The Wedding

It was my cousin's wedding on Saturday there. I had been so looking forward to it. The idea of getting to spend some time with her was exciting. I was actually the only one looking forward to it. My brother, father and mother all didn't want to go. Probably because we don't exactly have a good relationship, actually any relationship with our Uncles, Aunts or Cousins. This was my Dad's side. His brother's daughter's wedding and they didn't see eye to eye. Well more to the point my Dad had fallen out with my Uncle a while back over things that came up after my Grandmother passed away and my Dad is the number one grudge holder on this planet. To be fair he was totally in the right on that occasion. But people deal with him by either quietly going along with things or avoiding him. I know this because that's what happened in the house when arguments flared. Though my Mum was never a vocal participant but that's not to say she didn't pull her fair share of nonsense. Neither one is a saint by any stretch of the imagination. They are who they are and I love them regardless. Cause lets be honest, none of us is perfect or totally good. We all can be thoughtless, unkind and a pain in the arse, it's the nature of being.

My Uncle and Aunt decided to deal with it by avoiding him, they never called, never wrote, though there would be the uncomfortable hello's in the town and asking about how we were all doing. i don't know if they cared or not. I had been raised to think that they didn't. And i have to be honest I have felt judged when talking to them especially when they ask what I'm doing, where I'm working. That one is always a kick in the nuts. Wish i could just say, nope still mental thanks. Took me half a day to build up the courage to come outdoors thanks. And I did feel like they were wondering where it all went wrong and thank god their kids didn't turn out like us as we would talk politely in the street.

So my Dad felt ostracised, he felt like he was the black sheep and he had been cut out. My Mum was worried for the same reason and panicked it would be uncomfortable and we would be ignored the whole evening. My brother just doesn't like big events and was also worried about what it would be like to have the family reunited in one place. So when the call came in on Tuesday the 17th May that Mum had the flu and was told by the GP she couldn't go to the wedding I expected them to bail on me. And it upset me because I knew I couldn't go alone. So I spoke to my Psychologist about it and braved talking to my Dad who promised to come. I knew if he did then my brother would too. So it was all set and I focused on getting in the bits and bobs we needed. I felt hugely guilty about my brother having to come but I needed all the support I could get to get through the day and I was still disgusted that I missed the hen night. He was really unhappy, really depressed and it did make me wonder whether I should just say okay lets not go then.

But the big day came and even though I hadn't slept I guzzled down some caffeine at 8am and showered and ironed all my clothes. I then headed out to the hairdresser where I got my hair cut so that I wouldn't look as much like the crazy bag lady my brother says I usually do. Which is true, normally I don't take care of my appearance at all. My clothes are tatty and hole ridden and my hair was just hanging there. I didn't and still don't own a hairdryer. I did my best though to buy something bright and feminine and appropriate for the occasion. I even bought makeup and took care of the facial hair that my PCOS causes. I didn't want to embarrass anyone and I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.

I was on a roll. I got back to the house at 11am and got dressed and got my brother up. Sorted my makeup and pocketed everything we would need for the day. I then sat and relaxed with a cuppa till 1pm and then went downstairs to take out money before my Dad arrived in a taxi to pick us up. We got to the church about 30 minutes before the ceremony was due to begin and we sat at the back unsure of who was still going to be there and how welcome we all really were. As time ticked by and it became obvious that all the guests had arrived we realised that neither of my Dads two other brothers nor their families had been invited. Just goes to show just when you think you know it all you find out you're not the bad guy after all. At least then my Dad realised he and my Uncle had the mutual dislike of their two brothers in common.

The ceremony without a hitch despite the awful weather. And it was really nice to be a part of it even if it was a bit surreal as we didn't know anyone else in the church. None of us had met my Cousin's fiance at all before this and I wasn't familiar with her friends except from Facebook pics. so after the ceremony pictures were taken and we headed off to the reception, whereupon we were crammed into a small room with a makeshift bar no chairs and windows that were painted shut. To say it was a bit on the warm side was an understatement. It took about 2 hours for all the photos and the hall to be set up so there were lines of abandoned stilettos and barefoot women by the time we were beckoned in to sit.

Dad was extremely uncomfortable till the moment he left after dinner. But he was also proved wrong. Not only did my cousins Groom mention my Mum and hope for her swift recovery in his speech, they also bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. And my uncle made my dad promise to call him and get together. It was wonderful to see. I knew my dad would never not be annoyed by his older brother whom he regarded as a bit of a buffoon in some ways but at least he knew that his family still did care and things could be different. My brother and I decided to stay on and see the night through till the bride and groom left at midnight.

