annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


The green green grass of home

Woo hoo, I got some green! I feel I shouldn't really come on here in celebratory mode about finally managing to score my illegal drug of choice, but who else am I gonna tell? One lot of real life people will start droning on about 'at my age' or 'the link to mental health problems', the other lot would be round here skinning up - the tiny little bag would be empty before the end of Strictly.

My brain has gone into over-drive with more to say than I can sort into priority.

Except of course that it is lovely to have Son here. He's out at the moment with some of his old mates. One of them, B, was round here earlier and just popped back to get his bag. It's been a few years since I've seen him - he's a man now.

I have a particular relationship with Son's old mates. They were all sixteen when I started going through my big, catastrophic breakdown and all piled into our house most days. I was mainly on the sofa in the front room - away with the fairies, living a weird alternate existence inside my head, interspersed with Olympian crying when I realised how wicked I was for what I was dreaming about, and for how I was not looking after my family.

Which I continued to not do for almost eighteen months. The kids did whatever they wanted (apart from have even one parent doing any actual parenting), which meant having loads of their friends round, taking endless amounts of drugs (mainly skunk and ecstasy, definitely no heroin - I did have some vague sense of limits) which they shared with me. The place was a tip - you always had to move something to sit down. They carried on in front of me as if I wasn't there or included me in conversations or all disappeared to do graffiti. Never school.

I have no idea what these kids thought of it all, but a few of them stayed as friends through everything: Son
moving out and not speaking to me for over two years, our eventual mutual forgiveness (bad things had been said and done, dear reader, but no need for details), his stepping away from the old ways and taking up education, the rise and fall and rise and fall of my mental health. They've seen it all and I've long since passed through shame and embarrassment as these few guys have continued to speak to me as if I counted.

I feel lucky, having seen B today - lucky we all survived, proud of the good men they are growing into.

Today's photo-a-day topic is "Can't/won't live without..." Lots of people have posted pictures of their families. All day I've been fighting the urge to write something awful about losing a child, about living on after they've gone or changed beyond recognition, but now I've put it down here which hopefully will lay it to rest and I can post a pic of something innocuous, like books.

Meanwhile (trying not to end on a bummer, dangerspouse) Son's conversations are wonderfully different from anyone else's. He was talking about Zizek's reading of The Wire and look, I found it online:

6:37 p.m. - 10.11.12


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