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[child-of-diaspora]

Tune out the noise

My brain has been on overdrive recently. Do you ever get an internal monologue going around and around in your head? I recently watched a stand-up by Drew Michael (Red Blue Green). It's not your typical stand-up that makes you laugh. He speaks about his struggles with his mental health, and it triggered my brain to go on the tirade about my own, and it's tiring.

For as long as I remember I've always felt detached. So many of the things I have endured in my life has left me feeling this way. Growing up mixed raced in Britain, living with a racist family. Intersected with a violent father during early childhood (who luckily wasn't around long), then left with a schizophrenic mother (those who have read my previous blogs will know my origin story by now).

As I've gotten older the impact of this is catching up with me, or more accurately I'm not able to block them out anymore. I really struggle with displaying my emotions. It's frustrating because I've spoken to various therapists and ex-partners and they are like, just do the thing, but I'm screaming, I can't! If I could just do the thing then surely I'd be doing it by now? It's like trying to learn a subject when the textbooks are written in another language. This has all come to a head recently when my partner of eight years (and mother to my son), decided I am no longer the right person for her.

In some ways I get it. I know my short comings. I lack empathy and don't show affection in the typical way. Shit, I don't even know if I love anyone or anything at times as I feel so destitute. I'm more comfortable when I shut myself down. My childhood left a chronic loneliness lurking over me due to the emotional abandonment. Despite having lots of people around me that care for me and let me know, I don't know if I'm absorbing it, or at least that's how my brain thinks right now. The past few years the life events I've experienced have taken their toll. I used to count on myself for stability, stubborn and defiant, but losing my grandad changed this. I've thought about suicide during these times. The only reason I'm still here is because I'm scared of the pain I might inflict on myself (yes myself, I'm not thinking of others during these moments) and that I may survive and make things worse. If there was an app I could download and press a button, I'd have done it by now.

There is tonnes of advice out there which teaches us not think about the negative and concentrate on the positive (looking at you CBT), but this just feels like I'm gaslighting myself to be happy, is that what it takes? I'm drawn to meaningful and emotional art in music, films and media, i.e. the stand-up I mentioned earlier. Like a moth to light. It's comforting yet hurtful due to the reminders of my own pain. These blogs posts sometimes feel like that. Is this helping, or am I talking myself in circles. Maybe I'm fine and I should just shut up. Is this a curated identity I've made for myself. The tortured soul.

A shared experience I think you might be able to understand which exasperates my mental health (and probably yours) is living through the internet age, where we have access to all of the information, all of the time. Current events feel like a fever dream and the media feeds us disaster after disaster until we are catatonic, unable to imagine how we can make the world a better place. Again, I am drawn to these news cycles and struggle to ignore it. The antidote piece of media to this problem would be my film of 2022, Every Everywhere All At Once. It gives a heartfelt message that we need to tune out the noise and focus on love, connection and understanding.

The main thing keeping me going at the moment is trying to be a good father to my son. Since the breakup I've become a lot closer as I don't have to worry about the failing relationship anymore. I have to break the generational trauma I've inherited. Despite the disconnect I feel with people and the world, and the difficulties I went through during the early stages of raising him, I don't doubt my bond with him. I still occasionally struggle when he is difficult or tantrums as it can throw me back into the dark place in my head I'm strenuously trying to avoid (yet another symptom of my childhood trauma). I just need to tune out the noise and remember what is important.

[child-of-diaspora]

Waves

I made a social media post about mental health support for mental health week around a month ago, but I feel like I was little dishonest with myself. The original post I wanted to make wasn’t a happy one, but I didn’t want to bum people out, instead I tried to keep it light and informal; trying reach out to anyone that might be struggling, something to give them resources and a little hope. Truth is, I struggle to remain hopeful myself.

I often find myself caught in a negative thought cycle, feeling hopeless, asking what is the point? You’d think having a child would ground me, give me purpose. Instead, it leaves me desperately fighting the generational trauma I don’t want to pass on. I know I am doing a good job, but without trying to feel sorry for myself, it’s hard for me. I wasn’t given the tools to love and nurture naturally. My childhood taught me my emotions serve no purpose, so I shut them off. Now as an adult I am constantly having to work on this. Anyone who knows me knows I am a little different. Not the wacky “I’m mad me” type, but a little bit Sheldon from Big Bang.

I struggle to block out the external factors of our current political landscape too. Do you ever get the feeling like you’re not compatible with how us humans have ended up setting up the world for ourselves? I won’t bore you with political theory, but capitalism is purposely designed to alienate you. The inequality of the world affects me. I envy people going about their day without it being a burden on them. I was born political having a father from Iraq. I can't just block it out, growing up as part of the diaspora. Arab among the English, not made to feel welcome in my own country, racism from my own family members.

