I am leap-frogging another post I had started on Monday, due to unforeseen circumstances. Once more, an unexpected situation has shown that my mental health cannot be taken for granted, that the Black Dog can appear out of nowhere to nip at my heels, usually when I am floundering due to lack of information. As I have reiterated time and again, information brings knowledge and knowledge is power.
Tuesday was supposed to be a day of rest and relaxation. We knew a cold front was coming, so this was an ideal opportunity to play in the garden, catch up on the washing before the rain, remove the final contents out of Will before we secured him and generally potter at a sedate pace.
The universe had other ideas. Michael received a jolting phone call mid-morning. On the other end was anger and allegations and falsehoods. Michael tried to calm the tempest to no avail. There could be no reasoning, no advice. Just black and white attitudes with icy rage. The call was terminated abruptly and not by Michael. And that was when we began to worry and my well-being began to unravel.
The legal matter which cannot be discussed had raised its ugly head. I attempted to complete a document from the Magistrates Court, kindly provided by my beloved Callum, in order to gain more understanding of the whole issue. But my agitation was such that the lingo was beyond me. Then I tried to seek assistance from the legal service that had provided a Duty Lawyer on that fateful visit to the Magistrates’ Court. I was told that I didn’t fall into their jurisdiction and that there was no community legal service that served Beverley.
By this stage I was frantic and almost incoherent. Michael was also very concerned about the repercussions of the phone call, given his responses involved me. Rab, our lovely senior constable was passing, and noticed my distressed state. She immediately stopped to ascertain what had eventuated. Her calm and non-judgemental manner was most reassuring. She suggested options we hadn’t considered and further advice to seek the information we were lacking.
The world stopped closing in around me. I was able to concentrate on other more pleasurable tasks for the remainder of the afternoon. But just to prove I wasn’t totally back to my version of “normal”, I caught my foot on the frame of the sliding door and face-planted onto the brick paving. Ouch didn’t even begin to describe the agony. My glasses bridge had dug into my nose bridge. I had an abrasion above my lip and skinned my knee. The good news was that my glasses’ lenses had taken the full brunt of the impact and although thoroughly scratched, had saved much of my face. Needless to say, I felt very sorry for myself, particularly as I had been stone cold sober…
This morning dawned better, particularly after a long hot shower. I stood with my back to the water, allowing the warmth to cascade gently over my face. The damage didn’t look anywhere near as bad as the previous evening. I busied myself preparing Station House for our fortnightly gift in the form of Michelle, our wonderful cleaner.
Just after Michelle arrived, I had a call from Richard, a lawyer from the legal service that had supplied me with the Duty Lawyer at the Magistrates Court. Although a bit brusque and very dry, he was yet another Godsend. He answered every one of my questions regarding the previous day’s phone call, the legal jargon, the terms of the Conduct Agreement Order, the document requesting information and the unpleasant allegations. An intern with him was also extremely helpful. Richard assured me that if I had any more questions or issues to ring and ask for him. No more “you don’t fall into our jurisdiction”. Richard, if you ever read this, know how much you reassured me.
A trip to Andre our local quack, a dressing on my poor nose, a beautifully clean house and an appointment with Liam the chiropractor to treat all my aches and pains added to my return to tranquillity.
This morning, we are back in the East End Gallery. Another week is rolling by, but after a major hick-up, I have the knowledge I need to continue the good fight.
Thus endeth another lesson.
The storm was coming...
Cheering might be overrated, but I get the general idea!
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