Pride and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged that no matter how old you
are there will always be those in your life who can make you feel about
6 inches tall. Of course in my case that's almost literally true?. But
what ever I lack in inches I make up for in other ways, at least that's
always been the theory.

Here's the thing. Today my bank withdrew my overdraft. Two thousand,
two hundred and fifty quid (plus the arrears on the account that made
then take it away in the first place) Might as well be ten thousand or
a million. I can't pay it, can't even begin to think about HOW I will
ever pay it, all my chances are used up.

Go directly to gaol, do not pass go, do not collect 200 pounds.

That's how I feel sometimes?like a little piece of hammered out metal
representing something inane, being pushed around a fake world for some
anonymous person's entertainment.

But the money isn't the point of this little exercise in introspection.
I'll sort it out?. God knows how or when, or if I'll have to sell a
kidney but I'll survive.

It's what I do.

You see, not too long ago I didn't have to worry about things like
this. For a brief, wonderful, time I didn't blink at a bill, or gasp at
a price. I walked into the bank and was offered coffee in a separate
room (well okay that only happened once, and I had an appointment - but
it felt great nonetheless)

Now?. Oh dear. Persona non grata. A leper of the financial world,
scorned and despised and for what?

For stealing? For Cheating? Some sort of fraud?

No no, I'm the lowest of the low because I spent money. Someone else
money then of course I hear you cry?

No. The money I spent was mine. All mine. Left to me by my mother,
left to me with no conditions because she knew, she knew, that I'd
bloody well earned it.

For almost two years now I've been living with the consequences of my
manic spending spree. The year or so when I went totally mad and blew
nearly everything I had. No matter what I do now. No matter how
frugally I live or how sensible I am now, the people who can make me
feel 6 inches tall will do so, because I committed the mortal sin of
not looking ahead.

So why did I do it? Where did all that money go I hear you ask? How
much are we actually talking about anyway? About ?25,000 all told, in
three instalments of 5, 10 and 5 consecutively. Well I have to admit
that I don't completely know the answers to those questions.
The truth is that much of that year is pretty hazy to me. No, I wasn't
on some sort of mind altering substance?. I was just grieving.

Just grieving. Now there's an interesting phrase. You know no matter
how many people tell you that they know how you feel, they really
don't. Can't.
Anymore than you have a hope in hell of ever seeing life from their
side of the window. But I know that there are those who really DON'T
have any idea just what it feels like to go through the agony of
watching someone you love die.

So, for the benefit of those who think they know, but don't, here's a
brief glimpse of the source of every single nightmare I've had for over
four years.

My mother wasn't perfect. She was moody, impulsive and stubborn. But
God she was amazing. Her sheer will power was something to see. You
know I can remember watching her struggle to get across the room,
because the cancer in her lungs was robbing her of breath and the
poison pumped into her veins was robbing her of strength. Hobble across
like she was 30 years older. Claw her way, painfully to her chair, take
a deep breath ?and answer the phone as if she didn't have a care in the
world.

After the phone call she would collapse of course? I remember thinking,
on more than one occasion, that if the call had lasted another minute
it would have killed her. But she'd never give in and admit she needed
help.

Death by telephone? what a way to go.

She didn't go that way of course. No. She slipped away from us late in
the day on a Saturday, the same unconscious grace in death that she'd
always had in life.

She just stopped breathing. It was one of the clearest moments of my
life. I suddenly realised, for the first time in my life, another
universal truth which is often acknowledged, but rarely
understood.

Life truly is fragile. The difference between being alive and being
dead is a breath. Just one lungful of air.

I looked after my mum while she was sick. I cooked for her, cleaned for
her, changed her sheets, did her shopping. Whatever she needed I was
there.

I ran her business. A residential care home for the elderly. A job I
was severely unqualified to do. But I did it anyway. I worked all day,
everyday. In by 8pm, on call through the night. No days off. No sick
days. For 18 months.

Oh I know it doesn't sound that bad. And in retrospect I guess it
wasn't. But look at it this way. I was 25 years old. I left my friends,
my life, travelled to a part of the world where I knew no one my age,
worked harder than I ever had in my life, and probably harder than I
ever will. Worried day and night that I would make a mistake and I did
it alone.

Totally alone.

Mainly, I suppose because I'm too much like her. Because I didn't ask
for help. It's always been a failing of mine, the feeling that to rely
on someone too much is to show weakness, and that weakness is too
readily leapt upon by the people that need to make you feel
small.

Maybe that's why she always pretended on the phone. Maybe she didn't
trust anyone not to judge her, feel sorry for her. Independence was my
mother's middle name. I suppose that doesn't really go hand - in hand
with trust does it? Still I hope, by the end, she felt she could trust
me, and that was why I'm the only one who saw her pain. Her FULL pain.
Or maybe, hiding it from someone always there was too much in the end.
So she gave in, graciously, as always.

Either way,

I suppose that's how I got into this financial quagmire, too proud to
ask for help from those nearest and dearest in the abiding fear that
they'll sman when I fall down. Mind you, considering my current
height, perhaps I was right.

So I'll take my 6 inch stature, and my threatening letters from Lloyds
TSB and I'll straighten this out by myself. Like always.

And if they want to consider me an irresponsible fool, then they only
have to look into the mirror to figure out why.

Pride and Prejudice. The legacy of the 21st Century family unit.

I wonder if I'll get a happy ending?