Half-term TV lock-down

I’ve locked up the telly!

Well, not literally and not all channels, just the children’s ones. Meany mum!

I feel a little bit sorry (not sorry), but having had Cbeebies or Nickelodeon on loop has been slowly driving me potty and has turned my children into whiney zombies.

Crackernut, my 9-year-old, is so addicted to screens that he gets quite stressed without one in front of him. He hops from TV, to iPad, to Xbox, to laptop and back again… ugh! Even when I hide the TV remote or turn it off, he somehow works out a way to turn it on again or digs out another remote from somewhere, or finds new batteries…

His love of telly is so bad that he comes straight in from school, clubs, anywhere and switches it on immediately, then proceeds to hog the remote until we finally wrestle it from his grip. Unless he’s out of the house, he’s in front of the box in his own world. I call him for dinner and he’s late because he’s watching the end of a programme or finishing a football match on his Xbox or iPad.

Crackernut’s favourite position

There are a few things that probably haven’t helped:
Continue reading “Half-term TV lock-down”

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How TV alienates the grieving

I saw a trailer on Sky the other day for the next big thing in hospital drama – Critical. A fictional series based on saving (or not) the life of a patient filmed in real-time (over an hour). The filming looks slick and the actors serious. It’s sold as being ‘ground-breaking and the most realistic hospital drama to date’.

Great!

Not!

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I’ve long-since wanted to write about why I find watching TV so hard now. Since Abi died, every telly programme seems to feature a death, a trauma, an argument, distress, pain, gore, fear… I instantly felt alienated by my TV, which is something we use every day for a bit of light relief. We’ve been living on trivia and gentle humour – endless episodes of QI, Would I Lie to You?, anything with Jimmy Carr in it and the comediens that usually feature with him. I’ve pretty much exhausted all those and have moved on to Top Gear now! My new ‘happy pill’. Sigh.

We have the whole Virgin Media Cable TV package, yet we can only watch a fraction of the channels simply because we can’t bear the programmes that are put out. Each night we scroll through the listings and there is nothing cheery on at all! And all of it sandwiched by the News, which isn’t much better (I’ve written about how I conquered that particular battle here)! We’ve even got Sky Movies and Netflix to widen up our choices, and some days I just put on a Disney Pixar film as that’s all I can handle!

The hard thing about this is that we used to really enjoy watching telly. We could easily watch a good old murder mystery – Midsomer Murders, Death in Paradise, Silent Witness etc – but we’ve not watched one since February 2013. Not that Abi was murdered, but it’s that these programmes inevitably have blood in, a dead body, perhaps a scene with someone performing CPR, grief, crying… ahhhh!

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Then the endless shows about bodies and health! We used to enjoy watching Casualty or ER, pretty easy viewing for a Saturday night, but now I rush to the remote if anything remotely medical is on the screen.

Every channel, every night there is something about death and trauma – it could be a drama like Holby City, this new Critical, or a documentary-style show like Benidorm ER, 24 hours in A&E, or as I’ve said, gritty crime thrillers.

We used to watch these shows just like ‘everyone else’. They didn’t bother us much at all, they were happening to other people. In fact some of the documentaries gave fascinating insights into how much our NHS staff have to put up with to save lives day in day out, and I feel it’s stuff we need to see in order to understand what goes on. But I can’t watch anything now. I see someone pass into death (the flatline is just horrendous!) and I am thrown back to the moment my daughter died. I see blood and CPR and I’m thrown back to the terrible moment I had to perform CPR on my daughter when she collapsed. I see people crying, screaming, pretend grieving and it cuts deep to know I feel it for real.

It is easy to say ‘switch it off then’, ‘read a book or do something else’. But our bedtime routine is long and drawn out, putting our children to bed; our days are hard trying to get on and live normally. TV is our escape and watching light-hearted silliness for an hour is essential to help us unwind before trying to go sleep. The Rev. Kate Bottley from Gogglebox once said something about how her day is a mixture of highs and lows – one minute she’s burying a baby, the next she’s dancing around at a school assembly – so she watches ‘trashy’ telly as a way to zone out a bit from the day. I totally get that. One minute I’m mourning Abi, the next I’m laughing on the floor with my children – a constant life/death ride.

We live with real life trauma and sorrow and hardship every day and I feel it’s becoming ‘critical’ that TV offers us more in the way of positive stuff, shows that inspire and give us a lift. I’m all for pretending, but why not do pretending happy instead of pretending sad?

So, as ‘brilliantly accurate’ as Critical may be, I won’t be watching. I’ll be too busy channel hopping!

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Sharing stories of grief

I’m often so aware of my grief that I feel like I’m going out of my tiny mind!

Each day, I live and breathe the heartache of knowing the pain that is to be a grieving mother.

I’ll be doing something ordinary… ironing, preparing a meal, reading to one of my children, shopping in town… and my inner voice will be screaming at me ‘But she’s not here! Why isn’t she here!’ over and over. I almost laugh as my brain tries to comprehend my going about my ‘normal business’ with the painful thought that, yes, it’s real, my daughter did die, so how am I even functioning let alone doing these trivial things?

I’m sharing my loss and thoughts on this blog and I’m concerned it might seem like I’m obsessed by it, as, even though it’s changing, it’s certainly not going away! But then I meet someone or hear something that makes me know I’m not alone, that I’m far from obsessed and that I’m okay where I am.

The thing is, we all know of someone who hasn’t ‘moved on’ enough or who hasn’t ‘opened up’ enough about their grief, in our opinion. Society makes it impossible for us to get the balance right, if there is such a thing!

I watched TV the other day, This Morning, a call-in where the topic was the loss of a child. A bereaved mother, whose son had died in his early twenties having been in a car accident, called in to the show. Her voice was weak with exhaustion and lack of motivation; she had lived and breathed his loss every minute of every day since. She couldn’t sleep and dreaded bedtime, then she dreaded waking up and worried about how to face the day without him. This was nearly four years later, still very early days in the acceptance of a loss, but surely, I thought, time enough to get past the initial feeling of deep hurt and confusion. She was lost in an endless cycle of depression and I was ashamed that I was thankful I was not in her shoes. Her grief consumed her life entirely, and I realised that while my grief is a constant emotion, it’s not, in reality, all-consuming every day, even if it feels that way!

The advice was yes, this pain won’t ever go away, but your child would not want you to live the rest of your days feeling like this. Sometimes you just need to hear someone say words like this without telling you that you need to ‘get over it’. It was sound advice and true empathy from a woman (Denise) who’s been there and lives with loss herself. Here is a link to the item on the show.

But as hard as it was to hear the sad stories on the call-in, and to hear how each parent was still deeply mourning the loss of their child years later knowing that I, too, joined them, I also took comfort from it. I also follow a number of other mothers and fathers who blog about their losses.

I need to read others’ painful stories, need to see how someone else is coping with it…  Some can’t face the world, some (try to) carry on regardless, some make a new life elsewhere, some campaign for change, others blog and raise awareness… but one thing binds us, we all need to find a way that will help us cope with living each day in this world without the person we’ve loved so much and lost.

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