A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing.

And so it is that I'm sat here in my sofa, and quite unexpectedly my Little Big Boy is sitting here beside me.
As it turns out, it's not due to the greatest of circumstances though.

Back in September he went off to college, after having won the sponsorship of a shipping company, to be trained up as a Marine Engineering Officer in the Merchant Navy.
It was all excitement, the great adventure looming...

He's just completed 6 months training at college and he should now be waiting to sail out on the wide seas.
However, not all has gone as expected. Far, far from it, in fact.


If you have read some of my previous entries, you will have found out a bit about things that went on in our household some years back. What you don't know yet, is that since my boy was seven years of age, and came to Scotland, his natural father virtually turned his back on him. He has not had any time or affection for him. Contact had been non-existent for about seven years, until my boy became so frustrated and angry that we decided to try and build some bridges. It's a long story, but basically the gist of it is, that things never quite got off the ground. There has been some sort of contact, but not of the kind that can fill this huge big gaping hole in his life. I have a lovely boy, who I would give the world, but the one thing he misses in his life, is the very thing I can never give him.. and that is for his birth father to take a genuine interest in him and show him love.

I can only make a guess about how much he has hurt over those years, and still does.

I'm left completely powerless.

Like any teenager, he's been through the hormonal mill over the last few years, sometimes being as prickly as a scared hedge-hog. Probably prickly for the same reasons as that same hedge-hog. Other times, still just a little ball of fluff, needing to be hugged and cuddled, still very much in need of protection and guidance.

Just a few years ago, at the onset of his puberty years, whilst his young mind was trying to cope with the lack of meaningful contact with his father, together with all the usual turmoil that's part of growing up, his step dad was slowly losing grip on life, as bipolar illness took a hold of him.
You would think any young person could be forgiven for having lost direction from time to time, for feeling confused, particularly under those circumstances.

And of course, there have been occasions when all this teenage angst has manifested itself in a fight or two, in some rude words... but a mother's love is the most bottomless pit and nothing is forgiven and forgotten faster than the mistakes of a growing child. On top of that, I'm the first one to admit that I've been the one to handle some situations in the wrong way. Parenting is challenging at the best of times and especially your first born can turn your life into a steep learning curve.

We have generally had a good open relationship over the years, but there are always things that you simply can't discuss with your nearest and dearest.
Sometimes you need someone who is completely impartial.
On the subject of his birth father, I am all but neutral, in fact, it can make me feel so very angry inside, on account of my child. He's obviously very aware of that, and I just can't help myself, however much I try to suppress those feelings.

And so it happened that my boy felt the need to talk to someone about this. At college he found out about a counselling service for students, and decided to go and talk to a professional about his feelings.


I was actually really pleased to hear about this, (he told me straight away about the fact that he was using the facility) as I thought this was quite a mature decision, and definitely a much more sensible way to deal with his feelings, rather than bottling them all up and then to go out and get himself into a fight.


During those few sessions with the "trained counsellor" he spoke of some of his fears, about his own moods, etc.


Something very important to remember here, is that he has been exposed to someone in his family who was very, very ill with mental illness. He knows the symptoms, has seen what it can do to someone, and of course, it left us all shaken, including my boy. When he felt down and sad, followed by feeling angry, he started to wonder in his own mind if the changes of his own mood were "normal".

We often talked about this, and even though I kept on re-assuring him that what he felt was very normal under the circumstances, he obviously never felt quite assured enough.

I tried to tell him that going through puberty, having all these changes taking place in your body and your mind, makes even young people in the most stable of situations moody and confused. Add his background into the mix, and you can't avoid feelings of sadness and anger following each other in quick succession.


Living with someone who loses themselves in the grip of bipolar illness has that effect on you, I know, because I also found myself scrutinising my own mind when I didn't quite feel that great inside. It simply is a scary prospect, and you can't help but wondering, fearing for your own mental health once you have witnessed this from very close-up.


Any sensible adult and parent of a teenager could see that there is nothing at all out of the ordinary with my son, in fact, many people have said that they think he's coping remarkably well, considering what has gone on in his young life. The counsellor however, decided otherwise and referred him for a full psychiatric assessment. I was outraged!!! This was no help at all, this only left him in more doubt, whilst all he needed was some re-assurance.

This all happened very recently, so an assessment had not yet taken place when my son had to be seen by a company doctor to get a medical for Liberia and Panama (the two places he was supposed to go to over the next 6 months).

TBC very soon...

