Freedom: Part 2 of 2

“Sam, the tension created between a couple, from not being able to have a baby is just unbearable. I will not be able to convey the agony of this to you in words. We spent 12 years trying to have a baby. The first 2 or 3 years went by rather quickly and we were still very much revelling in the high of the wedding. We were newly-weds and acted that way; we went out for dinner, we hosted parties at our new house, we went on small holidays like long weekends on the Isle of Man or the Isle of Wight. When I didn’t get pregnant around 3 years in, we began to wonder whether there was anything wrong with either of us medically. The Doctors ran every test possible and all of them came back absolutely fine, so we happily went home and carried on trying for a baby. But it wouldn’t happen. Our families didn’t make it any easier either. Our parents’ were all asking increasingly more often about our plans to start a family. At first we told them we were taking it slow and we would see how it goes but 4 years later it was starting to become rather obvious that there was a problem. And it was the pressure it created between the two of us that was the most difficult to try and live with. Michael constantly blamed himself, despite the doctor’s assurances that he was not to blame, and I felt like I was failing in my duty to give him a child. And we tried to continue as normal and pretend that nothing was wrong; not like nowadays where couples talk to each other about their problems. Back in my day a woman would talk to her mother, her sister, her friend before she talked to her husband,” she said with despair.
“So on it went for another 10 years or so. In that time, things got so tense between us that making love became part of our routine. It was like just another chore that we had to do if we wanted to move on with our lives. It seemed easier to just get on with it, four nights a week, than to talk to each other and acknowledge the problem. But although not being able to have a child is difficult, and it puts pressure on the relationship and on each individual within that relationship, it seemed to affect Michael in the most profound of ways. Not only did we argue a bit more than usual and we were more stressed than usual but his whole demeanour and his way of doing things changed. There was something about the way he went about his entire day that was altered.” Mrs Grey stopped and took a sip of her tea.
“Did he seem more upset all the time?” I asked curiously, before taking a sip of my own black Americano, chosen specifically to get me through the dreaded night shift, which I was undoubtedly going to be late for.
“Upset, my dear, would be understandable. We were all upset; me, my family, his family. They were upset. Michael, though, seemed to have lost himself in a pit of darkness and sadness. I felt like I had lost the Michael I knew to something that was all-consuming.
“Some days were worse than others, but if he wasn’t snappy and agitated, he was quiet and withdrawn. On better days, he was more content but still with an edge of anxiety and his mood swings were quite severe. One minute we would be talking about something on the news and the next minute he would be angrily going on about the fact that some water spilled out of the jug I was pouring from. His reaction to the smallest things was excessive and he seemed to let the most insignificant things make him angry.
“At first I tried to talk to him about it. I tried to reassure him that everything would be ok and that even if we didn’t ever have children, that we would be ok together; the two of us. But he did not want to co-operate. He did not want to allow me to help him because he refused to admit in any way that he was having problems. Essentially he was suffering from depression, though at the time it was not known that depression was actually quite a serious condition. All the extensive research we read about nowadays just didn’t exist at the time, so it was not something people or doctors took seriously. People back then were told to pull themselves together, so every time I even implied that he was having a mental health issue, I would get an earful about how I think he is mad.” She looked down at her tea sadly and took another sip. I thought about Tom for a moment and how a lot of this rings true, though not all of it. Tom wasn’t depressed. He just had anger issues. He let small things get the better of him and he was petty. He was jealous and always had something to complain about.
“Oh, wow. Depression can be really quite debilitating…” I offered and then regretted it instantly. What a weak and unnecessary comment. She knew it was debilitating. She was the one telling me how it ruined years of their marriage. It really is just best to stay quiet and nod politely I told myself. I took another sip of my drink, encouraging her to go on with my eyes.