I wrote the above the day before I wrote following. Today I woke up feeling more positive. The sadness comes in waves, but you have to keep on pushing. Put some music on, watch your favourite film, read your favourite book, reach out to your friend or partner, change that mindset. There's a really good interview with Chester Bennington where he talks about not letting your negative thoughts get the best of you. Keep doing the self-work.

I often get praised for overcoming all the obstacles in my life. People’s resilience shouldn’t be a compliment, it should be a condemnation of the world we live in, that we have to endure so much. I don't blame anyone for my trauma, we're all living through the consequences of our society. Be ruthless with systems but be kind to people. Start by being kinder to yourself. I need to remind myself of this.

[child-of-diaspora]

Happiness not guaranteed

So, I thought I'd get this off my chest and let others know how I've been feeling recently. My mental health hasn't been great this year.

I'm not confident I have the ability to articulate how I feel, but I'll try my best in this post. At best I feel hollow, like life is passing me by, but at worst, I want it all to end. Materially I do just fine, I also know those around me care about me too, but unfortunately it doesn't change how I feel. Simply existing doesn't come easy.

When I'm at my lowest I have thoughts of not wanting to exist. Earlier in the year those thoughts became very prominent, which scared me as I didn't want act on it, so I tried taking antidepressants. This didn't work as they made me feel worse, and at a time I just started a new job so couldn't afford the time off. In the end, changing my routines help ease those negative thoughts. We was going through the third lockdown and I'd closed myself off. Once I started to go for walks with friends it helped clear my head. I don't get those thoughts as often, but today was one of those days.

I'm still living through the consequences of my childhood trauma. It feels like a constant battle to stop myself being defined by it. Let's also not forget about the existential dread of the world. Global warming, the current political climate, the feeling of estrangement that comes along with being mixed race in the UK.

I've tried to research my mental health (hey Google, the fuck is wrong with me?!) and I think I may be suffering with PTSD and/or dysthymia (high functioning depression). My last therapist told me I have PTSD, but I brushed it off, thinking this only happens to those who experience physical trauma like war. I need to take more steps in treating my mental health, or at least diagnosing it. Perhaps more therapy, but how much more can talk about my childhood? Medication is a last resort. I don't want to live a life medicating my feelings. I need to exhaust all options, including physical exercise like joining a gym (despite how much I detest the idea, I know it can help).

If you ever was to ask me how I'm doing in person, I'll probably say "I'm alright" and that'd be it. It's hard for me to open up. So here I am, sharing my thoughts. My intension writing this isn't to make anyone feel like they should be concerned. Please don't treat me any different knowing any of this, or flood me with compliments as I'm already well aware of what I have going for me. I'm just struggling a little right now.

[child-of-diaspora]

Feels Like Summer

I was asked to record a DJ mix of summery Drum & Bass months ago. I’ve only just got around to putting it together even though UK summer is almost over. After finishing recording I decided to dedicate it to my grandad. It’s the first one I’ve done since his passing. It’s also the first time I've done one using my new DJ mixer. I purchased it during the period my grandad was in and out of hospital due to the cancer progressing.

Before he was diagnosed I’d lost a lot of my passion for DJing. It wasn't until the awful news that I rediscovered it again. I forgot how mindful it can be when you step up to a pair of turntables and tune out the rest of the world. While mixing music all you need to think about is how the next mix is going to sound and what record to play after that.

With my new found interest in DJing I wanted to buy a new mixer. It’d been over 10 years since I’d changed my equipment. My previous mixer was an Allen & Heath Xone 62. An amazing bit of kit which served me well, but a little outdated due to technology moving on. I ended up purchasing the Rane 72. Symbolically the purchase meant a lot to me.

What’s funny is even though my grandad disliked my music he always helped facilitate my DJ setup in the tiny box bedroom I lived in my Mum’s council house. He once went as far to build me a custom wardrobe so I could fit a DJ stand for my equipment. That’s the type of guy he was. Always willing to help someone.

It’s coming up to a year since he passed. The theme of this mix fits with how I feel currently. Last summer, despite seeing some of the best weather the UK has had in recent years, I was going through one of the hardest things I’ve experienced in my life. This summer I'm in a better place mentally and have spent more time enjoying it with family (I have a nephew now, he’s a little dude!) and friends. My partner and I even have a holiday planned in a couple of weeks.

