Connection and separation

Grief has connected me to more people than any other experience. I don't know how anyone else feels but I can get close by empathising. Empathy is useful in that it places me imaginatively in their position but it doesn't let me know how they actually feel. If I have experienced loss of almost any kind I can exprapolate that experience to a level similarly experience by others. Everyone has had a broken heart or been let down or refused a job or lost a relative and therefore everyone has a shared human experience with every other human.

Grief has enabled me to experience varying depths of separateness. It ranges from shallow, short-lived rifts to sharp-edged fissures that travel all the way down and will never reconnect. 

Daily, I experience little stabs of detachment that jolt me away from my immediate surroundings for a few seconds. Sometimes I become aware I have disengaged only after I come to, a minute into wandering nostalgia. This mostly happens when I am in the busiest company- in my office at work or a bustling shop. 

At its worst my severence is an absolute negation of human connectedness as if I am forcibly caste out to a faraway desert. It can last hours or days. It is dry, forbidding, simultaneously too hot and too cold, a killer of growth. I imagine pariahs in enforced solitary confinement or interns in a gulag isolated by cold and distance. I think I can feel despair but during those times of deep disassociation I try to remember I have great connection to others through universally shared experiences. 

  

Loss and Armistice Day

I attended Belfast City Hall's war cenotaph at 11am on 11th November. It was a focal point, I guess, to concentrate the mind on death and war. The sky was uniformly battleship grey and the multitude of umbrellas encouraged the rain to break the silence throughout. There were hundreds of us but most appeared to be alone. I thought of Wiłfred Owen's "old lie, dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" and tried to imagine traumatised non-patriots aiming their rifles too high, the conscientious objectors rotting for years in barren and disgusting jails, teenagers too young to fight but the old dispassionate generals looking the other way, the mothers without sons.

I never really paid too much attention to Armistice Day until this year. It has a greater resonance with me now because I understand the concept of loss in a deeper and more personal way than before. I do not need to empathise with parents who have lost their children to war because I can sympathise- I know, as far as one can, how they feel. Watching documentary clips of the time and reading personal accounts and poetry of the experiences of that generation is surprising in its ordinariness. Far from feeling dated it feels of my time as if these are my streets and my friends and my neighbours. Their desires, severences and anger is the same as mine- the desire for peace, severence from those I love and anger about disempowerment- and, as such, connects me to them in a deeply human way irrespective of chronological and geographical differences. 

Grief has taught me many things. One valuable perspective it has afforded me is that I should raise my head over parochialism and into a more universal view- to proactively search for connections with others and the identification of the narrative arc in the human story- universalism equates to unification, the commonalities shared by all of us.  I do not doubt that war has had similar effects on those who are forced into its violent sobriety and might be lucky enough to reflect- maybe they can also identify tendrils, valued alliances, across time and continents.

And those old generals who look the other way, cancers that they are, should hang their heads, weap with shame and tearfully beg our forgiveness. 

Letter to a Young Man

Brothers and young men,

I am over fourty and drive a bloody caravan. I am still a nurse after twenty years and yes, it is still worth it. I am still with the same woman after nearly two decades and yes, it is also worth it- I have never had an itch, never really argued and have no regrets. I have broken a heart, had a broken heart, experienced poor health and good health and I have been through every parents worst nightmare- the death of my child. 

For whatever value it may have, here is a little advice. 

Remain anti-authoritarian forever, it will always be worth it. No-one has greater authority over you than you. In these regards you are always correct. Assume all authority is wrong and must prove itself. If it is robust it is worth your respect. Develop your contrarian skills because the ineptitude of youthful disputation catches up with you surprisingly fast- be contrarian to develop and forward discussion. Weigh, consider and understand opposing arguments and search for interlocution, don't wait for the opportunities. Expect to lose arguments and, when you do, lose them respectfully and with insight. Apologise if you need to but know that no-one has the right to not be offended. Be abusive if necessary but make sure you can back it up. Learn when to apologise to keep the peace even if you are in the right. Read, read, read- your brain and life will be enriched greater than you can suppose- it will get you places. Question even the knowledge. 