How I got here (Scotland and the blog) part 2

During the upheaval of the move, I fell pregnant again, this time very unplanned. It was quite a bit of a shock, but we both decided that it wouldn't be so bad, having 2 kids close in age. Since we had just moved to a big house, there were no issues in terms of space. Once we had our heads around the new situation, we both really looked forward to a next baby.
Since little Haggis had been born, I had had some of the best months in the whole relationship, and I finally felt like my dream of having a harmonious complete little family was coming true. As we were focusing on our little bundle of joy, we seemed to fight less, and he had finally started to grow closer to my little boy.

The house presented us with a lot of challenges (I still live in that same house now, it's about 160 years old).

It required mountains of work, and even though I did not feel fazed by that in the slightest, D.I.Y was never his strongest point and at times he got very irate, blaming me for the move to this house. Apart from these issues about the work in the house, things were still going pretty well between us.

Then one day in early February 2002, everything went wrong...

During a routine scan, which had been delayed for reasons that I still don't understand to this day, I was told that all was not well with the baby. Suddenly everything started to move at breakneck speed, I was submitted to a quick succession of all sorts of medical examinations and 3 days later everything was over. I had been at around the middle of my pregnancy, had presumed, being that far in, that all was OK. We had told many people, and suddenly it seemed that the only option was a termination.

It was one of the very hardest things I have ever had to go through. I remember keeping it all together in the hospital, functioning on auto pilot. Being given medication to prepare my body for the abortion, then later getting home and howling like an animal. I blamed myself, I was convinced that the baby was not healthy because I had been on the pill, and had been taking painkillers after getting sick (which was obviously how I got an unplanned pregnancy in the first place). I looked for all sorts of explanations, I had not taken any folic acid from the start, I had been straining too much during the removal and the consequent time of decorating, clearing out, heavy lifting and D.I.Y. Of course there was also the other question: What if they are wrong, what if this is a healthy baby? What if they could let this baby grow inside me, and then put all things right as soon as he would be born?

The whole world caved in around me and I could only see myself as the murderer of my own unborn child.

There was a post mortem, and following that there was a very small funeral service, which was only attended by the two of us and the two kids. The post mortem did confirm that the baby had had Edward's Syndrome, a rare but very severe chromosomal defect. I dealt with this loss through finding out all I could about the condition, and after an initial period of excruciating guilt and pain I was able to start rationalising the situation.

There would have been no way possible for this little baby boy to survive in this world. It would have been highly unlikely that he would have survived a full term pregnancy, or a birth. And in the very rare event of this happening, no child born with this particular disability had lived beyond the age of 2, whilst having had an extremely poor quality of life, before things came to an end.

I had to come to the conclusion that this little boy had not been meant for this world, and that wherever he was, he could only be in a better place. Having had the termination was in the end, however difficult and heartbreaking, the kindest thing to do.

Initially, Mr Haggis seemed to deal very well with all of this, he kept a level head, was there to take me to hospital, and appeared to carry this all very calmly.

I was tearful and grief-stricken, added to that, the normal hormonal changes that unsettle a woman's mood after giving birth, I was one heap of misery. The one thing I could focus on was my little girl, who was no more than a baby herself. I remember how hard it was to do little things like looking at her little baby feet. It had turned out that the last baby had clubbed feet, and I just kept on thinking of this, it would rip me apart inside, every time. I had sought, desperately, for answers and solutions. "Surely, clubbed feet are things that can be operated on and corrected these days?" Every time I put my little girl in the bath, washed and dried her perfect little feet, I would have the image of this tiny little Foetus, with so many parts which seemed so perfectly formed, little lips, tiny nose and the most beautiful little hands, and then... his little clubbed feet. I was torn between an irrational feeling of wanting to bring my dead baby back, desperate to put things right, and another one of holding on to those little healthy living feet and never wanting to let go, terrified that something awful would happen. The whole event had all at once made me extremely aware of my own mortality. Suddenly this relative feeling of safety, that belief that "things like that" only happen far away, and not to yourself, was completely shattered. I became anxious and always on my guard, ready for the worst news at any time.

I wanted to talk with my husband about things, but he kept himself closed off, was not able to communicate about what had happened. Over the following months, his behaviour started to become quite irrational, he seemed to go through all the emotions. He did not sleep, or could not stop sleeping. He went from being very low and desperate, to thinking that he was on top of the world. But all the while one big thing kept coming to the foreground, whatever mood he was in, I did not fit in the puzzle. He grew, once more, increasingly discontented with me, making me feel desperate and unwanted. It did not matter what I tried to do, I could twist myself in knots, nothing ever sufficed, everything was a cause for criticism. When he was on a high, his sexual appetite was absolutely insatiable, which also put an enormous strain on the relationship. Unbeknown to me, there was still his addiction to porn which fueled all those feelings within him. He reverted to his earlier selfish behaviour, doing exactly as he wanted, detaching himself more and more from his family.

