by Ben Thomas
“Well, I’m sorry that my mum’s death caused you such hardship.” Kev had mentioned a forbidden word and he saw it as an opportunity to derail my recovery and my attempts to recover my friendship.
He said it. Cancel it out, cancel it out. Death will happen. You caused it. You caused it.
I closed my eyes briefly, took a deep breath and allowed him his rant. He wasn’t real, he was a lie and I let his protestations drift by like passing cars on the motorway and kept on keeping on.
“Sorry, Kev, I put that insensitively. I can’t control what you think of me, but I can control my actions, and I know that I have failed you as a friend in the past, and if you can forgive me, I would like us to be friends again…and I’d try my best not to let you down again.”
“I realise you’ve decided to make a return to life, but life’s been getting along nicely without you, as you can see…” Kev gestured at the splendour of his office. “Bobby, Darren and the others may be happy with the return of the prodigal son but it doesn’t matter to me. You made the decision to walk away a long time ago and I’ve managed just fine.”
“Have you?” I said, more tersely than I’d wanted to.
“What?”
“Managed? Helen said you’ve been struggling. She said you were stressed and depressed.”
Any remnants of calmness in Kev were shattered by my tactical misjudgement. Kev rose to his feet. “You cheeky fucker. Don’t tar me with your mental brush. Helen talks bollocks just like you’ve been doing for the last ten minutes. I don’t need Helen and I don’t need you. I am doing fine.” He marched over to open the door. “Jenny, can you show Mr Stacey out please?” I sat there frozen. “In fact, Jenny, just phone down to security would you? This one doesn’t seem to appreciate the meeting is over.”
“Flipping heck, Kev. No need for that. I’m going.” I stood up, embarrassed at being thrown out and at my lack of tact. I looked at Kev on my way out.
“Sorry,” I whispered to him and then followed Jenny to the lifts before security arrived.
“Toby?” My hopes soared as I heard Kev call out to me. I turned around with a relieved smile… “You forgot your briefcase.”
He made me walk back in shame to retrieve the empty briefcase. Empty like my hopes of reconciliation. I got back in the lift and the doors closed.
29
Ambivalence settled on my mind as I considered my encounter with Kev. I had initially felt humiliation at being thrown out of his office with my tail, or at least my briefcase, between my legs, having had the audacity to think Kev would want to be reconciled. My embarrassment was swiftly washed away though by a flash flood of anger at Kev for dismissing me so easily. Who did he think he was? Just because he had made money, a lot of money, he was no better than me or anyone else. He should have been asking for my forgiveness for him letting me down. I didn’t need to read one of my letters to recall confiding in him when we were kids that I was struggling with issues I didn’t understand, and his example of friendship was to take the piss out of me and call me a mentalist. Some people said he was jealous of me at school. I don’t know if that was true, but he did seem to take a macabre satisfaction in my revealing a weakness. He laughed at me and mocked me, in the way that lads do under the immunity of banter, but not in the way that best friends should do. That had surely been a factor in me being so reluctant to discuss my issues for all these years. And yeah, I detached myself from my friends…but from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been much better, throwing himself into his business, thinking only of himself.
Yet, I could understand Kev’s response. I deserved it. Just because everyone else had appeared to blithely understand my OCD and accept it as an excuse for me avoiding life, it didn’t mean that Kev would or should. I was foolish, or at best naïve, to assume he would. He was right, a lot of people claim to have OCD and they appear to have had success in life and maintained relationships. Maybe I was using OCD as an excuse. Maybe it wasn’t as serious as I made out to myself and others. Maybe I was making too big a deal of it.
I had begun to realise that lots of people struggled with anxiety, doubt, self-esteem issues, stress, depression, and they’d made more of their lives than me. Take Kev; he had done pretty well for a so-called depressed person.