Whilst I’m here reflecting on this I’d like to take some time to thank everyone for helping me get through this past year or so. To my friends, even if you feel you’ve not done anything to help, just been available for company has. My brother and his partner, you two are amazing and remind me what it’s like to have close family rather than the dysfunctional one we have. I’d also like to give a special thank you to my partner. I know none of this has been easy on you, but you managed to put my feelings first and provide the emotional support I needed to help me heal.

Anyway. Enough of the sappy stuff. Hope you enjoy the mix.

Tracklist

01. Missing - Chasing The Dragon 02. Dkay & DJ Lee - Interlinked 03. FearBace - Stillness 04. T.R.A.C. - The Making Of (feat. Atlantic Connection) 05. Seba - My Love 06. Need For Mirrors - Strings & Things 07. Siege MC & Hiraeth - Overdue 08. Kaos - Chopped Up 09. Danny Wheeler - On Love 10. Satl - Let Me Be The One (Alibi Remix) 11. Villem, Mcleod & Heidi Vogel - The Sea (BCee Remix) 12. DRS & Skeptical - Forget All This 13. Velocity & MC Fats - Hide & Seek 14. Surreal - Checkmate 15. Dawn Wall - Rain God 16. Carlito & Addiction - Spinner 17. Mr Joseph - Untouchable Funk 18. Hugh Hardie - Negomi 19. Mutated Forms - Avoid & Ignore 20. Technimatic - Let It Fall 21. Nausika - Dominion VIP 22. Champion Sound - Bridges 23. Chase & Status - Bubble (feat. New Kidz) 24. Stunna - Roots 25. Furney - Shakka 26. Madcap - Chant 27. Break - Conversations (feat. Cleveland Watkiss & MC Fats) 28. Bungle - Northern Dub 29. Childish Gambino - Feels Like Summer (McLeod's Bootleg) 30. A.K.A & Greekboy - Something Like This 31. Re-Adjust - Backflash 32. Fracture - Give Me Love (feat. Fox) 33. The Untouchables - Bad Hats 34. Simplification - Analogy 35. L-Side - Mistadobalina (D&B Re-Edit) 36. Sl8r & Rms - Ruff Neck Cru 37. Visuals - One A Day 38. Kings Of The Rollers - Round Here (feat. Redders) 39. Unglued - Born In '94 (feat. MC Conrad) 40. Clipz - Down 4 41. Nectax - Paradox 42. Polaris - Receiver 43. I Wannabe - Phormula Acid 44. Spirit - Interval

[child-of-diaspora]

The UK government and media are insidious

I had to visit the Hull Assessment Centre with my mum today. People who currently receive benefits due to long term disabilities have to visit this building for an interview to plead their case to keep claiming. It’s a part of the austerity put in place by the Conservative Party, treating the most vulnerable with absolute contempt.

The building is behind Tesco on Spring Bank. It’s dreary looking with all of the windows boarded up with metal grids. We press the buzzer to be let in the security door, the woman in front of us in the queue is holding herself up on a crutch while checking herself in; she then drags herself to the waiting room. We check in and are advised there is a wait due to them being behind. The waiting room is tiny with posters on the wall telling you what to expect during the visit. Opposite me is a middle-aged woman shaking with fear. This is grim.

We get called into the room and the woman starts to summarise the form my mum had to fill out to re-apply for benefits. All her ailments are on there, and a sick note from the doctor – so why this interview is necessary I don’t know! She then tries to reassure us not to worry and that if the illness is severe enough (it is) then there is no point continuing. The reassurance felt false.

My assumption was correct as she continues with the interview anyway. My mum is really nervous, I can hear it in her voice. They ask when she was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, which neither of us can remember the exact date or even year (we just know a long time) – plus, why should she answer that? They can simply ask the doctors for the medical records. The interview then leads to questions about how often my mum is ill. This isn’t acute back pain that occurs when trying to lift something. This is a mental disorder; the symptoms are not black and white so you can't conceptualise it into a nice neat package. Ah yes, every Monday and Thursday I feel paranoid the world is out to get me and the odd weekend I am unable to get out of bed due to a crippling sense of dread (I’m being sarcastic, if you can’t tell).

My mum tries to answer but a symptom of her illness is she is not self-aware of how ill she is. I obviously have to answer and try explaining as best I can. They then probe into my mum’s daily routines and ask personal questions about her hygiene etc. My mum’s that nervous she repeats herself throughout the interview, trying to explain that she might look OK on the surface, but she is still unwell. The interviewer, sensing the nervousness repeats her mantra of telling us not to worry while she makes my mum give justification for monetary support. I even tell them that, if anything, since my mum’s dad recently passed, we should be asking for more help. She brushes it off as ‘not her department’ and ‘you know where the doctors are’.