When it comes to arguments, women, friends, work, self-determination, autonomy and freedom of expression punch above your weight. If you become the most intelligent person you know, you need new friends. 

Don't smoke. Admittedly there are times you are sat outside in the bright sunshine, wrapped up snug in the wintry icyness, Raybans and wool, cup of strong black coffee and cigarette in the same hand, surrounded by smoke and misty breath, feeling like the cafe king or an extra from a Nordic jazz club at 4am. At those times you will feel sophisticated and desirable but they will happen less frequently than you can count on your nicotine-stained fingers. Also, the woman who said she loved the smell of beer and cigarettes on you loved it on every other man and this is as far removed from a universal desire as loving the smell of old sweat. She was a one-off. Give up. 

Don't take anything too seriously because austerity is overrated. You will face off abstemious conservatism as others' camouflage for ineptitude. Don't brush off the challenge, it is always worth confrontation. And then dismiss its ascetic rigidity with the disdain it deserves. Everything worth something has flexibility. Accept anything serious with a little comedy (and take your comedy seriously). You will learn there is light in the darkest places and that when you peer over the edge of the abyss it is often humour that connects you to others. This connection, in the most human way, will draw you back to the community. It is love and laughter that will save you. 

Take opportunities as they show themselves. You will naturally pave avenues of interest but a spontaneous tangent will offer itself here and there and you should always take them seriously. They are the free kisses, the lime in the gin and tonic, the strangers' flattery. A chance opening, the pleasure of the unexpected journey, will take you to new geographical, emotional, corporeal and professional rewards and you will have no serious regrets. Give everyone you meet, and every opportunity you receive, what you should give a new painting- the advantage of a good light. 

Love more. You can be a habitually poor friend but also acutely connected at times. Consider the middle ground, the mean between disconnectedness and emotional profligacy. You can be loyal, reinforcing, supportive, funny, someone who can walk into a party and be seen by friends who might say "oh, it's all going to be fine now". But you need to maintain this because it is beneficial to the point of virtuousness. Love your friends and tell them. And, for Christs sake, phone your mum. 

The love you have for your children will be mountainous. It will overshadow everything else and will provide the framework for all necessary prioritisation in all aspects of your life. Nothing else comes close. If you are concerned that you might not have space in your heart to love anyone other than your partner, don't worry. There will come a startling realisation at the birth of your first baby that you have unlimited love and that such joy isn't slave to quantitative subjection. 

Love your family as if you may not see them again because, in reality, you might not. When you are wondering if they are sleeping well, but don't want to disturb them, go and check anyway. Even when you are not wondering go and stare. If they are away, check. If you think they are out of your sight and you are afforded the merest glimpse of them, glimpse. Know everything about them. Suffuse yourself with your children. Ingest them. 

Work to live. If you initiate a vocational career put the effort in early, thereafter your work/life balance is easier to maintain. Do a job you enjoy, there is no reason to consider otherwise. Never be afraid of failure because you have much less to lose than you irrationally think. Don't let perceived economics or the capitalist status quo chain you to an undesired, thankless and unrewarding life. Don't let money direct you, it is ultimately insignificant.

Know that life is meaningless. It is meaningless insofar that it has no pre-ordained logic or fatalism which should be a great relief because you can therefore make your life what you want. What is the meaning of life? The meaning of your life is what you make it. Rise above provincialism (your position wasn't asked for) into a more universal perspective. Consider your life, think about it, consciously reject and accept premises, learn yourself, be vulnerable and modest, don't mess about, don't presume. You get only one chance so live well. 

Value aesthetics. They matter. Beauty and art can save you at the very worst times. 

Be good. 

With love,

Ben

 

The Pragmatics of Grief

-The tears can flow spontaneously and surprisingly so it is worth having a few quiet spaces, a private nook, to quietly slink off to for a quick blub. Have you adventured into every room and cupboard at work? At home do you cry where you drop or is there a target tear space?

I have evolved a gravitation to two spots at work where I can comfortably be alone for a few minutes during those times the tears are beyond my control. At home I always seem to end up in the same room. Always carry tissues. 

-Your closest friends may not be the ones to contact on every occasion. Someone else might be the most appropriate company at certain times. 

