lying in agony in the bed.

On the Saturday afternoon I finally forced myself out of bed and as I had paid for a room in a spa hotel in Cleck I was defiantly going to use it. I drove the hour or so to Cleck and checked in feeling so sick. I crawled into the most uncomfortable bed ever and spent my stay being sick, and sleeping. I managed to keep a cup of tea down. I even ran myself a shower hoping the water on my head would help ease the pain. It didn’t, all I achieved was not having the strength to turn the hot tap off and setting off the alarms with the steam.

The next thing I knew I had a call on my room phone and it was my friends and my son asking to come up and see me as they had not been able to get hold of me and were worried. They called an ambulance and I was asking how the music festival was going to be told it was over, it was the next day and they were packing it all down. I had lost 24 hours and it wasn’t alcohol induced! The ambulance arrived and I was wheeled out of the hotel with my wild bed hair and not looking the best advert for a newly refurbished spa hotel.

I was taken to Dewsbury Hospital where it was confirmed I had had a Subarachnoid Haemorrhage (SAH). They blue lighted me to Leeds. My parents who were up north at the time arrived after my son (via my sisters in Spain) had got hold of them and were a constant though my stay in HDU. Mum feeding me soup.. blleeuggh and Dad being my door gnome sitting at the door on a broken chair.

Early the next day (a year ago today) I had brain surgery and had 2 platinum coils fitted in my brain. I spent the next 5 or 6 days in HDU and was then transferred to the ward. I spent 2 weeks in Leeds and then was under house arrest in Dorset at my parents for 3 weeks (they provide the best aftercare, very strange having my Dad telling me to eat and to sleep!).

The first 3  months after my SAHs I spent a lot of time angry, very angry and wishing I had died, it would have been easier. My life was on hold. On one hand I wanted to go out but on the other I just wanted to wallow and be alone. Leaving the house I was restrained by the lack of driving license, the buses made me feel sick, taxis were just plain expensive. My balance was off, I could physically only manage to walk 5 minutes before becoming wobbly and exhausted. Oh and the headaches, I think I’ve kept the painkiller industry in business.

In the year since I have tried to keep positive, I have joked about it, those who have spent time with me know my “I have brain damage don’t you know” moments. I have tried to embrace life more and try new things. I’ve worked around my headaches and bouts of exhaustion.

Until a couple of weeks ago I was loving life. New friends, new experiences, new look. I had lost 10 stone and for the first time in many many years I was feeling quite good about myself. I still have lots of self doubt, doubt in my ability to do things I have always done, doubt in the new things I am trying, doubt in me in general. I over analysis things, over think them. I can’t fully relax and let the ‘real’ me out most of the time. I put up a wall and don’t let many people in. If I have kept/let you in my circle you are either lucky or should make a run for it while you can.

But then the 1 year anniversary of my first blip came about. It has been like a switch has gone off in my head and I don’t know how to deal with it. I feel so confused and angry about it. I can go from happy go lucky one minute to sad and depressed the next. I have had a couple of what I can only describe as anxiety/panic attacks. They exhaust me. Last night mid dance it was like a big black cloud came and knocked me off kilter, (apologies to my dance partner for being useless). I get teary at the drop of a hat. I want to rage against nothing. I try and keep the front up and smile and laugh, but I often just want to crawl away.

So if I seem out of sorts towards you or if I am with you, trust me it’s not you it’s me (unless you are one of the people who I have not seen hide nor hair of in the last year, then you’re probably are dead to me). I can only apologise now and promise the old/new Beth will be back just as soon as I have worked out what I need to do.

Over the last year I have had support from some amazing people who I am so pleased are in my life. I thank you all. Just a text, a call or a note asking how I am has made all the difference and made me feel loved.

Thanks for reading this far and if you have I just want to tell you to cherish life, and those who are there for you when you need them. One event can change your life forever, we don’t know for sure where we will be tomorrow just where we hope we will be. Don’t judge someone for how they are in a moment, it might not be their true self. You have to be fearless and take chances. Live life to the fullest and embrace new things and new people. Dont underestimate the power of a hug.. most importantly remember to Love.

B xx

 

Beetroot Risotto

I had quite a lot of raw beets in my fridge since Tuesday, and after lots of deliberation I opted to go the risotto route.
You can use raw or cooked beets. If you are using cooked make sure you use ones that aren’t pickled or in any form of juice. If you can use raw then please do. they are so tasty and all those nutrients will get sucked up by the rice. After all isn’t the the beetroot of of these new “superfoods”

Ingredient

550g raw beetroot (once peeled about 460g)
5g butter
3 shallots (or medium onion)
2 garlic cloves
small glass white wine (optional)
1ltr Veg Stock
50g grated mozzarella
couple of handfuls of spinach
Thyme

1. Finely dice the shallots/onion and garlic.

2. Now dice the beetroot into small cubes. If you are using raw beetroot, you will need to peel them first. Some might wear gloves to do this as they don’t want stained fingers. However, if you are like me and you are never that organised to have gloves in the kitchen to use for this sort of thing you need to be a bit more careful. SO, if you hold the beetroot by the root you can peel them quiet easily with a peeler and get very little juice on your fingers. Then still holding the root you can slice the beetroot into rings and then slice into small cubes.

