The Long Story
The Long Story
It's taken quite a
while for me to be able to write all of this down. It's also
been quite a painful experience.
In mid 1996, my company announced that they were relocating all of
our jobs to Reading from Birmingham. I'd been expecting the
announcement and had been looking for another job with very little
success. I was persuaded by my other half to relocate as it would be
more convenient for his job with the Welsh National Opera. The next
few months were filled with house hunting and eventually we settled
on a new development in Thatcham and a house almost identical to the
one we were living in.
Things did not go smoothly. I spent a lot of time on the phone trying
to get various things done. The relocation company was supposed to
make things easier, but it made it far worse. The sale of my old
house resulted in a loss of £5,000. Every stage had to be chased up
and by the time we actually came to move, I was really stressed. It
had not helped, that my other half lost his job the week before we
moved. The move itself wasn't easy either, but we got in and Rod was
offered a job at a London Theatre, so things looked as though they
were going to be OK. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Rod commuted at first and then after a couple of months found a
furnished studio flat to use during the week. I'd been having to
fetch him from Reading every evening and getting up early to commute
to Reading and the strain was proving too much, without realising what
I was doing I was slowly shutting him out. On the May bank
holiday, things just got to the point where we both realised that it
was all over. Normally, I would have poured my
heart out to Mum, but at the time she was having her own worries
after major surgery. I'd just about got ready to tell her in the
Autumn, but she'd had a scan and it wasn't good, she was going to
have to go in for more surgery. Rod and I remained friends, what
had happened was nobody's fault, it just happened at the wrong time.
Now I was alone, I started to feel desperately lonely. The car
developed a problem which caused it to overheat, limiting me to only
being able to drive 5 miles at the most - I couldn't afford to
replace it. Opposite me lived a policeman, who'd taken a distinct
dislike to me. I don't know what he'd told the other neighbours, but
none of them would speak to me and one would rush out and fetch her
children in each time I went outside. I thought it couldn't get
worse.
In December, Mum went in for her operation. I phoned up after she'd
come out of the operating theatre and all seemed OK. The next
morning, I had a phone call to get to the hospital. I had to go up
by train from Reading for the next couple of days as she was in
intensive care. The following week she had to go into theatre again
and I went up and stayed overnight in an hotel - I'd booked a hire car
over Christmas as I'd planned to go up and visit them. At around 3am
I had a phone call. I was half awake and it stopped. I hoped I'd
imagined it, but my heart sank as it rang again. I rushed to the
hospital, scared out of my mind, and got there to find Dad already
by the bed. I sat by her and held her hand. I was suddenly aware that
my sister was standing behind us, she was quietly sobbing. Suddenly
one of the nurses said "I think she's died" - those words are burned
on my memory. I got back to the hotel somehow and went back to bed, I
felt numb, nothing seemed real.
Later in the morning, I mechanically phoned round colleagues to
explain what had happened and that I wasn't going to be in until
after Christmas - it was the 23rd. I went over to a close friend's
house and as he opened the door I collapsed into tears, it was the
first time I'd cried. As the funeral couldn't be held until after
Christmas, I spent the whole time in a complete daze. Rod & Tony
looked after me during that time, and for the four Christmasses after
that, for which I am very grateful.
Back at home, things got much worse. It got to the stage where I
would get home and immediately bolt the front door. I had never
felt so alone and so scared, I felt I had nobody I could turn to. A
further incident increased my sense of isolation. One time I was
feeding one of the cats. I stood up, and glanced out of the kitchen
window to see that the policeman was "mooning" at the house. I felt
very threatened and from then on, kept the front curtains drawn when
I was at home, even in daylight. I dreaded leaving the house and
going to work and once there, dreaded the journey back home. I still
do to some extent.
During this time, I was under a lot of pressure at work as well. The
strain proved too much and I had a complete breakdown. Far from helping
me, colleagues just ignored the situation leaving me so desperate that
for the first time in my life, I contemplated suicide. My problem was
that I did not have the courage to carry it out. Night after night was
spent in a zombie like state next to a phone that never rang. The days
were hell at work as I felt nobody wanted to talk to me and I so
desperately wanted to be listened to. I think that most people don't
realise that sometimes you need somebody to tell you that they
understand or can at least sympathise. Most of the people I'd thought
were my friends turned out not to be. I was fortunate that two of
them were true friends and came to my rescue. One of them gave me his
old computer to give me some way of contacting people and the other
phoned me weekly. It's only recently I found out that he'd put me on
"suicide watch".
Fortunately, the policeman moved away, as have a few of the
neighbours, so things are not quite as bad and are still very slowly
getting better. I still felt isolated and very lonely, though and
wondered what it was I've done to deserve this.
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