An Unbearable Prison

Once upon a time there was a Mummy, a Daddy and two little boys who were excited to welcome the new baby into their family.

The rest of the day was a blur.

I have no recollection of what happened and it was sometime later that I found out my Father was at my Godmothers house when he made the call to us.

I wonder what they talked about?

I wonder if Aunty Barbara was able to console him?

I wonder if she held him just for a moment so that he knew he was loved?

I wonder what was going through his haggard mind?

He had lost everything, his wife, his children, his self respect-his mind…

At some stage, either that day or the next, my brothers went home to collect some belonging’s for us.

This is their account of what happened;

They awoke the sleeping Giant when going upstairs and his rage was tenfold. My father tried to stop my brother Ashley taking clothes from my bedroom and demanded to know where we were. He refused his fathers enforcing and all hell broke out.

The dog was going crazy once again, confused as to whom he should protect and somehow during the eruption, the younger of my two brothers, who was only 17, had his head jammed in-between my wardrobe sliding door by our father.

A scene of commotion.

My brothers have said that he would have killed them to get to us.

They escaped the house and took the dog with them.

Everything that he had ever loved was gone and now his home was not his home, it was his external prison too.

An unbearable prison.

During a conversation with my Mother not so long ago, she added another layer to the story that was kept from me for many years. On entering the house, my brothers were hit with the stench of gas. My father had opened the oven door, left the gas on and gone upstairs to lay down.

https://www.crisistextline.uk

https://www.samaritans.org

https://www.mind.org.uk

I have no words to describe the pain that is inside of me now that must have been inside of him at that very moment, to arrive at a place in his life where he believed he could no longer live.

I felt that feeling for a split second some time ago when driving home one day in floods of angry tears. The thought crossed my mind at how easy it would be to drive the car at speed off of the downs and end all of the overwhelming inner turmoil that had been plaguing my life for so long.

Just for a split second…

and I reached out for help.

Depression, drugs, trauma, loss, grief, devastation, abuse, loneliness, self disgust and anything else you can throw into his dark pot, had WON the emotional and personal battle that he was fighting.

He didn’t want to live anymore.

He couldn’t live anymore.

Approximately 1970
Who was taking the picture?

 © All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019

Author: Michelle Denness

Wife, mother to three incredible kids and aspiring writer/poet. I am passionate about sharing personal stories to empower others and this space is for me to be open and free with my thoughts. This is my journey...

2 thoughts on “An Unbearable Prison”

  1. I commend the bravery it takes to set this in black and white, to look at it, wondering once again why? No answers, just tough memories. May it help to know your readers share a corner of this with you, the not knowing. Love you, Michelle.

    Like

    1. Thank you Joy I’m glad you’re here. I’ve carried his pain for so very long now and my hope is that by sharing my story, it will lessen the load. For many years I’ve not been able to fully understand why my life has followed such a difficult path but writing this down has made complete sense and now I realise how obvious, the reasons why are!
      If that makes sense? It’s so early in the morning and I’ve not had much sleep-brain not fully kicked in yet.
      I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know the answers to the questions that I have been driving myself crazy with for so many years about why I am the way I am? Why I’ve hurt myself over and over and why I’ve not walked my talk?
      My story is relentlessly sad right now and it has to be that way for me to get to the other side. My body and mind are tired from carrying this grief and it’s time to heal 🙏

      Like

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