3. Heat a large non stick frying pan and add the butter, onions and garlic. Cook until the onions start to go clear.

4. Add the rice and stir in to the onions, after a few minutes it too will start to go a little opaque. add the white wine if you are using it, if not add a ladle of the stock. Cook for a couple of minutes.
5. Add the beetroot. You will see that straight away the beetroot juice will bleed into the rice as you stir it in. Also add the thyme leaves. 6. Pour in a some of the stock, just enough to cover the rice. Stir and let it simmer until the stock is absorbed into the rice, then gradually add more stock.
Keep doing this until the rice is cooked. As it cooks you will see the rice take on a deeper red colour. It is so pretty, pity it hasn’t come out very well on my phone camera, so you will have to cook it yourself to experience the lovely colour for yourself. Don’t let it dry out, it is meant to be a little “sloppy”, but be careful you don’t give it too much stock and it becomes a soup!

You want the rice to retain its shape and texture, not to just be sloppy and over cooked so make sure you keep an eye on it. Depending on how small you have diced the beetroot it will either be soft or still have a little bit of crunch. Either way it is lush!

7. This time I have used some cheese. Mozzarella has about 100cals less than Parmesan per 100g. Adding 50g to the risotto adds about 31 calories per person. I will go all stringy as you stir it in but will soon melt into the risotto. Add the spinach stir in and let the heat wilt it.

So, there you have it, a lovely ruby red, tasty filling risotto. Serving it up to 4 people gives you 346 calories per portion. It is less than 5% fat.

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Squash and Green Lentil Soup

I know I have done a squash soup before but this one is different. Just as yummy and perfect for those cold winter evenings. Supper healthy and ubber low in fat and calories. The the fennel seeds add a subtle aniseed twist which compliments the taste of the squash. It’s not a delicate soup but a thick homely bowl of goodness.

Ingredients
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
2 dried chillies
1 tbls ground fennel seeds
1 medium squash
180g green lentils
Oil spray

1. Finely chop the dried chillies, onion and garlic. I use whole fennel seeds and grind them in my pestle as I love the aniseed smell that you get. But the ready ground stuff is ok.

2. Spray a large pan with oil add the garlic, chillies, onions and fennel seeds. Cook them off.

3. Peel and deseed the squash. You can use any squash and on this occasion I used a very small butternut squash and a small green kabacha squash that I had in my fridge and needed using. Once peeled cut it into small chunks.

4. Add the squash and lentils to the pan. Stir in and heat through. For a minute or two.

5. Pour water over until it just covers the squash and lentils. Simmer on a medium heat for about 40 minutes until the squash and lentils are soft and cooked.

6. Take a potato masher and gently mash the squash so it breaks down a little.

7. Season with some salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Enjoy! It’s thick, hot, very filling and very tasty.
It makes about 6 servings, depending on the size of squash you use. It works out at around 100 calories for a decent serving.

As before, give it a go and let me know what you think.

Pumpkin, Spinach and Chestnut Risotto

Soooo not done a recipe in ages. This is one of my favourite meals. It is dead easy to make but tastes delicious! You can use any kind of pumpkin/squash. I would normally use butternut squash but I had a small pumpkin sitting in my fridge needing to be used so that was used this time.
As you will see from the pics this isn’t a nice delicate risotto that you get in a resturant, its one full of flavour and lots of veg! You could use more rice and make it stretch further if you like.

There is loads of goodness in this, lots of vitamins in the squash, lots of iron in the spinach and those chestnuts (the lowest calorie nut) are a good source of fibre.

Ingredients:
500g squash/pumpkin
1 medium onion
140g arborio rice
2 handfuls fresh spinach
5g butter
1l Vegetable Stock (you might not need it all)
200g whole cooked peeled chestnuts (I use the Merchant Gourmet Whole Chestnuts in the packet)
Some chopped parsley
100g Pancetta cubes (optional) (the ones you buy in a double packet in Sainburys or Tescos or all supermarkets!)

1. Finely dice the onion. Peel, de-seed and cut the pumpkin into small chunks (1cm or less.. don’t forget it needs to cook in the time it takes to cook the rice). Roughly chop up the chestnuts into large chunks.

2. Quickly fry off the pancetta until crispy and a lot of the fat has cooked out of it. . Remove from the pan and drain on kitchen towel to get rid of as much fat as possible. Put in a bowl and leave to one side.

3. In a clean non-stick pan melt the butter and lightly cook off the onion until it goes clear. Use butter, a little tiny amount like this is not going to be a major thing and it tastes so much better than that horrible processed chemical rubbish that is margarine or low fat spread.

4. Add the rice and stir in to the onions, after a few minutes it too will start to go a little opaque. Add the cubbed pumpkin, stir in and let it cook for a couple of minutes.

