Five Years Later

 

Five Years Later

 

It’s been a long time since I blogged. On my last post, I wrote about how my husband, Den, was undergoing treatment for cancer. As you can imagine, fighting that consumed our lives at the time, and whilst I shared a lot with friends on Facebook, I didn’t blog about it. What followed his diagnosis in May 2016 were probably the worst eighteen months of my life.

Sadly, despite continuing treatment and his own bravery and determination, I lost the love of my life on 18th December 2017. Although we lost him a week before Christmas, we vowed to have the big family Christmas lunch he would have loved, and we laughed and smiled for my grandchildren. We said our final goodbyes to him on 4th January 2018, where I had Dolly Parton’s I Will Always Love You, and her duet with Kenny Rogers, Islands in the Stream, played at his funeral. He adored Dolly, so it was my way of telling him that she sang for both of us. The crematorium was packed and in lieu of flowers we raised over £400 that we shared between Ashgate Hospice and McMillan. This is the mark of how much Den was loved by all. He was always very honest and blunt as Derbyshire folk are, but never unkind and he would go out of his way to help anyone.

It’s been quite a rocky road back from that time. After 35 years of marriage, I found myself living alone (but with the support of my wonderful children), and adrift in a world that he had shielded me from in so many ways. I moved from the three-bedroom house we had lived in for 17 years, to a one-bedroom flat. Nasty neighbour still screaming and railing at me and my children as we were packing the last of my belongings, stealing from us the chance to have one last look around the house to say a proper goodbye as we just threw stuff into our cars and left. I can’t say I miss her.

I was lucky to very quickly get a lovely little flat in a quiet area. It is on the ground floor, which is a great help, and overlooks a green where people walk their dogs. The décor left a lot to be desired, with everything nicotine stained, but the kitchen and bathroom were immaculate and my darling daughter helped me to decorate and spruce up the rest.

I had to claim Universal Credit. As you can imagine from the many newspaper articles about it, that was as dire as it sounds. I was told on my first visit that I would be allowed six months to grieve for my husband, then all bets were off. I may have made it sound more blunt than it was, but I haven’t exaggerated too much. Even then, despite the six months dispensation, I had to provide a fit note every month to prove I was still grieving (though it was put down as stress, because apparently grief is not considered debilitating – I beg to differ).  I was also threatened with sanctions every time they put a note on my UC journal, if I did not log on in a certain amount of time to read it. Usually, the notes were to confirm the details of the meetings I had just left.

It became clear that I had to find a job I wanted to do, before they pushed me into something I knew I could not do, like working in a factory or on my feet all day in a restaurant. I want to stress that I have done those jobs in the past and don’t consider them beneath me in any way. It’s just that I was a 55 year-old woman with numerous health problems (more of which later). The thought of being pushed into such gruelling work made me depressed before I even started. But I had convinced myself that after years of bringing up my children and caring for my husband that I had nothing to offer any employer. My confidence and self-esteem were rock bottom, though I realise that much of this was caused by the overwhelming grief I was going though.

To the world I was ‘getting on with it’, but in private I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other every day.

I started applying for jobs before my six months was up, determined that I was going to control my own narrative and not have it forced upon me. I started by going back to the Citizens Advice Bureau to build up my skills again. I also began to think about the voluntary work I had done before, along with my time on the Romantic Novelists Association Committee, and realised that I probably had more skills than I gave myself credit for.

The first paying job I applied for was at a library, which I would have loved. Although they told me I did well in the interview, I lacked the experience (as I already knew).

The second and third jobs I applied for were on the same day, on May 26th 2018. This date is significant in that it’s the day that Den and I started our relationship on a ‘convoy’ to Nottingham with our family and friends from a CB radio club (I was White Queen, he was Cheapskate).

The first Interview was for an admin position at County Hall, Matlock. I was rubbish and I don’t blame them for not taking me on. I knew as I was leaving that they would not offer me the job.

The second interview of that day was a couple of miles away, but still for Derbyshire County Council. It was for a level 3 Customer Care apprenticeship in the council’s contact centre. I figured that it wasn’t a bad thing to start from the bottom (though I was reminded of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song, He Thinks He’ll Keep Her, about a woman having to start again in middle age (due to divorce in this case), which has the line ‘For…years she never had a raise of pay. Now she’s in the typing pool at minimum wage’). The moment I walked in, I knew it was my place. The atmosphere, the people. I felt immediately at home.

They phoned me the next day to tell me that they felt exactly the same about me, and that I had the job!

I know I was pretty lucky to get the third job that I applied for. Yes, it was an apprenticeship at minimum wage, but I figured it would fill in those career gaps.