“Well yes, indeed it was,” she replied kindly, filling me with warmth for her. “Although Michael appeared to be ok, going to work every day; he never missed a day you know. But he was not ok. He was not the Michael I knew, fell in love with and married. Michael used to love social occasions, but every time I mentioned a social event that we had been invited to, he would do everything in his power to ensure that we didn’t go. He stopped taking an interest in golf; he used to go out every few weekends, around once a month, with a few of his friends for a round, but he slowly gave it up. In fact, short of staring at a newspaper in the mornings, Michael gave up more or less everything that made him who he was. We used to play board games together. He used to love trying to coax me into playing chess with him because it was his favourite. Needless to say I wasn’t a big fan of chess but he would always let me win to keep me somewhat interested in playing again. Although I hated chess, I did love those afternoons spent playing with him. We used to laugh so hard together about all sorts of things but there was none of that left when we were struggling to have a baby. I can’t really explain how we got to that point but we just ended up there. It just felt like I was with a different man,” she said sadly, staring out onto the street.
“But you did have children eventually, didn’t you? Three?” I encouraged quietly.
“Oh my three children are my pride and joy,” she said with a proud smile. “We did indeed go on to have children. I fell pregnant with Jay when I was 35; 12 years after we got married. I was so stunned when the doctor confirmed that my sickness was indeed morning sickness and that we were expecting. It took a couple of days for the news to kick in and when it did, I was absolutely thrilled. Deep down I hoped that this would put an end to Michael’s troubles. He was very happy with the news and my being pregnant lifted his spirits significantly. He was so doting during that time and went to great efforts to ensure I was comfortable and happy but the novelty wore off as I grew bigger and I couldn’t help but notice that he was still not back to his old self. Some days were just as bad as before I got pregnant. I had thoroughly hoped that the pregnancy would bring him back from his depression but it didn’t. Jay was born and although Michael appeared happy to begin with, he had trouble bonding with Jay.” Mrs Grey took another sip of her tea and looked me straight in the eye.
“The children were a complete joy for me, but in all honesty Michael struggled. He did try, but he always seemed to be out of his depth. Parenthood is difficult at the best of times. Being a first time parent is even harder. But when the first baby arrives and one of the parents is in an unsound state of mind, it just makes things twice as hard. Sometimes, in those first few months after Jay was born, I felt like I had two children. It was like Michael was constantly defending himself, as though I was always fighting him on everything, like a toddler, or indeed a teenager. I never fought him on anything, never told him off, never snapped at him, never discouraged him. And when Melissa and Christopher followed, Michael didn’t improve, though admittedly his condition didn’t worsen as such. He just remained withdrawn, argumentative and very angry most of the time.” After a pause, Mrs Grey smiled and with a little laugh said, “Oh Sam dear, I’ve made him sound like a total monster! This depression and anger was only one side to Michael – it was something he did indeed struggle with and something he absolutely refused to get help with or admit that it was even an issue. But it was not all there was to him. Many days saw him as a loving father and husband. It could not be denied that his efforts when it came to his family were unrivalled. He cared and he loved those children with all his heart. Actually often during his outbursts, it seemed to be me at whom he appeared to be directing all his anger and verbal abuse. Everything was always my fault. The fact that he lost interest in his job and didn’t get a promotion in a long time was blamed on me, our money issues were blamed on me, anything that went wrong with the children, right down to a bit of food spilt on someone’s jumper. And although it is exhausting and it wears you down over the years, nothing hurts me as much as the children’s faces when Michael is angry or upset about something. I can only assume or guess that he possibly blames me, at least subconsciously, for the delay in starting our family and also for the pressure it put on us.
Nothing made me as angry about the whole situation as hearing the children ask about why Daddy is angry and not being able to give them a good answer. I didn’t want to belittle their father in their eyes, but to be honest sooner or later they would see through it all themselves. And they did, they now roll their eyes when he is in a mood. And although we all sometimes laugh about it or talk about how he is a bit loopy, the thing that upsets me the most is that our children never got to know the real Michael. They never got to know the Michael I knew,” she said shaking her head sadly. Tom wormed his way into my thoughts again, with his toddler-esque tantrums and outbursts. I tried to push him out of my mind.
“As you might have guessed, Michael has not ever fully recovered from that time in his life and it continues to haunt him. So my advice to you, young, beautiful Sam, is to go after the things that make you happy now, while you’re young. Go after your dreams, never settle for anything less than the best. There is plenty of time for marriage and kids,” she said with a cheeky grin.
I smiled at her, still trying to fight Tom’s weaknesses out of my thoughts. “Thank you Mrs Grey, that sounds like good advice and I think I will take it,” I said, starting to think about how I really should take control of my life. The pub wasn’t going to get me very far, and the men I have met in there have led to disastrous relationships. I suddenly got an ache for sitting alone in my dream studio, putting all my ideas into practice and making all those jewellery designs I keep daydreaming about.