5. Now comes the boring part. Pour in a some of the stock.. just enough to cover the rice. Stir and let it simmer until the stock is absorbed into the rice, then gradually add more stock. Keep doing this until the rice is cooked. It won’t be dry, it is meant to be a little “sloppy”, but be careful you don’t give it too much stock and it becomes a soup! You want the rice to retain its shape and texture, not to just be sloppy and over cooked.

6. Before you add the last bit of stock, throw in the chestnuts and the chopped parsley (I use the frozen stuff. Its already chopped and is a bit fresher and nicer flavour than the dried stuff). Stir, when you are happy the rice and pumpkin is cooked remove from the heat.

7. Add the spinach stir in and let the heat wilt it.

8. Dish up, scatter the crunchy pancetta over the top and serve.
If you have cooked or eaten risotto before you will have realised I have missed the cheese, Italian or other. This was intentional. The main reason being I am on a diet. Parmesan cheese and other hard cheeses are rather high in fat content. I guess If you really felt the need for it you could grate in some low fat cheese, if you are watching your weight, or some lovely full fat Parmigiano Reggiano if you’re not!

By scattering the pancetta over the top you get that little salty taste that you would have got from the cheese. To be honest it is not imperative that you have it but, the pancetta just adds a little crunchy texture to the softness of the rest of the dish.

So according to myfitnesspal.com there is 377 calories in a serving. I would say there was a little less as you got rid off a lot of the fat from the pancetta at the beginning. It is also less than 5% fat (only fat in it comes from the small amount of butter and the pancetta you used.

Anyway give it a go and as I have said before let me know what you think!

Buon appetito!!

Getting My Mojo Back

After 3/4 months of hell at home I have been feeling all a bit crap. I would say I almost came completely off track and almost gave up. The gym (well all exercise) came to a stop, well at least a slow limp, for a little while as when problems with my son really kicked off I took my frustrations out at the gym and gave myself a groin injury which hurt and niggled for quite a few weeks, in the end the only thing I could do was to rest. During this time I also, for the first time since my early 20’s brought and wore some heels for work. These gave me a problem with the arch on my left foot, which combined with the pain in my groin (mainly on the right) caused me to have a very strange walk with a lot of discomfort and made me feel very sorry for myself for quite a few weeks. After that I had just got out of practice and would rather be out with a friend or sitting at home watching tv because I was too exhausted both physically and mentally to deal with walking into town let alone going to a Zumba class or heading to the gym.

Food wise, over the last few months with everything going on at home I was quite proud of the fact that I had not reverted back to all my bad habits. But I had noticed that I had slipped quite a bit more over the last month or so. I had managed not to binge on packets of crisps, my biggest and main downfall of the past. I would be lying if I said I had not had any, but instead of a 6 pack in less than 12 hours I had had one packet (and no not one of those sharing packets) in a week. Over the last month or so I have slipped quite a bit and have enjoyed a shared a plate of nachos with lots of lovely chilli beef, guacamole, sour cream and melted cheese on top with a friend on more than one occasion. I am most definitely a comfort eater. I craved nuts, salted nuts, plain nuts, mixed nuts and raisins. In fact I ate a lot of nuts. Perhaps I was turning into one in more ways than one. I ate out quite a lot, as I wasn’t wanting to go home. I also seemed to have for some reason become rather fond of a scotch egg which I would buy from a local farm shop that was made with rare breed pork and a goose egg. I have never been a fan of scotch eggs but those have been a delicious, yet unhealthy treat on more than one occasion. I haven’t binged on chocolate, I have never really been a big chocolate eater with my favourite food type being the savoury kind.

But when last Wednesday, I was flicking through photos on my phone and I came across a photo I had forgotten about that I had taken on the 1st January this year. Right at the start of my journey. For the first time I could see the difference between then and now. I could see how much bigger I was. (It was my reflection in the patio doors by the way because I couldn’t figure out a different way of doing it, and as I was still being quiet about doing it I could not ask someone to take the pic!).

So last Thursday I went for my first weigh in for 2 months. I knew it wasn’t going to be great, but I also knew that it wasn’t going to be as bad as it was when I stood on those scales for the first time back in January. However the same fears were there and it wasn’t good. It was bbbaaaadddd! I had put on 9lbs. NINE FUCKING POUNDS!! Balls.

After looking at the pictures and seeing the weight loss an now gain it made me realise that now is the time I start to get my head back in a more stable place. Time to get my mojo back!!

I hit the ground running, well walking quickly, well dancing actually, after all it was Zumba night!! So I did Zumba on Thursday night, gym on Saturday morning, Sunday went for a walk up on Beachy Head, then on Monday and Tuesday after work I did an hour in the gym followed by 40/45 minutes of Zumba. It took a few days but I have definitely started enjoying get back into the exercise.

