I usually get my thoughts for my blog whilst driving. One thing I know I should be doing is providing the important background of events, but still, one year and eight months away from Feb 2010, I find it so upsetting to look at my emails of that time.
After our mum died suddenly and unexpectedly following a short and nasty bout of cancer, in August 2008 I hit a low point. I found it incredibly difficult to deal with the finality of losing a loved one – as most people do. In the end, I knew I needed help and contacted CRUSE, the bereavement counselling charity, and they were brilliant. A lady from CRUSE actually came round to my home to talk to me once a week for, I think, three weeks. And although talking through my feelings, thoughts and worries didn’t dispel the agony I was going through, it did remind me that my depression was self inflicted. I have had a previous bought of depression back when I was a 20 something whippersnapper. I suddenly and totally unexpectedly exhibited the classic signs of a “breakdown” when I woke up one morning and decided the world was a terrible place, and I wasn’t going to get out of bed! The sudden early death of my uncle – with, unnervingly, the same cancer that my mum was to die of – threw me out of kilter. It was my mum this time, who dragged me to our GP and he in turn sent me to a counsellor.
This was a nasty period of my life wherein the counsellor brought forth buried deep within me, the despair I felt and wouldn’t confront, of my parent’s divorce. When I was 13, the marriage came to a close and my mum leant hard on me. My elder sister was about 16 and carving a new life for herself outside of the family home and little sister was only about 9 and was the apple of daddy’s eye. I remember asking my dad to show me how to change a tyre on a car, just in case mum’s car got a flat! And asked him to teach me how to wire a plug. I laugh now, is this the sum total of fatherhood – changing tyres and wiring plugs? Unfortunately, I made myself so useful to my mum that it got to the point after I’d left home, that every time I went to visit I had to take my tool box with me to do running repairs on her home. I remember after the counselling saying to mum “can’t I just come and visit you and not do any jobs?” She said yes, then added “just this time, can you bring your drill…….” I did speak to her about my feelings and the fact that she did, because my dad had left her for another woman, try to turn us away from him. But given what she personally had to endure, she wasn’t very receptive to my comments! What amazed me was my admission to the counsellor that still, even though I was in my mid 20’s, I wanted my parents to get back together! They had both changed so much, my head knew this was an impossibility, but that does not mollify your heart.
So, where have I digressed off to. Yes, that’s it, the first counsellor I ever saw opened an amazing vista and gave me the most important lesson for life – that YOU are in control of what YOU think. If you think of something that makes you unhappy, well, don’t think about it. It is an extremely difficult state to achieve, you are filled with guilt about not thinking of the thing that upsets you, as in a death. When a loved one dies, you are terrified that you might forget them, you feel guilt that they are no longer with you and anger at what took them away. But if you steel your mind and don’t think these thoughts, you won’t forget them. Time will pass and you will be able to cope with the memory of them.
And that, dear readers, is why I have not gone back to my old emails to give you more background. Thinking of what happened makes me depressed, angry and upset. And what’s the point of upsetting yourself when there’s nothing you can do about anything!
So, that was my explanation for lack of background, here comes my thought for the day. I’ve asked this question before on this blog, about anonymity, the legalities of blogging, but surely what has happened to me has already been reported on in the, albeit, local papers. The company that my husband stole money from has issued press releases advising their industry that they have picked themselves up, dusted themselves down, and are more successful than ever, even given the fact that my husband, their finance director, stole over one million pounds. So why am I so shy? Why am I lurking in the corridor not wanting to put my head up over the parapet to be blasted at by rotten tomatoes?
I say, yet again, that I knew nothing of what my husband was doing for all those years. I know that I inadvertently benefitted from his theft, but given the agreed salary and bonuses my husband received, I believed this money was legally received.
I am afraid, I suppose, of lawyers. My life has been ripped apart – by my husband – but also by lawyers. My husband did not involve me in any of his wrong doing, the lawyers tried to do so. They alleged that I owned a second property, I suppose after discovering that some of his investments had been placed in my name. But I had and have, no way of knowing whether these investments had been purchased with stolen money or money lawfully earned. There were other things that cropped up, but I’d have to go back and look at those damned emails.
Where does this leave me. Oh yes, my thought for the day. Why have colleagues of my husband, close colleagues, not been in contact? One colleague we both visited in the States when my husband was sent to work in Chicago for 4 months. It was agreed, but I think later denied, that I could accompany him on this trip. In doing so, we became very close with an Albanian couple who worked for the company. We were friends, we exchanged gifts, spent 4th of July festivities together. When the male friend, who worked for the company, discovered what had happened, he telephoned us from Chicago and told me he wanted to immediately fly over and support my husband. I told him what had happened, how much we thought husband had taken but begged him not to spend money on a flight. I said I would keep in contact, but then suddenly all communication ceased. Emails went unanswered, no Facebook messages from his wife, nothing. Stupidly I don’t have his home phone number because I should call to find out why the sudden suspension of friendship.
The second person was husband’s assistant. This is an interesting one because her partner still works for the company and, I might say, benefitted from the exotic holiday courtesy of stolen airmiles. Husband’s assistant hated with a passion the two owners of the company and a very interesting afternoon was spent in our old garden when she came to visit, recalling all the benefits the tax man wasn’t aware of. But then, after saying she would support husband in court and tell her side of the story, a deathly silence ensued. Why? Husband has written to her from his cell, but his letter went unanswered. Given the close working relationship they had, and her hatred of the two owners, this is really strange. Again, I suppose I could call, but I don’t like to – mind you, what can she say that I haven’t already heard.