This week has been another hard one. I’ve wondered what to write about recently; particularly when a lot of the difficult thoughts and feelings I still have are something I’ve already talked about quite openly. Then there is the really dark stuff in my mind that I talk about with friends or sometimes write about for myself. It helps me to get things out of my head, but they're not really shareable right now. I’ve found writing poems easier; they seem to more accurately reflect the feelings I’m having, without having to express fully with lots of words, which often feels impossible to do.
I wrote a poem for my friend this week for his birthday. He supported me through writing my poem to Jordan, which I read at his funeral. I remember the phone conversations and messages between us and how amazing he was at helping me to express what I wanted to say when my head was so full and jumbled. This was the first poem I’d ever written. He wasn’t scared at the prospect of helping me to write these words that I’d speak in front of all of Jordan’s loved ones, and he didn’t try to take over and do it for me. He just guided me through the process, resulting in something that felt exactly what I wanted to say (although I must admit, looking back now it bugs me slightly that I used the word ‘nourishing’ twice!) But it came from the heart, which is what matters most.
So today I am writing about love, in all forms. Old friends, new friends, family, strangers. Everyone. I’ve never felt more connected to so many people in my life. And without this, I’m not sure I’d still be here today.
I’m going to start with the poem I wrote for Jordan, and end with the poem I wrote this week for my friend.
You
You were too good for this crazy world Had too much love to give Your love was true and plentiful, filling rooms, hearts and minds. All who knew you loved you in return It would be impossible not to With eyes so bright and soul so pure, we are all grateful to have received your love. Your light shone so bright, giving and nourishing through your own pain Like a well so deep, your suffering hidden from sight Water running so clear, nourishing others with the purity of your company. You were the roots that grounded me My connection to the earth Our roots intertwined and became one Stronger and deeper than before The blooming flowers of our love will never fade But will continue to be spread among others, keeping our love alive. Your gift was so special But you did not know We are all the better for knowing you And will treasure each day we had Your memory will not fade my love But when the light of hope is dim We will look not only to stars, but for the pieces of you that live within us To guide us to peace and acceptance. In a world where it is easy to hate, and love takes strength that not all possess I will always choose love. After all, this is what you gave me And what I will always have for you
I don’t feel like I even wrote those words in a strange way looking back, but I feel every single word.
My poem to Jordan was about love. It was about the love that I had for him and how I plan to cherish this, and inject all of that love into my future relationships. At times these past 6 months, it’s felt really hard to do this. I’ve had times where I’ve really felt I’ve gone into myself, and the thought of even talking to people was just overwhelming. But one thing I’ve never doubted, is how much I love and care for the people around me, and how loved and cared for I am. I’ve had times where I’ve worried that people will get sick of me eventually because I’m too sad, or when I want to block the world out, or when I go over the same things with them, or when I’m not my usual chatty ‘happy’ self. It’s horrible the idea of losing anyone else, and you want to desperately hold onto everyone but also don’t always have the energy to. In the first few weeks this fear was the worst. I remember reading online people’s experiences of friends stepping back after a month or so and people being left to feel so alone and isolated. Rationally I knew this wouldn’t happen with the people in my life, because they’re fucking amazing. But, it’s really daunting wondering how long people will stick around for or how long they’ll accept you being sad when you feel like you’ll be sad forever. Then a pandemic comes along and increases this fear more, because other people you love could actually die. There’s also times where you need different things from different people, and that’s okay too. It’s taken me a while to get to a place where I can acknowledge that. What I do know is that I’m incredibly lucky and grateful, so thanks for bearing with me you legends (sorry you’re stuck with me now!).
I thought I might talk about some of the things that people have done, to highlight how important social support has been for me in these 6 months. We know that social support is helpful and necessary for our wellbeing and mental health, but I have really never ever felt it this much, particularly as I think I pride myself quite a lot on being ‘independent’. FYI, this post isn’t a shout out to particular people, I am just highlighting some experiences I’ve had to show how AMAZING human beings are, and how I’m lucky to have some of the best ones in my life and by my side.
The first thing that I am grateful for, is the two friends I called that afternoon to come and be with me. They drove through rush hour traffic across one city and to another, knowing what they had to face on the other side. I called two people because I didn’t want one person to have to go through that alone. I was so relieved to have them with me. They dealt with my shock, they cried with me, they helped me to answer the police questions. They supported me after this too, and it might sound weird to say given what I’ve been through, but I really cannot imagine what it was like for them on that day and after. My family were also there as soon as they could be, travelling 250 miles in such distress, desperate to get to me. I’d never needed them so much, and there they were as soon as they could be.
In the early days and weeks, friends stayed at my flat when I wasn’t there to look after Tabby, sending me pictures and updates, which reassured me so much. They stocked up my fridge and freezer too, with ‘gross’ meals at my request (at the time I felt like I didn’t want to eat nice food, I remember thinking I’d never enjoy it again). Luckily they also cooked me yummy food, for when I felt ready for this again. Having people staying with the cat allowed me to travel freely around Jordan’s family’s houses, when all I wanted was to be with them at that time. It allowed me to have my weekly therapy and stay with Jordan’s mum, a ritual that was so important for my healing (and that I am missing so much with lockdown). Friends stayed with me in my bed when I couldn’t bear to sleep alone because of the nightmares and fear. They watched me fall asleep after taking my first sleeping tablet because I was scared. They brought me food, wine, chocolate, toileteries. They played board games with me. Drank tea. Talked to me about other things for distraction. One friend helped me to arrange all of the photos for the funeral when I felt so numb. Friends from afar sent care packages that meant so much when all I wanted to wear was pyjamas. Pillow sprays that helped me to sleep. Candles that helped me to relax. Cards with such lovely messages that made me feel loved and cared for. Regular messages to check how I was doing and remind me they were there. Friends travelled up from London to be with me at weekends, or just to stay in the flat when I wasn’t there. We walked. We painted pottery. We laughed, we cried. We got tattoos. It sounds a bit mad, but I actually don’t fully remember who came and when in the first couple of months. All I know is people were there, and they cared. They had a whatsapp group, my friends from different points in my life all in one place to be able to co-ordinate how to support me. Who does that? It’s just incredible.