This week has also seen me trying to get back on track food wise. On the whole I have done well apart from today where I have been awake since 2.30am, was at work at 6am, did my usual 10hr day, then went home, vacuumed throughout, washed the floors and then went to Zumba and weigh in. After only having had 3 hours sleep last night by 9am I was definitely starting to lag. So the day was spent drinking diet cokes and coffee for much needed caffeine fix and I ate a lovely dark chocolate Bounty bar for a sugar fix after nearly falling asleep at 2pm ish. Apart from today I think I have been pretty good. I made my fabulous butternut squash curry into which I had flung some chickpeas for an extra boost of fibre, protein and iron. It lasted me 5 days, the last day of which I flung in some cooked chicken that I had to use up. I had also made my spicy root veg stew.

So tonight it was weigh in time again. I hoped that despite it being early days and still trying to get fully back on track that I had lost something. And I was pleasantly surprised. I had lost 2lbs!! TWO POUNDS!! Thank god for that! Such a wonderful boost after a long and horrible summer. So the Mojo is coming back, slowly but surely its coming back.

Speak Out

Domestic Violence happens. We all hear about (as I have said before) spousal abuse, but no one talks about Child to Parent abuse. It is such a taboo. Up and down the country, all around the world it is an issue, but where is the help? Where is the support?

I love my son, more than words can explain. The reason I wrote the previous 2 posts in the third person is that it was the only way I could do it without crying. Distancing myself like that makes it seem like it is happening to someone else. But it’s not, it is happening to me, my happy, sweet, loving child has turned into an angry, unhappy, lost young man. I am not the only one trying to figure out where I went wrong, what happened for him to behave this way. I am only thankful that, as yet, he has not physically attacked me.

But the emotional hurt and pain he inflicts just with words can be as damaging and hurtful as a fist. If it was a fist I could and would fight back. I would lay him out. But with words, I can’t bring myself to say the things that would hurt him. To say the words that sometimes I just want to shout back at him. But I know that in the heat of the anger and upset, I don’t mean them and I stop myself from saying them.

I have not written these past posts, to vilify him, or to make him out to be bad or evil, because he is not. He is an 18-year-old struggling to cope with his own feelings and thoughts. Unable to express himself, not knowing how to deal with his emotions. I don’t want people to hate him. He is my baby boy, he is my life, and to hate him would be to hate a part of me. Hurtful things said about him, hurt me. Right now he is a shit, but he is my shit.

The shame and upset that you suffer being abused, especially by your own child makes you feel a failure. Makes you feel that you have done something wrong. You search for answers that perhaps are not there. You try to think of excuses. You take the blame.

However, by not speaking out I believe I would be condoning his behaviour. By others not speaking out they are condoning their abusers behaviour, whether it be husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend or child. By speaking out you find you are not alone, you are not the only one. By speaking out you find an inner strength that you thought you had lost. By doing this I have been contacted by quite a few brave mothers and fathers who have told me a briefly of their situations. Often, rightly or wrongly, I think to myself, “thank God he isn’t that bad!” But my heart goes out to them as I feel we all have a connection.

I have had people telling me to kick him out. I’ve done that, it has made no difference. People telling me I should disown him! WHAT THE FUCK!! He is my son, we have a tie that nothing can break and I am not going to give up on him. I am not going to just sit back and watch him throw his life away. Imagine it was your child, imagine it was the one human being you had given 18 year of your life to, fed, clothed, and educated, given opportunities to. Loved? Could you do that to yours?

Next week he is in court charged with criminal damage. The day chosen is because the court he is attending has a magistrate that deals with domestic violence. This scares me. He is scared. He has asked me time and time again to withdraw my statement. But I can’t. I have spoken to the Police many times over the last 2 weeks, asking to withdraw my statement. I was asked if West Sussex Police’s policy on domestic violence was explained to me at the time of his arrest. It wasn’t as it all happened rather fast. I have since had a good read. It has been explained to me that it won’t be accepted until after the first court date where my son with submit his plea. I have to say the Police in West Sussex, have been fantastic. They have listened to me asking the same questions time and time again, going over the same things. Reasuring me, helping me. They have given me advice and support.

My Son, now knows there is nothing I can do, the texts and comments of him blaming me for his current situation have subsided a little. Perhaps he is starting to see that he and he alone is to blame. He is calm at home, and being compliant. He has agreed to meet with an organisation that deals with young peoples issues and helps them through their difficulties. They run anger management programmes, and have said that they will meet him for a coffee, have a chat and then offer him whatever strategy they think will help him. I just hope he follows it through and works with them. 

Please don’t hate my son. He needs support as much as I do. He WILL come through this the other end. I WILL come through this the other end. We both just have different paths to tread and hopefully at some point in the not too distant future our paths will run parallel again.

I would also like to say thank you for all the support from friends, family and complete strangers that has brought me to tears many times. It means a lot and even if I have not immediately replied I have read every one of your comments.