I started to feel that his mood swings were no longer within acceptable "healthy" limits, and thought that a lot of this had been caused by the loss of our baby and his reluctance to try and digest this. In the end, he was starting to become more and more aware of his own imbalance, suffering the consequences, like exhaustion and suicidal depression. After much talking I finally managed to persuade him to seek help.

It turned out to be a very easy diagnosis to make: Bi-polar disorder, formerly known as Manic Depression. He was a textbook example. In his late twenties, with a history of mental illness in his family, and with the Bi-polar disorder manifesting itself after a trauma.

Once the diagnosis was made, we entered a chapter of long trials of different types of medication. One after the other made him suffer from all sorts of side effects, and it took a long time, before a type was found that had only limited side effects and a justifiable beneficial effect. While he was suffering, laid out on the couch, in a state of despair, feeling physically ill, I was trying my best to look after everyone and above all to keep the kids quiet in order to give him peace and rest. Not an easy task with a young boy and a lively toddler at hand. I was aware of the fact that he needed me, and even though I was able to cope with the practical side of things, I found it hard to cope with the emotional side. I had felt lonely, cast aside and trampled on for so long, and suddenly it was expected from me to be the loving caring wife, ready to give all her love. I simply could not muster those feelings, I felt too empty inside. So much inside me had been killed, and it took all my energy to keep myself from going under, to look after my two children, that I simply did not have the emotional energy left to give to someone who had given so little to me. Yes, I felt for him, and no, I did not wish this upon him for one minute, but somehow I was just hanging on by a silk thread, for all kinds of reasons, other than my own well being and happiness. One day in March 2004, shortly before our little girl's 3rd birthday, something inside him snapped. I had been bringing a cup of tea into his office where he was, against doctor's orders, trying to work. For no explicable rational reason he lashed out, came towards me and threw me against the wall. It was the only ever time he was ever physically violent towards me, but it scared me like mad. I had often felt that there was some kind of threat to that effect about him, but nothing of the kind had happened up to that point. He literally had a moment of blind madness, was unable to see things as they were, and I just so happened to be the first one to cross his path.

He had been suffering from severe paranoia, thinking people were watching from outside the kitchen window, thinking someone was knocking on the back door, when no-one could possibly be there. He thought his boss had installed a tracking device in his car, tracing his every movement. He kept seeing things out of the corners of his eyes. It was unclear whether this was part of his illness or a direct result of the medication he was taking. Whatever had caused it, it was clear to me that I should not have been left to my own devices to care for him. I was simply not equipped to cope with something like this. The fact that I had no net to catch me, only made matters worse. I only had very limited contact with my own family back in Belgium. Friends were scarce and his family was also not forthcoming with any support at that time.

As soon as this sudden outburst had taken place, he left the house, driving away in the car with screeching tyres. I was left in total shock, so very very scared, holding my little girl, who was crying inconsolable as she had witnessed the whole scenario.

When he returned later on that same day, he just came to pack some clothes and left, he said he could not longer stay with us under the same roof if this was what he was capable of doing. His rational mind had more or less restored itself at that point, and the realisation that he could do something really irresponsible dawned on him.

He stayed with family, first a cousin, then his parents, and eventually he rented a small cottage on a farm not too far away from my house. This meant he was living on his own, still in a very fragile state, and I feared for him every day. I could not brush away images of finding him, dead, after him having taken his own life.

Because all had happened so suddenly, I had not stopped considering myself as his wife, I was still hoping things could be sorted out, the love might grow again, and we would end up back together, bringing up our little family. The summer came and went, the autumn did the same, and as the winter was on its way, I could no longer witness him being on his own in this run-down place. In the meantime, he lost one of his very closest friends to cancer, which was a huge blow at only 30 years of age.

