The Battle With Myself.
Nathan’s story
I have always lived with regret. There are things I have done and people I have hurt. These events ultimately destroyed my being. I know that my actions were inexcusable, and today I sit here away from it all, writing my feelings down on paper. I don't know what the outcome will be, but I know I owe this to the most special person, my only son, who past away two days ago.
The battle began when I was five years old. I grew up in a small town with my mother, a woman who I felt never loved me. I spent a lot of time alone since she had to work long hours to maintain a decent life. She was always busy, tired and sad. I would sometimes sit at the top of the stairs late at night and listen to her cry. Being a single mum was difficult for her. It made me realise how unhappy and alone she felt. I remember once I tried to comfort her, but she just pushed me away and told me to go back to my room. She once said to me that I had been the biggest mistake of her life and wished I had never been born. I cried all night that day, alone in my room, but my mother was a drunk, and I later understood that her mind was out of control.
She would have good and bad days. Weekends were the worst; she would drink a lot. During the week, she was responsible enough to get her act together and go to work. Saturday’s were awful, as she would start drinking early in the morning. She would tell me that it was ok because drinking made all her problems disappear, and that made her happy. That thought stayed with me forever. I never got to spend time with her since she would drink to the point of passing out on her bed. I would always have to tuck her in and keep an eye on her in case she wanted to throw up. It scared me being alone that way. I felt I had to be so responsible as a child, and I couldn't understand why my mother couldn't be there for me like all the other mums. I blamed myself; I always felt I wasn't good enough for her to love me. I look back at those moments in my life, and they always make me cry. I still ask myself to this day, “Why wasn't I ever good enough?”.
My father left my mother before I was born. She had me at sixteen and was disowned by her family for falling pregnant at such a young age. I never knew my grandparents; my mother decided she would never speak to them again. It was her and me against the world, and my childhood was never easy. There were times when she brought random men to the house. She would date them for a while, but when they got violent towards her, she would never see them again. I would lock myself in my room and take refuge in music. I loved the escapism it gave me. I saw music as a form of artistic hope and freedom. I promised myself that one day I would go to university and become a great musician. It was all I wanted from life.
There were times when my mother would stop drinking. It would never last long, maybe a few weeks, but in those days she would give me so much love and affection. She was like a completely different person, and I valued those brief moments so much. “I love you so much, Nathan, you give my life meaning. If it weren't for you I would be so lost”, she would say as she held me close. She made me see that I wasn't to blame for her troubles. She fought a war with herself and her past that never allowed her to be happy. I understood that she had always loved me, but alcohol had become an enemy to both of us. It turned her into a bitter person and made me a child who always doubted everyone and everything around him. To this day, I can still hear my mother’s cry for help and see the desperate look in her eyes. My mother's addiction to alcohol ruined as both, and we never managed to get over it.
Despite all that was happening around me; I always found a way to stay focused on my studies. I was determined to create a better life for myself and get to university. After much sacrifice and long hours of intense work, I got a place at a prestigious music school. I had been playing the guitar since I was three years old. My mother gifted me one for Christmas and told me I had to learn on my own because she didn't have money to pay for lessons. I was self-taught, and when I auditioned for music school fifteen years later, I was told I was the best they had heard in the last twenty years. I got offered a place the next day. It was the happiest moment of my life.
I won a scholarship and had all my expenses paid. I moved into a small room in the centre of town close to the university. I had everything I needed, and I was on my own, determined to make it. I wanted to change my life for the better and fight the demons that had always haunted me, but it was the hardest thing. I was fighting a constant battle within myself, and it brought torment to my soul. I always thought about my mother. I would call her and visit whenever I got the chance, but every time I was in her company, she was drunk, and it broke my heart to see her that way. I focused on my work as I couldn't have anything bring me down. I decided to put everything at the back of my mind and deal with it later. I couldn't cope with so much emotional stress. I never did.
I would spend five to six hours every day practising piano and guitar. They were instruments that I loved and brought peace and joy to my soul. I would always occupy the same session room at the university; it was small but gave me a good space to practice on my own. I had reached my third year there and was soon to graduate. I couldn’t believe how far I had come, and for the first time in my life, I felt proud of myself. I remember thinking at that moment that I didn’t have anyone to share my joy with. I couldn’t trust anyone enough to open up to, let alone live my life with. I felt that my achievements were bringing me happiness in one way, but misery in another. The truth is, I felt lonely.