Being the victim of Domestic Violence is not something to be ashamed about, whatever form it takes. Sometimes we have to do things that we are scared of doing, even if we are worried how it will affect the abuser, the person we love. But unless we speak out, out the cycle goes on. It can be stopped, the cycle can be broken, solutions can be found. It is not our fault. It is something that can be addressed and something that should be addressed more in the media and in society. Unacceptable behaviour by our children or anyone else behind closed doors can not be allowed to go. If we say “this is happening we need help” perhaps we will get it.

Speak Out.

We Can’t Leave Him Here

Walking through the door into the police station she takes another breath, draws herself up and walks to the window.

“How can I help you?” the lady the other side says.

“I would like to talk to someone about my son please.”

“OK, I will just come round and we can have a chat.”

She is taken to a small room with a table, 2 chairs and a sofa. Offered the sofa she sits slowly on the edge and the police lady asks her “So how can we help?”

Taking a breath, she starts talking. Soon the tears are falling as she explains what had happened the previous night. 20 minutes of sobbing and a lot of rushed talking she finally stops and takes a breath.

“You do realise that this is a form of domestic violence?”

“Yes. I just want someone to talk to him, someone to explain to him how serious this is getting. This is the 3^rd time I have had to contact the police in the last month because of my sons behaviour.”

“Yes I think we need to send a couple of officers around to have a chat with him.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

She smiles at the police woman and for the first time there is a glimmer of hope. A hope that if the officers can talk to him and make him realise how serious his behaviour is getting that he will wake up and return to the human race.

“You’re scared to go home?” the officer asks her.

Shaking her head she says, “No, I’m not scared. I am not sure of the right word. Apprehensive? Weary? I just don’t want another confrontation, another argument. I’m not scared of him, I’m scared for him.”

It is explained that because this is a domestic violence report that they will be out quite quickly. She thanks the officer, leaves her details and goes back to her car. Getting in she stops for a minute and rests her head on the steering wheel. The tears begin to fall again. She is surprised there are any left, she has cried so much over the last month.

Gathering herself together she drives home. Walks through the door. The kitchen is tidy and the washing up has been done. She decides she will still go to her aqua class as it is one thing that is normal  in her life. Gathering up her costume and towel. She goes into the sitting room. The boy is lying on the sofa again, half dressed and under a throw.

“You don’t want your tea then?” he mutters.

“Oh, have you made some?” she is surprised. It has been a long time since he last cooked for her. She goes through to the kitchen and in the microwave is a plate of food. “Thank you she calls, I will eat it after my class.”

Walking down the path she asks herself “Why?” Why can’t everyday be like today? Why can’t he be like that when I get home from work all the time?” Changing the message on her voice mail to let the police know should they call her that she will be home by 8.30 she heads to the gym and gets rid of some of the stresses of the last 24 hours.

Getting home, she discovers they have not been yet. Going to the microwave she looks forward to eating what he made her. But it is empty.

“Where’s my tea?”

“I ate it.” He replied from the sofa.

“Oh”, she gets something out of the freezer and put it in the oven. Then there is a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath she opens it and finds two policemen on her doorstep.

“Hi, come in.”

As they step through the door his face appears around the sitting room door “so you’ve called your piggy friends then!” he calls. In a couple of bounds he is out the sitting room and up the stairs into his room.

“So, would you like to tell us what’s been going on?” the shorter of the two officers said. Standing in the kitchen she recounts what happened the previous night. “I know its such a silly thing to have got to the stage it did. After all it was really originally just over a bit of washing up.”

“So what would you like us to do about it? We can arrest him but you would have to support us and give a statement.”

Sighing “I don’t want him arrested. I don’t want him to have a criminal record. I just want him to realise how serious this is getting. Can you just talk to him?”

“OK”.. they go to head up the stairs and I point out that if they both go up there that he is likely to go out through the window. So one stays downstairs waiting.

“Hi, Its the Police, can we come in and have a chat?” A muffled response

“No, your Mum is in pieces downstairs, I want to talk to you like a man up here. Let me in.”  He had barricaded himself in his room.  “No we are not here to arrest you, we just want a chat.”

After some movement the door is opened and both officers go in. “Right, so why are you being such a dick to your mother?!?!” She listens from downstairs, only catching parts of the conversation. This might well be the first time apart from her, and her father once, that anyone has laid into her son like that before about his behaviour. After 5 or so minutes both officers head back down stairs.

“We have had a chat. He is really very angry.”

“I know. I don’t understand why.” Her son now dressed and hair washed(?!) comes down the stairs and makes to go past the officers.

“Hang a minute mate, lets just get this sorted first.”

“Oh for fucks safe if you won’t let me out the door I will go my other way.” He mutters to them as he retreats back up the stairs.

Looking at her one of the officers says “He is really angry, you can see the adrenalin pumping through his veins, and he is physically shaking.”

They go outside and he is climbing out the window and down the drain pipe. He is greeted at the bottom by the two officers who were waiting for him.

“Come on, you can’t go anywhere yet until we sort this out.”

Squaring up to them “I’m going out. We have talked.” Refusing to back down he makes to go again.

“Please, please stop this.” She begs. “Why are you behaving this way?!”

