Five Years On

I came across my blog today – I haven’t read it in a while and when I do, I can feel the pain and bone deep sadness of the time. Writing about L helped me so much and even more than that, the kindness of others literally saved me. I opened my Twitter accounts and saw messages from people who’d contacted me when I really thought the end had come and I could not bear life any longer. To all those people – thank you for being the hands that reached out. You saved me. You really did.

It felt wrong to leave this where I did. So here’s an update. Five years of life in one post, compared to the minute details of before. L got worse. Much worse. If life hadn’t already dealt her enough blows, it dealt her more. She left university and after coming home, she then left me. After too many arguments about alcohol and food, she moved out to live with her dad. He struggled to cope and it felt as if she was falling in slow motion, not even seeing the outstretched hands trying to save her. In 2019, a snowballing of suicide attempts resulted in us spending yet another night in A&E, with L cradled between K and me. For the first time, we didn’t wait to see the Psych team – because what was the point? Help never came and no one ever listened.

And then lockdown happened. We know about the devastation lockdown brought to mental health services. About the isolation of young people in a world that had closed down. Surely this could only make things worse.

Yet, somehow it didn’t. Somehow the day to day routine of lockdown helped. L had an NHS job that she went to, shopped for food for her dad and her boyfriend, planning meals for every day and week. Her boyfriend at the time came to stay for lockdown and while he was kind, he was lazy and L did everything for the household. It taught her to get angry, to stand up for herself and about the misery of women’s work. At one point she sent me a text saying she understood completely why I’d got angry about always having to ask for help rather than just getting help.

As she got better, her ambitions increased. Having left university, she went back to study nursing. She stayed locally, keeping the support of family and friends. She’s now in her second year, and during placements she has seen distress, trauma and death and she has learned and grown. She seems happy, most of the time and she seems more able to ask for help when she isn’t. She eats and cooks and it feels like a pleasure rather than a chore and a challenge. There is a new boyfriend – a proper grown up and one who is everything you could hope for as a mum.

Is she 100% better? I don’t know and I’m not sure I’d ever feel able to say that. But I think she’s going to be ok. I think she has a future and it’s bright and full of promise. After many false dawns, it’s hard even to type that, but with two years of better times behind us, it feels like it’s true. At the worst times, it was as if I had to steel myself to the inevitability of losing her. And now, my worry is about her travelling to New Zealand after qualifying as a nurse. I can balance the usual worries about an adult child with the joy of seeing her live the life I always knew she deserved. She will make a wonderful nurse, and she is already a fantastic friend to many and the very best daughter I could ever wish for (along with K, her twin)

Thank you to everyone who listened, helped, cheered us on or empathised with the darkest times. To those mums whose children didn’t make it, there are no words I can say to express how sorry I am. Every time I feel the relief of still having L, a small voice reminds me how lucky we are. I chose L as her pseudonym because she is Loved, but she is also Lucky.

I think this is the last chapter of our story. The sequel won’t be written here, but will be Lived. Lived out there, in the world that was always waiting for L.

To those still struggling – there is hope. Just don’t give up and never ever let your child think you’ve given up on them. You can do this. You are doing this.

With so much love

One More Mum