Anxiety, Awareness, Compulsions, depression, Depresssion, Grief, intrusive thoughts, Men, Mental Health, mental illness, Obsessions, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, OCD, Rituals, Time to Talk, Well-Being
It was 7 years since my Dad died on the 3rd June. He was 58 and in November of this year would have been 66 years of age.
7 years where I’ve not had a Father, my Mums not had a husband and my lads have not had a Grandfather, or “Grandad Bill” as they endearingly called him.
So much has happened, so much has been missed, so much pain still remains, so many unanswered questions, so many wasted years not talking properly to each other, so many pints of beer not drank whilst taking the mickey out of each other about football.
I spent so much time after my Dad died being bloody angry and frustrated with him for putting us all through what he did and denying my kids their Grandad. That subsided over time and gradually I got to the stage where I just bloody missed him.
Grief is a bastard of a thing to deal with at the best of times, add into the mix OCD, depression, drink and denial of what I had become and it was no surprise within 3 years of my Dads death I had my second true nervous breakdown.
So June in general each year is still a bit of a battle for me emotionally. It reminds me not just of my Dads passing but how bad things got for me personally afterwards.
I beat myself up about how close I came to losing everything and what I put those I love the most through.
It gets better with each passing year but I have still struggled. But it did feel different this year. I can’t quite put my finger on it exactly but I’ve not been as self critical of myself and I suppose I’ve cut myself a bit of slack. After all if those I love can forgive and move on fully, then I need to forgive myself and do the same.