His condition had somewhat stabilised, and we talked about giving things a new try, a fresh start. He had also slowly started to ease himself back into work, so there was more of a rhythm back in his life. Not long before Christmas he moved back in. The first 6 weeks were euphoric, there was a great sense of happiness at bringing our little family back together, everything seemed perfect. I had such a feeling of victory, having managed to glue things back together again. I just wanted to scream it from the rooftops: "Hey, look at us, we can do this! We will overcome the odds!" But this second honeymoon feeling soon started to fade. The spring came, and I was aware of the fact that we both felt miserable. We had, by that time, also talked through the sexual problems at great length. I had made it very clear to him, that if there was to be a new start for us, it could only include him and me, no secrets anymore, no lies.

He was back at work full time, which meant that every so often he had to go away for a number of days, up to a week. One week in May 2005, he went to Ireland. It was during that week, that everything finally became crystal clear to me. As soon as he had gone, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I realised that I had been walking on eggshells again since the start of the year. Being on my own for a week felt like such a relief. And then came the straw that broke the camel's back: I had to look something up in his Internet history about something we had ordered online, using his user name, and was absolutely devastated to find the whole history littered by visits to porn sites. My world finally fell apart for good. I just knew that I had reached the very end of the line. Upon his return home, we went for a walk. In floods of tears I told him that I could not go on. He agreed, saying that he had also felt the same sense of relief whilst being away. He acknowledged the fact that there had been further lies about his online activities, even though I still don't think that at that point in time he could fully understand the damage this had caused to my feelings towards him.

We agreed that the best solution would be for him to move out and for me to remain in the family home with the children. A number of very uncomfortable weeks passed, weeks where he would still insist in sharing the same bed, though nothing more than a disturbed attempt at finding sleep took place. During the third week of July I went away to take part in a residential Open University course at Bath University. It was during this week that he called me to say that he would be moving out the same weekend I returned. The week away was a real escape, I met so many people, and I made a point of putting all that was going on back home out of my head. I had not socialised like this for a very long time, and I suddenly felt like I could still be young, that deep down inside me, there was a carefree side, a liveliness waiting to break through and come to the surface. I even developed a bit of a crush on one of my fellow students, something I could not remember feeling for the longest time.

Eventually when I arrived back home from my week away, I found the place stacked full of boxes, ready to be moved out the next day. Everything felt surreal. The next day I took the kids away to the cinema, so that they would not have to witness their dad moving out. In the evening we returned to a half empty house and found nothing but total carnage. It hurt me to find the whole house in disarray. His lack of consideration for the kids was so blatant. I could understand that he might not have wanted to leave the house in any sort of acceptable state for me, but he could have given some more thought to the kids.

I tried as well as I could to restore some kind of normality, we went to buy some second hand sofas, a new kettle, and some of the other items that now suddenly needed replacing.

Very soon, I had no idea what to do with myself, I was climbing the walls, not knowing where my life was heading next...

T.B.C.

Old friends and a rather sensitive subject.

Little Haggis and I love going to the nearby beaches. We love to run, soak up the fresh sea air, look for interesting stones and shells.
In this last year, a trip to the beach has been a very rare occurrence...


Today, an email arrived out of the blue. The sender is an old friend, who I got to know because of Little Haggis. She moved away from this area with her own Little Haggis (affectionately known as Peeks, and my Little Haggis's best little friend all through nursery) a good couple of years ago now.

There are some subjects which I know I would like to touch on in my blog, but did not know how, because it's not easy to talk about. As things work out, sending her an email back with what's been going on in my life, gave me the perfect opportunity to commit some of those more sensitive thoughts and issues to virtual paper. So, I will publish her little mail, and my more elaborate response.
I've omitted any identification, because I don't even know if she minds about me publishing our correspondence.


Hi POC (piece of chocolate)! Hope this is still you email address. So sorry I haven't been in touch for ages, years probably! Desperate to hear all your news. Are you still in the Borders, how's LBB (Little Big Boy) and L'Haggis? etc..... I'm living with My Man now in Northamptonshire and teaching still in a tough school, so very tired out. Peeks misses L'Haggis terribly, still talks about her loads. Would be lovely to catch up sometime (hoping L'Haggis remembers her!!). Anyway, let me know. Hope all well with you, DOF (Dear Old Friend)xx



HI DOF!!!!!

Such a long time...
No need to say sorry, I'm equally guilty! In fact, I think I might be more guilty than you are...

Of course L'Haggis remembers Peeks. How could she (or we) forget?

It's really good to hear that you are doing well, and that living with Your Man is working out fine.
I'm sure it must be pretty tough, teaching in a school full of teenagers.. I have been told a lot of stories over the last year and a half, you'll find out why...