Putting a hand on his arm the officer says. “Well, if you won’t stay then I will have to detain you.”

Shrugging his hand off and pushing past, her son mutters and walks back into the house, up the stairs and barricades himself back him.

They go back in the house. The officers start talking between themselves.

“We can’t leave him here like this.”

“We will have to arrest him for criminal damage.”

“We have to remove him from the property.”

They turn to her and ask her if she would support them if they were to arrest him. Her mind is a whirl, what was supposed to be just a chat has spiralled out of her control again. He is so angry, and she can see he is scared, but she knows something has to be done, something has to be done to try and make him realise he cannot keep reacting this way. She doesn’t know if it is just a case of him having anger issues, or more seriously mental health or drug related issues. She just knows this is not the normal behaviour or response of a happy human being.  She nods her head and agrees amongst the insanity that that night had become, hoping that this will get him the help he so desperately needs.

The police officers go outside and talk to him from his bedroom window. Telling him they need to take him down to the station after a minute or two he agrees. Finishes his cigarette, un-barricades his bedroom door and stands at the top of the stairs. The officers go up and ask him to come down.

“Cuff me then, then I will go down”.

They place the cuffs on his wrists and he is led down the stairs.

“I love you Mum” he says with no love, no feeling in his voice, cold and calculating.

“I really do love you, more than you can imagine.” She replies

“No you don’t. I hope you are happy now you have got your son arrested.” he spits out to her, “You are dead to me, you will never see me again.”

He walks out the door and down the path to the waiting police car. She stands at the end of her path, straining to see him, closing her eyes and praying that he will be ok.

An hour later and she receives a call. He will be kept in overnight, and questioned in the morning.

“Is he OK?” she asks.

“Yes, he is booked in and has been fed and watered. A couple of other officers will be round to take a statement soon, probably around 10.45.”

She waits up, her mind is a whirl. Thoughts, feelings crashing around in her head. At just before midnight the officers turn up, and for what seems like the 100^th time she recounts what happened. Trying not to forget anything. They take photos of the broken frame and laundry box.

“What do you think will happen?” she asks.

“He will probably get a caution or a caution with condition he pays for the damage.”

“Oh OK”. They leave and she finally heads to bed. Thankful another day is done and she can get at least a couple of hours sleep before heading to work.

I Don’t Know!

It’s Wednesday. She walks through the door after a long day at work and into the kitchen. As she looks around her and sighs. There are enough dirty pots, pans, plates, utensils and cutlery to have fed a family of 6. Only thing is this is a house with only 2 human inhabitants, one of which has been at work all day. The floor is a mess and there are empty packets lying around. Toast crumbs cover the work top and the lid lies off the butter.

Walking through to the sitting room where he is on the sofa half dressed lying under a throw watching the TV.  She asks “Why haven’t you bothered to wash up”

He replies “I’ve been asleep all day.”

“But you have been awake long enough to cook at least two meals. And you were in bed last night early and slept all night how can you be so tired that you need to sleep all day?”

“I woke up made my breakfast, fell asleep then woke up and made my tea and fell asleep”

“You could have washed up after yourself.”

She walks back through to the kitchen, exasperated that after a 10 hour day at work and driving ½ hour to get home she will again be tidying up the kitchen. Under normal circumstances perhaps this lack of effort from the 18 year old in the other room might not have bothered her so much. But he was home on a weeks trial after having been kicked out for the previous 4 weeks. One of the provisos was that he was to keep the house tidy and wash up after himself.

Looking at the mess she mutters to the cat sitting nearby “lazy sod”. A second later there was the sound of breaking glass coming from the sitting room. Going through she sees a photo frame she brought to put a picture of her son in lying broken by the fireplace.

“Why did you do that?!” she asks.

“You shouldn’t mutter about me under your breath in the other room”.

“For gods sake, clear it up please, I don’t want the cats cutting their paws on the glass, it’s right by their scratch post.”

“Na do it yourself.”

She sighs and goes back to the kitchen to continues to clear up and cook her tea. After a couple of minutes, he wanders into the kitchen. It is only small, and he tries to push past her. “Get out my way” he shouts in her face.

“No” she replies.

“For fucks sake get out my way!”as he draws himself up to his full height and tries to push past. She is determined not be bullied and stands firm.

“No, Stop trying to push past me.”

“I’m trying to get some food!”

He reaches around her and takes an apple.  Leaning against the side he asks “So are you going to kick me out again then?” Shaking her head she doesn’t reply and tries to carry on with what she was doing. “It’s your fault you know, the photo frame.”

She stops. She has had enough, enough of the continual blame, enough of him never taking responsibility for his actions.  She says, “Yes, Yes its my fault. Everything is my fault. The crisis in Syria is my fault, the fire on the sea front the other day is my fault. Oh and the car accident up the road where the young lad died is my fault!…”

“Don’t fucking talk about him, I knew him and i know His Mrs.”

“I not talking about them, I am just saying it’s probably my fault along with everything else in the world!”

