Anxiety, mental health

Let’s talk about abandonment. Strap yourself in… it’s a wild ride. Part 1.

8B8EF22B-3452-470E-B0F0-5ED425259A54Today hasn’t been a good one really. Them pesky butterflies have been speeding round like no ones business, and I’ve just managed to work myself down from the dizzying heights of a panic attack (with the help of some beta-blockers and knowing my sister is with me).

Taking my mum and Aunty to the airport this morning triggered me – I recognised the trigger, why I was panicking. That the last time I was there was a really happy time. And now I’m there in the depths of my well after another male figure has gone.

I panic every time I’m in the airport anyway, a lot of people around and I’m the sort of person that loses their passport and sense of direction very easily.

This came up when I was first diagnosed. In a few of my therapy sessions, we explored my fear of being left. Especially by men.

Now don’t get me wrong, my family is a family of strong independent women, we’re all a version of Queen B. But I’d like to add I’m the only one with the moves 💁‍♀️. And I absolutely love them, they’re all an inspiration to me. No one NEEDS a man to be successful, happy and powerful. They make me see that everyday.

But I have a little niggle (by niggle I mean massive issue) with constantly feeling whatever man I trust, and love, in either a romantic or family way, will leave me. Even if it’s not out of their choice, they’ve gone.

I was 7 years old when I lost my best friend. My Grandad. He was an intelligent man, a genealogist (he did what do for you.) He was even an author, but most of all he was my favourite guy. I called him ‘Grandad Glasses’ can you guess why? What an observant child I was. Anyway as usual I’m digressing, let’s get to the point.

We went to the park every other Saturday. We would get an ice cream with raspberry sauce, and he would tell me that the sauce was “Sampson’s blood”.

Now in the shittest of situations, my grandad suffered a cardiac arrest due to a hefty MI (heart attack, sorry I just can’t help call it an MI. I never knew if it may have been an NSTEMI OR A STEMI. (I really do need to stop I’m such a nerd)) on his 60th birthday. And I was there. I saw it. I watched my family attempt CPR – and like 82% of out of hospital cardiac arrests, my grandad died.

That day he wouldn’t let me play cricket with him and the boys, I was his ‘princess’ and i think he just didn’t want me hurting myself. (But I’m cracking at rounders so I bet I would of been the next Freddy Flintoff) But promised he would play a game I wanted to play later. He didn’t.

Yes I KNOW, that isn’t my fault, he died, I didn’t make that happen. I KNOW, he meant what he said. But the promise wasn’t fulfilled. And my first sense of abandonment occurred. And it’s sat with me in my little well, even when I’m sat on the edge of the well, every day since (maybe that’s what that fungi is – it’s DEFINITELY NOT edible.)

(This is so jolly to read isn’t it? Got your bag of popcorn with you?)

After that I don’t know about you, but I fancy a pint of wine! Happy Saturday.


5 thoughts on “Let’s talk about abandonment. Strap yourself in… it’s a wild ride. Part 1.

  1. I feel your pain… I lost my grandpa nearing 6 years ago… Parkinsons. I didn’t deal with life for 3 months straight… then got a tattoo and a therapist. Sending love your way


  2. It’s so difficult isn’t it, I’ve lost both mine now and they were such strong male figures in my life. But you do get to a point where you smile when you think of them. But just wish they were around when you’re at your lowest. Lots of love x

    Liked by 1 person

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