Here, things have also moved on, I met a nice maths teacher (of all professions eh...) back in the summer of 2007 and he has moved in with me here. He's a good bit older than me (47, to be precise) but that is not an issue, in fact it has some real benefits. He's a divorcee, father of 2 grown up kids, and so that meant that he was free to move where he wanted, thus able to be flexible and move here. He's originally from the Teesside area, so not next door, but also not really that far away anyway. His kids, a son and a daughter, are really nice young people, and because they are both in their twenties, I can feel more like a friend than some wicked step mother. They have accepted me very well, and I like their company too, so that's all working out a treat really.
L'Haggis is doing well, LBB is doing well, he has joined the merchant navy, is at college, and so no longer home for the time being. If all goes to plan, he should be heading out at sea for his first long journey in the next coming 4 weeks. He'll be bound for West Africa, and then be back after 3 months for a short break and presumably, after that he'll be flown over to Panama, where he'll be working at a dry dock. He's training to be a Marine Engineering Officer, and I hope and pray every day that it all works out and that he will qualify in the end. It has not been an easy ride with him, and when he comes home (which is not very often) it's still not without its problems. My Dearly Beloved has settled in here too, loves the Borders and my house, which is now also his home.
In the very beginning, L'Haggis was not very receptive towards Beloved, but after a good year and a half now, that has all changed, and if he is not around she's eager to know where he is and when he will be back home. She has had to rely quite a bit on him, as I myself have not been that great. I've been suffering from severe depression, anxiety and really bad panic attacks for more than a year now, and every time that I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, I seem to fall back into my deep dark hole with an almighty thud. I've been on all sorts of medication, with varying results, but nothing that has really brought the solution I'm hoping for. Beloved has been brilliant though, looking after my Little Haggis, making us tea after he comes home from a long day at work (he teaches at a school 50-odd miles away, so although the actual school day is not that long, you can just imagine how long he spends on those twisty winding roads!). It can't be easy for him, dealing with a mental wreck. I just think that life eventually caught up with me... Never thought it would, but hey, I had to give in, despite my assumptions I've had to learn the hard way that I'm not super woman after all.
My business is still going, although there has been an awful lot of stopping and starting with me not being well. The shop is now a great deal bigger, and when I'm open, which can be a struggle, I have lots and lots of all kinds of crafty and gifty things for sale, on top of doing (as best as I can manage) the usual soft furnishings and upholstery. I've also started to paint again lately, which helps me to put me in a better frame of mind. On top of that I've just started my own blog, which I hope will evolve into something cathartic, and should drive some of my demons away. (it's not for lack of trying to get back to the surface, you know...) Since I have been "a bit out of it" I cannot sleep at night, and that is why I am writing this reply now... I don't know what time it is, but I do know it must be well after midnight. I'm also hoping to use my blog to get my paintings out on the net, even though I'm not looking to turn it into some sort of a commercial website. Feel free to check it out if you like.. http://chocolateandhaggis.blogspot.com/ You can leave comments, etc..
I have been wondering how you have been doing. I had also been wondering whether you might be thinking of a little sibling for Peeks still. It seems like the wait to live together and to have a life with Your Man was long, but worthwhile. I really hope things will go from strength to strength for the two of you. I haven't passed your new neck of the woods much lately. We went to Belgium in the summer, but it was just a huge disappointment, I came away feeling completely emotionally drained, so it's not likely to be repeated in the near future. My family is growing more dysfunctional as time goes on, and I don't cope with it very well. I was really happy that my Beloved and I had been together for a year before I introduced him to the mad circus my family is. Had he not known me for who I am, he might have made a sharp exit upon meeting my weird and not so very wonderful family. Mr. Ex (father-Haggis) is getting married on the 4th of June coming. He sees Little Haggis fairly regularly, and I have to be honest, he is not a bad father. Contact between him and me is a bit like the weather... very changeable, and rather stormy at times. But we cope... As long as L'Haggis experiences it as a positive thing, I'm quite willing to put up with the odd storm.
I presume that Peeks has now no longer got any contact with her father? I'm sure the distance won't promote regular contact anyway, regardless of how the relationship was to start with.
Can reflexology cure a fractured worn out mind? If so, I'll get down there... haha. If only it was that simple. Do you still use those skills in any way at all?
Well, I think I might go and blog a bit, I might even use some of this email as a base... (don't worry, everything is completely anonymous!)

Let me know how it's all going. We should keep in contact more, but to be honest, I've not been in contact with anyone, it's hard to talk to anyone when you feel like you've lost yourself.

Speak soon?

POC & co xxx