He throws the half eaten apple across the room and it explodes against the wall. Storming out the room, he stops on the stairs.

“SO ARE YOU FUCKING KICKING ME OUT THEN?!?!?!”

“What would you do? What would you do if this was your child behaving this way?”

“Well I would never fucking throw out my son!!”

He tosses the smoke alarm to her saying “You might want to put this up you don’t know when some petrol might come through the door, oh and I hope you like your windows!!”

“Stop it, please just stop it!”

He spits and shouts “THATS WHAT I THINK OF YOU!”

Storming upstairs he grabs the wooden laundry bin and throws it down the stairs, hitting the wall the lid breaks and a hole is left in the wall. He slams the door to his bedroom. Closing her eyes for a minute she is thankful that he is no longer downstairs. Thankful that for a minute or two the shouting, the abuse has stopped. Picking up the lid she places the box at the bottom of the stairs and goes back to the kitchen to continue what she was doing. Numb, sad, disappointed, worried, and unable to figure out a solution. She carries on as normal, cooking her tea, talking to the cats and worrying about what to do next. All that goes around her head is “I Don’t Know!”

After eating her tea and clearing up, she goes to bed hoping for sleep as she is exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. 

Thursday arrives with its usual shrill electronic beeping of the alarm clock on her phone at 5.45am. Easing out of bed she doesn’t feel like she has slept. She doesn’t feel anything apart from sadness. The cat stretches herself on the duvet, expecting her early morning tummy rub which is greeted with a small meow and purr and then she curls up and sleeps again. She is jealous of the cat. Normal morning routine commences, and she heads off to work arriving at 7am.

Nothing unusual happens. Nothing is different. She smiles and chats to her colleagues not wanting to dwell on the previous nights events in case her eyes start to leak again. If she doesn’t talk about it it’s not too bad. But it is there all the time, continually pushing itself forward in her mind  when she is trying to concentrate on something different. She is sad. Sad that she feels she has failed at being a mother. Failed at guiding her son down the right path.

That afternoon she writes a blog. A blog to make herself address the situation. A blog that is so hard to write and read knowing it is revealing to the world what is going on, that she feels ashamed. She doesn’t want people to think badly of her son. She loves him, more than she can ever get him to understand, and she knows underneath he is a great lad. One who has the potential to do so much and go so far. But she needs help, he needs help and the first way to getting it is to accept that things are not right.

Finishing work at 5 she dreads that she has to go home. It’s not that she is scared to go home. She isn’t scared of him. She just doesn’t want another confrontation. Another argument.  On the drive home she decides if the Police station is still open when she gets back then she will go in and have a chat and see if she can get some help. If it is not then she will just carry on as usual.

Looking at the clock as she nears the turning, she sees its 5.35. It will still be open. Parking up the car, she waits for a minute or two to get the courage up. Taking a deep breath she gets out of the car and enters the police station.

Behind Closed Doors

This is going to be a really hard blog for me to write. It is incredibly personal and very hard to admit, but I hope by making it public that; 1. It will help me deal with the situation and 2. Someone might offer a solution and 3. Perhaps someone else who is going through something similar will know they aren’t the only one.

When we have children, from the moment we hold them in our arms 99.9% of parents have an instant love for their little bundle of joy. That love is uncompromising, unfaltering, and unconditional. As we watch them grow up that love grows as they develop physically, mentally and emotionally. We do what we think is right, we make decisions for our children that we hope will benefit them. We sacrifice things we would like to do or have. We don’t think twice about it as they are our lives, and we would lay our lives on the line for them.

We understand as they reach their teenage years that our relationship with them changes as they develop and flourish into adults. We take pleasure in watching them go out into the world a bit at a time, having girl or boy friends, making right choices, being there for them when they make the wrong ones. Making it all better when it goes wrong, being there for them when they need us. Celebrating with them when they are successful and being the shoulder to cry on when they are not. The voice of reason, the voice of experience, the voice of comfort and the voice guidance.

But, what if it goes wrong? What if it doesn’t happen like this? What if those dreams we have of their future don’t happen? What if it goes wrong?

On the 14th February this year (2013) the Government issued New Government Domestic Violence and Abuse Definition in the Home Office circular 003/2013.

It states Domestic Violence is:

Any incident or pattern of incidents of controlling, coercive or threatening behaviour, violence or abuse between those aged 16 or over who are or have been intimate partners or family members regardless of gender or sexuality. This can encompass but is not limited to the following types of abuse:

•             psychological

•             physical

•             sexual

•             financial

•             emotional

Controlling behaviour is: a range of acts designed to make a person subordinate and/or dependent by isolating them from sources of support, exploiting their resources and capacities for personal gain, depriving them of the means needed for independence, resistance and escape and regulating their everyday behaviour.

 Coercive behaviour is: an act or a pattern of acts of assault, threats, humiliation and intimidation or other abuse that is used to harm, punish, or frighten their victim.”*

*This definition includes so called ‘honour’ based violence, female genital mutilation (FGM) and forced marriage, and is clear that victims are not confined to one gender or ethnic group.