Some noise and shuffling at the door snapped me out of my reverie. I turned around to see Michael struggling through the door with his umbrella, whilst trying to let a young woman carrying a tray with four drinks on it out.

“Here he is now,” Mrs Grey smiled nervously.
“The queue was horrendously long,” he said sounding frustrated. “Here you go,” he added softening, handing Mrs Grey a carrier bag.
“Thank you Michael, I really appreciate that,” she replied. She then turned to me and said, “Michael, this is Sam. Sam, this is my husband, Michael.”
“Lovely to meet you Sam,” he said extending his hand.
“It is nice to meet you too Mr Grey,” I replied shaking his hand.
“Sam has been keeping me company while you were out, Michael, and I’ve just realised that I have done an awful lot of talking, I hardly know anything about her!” she cried, clearly mortified.
“You always have loved a good gossip and chat haven’t you though,” Michael joked, with a hint of a smile.
“Oh indeed, I am such a chatterbox! I can say though that Sam is a fantastic listener and I am ever so grateful and honoured to have had her company for the past 15 minutes,” she replied.
“It was a lovely story and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it,” I said smiling. “But I really should head off. I’m already late for work so I had better run,” I added.
“Oh of course dear,” Mrs Grey said.
“Have a lovely holiday and look after yourselves,” I said standing up and swinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Thank you Sam,” they both said.
“And thank you Sam, for your company this afternoon,” Mrs Grey added with a knowing smile. “Remember my advice to you – look after yourself.”
“I will do Mrs Grey. Thank you and goodbye,” I said nodding.

As I turned left when I left the coffee shop, my phone started ringing. I pulled it out of my bag, after a bit of struggle trying to find it. It was Mike, my grumpy and rude manager at the pub. I debated with myself whether to answer the call or not for a moment, partly hoping that it will stop ringing. But it didn’t and it was as though Mike’s rudeness along with the mundanity of the job and the fact that it was actually hampering me living my life was all being sounded in the persistence of the ringing.
“Hello?” I answered hoping I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt.
“Sam, where on earth are you?” Mike grumbled down the phone. “Your shift started twenty minutes ago.”
“Yes I know Mike. Sorry, something came up and I was delayed,” I said rather more weakly than I had intended.
“What came up? Come on, get over here. It’s gettin’ busy,” he replied. “And don’t think you’ll be gettin’ paid for this first hour!”
After a pause, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before I said to Mike, “Em, no Mike, I won’t be coming in today. I won’t be coming in at all anymore.”
The silence was so thick I thought we got cut off.
“What do you mean you’re not coming in? Sam? Don’t be silly. I’ll see you in a bit. Now hurry up!” he replied.
“No, no Mike,” I quickly said more assertively. “I’m not coming in. I’m leaving the job Mike.”
“Sam, don’t make a mistake here. If you quit now, don’t come crawling back in a month’s time begging me for your job back,” he warned.
“I won’t Mike, don’t worry. I’ll be too busy to come back,” I replied with a smile, and started to walk in the other direction, away from the pub.
“What, you think you can just quit? Just like that?” he said angrily. “You can’t just do that to people Sam!” he shouted.
“Yes I can Mike. Thanks – bye now!” I said and hung up.

I took in the deepest breath of fresh air that I had taken in years. I strode in pursuit of the bus with a spring in my step. Mrs Grey’s story made me want to take charge of my life and do the things that make me happy. The thought of my own studio and spending all day making my jewellery sent an adrenaline rush round my body.
A feeling of regret for all the things I take for granted in my life, including myself, washed over me, like nausea. Do I want to one day wake up and regret what I did with my life? I thought about Tom and wondered what was left there. We once had a spark, an admittedly somewhat childish spark, but a spark nonetheless. But when menial things got blamed on me and seeing him started to become a chore, what have we been left with? Is there really any point when my heart starts to pound with dread every time I am going to see him?
I dialled Tom’s number on my phone and waited for him to answer.
“What’s up?” he answered. Apparently I didn’t deserve a hello.
“Hi Tom,” I said willing my heart to stop pounding so hard.
“What is it? What do you want Sam?” he asked impatiently.
“Er, Tom, do you have half an hour to meet? I just quit my job,” I said.
“You quit? Why did you quit?” he asked getting angry.
“It doesn’t matter why Tom. Can you meet me or not?” I asked.
“Where are you? I’m in Central London. I’ve got 40 minutes until my next job,” he said, more kindly than I had expected, but of course he didn’t know what was about to come.
“I’m on Regent Street. Come to the Starbucks here?”
“Ok. Be there in 10.”
I hung up and headed back towards the coffee shop feeling of anxiety being trumped by excitement. In about half an hour’s time, I would be starting my life. Actually starting my life. It will be difficult. There will be struggles and it will be lonely but all that will be temporary. Perceived misery that time will heal if all else fails. I felt so alive for the first time in years that I am convinced that everything will be fine. In those moments I realised that I was the one holding myself back and I was the only person who could set myself free. In understanding that alone, I was already free from the boundaries and walls I had built around myself. That knowledge in itself was freedom.