In my last year at university, everything changed. I met a beautiful girl called Imogen, a mutual friend introduced us. She was a first-year student who played the piano with such emotion, and she was only in her first trimester at University. I couldn’t imagine the things she would go on to do; she had exceptional talent. The first time I saw her, I felt something. I couldn't quite describe it, but it was a deep sense of belonging. I loved being in her company, and she made me laugh like no other person I knew. Her sense of humour was wonderful. She was like a breath of fresh air in my life, and she had come to stay.
We quickly became good friends, and after some time, fell in love. Everything moved along quickly, although I sometimes felt that Imogen had her doubts about me. I was never open about my private life or my mother. I always hid my past from her. I didn't want to share such a painful story with someone I loved as I didn't want her to feel sorry for me. In a way, I made up a persona that wasn't real. It was just who I wished to be. I wanted to erase my past and invent a new one. I didn't tell Imogen the truth until many years later, and this was a terrible mistake. She never deserved being lied to. I felt ashamed about all the events of my childhood and sharing it meant visiting all those places again, which brought me great distress. So I took the easy way out and made up stories to create a fictitious past. As far as Imogen was concerned, my mother was a wildlife photographer who travelled the world and would meet me twice a year in Paris. That was all she needed to know.
They say every lie leads onto another, and I believe this is true. Imogen became pregnant with our first child. She was a year shy of finishing her career but decided to put it on hold to take care of our baby. We never planned on having children so soon. It was a big surprise when we found out. My intention was never to become a father; all I wanted to do was play music and travel the world, but life led us on a different path. I came round to the idea, although I was fearful of the type of father I would be. I never had an example growing up. I could only hope that I could do a good job. I was scared and felt insecure, but I loved Imogen deeply, and I would do anything to make her happy.
Imogen and I got married when she was five months pregnant. All the stress of work and home life made me very vulnerable. I couldn't help but remember the times from my childhood when I felt like this. My demons were rearing their ugly heads again, and I was hopeless against their power. My insecurities and traumas were coming back to haunt me, and I was so desperate to escape them. I knew my mind wouldn't cope with the stress of it all, and I made another big mistake. I turned to alcohol so that I could avoid facing my troubles. My inner turmoil was endless, but I never imagined it would be the reason I would lose everything that mattered in my life.
One night I went out to drink with some friends. I had secretly been drinking before then, but Imogen never knew. She would sometimes think my temper was out of control but always tried to make peace and understand my needs. That night I got very drunk, and when I got home, Imogen was waiting for me at the door. She was seven months pregnant. “How dare you arrive home this late and in that condition”, she told me. I looked at her, and a rage of anger came over me. I could feel myself losing control. I grabbed Imogen by the arm and pushed her hard against the kitchen floor. “Don't you dare tell me what to do”, I shouted as I watched her fall onto the cold tiles and hit her head.
The moment I realised she was bleeding from the back of her head, I rushed her to hospital in a panic. It had all been a terrible accident, and I never imagined it would come to this. I felt disgusted with myself. I had pushed her for no reason, and she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. All the stress that I imposed made her go into premature labour. I was terrified that I would lose her and my baby. I promised myself I would never drink again, but that promise would sadly fell through.
After twenty-two hours of labour, our son Daniel was born eight weeks premature. Imogen didn't want me in the delivery room, so I waited outside until I was allowed in. The first time I saw him, I fell in love and just wanted to protect him from the world. He was so beautiful and tiny. I was so proud to be his father. Imogen and I embraced. I asked her to forgive me, but I could see that the spark in her eyes was no longer there.
Imogen was the most incredible mother. She and Daniel had a bond that I had never seen before. They understood each other so well. Imogen was caring, loving and thoughtful, and Daniel always protected her. They would sit together and listen to classical music every day. Daniel made Imogen so happy. From a very young age, he began playing the piano, and he was such a talented little lad. Imogen was so proud; he was a natural just like her. Their relationship was one that I wished I had with my mother growing up. It gave me great joy but at the same time brought up all the emptiness that I felt as a young boy. I decided to tell Imogen the truth about my life. I couldn't hide it any longer. I decided that no matter the outcome, the truth had to be told. When I opened up, I cried in Imogen's arms for as long as I can remember. She held me close and told me everything was going to be ok. She had the most beautiful soul and was so generous with her love. Deep down, I knew that I had lost a part of her because of what I had done, but I was willing to fight to win her love back. I was going to give it my all, no matter how difficult it was.
