Día de los Santos (#MHAW17)

humanity, Learning, Love

To you, the person that bullied me, my wife, my parents, my friends.  You who couldn’t look me in the face, leaving hurriedly and voluntarily after the hearing. You who defied CISCO-certified engineers a year later, delivering unfinished toxicity into my INBOX.

To you, the boss who let it happen and who pummeled me into thinking I was wrong – wrong to raise the grievance, wrong to highlight the incompetences, but who guised it with a smile and firm shake of the hand when I moved on.

I wish we could all meet again and talk about it, see what’s changed.

To you,
Alison. My work colleague and favourite lunch partner.  My friend, taken from this world, a husband and two beautiful young children within five months of your diagnosis.

I wish I had found the right words.

To you, Dad. Eighteen months since I went downstairs to the kitchen for that momentary cup of tea and stared at it, sensing that something had just changed. You chose your moment. You were always in control, and in some respects, you still are.

To you, Mum. I’ve finally realised that the only ‘planning ahead’ we need to do is the here and now.

To you, Believers. I occasionally close the door on you. I’m sorry. I hope it’s never too late.

To you, Disbelievers. Well, fuck you.

And to you.  You’ve never really had or given yourself a participation strategy have you? You’ve never had or given yourself permission? You may have experienced the polarised judgement that comes with people knowing….and not knowing, but who assume. It’s a terrible affliction isn’t it, but so is not opening up sometimes.

You are quite brilliant in some things.  Remember that and build on it.

Seek purpose, but don’t hurry it along.

Be generous whichever way you feel is right.

You are your legacy.  Those that matter write the eulogy.

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