Three years later, I am still there, my post having been made permanent after I achieved my NVQ level 3 in Customer Care. I don’t deny it has been a baptism of fire for someone who, despite being talkative and friendly, actually struggles being in groups of people, but I have made some fantastic friends and become one of a great team.

Unfortunately, what suffered in this time was my writing. I managed to complete my MA in Creative Writing, and received a merit, but nothing that I wrote for that course was truly me.

I became afraid that the last pocket novel I wrote would be the last pocket novel I ever wrote.

It did not help that my health has not improved and has, in fact, got worse. In December of last year, I finally got the diagnosis I had been seeking for 20 years. I have Fibromyalgia. The moment I got the letter confirming it, it was like something clicked in my brain. After years of feeling like a hypochondriac, I had some validation for how I had been feeling for years. Suddenly I felt creative again. It did help that I was working from home due to Covid, so not as exhausted from the daily commute.

I wrote a pocket novel, The Perils of Polly, in less than a month. It was my first foray into time slip romance and I learned a lot writing it. I sent it off to the wonderful Maggie Swinburne of My Weekly Pocket Novels, expecting a polite refusal. After all, it had been five years and I was way out of the loop and whilst my day job confidence had improved, my writing confidence had taken quite a knock.



She accepted it almost immediately. The relief was palpable. I was back! I wrote another, Christmas themed novel, which I am waiting to hear about, and I also refurbished my Secret of Lakeham Abbey novel, which Maggie has also accepted. I am now working on a trilogy, which I hope to finish by Christmas (that was a little note to myself to get on with it).

At the age of 58, I have had some knocks over the past few years. Losing the love of my life was the biggest. Although I love my job, I have hit a few brick walls whilst getting used to being amongst others. My health still isn’t brilliant. Fibro doesn’t go away. But now I know what it is, I can forgive myself more for times when I can’t be Superwoman (which is actually every day).

I have been lucky in my family and my friends. Some scoff at online friendships, suggesting they can’t be real. The love and support I received, not just from my family and ‘real life’ friends, but also from online friends, has been overwhelming and has gone a long way to helping me put that one foot in front of the other every day.

Grief isn’t gone in six months, regardless of what Universal Credit believe. It isn’t gone in three years. There will always be a big Den-shaped hole in my life. He was the love of my life, and the person who protected me from the big wide world, allowing me to be me in a safe space. I hope he’s proud of how far I have travelled out of my comfort zone to take the world on.


Comments

  1. Welcome back, Sally, and what a lovely heartfelt post. You are right that grief never goes away - you don't get over a loss like yours but you learn to live alongside it.
    I think you've been remarkable in what you've done to build a new life, and I'm so pleased you are now back to writing. Will you publish the Polly book as an ebook - I missed buying it as a pocket novel as I was in Ireland but would love to read it. Timeslip's my thing!

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    Replies
    1. Yes, I will self publish eventually. Like with everything, it's finding the time. I want to make a good job of it.

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  2. A post full of poignancy!!! Keep striding forward, Sally!!

    John

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  3. It's so good to see you again, Sally. Life can be a bummer sometimes (I understand because I went through a similar experience some years back) and recovering from it can be a real challenge. But you've made it, and are successfully writing books again and making a new life for yourself. I look forward to reading your new pocket novels. Here's to the future! (Sorry - can't work out how to set my profile properly.)

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  4. What a brave and moving blog post, Sally. You have always been, both in writing terms and personally - an inspiration.

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  5. Thank you all for taking the time to comment. You have all supported me so much.

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  6. Glad you are back blogging again Sally. Inspiring and brave - Den must be looking at you with pride (and lots of love).

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  7. Elizabeth McGinty13 August 2021 at 21:52

    It's good to read your blog again Sally. Your pocket novels were the inspiration that made me start writing my own. I'm sorry life has been so cruel and difficult for you these last few years. You are a strong, brave woman and I wish you the very best for the future.

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  8. Thanks for sharing this! You’re an inspiration!

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  9. Such a lovely post, Sally. You've had a rough time of it but you've been an inspiration to us all. It's so good to see you writing (and blogging) again. Good luck with it all. xx

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  10. Just got around to reading this, Sally. A truly inspiring post for anyone who's worried about taking a new route through life, for whatever reason. We have known one another online for so many years now, yet never met, and I consider our friendship as valid as anyone's. I'm so, so glad you have been able to set your feet firmly on a path again, and that it's taking you where you want to go. xx

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  11. I only just found this site but all I can say is I totally connect having had t deal with UC myself at a similar age and also completely unexpectedly. Good on you to bounce back. I wish you all the very best.

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