At this point I want to tell her what I really think. That not only are you making us beg for mercy, but you have barely supported my mum throughout the history of this illness. That you are telling us not to worry while over 130,000 vulnerable have died from taking away their support. That every keystroke is going to have a massive effect on my family’s life. I stay quiet. My rant would go against my mum’s favour. I get the woman in front of me is only a cog of a bigger system, but if you had any decency you’d have not continued the interview and back our corner, as we provided enough evidence.

“Whatever your politics, you can agree that punishing disabled and sick people for falling on hard times is absolutely morally wrong and they have blood on their hands”@chessmartinez on the government’s austerity policy. #bbcqt pic.twitter.com/3zQUDVLvOa

— BBC Question Time (@bbcquestiontime)

June 13, 2019

The interview finally ends, and we are told to wait two weeks to hear back. I still have to go to work so we walk into the city centre together. While walking down Spring Bank (which has a large ethnic community) we walk past a woman in a hijab and her little kids eating ice-cream. My mum turns to me, “you know why they are cutting back my benefits don’t you, it’s because of all the foreigners”. Well, isn’t that the topping to my already shit day. My own mother who married and divorced an Arab man and had two kids of Arab decent is blaming it on the foreigners. The cognitive dissonance of my mum hating the very thing that is part of her family. This is how insidious our politics and media are in this country. People at the bottom of society blaming other people at the bottom because of what they are led to believe (in-case you didn’t know, immigration overall is a net positive for the economy in the UK).

Even those in the middle class fall victim to the deceit. Many believe austerity is a necessary evil to clamp down on those cheating the benefit system. This is so wrong. In 2018, £94 billion was estimated to have been spent on benefits (excluding pensions, which is always higher than this figure). Only £3 billion (net loss) of this is lost to fraud and over-payments. Now, how much do you think we lose to tax dodging? The estimate for 2018 is £33 billion. Compare that to the benefit fraud figure and you start to realise you have been sold a lie.

If you are to take anything away from reading this then please, at the next general election vote Labour (or even Green). For those that think you won’t vote Labour because of Jeremy Corbyn, just think… do you REALLY dislike Corbyn, or has the media and politician's rhetoric planted the seed? After all, they can even turn someone against their own child's bloodline.

Sources

Fiscal impact of immigration in the UK

UK Government spending on benefits

Benefit fraud and over-payment in the UK

Tax avoidance in the UK

[child-of-diaspora]

Son of a schizophrenic mother

So I decided to share my experience of having a schizophrenic mother on a mental health subreddit. Below is the post.

My mother has had schizophrenia since I was 8. I am now 33 and only just looking up her illness online. What's strange about this is I've always researched everything I do or any decision I make by Googling the topic until I can't Google it any more! I don't know if it's because I’d been living through experience of it or because I wanted to shut it out. One of the most frustrating things about the mental health services in UK is how they never once explained to me or my brother what was happening to my mum.

My dad wasn't around. He used to hit my mother and myself as a child. While my mum was pregnant with my brother we moved without telling him the address. After my brother was born my dad would be around now and then but never fully came back into our lives. At age 8 my mum had a new partner and my childhood was the most normal it'd ever be. That changed around my mum's 30th birthday when she started to have paranoid delusions.

Luckily my grandparents were around to help. My mum would be sectioned numerous times under the metal health act so me and my brother would go into their care. Throughout the years my granddad fought to make sure my mum got treatment. The services here in the UK would basically top up my mum on medication and dump her back out into the world for me and my family to pick up the responsibility. She would often reach a stage where she'd stop her medication as she thinks she is well or that it's holding her back, which would see her deteriorate again. Since having the illness she’s recently set a new record and hasn’t been sectioned for a good 5 years. 

Dealing with a schizophrenic mother for the past 25 years has always been difficult but what has triggered me start this online search is a change in circumstances. 6 months ago, my granddad passed away from cancer. Throughout the cancer stages some of the behaviour from my mother was unforgivable. The selfishness she displayed is what could easily be characterised as evil. From arguing with him while ill in hospital to telling my grandma over my granddad's bed "let's go I'm tired, he'll be here in the morning anyway". I won't list everything, but she made it very difficult to grieve as she'd somehow make every situation about her. 