Perhaps OCD wasn’t my issue; maybe it was a weakness in my character. It could be that I had made OCD out to be more serious than it was. I mean, since meeting Susannah, I had really improved, to the point that he was often quiet. Indeed, previously after a difficult moment, like I’d just had with Kev, he would have been all over me. I would have been going in and out of doors, chanting, checking; but right then I felt calm. Well, calm-ish. It had started to become easy in some respects. I could hear, and even say and write, the forbidden words now. Maybe it was too easy. Maybe I had made up my issues. Maybe Kev had seen through me. Maybe everyone else had too and they were just humouring me.
It was hard to distinguish how much of my lack of progress in life was down to the OCD and how much was down to me. The thing with any mental condition is that nobody but the individual themselves can tell how it’s truly affecting them. I don’t know how you suffer and you don’t know how I suffer. Well, I knew how hard my OCD was. I’d lived with it and I was still living with it. It was real. It was a thief. It was vicious. It was a liar. Yes, I could be blamed for many things I’d done wrong, but I wouldn’t be blamed for finding it difficult. Maybe my OCD was mild; maybe it was severe. Either way it didn’t matter. It was, is, real to me and it hurt me. If I, or anyone else was going to attack my character, then it should be because of my own prejudice against mental health. That, along with my lack of courage in seeking help, was what had held me back all those years.
I was ashamed of my prejudice. I knew better now. Courage? Yes, I lacked courage somewhat. By the time I met with Kev, especially after a session with Susannah, I wondered what I was ever afraid of. Yet I remembered the fear; it was still in the background. But I understood it and knew that OCD was based on a lie. And when you understood the truth, it was easier to be brave.
Perhaps OCD was an excuse. But now I had hold of the truth. Now I’d learnt how to be brave. Now I knew there was help. And now I had the tools to keep OCD at arm’s length. So now, I guess, there could be no more excuses. It was up to me to start living for real.
30
Over the next few weeks I was determined to build upon my successes in rehabilitating myself into real life. I wanted to keep pushing forward, I had momentum and I wanted to keep it going. I wanted to prove to myself that I could enjoy life and I was determined to make up for lost time. The busier I was, the easier it was. I made a big decision too: I decided not to refer to the OCD as he anymore, as that was showing it too much respect.
I continued my sessions with Susannah but reduced them from twice a week to once a week. In that time, we continued with exposure and response prevention. I began to understand and appreciate that I had had a fucked-up belief system that gave meaning to the thoughts. It was sort of like I had to rewire my brain to correct the fault and reboot my belief system to recognise that thinking catastrophic thoughts could not cause harm to come to me or to others. By testing out my new belief system, I found I had no need to fear the thoughts. So when they came, as they still did, I didn’t need to give them a second thought, so to speak. I didn’t need to give them any air time or cancel them out with a compulsion because I knew that thoughts were all they were; they were of no consequence. The less I feared them, the less frequent the thoughts became.
I wasn’t completely free, but I had improved markedly and I was starting to feel normal. In a bizarre way I sometimes felt relief when an attack came, because it proved to me I hadn’t been making it up and it hadn’t been too easy to beat. Nonetheless, I was even more relieved that I retained the courage to fight back, not by resisting, but by being brave enough to let my fears burn themselves out. I learned that my OCD wa
s like a wasp. If I was panicked by its presence and tried to get rid of it by swatting it away, it was liable to get angry and sting me. If I ignored it, soon it would get bored and leave of its own accord.
I had a few more nights out with the lads and Bobby, Dad and I had actually been for a couple of rounds of real golf. It is safe to say Bobby and I were better at crazy golf, but it was something that we were keen to keep up. I had kept up with my running, which was a big help, and had even taken Darren up on his invitation and been to the last two rugby training sessions.
Kev had not been on any of our nights out and hadn’t been in touch. I still hoped for entente, but I had done my bit and resigned myself to waiting for him and making sure I was there for him if he needed me.
What about Julie? We’d met up about five or so times – well, actually seven times, not that I’m counting – since the night in the pub. I don’t know if they could be classified as dates, but in my head I convinced myself they were. Nothing had happened to confirm any romance; I didn’t know how she felt about me, but I was becoming more certain how I felt about her. For now, we were enjoying each other’s company. It felt good.