I have not been in a relationship for some time so perhaps you are thinking this is something that doesn’t apply to me. However let me draw your attention to the words “or family members”.

We see a lot in the media about violence by a man (husband/boyfriend) to a woman (wife/girlfriend), often being highlighted in soaps with powerful story lines that have no doubt rung cords with countless victims and hopefully helped so many, and we are starting to hear a little more from men who suffer violence from their wife/girlfriend. However how often do you hear about Domestic Violence by a child to their parent (also known as parent abuse)?

I have realised recently that I am (even though I don’t want to admit it) a victim (hate that word) of Domestic Violence. The abuse I currently suffer from my son take different forms. The last couple listed have only been occurring more recently. He:

Uses abuse to try to get his way – This involves shouting, name-calling and emotional blackmail.

Emotional abuse – He puts me down, tells me I am a bad mother, makes me feel guilty, ignores me, and viciously swears at me, tells me he hates me and wishes he was never born.

Denies, justifies, minimises and blames to justify his behaviour – he acts like the way he behaves is no big deal, blaming me for everything and not taking responsibility for anything.

Property destruction – punching walls, throwing things and breaking them, destroying photos and mementoes from when he was younger.

Violating my trust by ignoring house rules, taking things and stealing from me.

Threats and intimidation – a relatively new behaviour. Drawing himself up to his full height he will approach me and shout in my face, he has also started threatening me and my home.

Physical abuse – this is new. Physically pushing past me and spiting at me. He has never hit me, but I have been kicked (intentionally/unintentionally I do not know).

This has left me feeling increasingly isolated, with a huge feeling of shame and helplessness, desperation and a feeling of being out of control in my own home, of my own life. I feel a failure as a mother and if anyone was going to make me feel like that, I didn’t have my son down as the one to do it. The hate he seems to have towards me is heartbreaking. For 18 years I have kept him safe. He has never experienced violence in the home, never heard arguments or fighting. He didn’t have a stream of men coming and going through his life. He has on the whole (I thought) had a happy, carefree childhood with plenty of love and laughs.

Despite everything he does, I find myself defending him. “He is just lost”. “He has low self-esteem” “he just needs a job that will sort him out” “he doesn’t mean to do it” “I am sure he doesn’t mean to be this way” “he is just going through a rough patch” “he is a nice lad most of the time”. And the thing is they are all things women (and men) who are victims of domestic violence say. I heard it many times when I was working for a charity. They are the excuses abusees make for their abusers.

Any form of domestic violence is a frightening and traumatic thing to go through. Only once in my life have I had a boyfriend go to raise his hand to me and it was the last he saw of me. I have always said the moment anyone does that they wouldn’t see me for dust. And this would be true for anyone in my life it seems, but my son.

People tell me to report him to the police and to kick him out. But it’s not their son. I know I would say that to any man or woman being abused by their partner. But he’s my boy. I want to protect him, I want to see him being a success, and I don’t want him to feel unloved or uncared for. I don’t want him to be scared. I don’t want him to be alone.

The thing is I know I am not alone. I know it is not just my son. I know at least 2 friends who have had problems with their sons and daughters. I know it is a common problem these days, and I am not the only parent who is wondering where their sweet natured, kind loving ambitious child has gone. But when I look for help online, I find nothing. Lots about children witnessing domestic violence, lots about spousal domestic violence, but very little on child on parent domestic violence. And if there is anything it is involving younger teens. My problem is mine is 18, he is an adult. Where is the support for us? Where can I get him the help he so desperately needs? How do I get us through this in one piece?

Can’t Shop Won’t Shop

So today I decided I would take myself off to Chichester for a mooch around and do a bit of shopping. While there I eyed up:

1. A very expensive hand bag (£140!!!) And purse (£60) for about 30 minutes – didn’t buy it (regretting it slightly.. but really who spends that much on a handbag or purse!!??!)

2. A new laptop/tablet/convertable tablet – Didn’t buy one because do I really need one?

3. Cuban holiday for my 40th – still can’t decide what to do so not booked

4. Photoframe – walked around with it in shop for 30 mins.. put it back on the shelf and left..

5.  Went back to a shop to get new duvet cover I liked that they had last week.. they don’t stock it any more…

6. Various pretty things to put in my bedroom as I wanted to treat myself and do it up.. didn’t buy anything as I decided there really wasn’t anything wrong with my bedroom as all I do is sleep or cry in it so what’s the point..

7. A pair of very nice shoes – didn’t buy because really why do I need to spend money on more shoes when I already have a pair each of sandals, work boots, safety boots, gym shoes, zumba shoes and slippers.

On top of all this eyeing up I also went to buy a £40 (yes you read that right.. forty fecking quid!!!) light shade from John Lewis for my bedroom that has never had one – they don’t sell them in store any more.. will have to order on line.. now gone off the idea..

So in conclusion, I am shit at so many things especially shopping.