Our daughter Faith Riona was born two years later. She was named after Imogen's mother who past away when she was just three. My daughter was my world, and everything I had hoped for. My marriage became stronger in the years that followed. I wasn't drinking as much, and we became a very close family, spending quality time together. I had a good job, and we had moved into a bigger house on the outskirts of town. Life was finally giving me some balance. For the first time, I felt that I was in control.
Life gives and takes away. It brings so much joy, but at the same time, unexpected events can cause your downfall. Happiness is fleeting, and in the end, we are left facing ourselves and our choices, good or bad. The next chapter of my life changed the course of everything. I had spoken to my mother two weeks earlier, and she had been drinking. She hadn't met her grandchildren since I never thought it wise to introduce them to her in a drunken state. She never stopped drinking, and as she got older, it got worse. I always stayed in touch although my visits were few and far between. The last phone call we had she told me that she had always loved me. “I wish I had cared for you more, and shown you how much I loved you,” she said as she put the phone down. Two days later, I got a call from a close friend of hers, telling me that my mother had committed suicide. She had written a message on a piece of paper next to her bed. It read, “Tell my son I love him”.
The years that followed, I became a shadow of myself. I began drinking heavily again, and my demons had taken hold of me. I couldn't think clearly and felt completely numb. I never told Imogen about my mother's death. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept it hidden, and always blamed stress as my reasons for drinking. I was angry at life. At my mother. At my childhood. I felt lost and confused, and nothing made me feel complete. Not even my family. I hated myself for being so selfish, but my heart was broken, and I couldn't fix it. I couldn't be happy. My mother had left a void so deep that nothing could make it whole.
The years that followed were the darkest of my life. My drinking was out of control, and my demons had taken over with a tight grip. I began beating my wife, and the next morning I wouldn't remember anything. The children were older now but were always asleep when I arrived home. Looking back, I can see that Imogen hid her bruises for the sake of the children. It must have been so awful for her to know that I was causing her pain and that she couldn't turn to anyone. I was so ashamed. I could see her distancing herself from me. I knew that she didn't feel the same way about us. I had damaged her too much, and there was no way back.
One night everything broke into pieces, shattering my whole life. I put the children to bed one night and went down to the kitchen and got very drunk. I wanted to forget who I was and where I had come from. I didn't like myself. I had always wanted to be someone else and could never find a way out. Imogen came home late that night, and I got angry with her. I grabbed her in a rage as we got into an argument. She told me she wanted a divorce. I became violent to the point where my son Daniel had to intervene. I was blindly drunk and didn't remember the events that followed. I realised that everything had fallen apart forever. I was the culprit of my mistakes and lost every precious thing I had. I allowed my past to ruin my future.
I bought a ticket to America the next day. I had gotten a job offer some months prior and decided to go there alone. The divorce came through while I was living in New York. Imogen told me that she never wanted me to be a part of her life again. The pain I had imposed was too much to bear, and she didn't want me close to our children. I accepted my fate and respected her decision. I knew that the years of abuse I had inflicted left a profound wound that would never heal. I had lost my family.
Daniel never spoke to me again as he was witness to a violent episode towards his mother. I had to live with that for the rest of my life. I stopped drinking and took my life back, but it was too little too late. I lived to work, and that was all I could do. I felt I was paying a high price for my mistakes, although nothing could prepare me for the next chapter of my life. This was when my heart stopped living.
One day out of the blue. I received an email from a close friend of mine. It was to tell me that my son Daniel had passed away in a traffic accident on his way to work. He was twenty-seven years old. I picked up the phone and called Imogen, but she couldn't get her words across. All I could hear her say was, “My son, my son. Not my son”. We hadn't spoken in so many years, and I felt like an intruder in her life. I put the phone down and sat there, staring at the wall for what seemed like forever. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My only son was no longer here, and I never had a chance to amend my mistakes with him. Life had dealt me a bitter card, but I understood what I had to do.
I flew back to London the next morning. I stopped drinking for good. I got my life together and got a new job. I rented out a flat close to Imogen. My life after that revolved around becoming her friend and being a father to my daughter. I was willing to do whatever it took and however long it took, to be someone they could rely on. I was going to fight for my daughter and make my son proud. I had left my past behind and was hopeful for the future. I always carried a broken heart after my son's death, and this never left me. I would think about him every single day and miss him desperately. I lived with so much regret, but I had to learn to love myself enough so that I could give my daughter the best part of me. She was all I had left in my life, and this time around, there was no room for mistakes.