It wasn't too long after dad left though that  I started to feel that old fear rising. I felt hemmed in, claustrophobic surrounded by all these people who were of course miles better than me. So I'd make excuses and make my way to the bathroom and have a quiet sob before heading back out into the hubbub. After dinner we were ushered back into the tiny room and again the panic rose so my brother walked me down to the bathroom and waited while I tried to shake it off again. It went on like that for most of the evening. I felt like I was spoiling my brothers night who funnily enough was having a really good time. I decided to take a few drinks to see if they might help but it didn't really make much of a difference. eventually my Uncle dragged me up to dance and I was mortified and shaking and self conscious but i got through it and somehow managed to dance a few more times throughout the night.

I just couldn't figure out where all this anxiety and despair was coming from. I had been so looking forward to this night and yet again here I was folding like a cheap suit. I was in awe of my cousin and her bridesmaids as they danced the night away so carefree and so joyously. I felt so selfish sitting there so upset and close to tears for most of it. It was so painful watching all of this happening in front of me I guess. All these people, all these lives and I knew as hard as I ever try I'm never going to be close to being like any of them. That's not to say I resented them I didn't, I was really so happy for my cousin and all her friends. I felt like Alice walking through the looking glass. It was magical, a world I'd never known and probably never would again.

There were so many things I wanted to say to so many people that night but I just couldn't find the courage. I really regret it but I do appreciate the opportunity to see my family together again after such a long time. And even though it was a rough ride I did stick it out. I don't want to give myself any credit for that and have been fighting the urge to pull myself down but I am proud that i didn't run for the hills when things started getting uncomfortable which is my usual M.O.

Gale Force Frustration

For the last two days, the weather all over Scotland has been less than pleasant. And because we live atop a high hill, we get it slightly worse still than those in the town centre. Everything has been rattling and booming and banging. Which led Dad into panicking that the living room window would shatter. You see, some ever so helpful teen yobs, thought it was a cracking laugh to batter it senseless with snowballs when winter was upon us. The poor old thing couldn't take it and a semi circular sheet of glass was cracked out of it. It's just one of the many things that need fixing in the house and probably the lowest on the urgency list. I tried and failed to secure us grants, loans or any sort of help to put things right and make it easier on Mum who is disabled. There's one final option that any rational sort would think would be the first go to. And that is housing insurance. There are many things wrong in the house, some structural and dangerous. But for whatever reason I cannot persuade my father to contact them.

And I cannot tell you how much this bemuses me and frustrates me. Lately I've been oversleeping with the depression and didn't get up until 5pm yesterday. So I stagger downstairs, bleary eyed and limbs like lead weights. Still yawning, despite sleeping over 12hrs and achy all over. I'm not sat down two minutes before Dad starts badgering Mum (who's disabled remember) to get a bin bag taped over the broken window. he then starts in about how he'd do it but she's never got gear ready for him. She fires back that he has the flu & shouldn't go out because it could get into his chest. So when I see Mum putting on her parka, I bark at her to sit down. I told her I'd go out with my brother to do it. So I slip my feet into my trainers and I button up my parka over my PJ's. Put a dishcloth in my pocket along with the tape and we take the bag two handed out doors.

Obviously, it was a  fools errand from the get go. Whilst the wind is tipping over bins and what remained of the garden fence, our struggle with the bin bag was irritating to say the least. No matter what we did, no matter how we tried, this black plastic bag was not going anywhere near this window. So my brother started ranting about how stupid it all was and I agreed. And I told him, I've tried to get Dad to see sense and look into the housing insurance. When I do though, I get no back up from anyone else. Which is the part that confuses me the most. I know I'm not the only one unhappy and ashamed about the living conditions in here but I seem to be the only one who seems motivated to do anything about it.

I know that Dad feels guilty about the past and his part in the house's current condition. He's not the only one to blame though. And he shouldn't let embarrassment or pride keep him from having the essentials that every human being should have access to. I just can't stop worrying that if we don't do something soon, something awful will happen to one of us. The bathroom floor is unstable and the porch is falling down. Someone could get hurt. And I know he doesn't want to have people in here judging us and looking down on us but we have to grin and bear it. For the future and safety of every member of this household.

If I am to be moving out. Which is a great possibility now the Community Mental Health Team have secured me a flat. I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing my loved one's are safe and warm. Right now they're neither. I want them to have access to warm water, a shower and to not to have to worry about how cold it gets in winter because they'll have central heating. I love them all dearly but this refusal to face up to the situation and actually try to make a difference boggles me sometimes. If we try and fail at least we did something. And that's all I'm asking is that they try. They deserve to have nice things and not feel ashamed of how they live. They should be able to have friends over and not worry that someone will show up at the door unexpectedly, revealing their shameful secret.

I can only hope that the Social Worker that I arranged for the family can help them once I'm gone. They should have more money coming in without me here and be entitled to benefits such as Housing and Council Tax, which my and my brothers presence exempts them from. I'm taking a leap of faith in moving out. My psychologist wouldn't be happy to know that I'm doing it more for them than me. I don't care though, if I can do one good thing for them no matter what I have to do I'll do it. Of course getting a job just yet is impossible but I hope living with my brother will be a stepping stone, so that I can care for them as well as they have cared for me.