I'm writing this post in the hope I can reach out to other people who have had experience of parents or any family member having schizophrenia – as at times it feels isolating not having people with shared experience to talk to. One of the hardest things about my mother’s illness is her selfish behaviour. While having a look on YouTube I stumbled a video which discussed the link between narcissism and schizophrenia. Even though, as she states in the video, this is just anecdotal ‘noticing’s’, it describes my mother to a tee. 

For the past 3 years my mother’s mental health hasn't been great due to her local GP lowering her medication, meaning she is always teetering on the edge of another breakdown. I fear without my granddad's presence myself or my brother will have to step in to make sure she is treated once again under the mental health act.

[child-of-diaspora]

The final stages

I wrote the few paragraphs below a month before my granddad passed. I’ve only just opened up my Tumblr to find it sat in draft. Reading it back wasn’t easy, but I thought since I’ve wrote it I might as well share.

Things have progressed rapidly with my granddad. I went to see him this weekend but he was too weak to leave the bed. As I arrived with my brother and his girlfriend we was told to be quiet as my granddad didn’t want any visitors. We snuck in and waited in the back garden. Both my uncles were there. They sat us down and explained how much the cancer had progressed. I was scared.

To try not overwhelm my granddad, me, my brother and his girlfriend took it in turns to go see him. I went up first. It’s my grandma’s birthday tomorrow so as I entered the room I said I visited to drop a card off. I sat with him on the bed while he tried to hold back his tears. The lump in my throat was like a golf ball. I didn’t know what to say so I just sat there in his company. I wanted to thank him for everything he has done for me, and for the rest of the family but I couldn’t get the words out as I didn’t want to cry too and upset him further. The image of my granddad sat on the end of the bed looking frail is one that’ll stick in my head for the rest of my life. I’d never seen him this emotional before. After sitting there in each others company for a couple of minutes he started to talk. He told me he wasn’t prepared and apologised for being emotional. He thought this was the last time I’d speak to him. I reassured him it’s OK to be emotional. He said not take it personally but he didn’t feel like seeing anyone today. He feels conflicted; on one hand he wants to see everyone but not in the state he is currently in. He has always been a proud man.

My uncles arranged for him to go to a care home. He was getting picked up later that day to first go to the hospital, then on to the care home. It makes sense for him to be where he can have 24/7 attention.

My granddad has since passed. He was moved from the care home to Dove House hospice where he spent his final few days. I never knew how much of a wonderful job the people at Dove House do, every member of staff made the shitty situation feel a little bit more bearable. He went in the early hours on 16th September 2018 aged 84. Before he past I got the opportunity to thank him. But again, thanks for everything granddad.

[child-of-diaspora]

Save you

For years growing up I used to have a cynical view of cancer charities. I know right, how can someone take any charitable work as a negative? Let me try and explain…

I grew up with a mother who suffered from schizophrenia. The UK doesn’t appear to care much about mental illness, speaking from an experience of someone who has gone through the systems (I’ll write more about this in another post). So, whenever I saw cancer charity adverts or had talks in my school I’d say to myself “we get it already”. I wanted to hear more about raising money or awareness for mental health as this felt underrepresented.

Today, as I write this it has become very clear why cancer is spoken about so often. Five months ago my granddad was diagnosed with cancer. Since then it’s all I’ve been able to think about and upon discussing it with other people I’ve realised nearly everyone knows someone that has suffered with cancer.

When diagnosed with stomach cancer he was given three to six months. We were given a small chance of hope when the doctors said they are able to give a light dose of chemo (due to his age) to extend his life by another year or two. But, a few days ago he was told the cancer has spread and the chemo hasn’t had any effect in slowing it down.

Although my granddad is 84 I never once saw him as “old”. He was more active than me, outside tending to his large garden or climbing up ladders to fix up his house. Him and my grandma often went to the pub too. That all changed once cancer hit. Within months he became an old man.

I often refer to this situation as watching a car crash in slow motion. Not only am I watching my granddad’s life slowly drain, I am also seeing the toll on my grandma and mother, both of whom depended on him for the majority of their life. Meanwhile, my life on paper has never been in a better place. I have a great relationship, mortgage, well-paid job, etc. Such a frustrating juxtaposition.

So why start this blog… well, there are a few reasons. I had the idea mentioned to me a couple of times by my girlfriend and friends. They suggested it may help me process some of the things going on in my life right now. As many of you who know me will know, I am not a very expressive person. Writing this down may give you an insight into how I feel.

Hopefully I can stay inspired to write other experiences in my life down. Not for narcissistic reasons thinking “my life is so interesting look at me”, but so that other people who have lived similar experiences can know, they are not the only one (myself included).