-Learn the signs that things are awry. When my breathing begins to labour or when I shiver on that spot between my shoulder blades I know it is the right moment to be alone. 

-Drop everything. You have to prioritise and if you are not in control it is difficult to look after others (or work on that spreadsheet or cook the dinner or pay for those groceries). You should often be your primary concern. 

-Try something new. There is calm and security in familiar routine but one has to actively consider the new normal. This consideration includes adventuring some into unfamiliar places. 

-Expect unexpected emotions. Be prepared to not want to communicate for days or weeks. Be prepared for unanticipated bouts of disproportionate mediocrity. Be prepared for self-induced pathos. Be prepared for laughter and acute sadness that can occur within seconds and be prepared to get used to it. Be prepared for rage and rejection. Be prepared. 

-Keep busy. Bit obvious this one but being occupied is a great distraction. What's less obvious is that busyness usually involves setting small, achievable goals which has a subconscious side effect of increasing your own feelings of self control and empowerment. 

-Eat regularly. Your appetite might be low and eating small, easily made, regular meals will keep your blood sugar stable which can have a knock-on effect of improving your mood. In addition it is likely you will feel lethargic and, put simply, food equals energy. Also, feelings of stress have been shown to reduce an effective immune system and increase the time it takes to heal wounds. Ingesting decent nutrients can counter this problem. 

-Sleep well and rest well. Stop when you need to, nap when you need to, go to bed early, no screens in the bedroom (they play havoc with your circadian rhythm), don't be afraid of medication if you need it, the room needs to be dark and the right temperature, no caffeine within 6 hours of bedtime, no exercise late at night. 

-Stretch those legs. I cycle and jog enthusiastically and get tearfully cranky if I go three days without exercise. A full cardiovascular workout is not demanded every day but a short, fast walk can work wonders and help you sleep deeper. 

-Do what you normally do. You know your own coping mechanisms when used for previous stressors so consider them and adjust as necessary. 

-Be kind and gentle to yourself. Obviously. And being kind and gentle to others helps too. 

Assisting the atheist in the foxhole to die

As a nurse and humanist I would be greatly honoured to help someone to a peaceful death. The old religious maxim that there are no atheists in foxholes has been disproved to me time and time again. I have met a number of people close to death or who are dying and make no concession to religious affiliation through any sense of fear or anxiety. It is humbling and impressive to experience the graceful dignity of an extremely sick person who refutes the fears of divine punishment and the desires for divine reward and, instead, faces their death from a fully human perspective.

After death we are as non-existent as we were before we were alive. When we are dead we are, as we were when we were alive, simply a collection of various chemicals but without consciousness. But when we are close to death we are still alive and, as such, must be afforded all the rights and respects defaulted to all humans- dignity, autonomy, freedom of choice and so on- and this includes rights over ones' body. Dying is part of living. It seems perfectly logical, loving and respectful to assist someone to a peaceful death of their choice if they are unable to provide that for themselves and I would be proud to help someone achieve what they cannot. I consider it a human duty. 

Castlewellan, Co. Down in Autumn

By midday the dew is still refusing to evaporate and continuing to twinkle in the unmistakenly autumnal light. The cloudless sky is an acid blue like a Mediterranean sea in a holiday brochure. We are entirely surrounded by old trees, nestled in a copse of silver birch and in sight of gnarly oaks planted when Galileo was observing the stars. There is more than a hint of the Jurrasic in the evergreens. Bone dry, brown, curly leaves drop into my coffee. The loudest sounds are made by a hundred-strong murder of crows navigating the forest using the highest canopies as junctions. The only other noises are other birds. 

The lake is so smooth I want to jump in with a parachute and fall for years.

The sun is warm only in direct sight and the air is crisp. The shadows are icy cold. There is a lucidity in the distant panorama only possible in moistureless chilled air. 

It is ancient, relentless and simultaneously irrespective of people but unambiguously symbiotic with them. 

Six Clients

In many ways I am a lucky man. One major stream of support and pleasure is my job in which I have interesting experiences every day and work with lovely people who are there for truly ethical reasons. 

But I can't mention the specifics of my work to anyone due to keeping confidentiality with clients. There are many jobs like this so here is an example of my day. None of these six clients are real but are typical.

