The Inevitable Truth

Over the last fifteen months I’ve listened to a lot of podcasts. They’re the perfect companion to my work in the early hours as they don’t distract me from the task in hand. On the flip side, I’ve not watched television at all, as I simply don’t have time. I used to love binging shows on Netflix but I’ve not sat down and watched anything since around November 2023. Yet I can immerse myself in a podcast and kind of “escape” while I work and still be highly productive. 

This blog does touch upon the subject of grief, mental health, and suicide, and is a kind of sequel to my previous blog on dealing with grief. You can read that one here

One thing I’ve heard time and time again on podcasts are the words “His mental health declined following the death of his father/mother” and this was brought up again in a recent episode of Seeing Red, a true crime podcast. A man named David, 49, suffered a decline in his mental health following the death of his father one year previously. He went on to pen a suicide note but didn’t go through with it. However, he did kill one of his colleagues who rejected his advances.

That’s a very extreme case, but very often the death of a parent can “trigger” some kind of decline and fall. I even know someone the same age as me who took their own life last year and someone told me they hadn’t been the same since their dad passed away. It really made me shudder as I know I haven’t been “right” since my parents passed, but that’s not something that’s ever entered my head. 

Mark, one of the hosts of the Seeing Red podcast, then made a comment that was so on point and relatable.

“If you’re 50 years old and your parent dies there’s possibly less sympathy and support in the long term as people just think there’s an inevitability about this. You’re 50, of course you’ve got a parent who’s just died, and that’s sad. They say all the right things and then move on quite quickly, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult for the person who’s grieving.”

I could name half a dozen people who’ve simply dropped off the radar since my parents died. Yet there’s always the same two or three people who’ve been a tremendous support. As a singleton that means a lot. I don’t have a spouse I can talk to on a daily basis, help me with financial support, or just have a good vent. Although obviously I have my sister who I frequently message. I also have Luna, if I ever need a hug or feel the need to confide my hopes and fears. She knows more about me than any human on this planet. Equally, if she ever developed the ability to speak she could blackmail me for huge sums of money. 

Or, the rent-dodging bitch could throw me a lifeline and contribute to the eye-watering bills occasionally. 

Honestly though, some people have been about as useful as an inflatable dartboard.

If I could have done one thing differently over the last year I may have moved back to my parents' house for a year and then started a new life once the property was sold. It would have saved me thousands of pounds in rent and equally given me plenty of time to devote to house clearing, meaning it would be on the market by this point. I have to say that, so far, the solicitors have been [comment redacted for legal reasons] and my stress levels are though the roof of the Sistine Chapel.

Having said that, I do love where I currently live, and moving twice in a year brings its own stresses. 

This sounds like a cheesy and crap fridge magnet slogan but the grief process is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s been fifteen months since the nightmare really began [and one year since the funeral] but I’m hopeful, that in six months or so, a holiday or respite will finally come. 

Until then, I have to buckle up, crack on with work, try and keep on top of everything and give the dog plenty of belly rubs. 

If you want to dip into some podcasts I do recommend Seeing Red, a true crime podcast. Also, British Murders and Murder Mile. 

Not sure what drew me to true crime, but perhaps it helps with the perspective that some people have things a whole lot worse than me.