Friends and family attended the funeral to pay their respects to Jordan and to support me. It was so surreal that they were there- what are you doing here? It didn’t feel real that we were all there to say goodbye to Jordan, it didn’t make any sense and was a total blur. But there they were, and it meant so much.
Jordan’s friends and family have also been so important to me, and always will be. I say ‘his’ friends and family, but they are also mine. Before Jordan passed, I loved spending time with these people; I thought how lucky we both were to have such great people in our lives. I didn’t have to pretend to enjoy events that we went to, because they were just great and we were surrounded by love. I hadn't met some of his friends before or maybe only once or twice, but now have formed bonds that feel life-long because of our mutual love for Jordan. All of these relationships have only strengthened, and are more important to me now than ever.
Zoom calls have been rife in lockdown haven’t they? And at one point, this was really key for me in helping to stay connected to friends. But after some time, they started to become really difficult for me (as they have for a lot of people!) I felt like other people were so happy and ‘normal’, which highlighted to me that I was neither of those things. I felt like I was just on a different planet, and it made me feel worse at times. There were also times where I absolutely loved having a drink and a laugh with my friends on zoom, and these were so great. But even then, I’d often get off the call and burst into tears, because it wasn’t normal to only have an hour with my friends then be alone again. I wanted them back fully. And that’s still really hard now, but I feel like I’m managing it better, and having calls when I feel able to and noticing when it’s not helpful for me. Thanks for always understanding when I bail last minute or go quiet for days. Living with my parents in lockdown was so good for me. We cooked, played board games, watched films. We spent time together, but they also gave me the space I needed. They know me so well that we don’t even have to communicate with words, which is perfect for me on days when I have few words.
I’ve gone round in endless thought loops with friends, often going over and over and over things. And they let me. They let me speak these out loud if I need to. They listen and they help me to challenge these thoughts. Or they don’t, they tell me instead that they won’t engage with my brain (aka Becky) trying to attack me. They help to bring me back onto more helpful lines of thinking, which often feels impossible on my own. They tell me I can talk about things whenever I need to. They also let me decide when I want to talk and when I don’t. Sometimes I send lengthy voice notes, sometimes I send a million messages, and sometimes I call and talk for hours. I share my darkest thoughts, and they don’t panic. They tell me how I’m feeling is okay. These people genuinely listen and want to hear what’s going on for me.
People haven’t ever expected me to be ‘okay’. People take me as I am. They read how I am, so I don’t always even have to tell them. They tell me how much they love me, they tell me they’re proud of me, they tell me that they have hope that things will get better one day. They have optimism for my future when I don’t. They don’t push me to do things I don’t want to do. They genuinely care.
We talk about RuPaul’s drag race, Lady Gaga and what’s going on in the news. We have our usual banter, which reminds me that I still have these friends that I haven’t been able to see in person for such a long time. They remind me of a world outside of pain and grief. They tell me that they see me when I can’t see myself. We do yoga and pilates together. Zoom workouts. Drinking wine in the garden. Drinking wine on video call. My new roomy texts me from downstairs when she knows I’m having a difficult day and tells me she’s here for me.
Strangers smile at me. I engage in chitchat with the girl in the local shop. I meet new people in real life who up until now I’ve only met on zoom. I’m someone who relies a lot on interaction with others for my sense of self. The pandemic has been strange for that, limiting our social contact and this feedback we get from others. I’ve started a whole new placement in a social care team and have only ever met my team virtually. These people have been important for me because they’re so kind and caring, despite barely knowing me.
It’s been a very surreal and strange time. But as I said, the connections I have with others are stronger than ever. I think there’s something about being vulnerable that really drives these connections, which I think is an important lesson. It’s okay to be vulnerable and to acknowledge things that are going on for you. We don’t need to hide our pain from the world. I think the best relationships can be built from exposing the parts of ourselves that we don’t often reveal. And I guess that’s usually something we only save for our partners (and even then we often hold back). I’m not saying we should all go around shouting our problems and darkest feelings from the rooftops, but I do think that we could form stronger bonds in society by being more open and honest about our experiences. For me, someone smiling at me in the park means so much. It means that they see you.
I’m going to end as I said, with the poem I wrote for my friend this week. We all have so much to give to each other, and this drives me hugely to carry on with life. I know I have more to give to others, and what I’m still working on is carrying on with life for myself. People tell me I deserve that, but it is still hard on a daily basis. I've often told people to 'take one day at a time', and believed I kind of did this myself before. But now I know the true meaning of that phrase. You really can't live any other way in this situation, and that's okay.
Thank you all, I am filled with so much love and gratitude. Jordan would be so grateful to you all for everything that you do for me, and I hope that he would be proud of how I am managing life without him.
Having a friend like you
Is like
Having a steady hand
A rock
A solid base of which to return
When times are hard
Being able to trust
That deeply
Is rare
Meeting someone with that much beauty Who guides you when the road is blocked Who sees you when you can't see yourself For better or for worse You are That Friend To me