I had started to turn my attention to what I was going to do about work. I still had enough money in my savings, but an inevitable part of living life is spending more, and my savings were fast being depleted. I was still staying at Mum and Dad’s. I didn’t feel recovered enough or confident enough yet to move back into my house on my own but I knew I had to do it sometime.
*
“What about that chip on the sixteenth though, Toby, eh? Yes sir, your old man still has the magic.”
“Yeah, yeah, Dad. Considering you’re such a pro and I’ve just started, I think the scores were pretty close.”
We had just returned home from golf and were awaiting the traditional refrain from Mum of ‘Shoes off!’ but it didn’t come. Instead we heard what sounded like lowered voices from the kitchen. Dad and I exchanged wary glances before going to investigate.
The kitchen door was slightly ajar and so dad peered in and I looked over his shoulder. Jess and Mum were standing by the sink in an embrace. Mum looked like she was comforting Jess. My first thought was that she had fallen out with Jez. But no, there was Jez, sat at the kitchen table with an awkward smile on his face as he spotted us.
“Loves, what is it?” The words stumbled out of Dad. As we know, emotional situations were not his forte.
Jess detached herself from Mum. “I can’t go to Kilimanjaro,” she gasped and then spurred on by a fresh round of tears she flung herself into Dad’s arms.
“Oh love, I’m so sorry.” Dad stroked her hair. He was looking as confused as I felt.
“Don’t be sorry, it’s great news,” interjected Mum with what I deemed to be an incongruous smile etched on her face.
Dad’s look of confusion turned to anger. “Sue, I know you were worried about her going, but come on! You accuse me of being insensitive.”
“No, Dad. It is good news.” Jess looked at Dad and then to me and back to Dad. She was beaming. “I’m not going because I’m pregnant.”
“Yes, love, of course.” It clearly didn’t strike Dad as a time for jokes. “And that’s why your mum is so happy?”
“Oh Mike, I am happy. It’s amazing news!” said Mum.
“What…so you’re really…? You…” Dad switched his look to Jez, who had maintained his awkward smile, “…and him…Baby?” Dad stepped back from Jess momentarily as he wrestled with shock and incomprehension.
I took the opportunity to step in. “That’s amazing, sis. Congratulations.” I gave her a hug and then shook Jez’s hand. “Well done, mate.” Jez nodded his appreciation to me but his awkward smile was now a nervous smile as he watched Dad absorb the news. Dad stood with his hands over his face.
“Dad?” Jess looked at him imploringly.
“And you’re happy about this, Sue?” asked Dad tentatively.
“Of course I am.”
Dad turned back to Jess and put his hands on her shoulders. “And most importantly, are you happy, Jess?”
“It was a bit of a shock at first, but yeah…yeah, I’m really happy.”
“And this one,” he pointed at Jez, “you’re happy with him, are you? Because I can sort him out if you want me to? Just give me the word.” Jez pretended to cower slightly, well I assume he was pretending, just as I assumed Dad was joking. Then again, you’re not meant to assume anything, are you?
“Dad, Jez will be a great dad, just like you. Just not as threatening.”
“My daughter’s going to have a baby. I can’t believe it. Come here, you.” Tears rolled down Dad’s cheeks as he pulled Jess into him. “And you, Sue.” Dad beckoned Mum over to join their embrace. “We’re going to be grandparents.” Dad turned his head towards Jez feigning seriousness, “I’ll deal with you later. We need to have a chat about your responsibilities.”
“No problem, Grandad,” said a relieved-looking Jez.
*
We all sat around the kitchen table. Dad had unearthed a bottle of champagne that had been bought for his and Mum’s anniversary in a couple of weeks. I looked at Mum, who was glowing. We were all excited but none more so than her.
It turned out Jess was three months’ pregnant. All was well with the baby but Jess had been having some minor problems with her breathing, so the doctor advised her against the climb.