Liz is 23. She is homeless and has been addicted to alcohol since she was a teenager and has a diagnosis of chronic psychosis, experiencing hallucinations daily ("hearing voices") and clinical paranoia- a complex web of conspiratorial, persecutory organisations that are constantly watching her every move. Her addiction and illness has made her aggressively defensive against perceived slights and she has been barred from every service that helps homeless people except mine. In my office she mistook someone's laugh as a sneer, thought they wanted to harm her and she attacked first. This wasn't her second chance, it was her eighth. She had to be barred from the building. 

Conor is 48 and has been transient for over 20 years since being evicted from a cult and losing his wife, children and all his friends. The stress caused a long-term breakdown in his mental health, he has engaged meaningfully with no service since and carries a box of sharp pencils to defend himself against nurses and social workers who, he believes, all want to detain him and inject him with poison. I need to develop a connection and a relationship with him to complete a more detailed mental health assessment and, thereafter, suggest possible treatment. He has never lived in permanent accommodation and never lives in a city longer than 4 months. 

Lucaz is 29 and from Lithuania. He doesn't speak any English and we use an interpreter to communicate.  He is legally entitled to almost nothing, benefits or housing-wise. After rough-sleeping for weeks he developed a hip problem and was admitted to hospital. He actually had a complex infection that took months of aggressive therapy to clear up due to his newly diagnosed liver failure.  He has developed fibromyalgia and may have become addicted to the opiate-based painkillers he was prescribed. He was discharged from hospital with an inadequate care package and is now homeless, on crutches and with a big paper bag of medication available to abuse. 

Rachael is 34 and has acquired a brain injury after an assault from her father when she was a child. She has a long history of childhood sexual abuse and exploitation. She has four children from four different men, none of whom she has any contact with, and all four children are in care because she has been deemed inacapable of coping with most adult responsibilities. She has recently started a relationship with a known all-round nasty piece of work and multiple violent offender. She knows his history and doesn't appear to care. They are both homeless. 

Ahmed is 24 and from Somalia. He had been seeking asylum for eight months and has been a refugee (received five years leave to remain) for five months. In those five months he has been "sofa-surfing"- moving between friends, friends-of-friends and charitable strangers- and he has been on the streets for a few weeks here and there. He has developed complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after his experiences that forced him away from his home country and experiences daily symptoms of a heightened state of persistent anxiety ("hyper-vigilance"), reliving (recurring violent nightmares and horrifying flashbacks) and auditory (noise) and gustatory (taste) hallucinations. As we talk, using an interpreter, he is distracted by the screams of his family and the persistent taste of their blood in his mouth ("like sweat and rust"). I notice he is missing three fingers but can't bring myself to ask why. 

Harry is 28 and had been a bar manager for years. He had no health problems, is on no medication and, up until a year ago, considered himself fit and healthy. Then he got curious and sniffed some cocaine. He now sniffs or smokes cocaine every day. He couldn't cope at work, lost his job, couldn't pay his rent, was evicted by his landlord and has told no-one about his problems due, entirely, to embarrassment. He finds it hard to picture his future. 

All these clients were assessed using a complex-needs, multi-disciplinary assessment tool that takes an hour or two. Their needs were identified, plans were put in place and issues addressed. Five of the six walked away in a better state than when we first met, with a clear plan of support in place and a roof, albeit temporary, over their heads. 

Again, none of these cases are real but the symptoms, issues and experiences described have all been mentioned to me over the years. These are very typical clients seen on a very typical day in my typical week. 

One of the many reasons I enjoy my job is because it is extremely interesting. I meet a very wide population demographic and I am amazed, almost daily, by the strength, courage, dignity and kindness of my brothers and sisters in my human race. 

I am one of millions of workers all around the world who can tell no-one about my job because all cases are extremely confidential. How fascinating it would be to be privy to the specific details of a day in the life of a spy, a psychotherapist, a governmental policy-maker, a prosthetic limb maker, a publisher with a new book, an artist on commision and any other number of quiet, autonomous cogs in the machine. They are millions and they are unmentioned and they are intriguing and they keep it all going. I appreciate the beauty in their anonymity and collective power.