“Are you still going, Jez?” I asked.
Jez and Jess exchanged looks. “Jess wants me to still go but it’s something that we planned together and wanted to do together. It was Jess’s idea originally, so it wouldn’t feel right to do it without her.”
“What would happen to all your sponsorship money?” asked Mum.
“And your own money that you’ve already paid, come to think of it?” Dad said.
“Hopefully those who have already paid the sponsorship won’t demand their money back. I mean, it is for charity after all. As far as our own money is concerned, it’s too late for a refund. Jess may be able to claim on her travel insurance, but I doubt I can. So we may lose our money unless someone can go in our place. Doubtful, seeing as it’s in ten days.”
Mum and Dad made reassuring noises and then we heard a voice, almost a whisper…
“I’ll do it.”
I looked up to see everyone’s attention on me and I realised that yes, it really was me who’d said it.
“I’ll do it.” This time I said it with more conviction and nodded in what I hoped was an authoritative manner.
Dad inhaled deeply and said “Don’t you think it’s too soon? It won’t be easy, you know with what’s been going on. Maybe you could do it in a year’s time.”
I ignored Dad’s concerned interjection, however well intentioned. I’d had enough doubt in my life. I focused on Jess and Jez. “So, what do I need to do?”
They both looked at Mum and Dad. “Maybe your Dad’s right. You’ve been doing well with your therapy and you might not want to interrupt that. And besides, physically it will be tough. We’ve been training hard for the past two months.”
“Give over, Jez. You know you’re talking crap just to keep on Mum and Dad’s good side.” Jez winced ever so slightly under my sister’s retort. “Toby’s fitter than both of us and he can’t take his therapist with him everywhere he goes. And besides, it’s only for a week. He can handle it.”
“Jess is right.” Everyone had to do a double take before realising that it was Mum championing my cause. “I believe you can do this, Toby. You don’t want to look back on your life and think, ‘I could have done that if only I was a little braver,’” she said, as she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. “I know I might have been overprotective of you. Parents worry about their children, of course they do – and maybe I’ve transferred some of that worry to you, Toby – but the way you’ve handled your issues is�
�well…” She sniffed. “I know you can achieve everything you want to, that’s all. My fears have held me back in the past, and I don’t know, maybe it’s my fears that have held you back, but not any longer. You’ve broken free, Toby, and you should go for it.”
Dad put his arm around Mum. “I’ve said it before and I will say it again, what a great family I have.” You could see he was swelling with pride. “Well said, love. And you’re right. I believe in you too, Toby. I only said that before to pretend I was a responsible dad. Hey, there are two spaces available…sounds like your mum wants to go with you.”
“Ha!” Mum whacked Dad with a cushion. “I can’t go, who’d look after you?”
“Erm, on that point, I might be able to find someone to take the other place. When do you need to know by?” I asked Jess.
“They’ll need to know at least a week before you go, so you have a few days. Are you sure Bobby will be fit enough?”
“It’s not Bobby I have in mind.”
31
Julie and I looked at each other and smiled. Sweat was dripping from every pore of my body. Even Julie had a sheen over her brow and we were both struggling to bring our breathing back under control. Julie put out her hand and touched my bare arm.
“Wow, Toby. That was great. You’re better than I thought. You gave me a good licking there.”
I had just beaten Julie in a sprint finish at the climax of our five mile run. This was another of our ‘it’s not a date’ dates. It was Julie’s idea, but it was good timing as it gave me a chance to gauge her fitness. When we worked together I was not renowned for my healthy lifestyle, while Julie was often going to the gym or for a run before work. I’d mentioned I was going for a run and she said she’d join me.
We regained our composure and started strolling along the river. The sun was shining and a gentle breeze cooled us. I took in the beautiful environment. A kingfisher sat serenely on the bank. A mother duck was encouraging her young as they swam in the crystal clear water, urging them to explore their new and exciting world. I nodded as a fellow jogger ran past. I felt blessed to be alive.
