The Forefeit

by Elaine Ellis
(Lancashire, UK)

Strange, isn't it, how at times, you find yourself reflecting on past events, without even having intended to do so. Maybe it's an inbuilt support mechanism, that all humans have - when the time and mental space are available, then we can dedicate them to analysis of our memories to try and make sense of the past. Well, that's how I like to think of it! Otherwise, it becomes much too complicated! Although, I have to admit that, at times, I DO feel as though this "mental trawling", or whatever else you might want to call it, occurs unbidden. Then, it's almost intrusive; as though there is a memory there which is DEMANDING that I readdress it, come to terms with it, understand it...

That's how I ended up writing this. You see, things haven't been great recently - health problems and all that stuff. I've just had surgery, and been diagnosed with Endometriosis. And my respiratory problems have kicked off again. So, in between all the Hospital appointments, and trying to get my coursework in on time for University, I've been doing a lot of thinking.

Some of the thoughts, I've had before... but this was definitely one of those situations where a lot of it felt out of my control. As though my brain were insisting that NOW was the time to make sense of everything; that things HAD to start to make sense, in order for me to move on.

Mum wasn't well after she had me. (I've mentioned often enough her mental health problems.) Somehow, she got permission from our Local Authority for me to start School a year early, as she wasn't coping with me at home. The details are hazy, but I know I thrived, and was a bright, intelligent kid. But, for some unexplained reason, I was not allowed to progress with the year group in which I commenced - I was held back a year, to study with kids my own age. I remember this distinctly, because I spent a whole extra year at School bored and frustrated, repeating lessons I'd already done, and - because I was so advanced for my age - teaching other kids to read! I remember feeling insulted. And this is where the bullying started. The other kids knew I'd started School early... and some knew why.

I was bullied right through School. Some of it was to do with my health (I had respiratory problems), and some to do with my family. Teachers did nothing to support me. I was prevented from joining in many classes, and was put on a "reading ban" because I was so far ahead of the other kids in my class that the teachers did not know what to do with me. They wanted other kids to catch up. How demoralising is that for a little kid? What had I done wrong? I got picked on by kids for being advanced for my age, and by teachers alike. I even got comments from some kids' parents, saying things like "Oh, she can't be that clever, she must have a Tutor - her mum is mental", and "Her family are corny, they are charity cases". My parents raised these issues with the School, to be told that the School had decided that they must implement a policy of "not showing favouritism" to me. How was allowing me to be bullied part of this? I came top of my class year after year, but never got a prize, or compliments for this. I felt punished for my mother's illness.

Nothing changed right through Secondary School, and Sixth Form. Teachers were well aware, I believe, of my difficult home circumstances, but instead chose to treat me as a difficult child. I had nobody to confide in about my caring responsibilities, or about the problems I had at home. My reaction was to rebel - smoking and dressing as a Goth. Teachers just viewed this as symptomatic of "growing pains", or worse still, insisted that it was evidence of my being "bad". I felt constantly in trouble, and dreaded both School, and home. Where to turn?

University was a somewhat better experience - probably because I lived away from home. But I never felt supported, or able to confide in an adult member of staff about my family problems. Besides, I'd been brought up not to discuss mum's mental illness, or the difficulties of my family life.

I have never felt that anyone recognised or rewarded me as a bright, academic individual. I never felt that the effort I put into my studies, despite the problems I experienced at home, was appreciated. Instead, I felt as though I had to work doubly hard to compensate for the fact that I came from a "problem family", and that I had to prove the bullies wrong. I felt as though all people saw was a "weird kid" who dressed strangely, and not a clever girl who got really high grades. In fact, I was made to feel as though my high grades were part of what made me "weird" - they were something to be ashamed of. They drew attention to me - attention I didn't want. Attention from bullies.

Today, I am an adult. A grown woman, with 9 O Levels, 4 A levels, 2 B.A. Honours Degrees and a Postgraduate Diploma behind me. I am studying a Masters. Despite EVERYTHING. Does this make me feel proud?

NO. IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE CRAP! I look back over my life and see that I have had to fight tooth and nail for everything. Nothing has run smoothly. I have had to battle against bullying and prejudice. I have felt the need to apologise and excuse myself over and over. That I am not good enough. That I must do twice as much as everyone else just to get recognition. That I have to prove myself. That I have to convince people I am "worthy".

A perfect example was my last job. No sooner had I told my employers that I provided support to my mother, who has mental health problems, than I found myself open to unwanted comments. When my own health deteriorated, and I realised that surgery was necessary, was I supported at work? Oh, no! I was subjected to "formal" questioning. "Was I depressed?" "Did I have what my mother has?" "Had I had counselling?"

What? So because my mother is "mental", then I am? Her illness by default makes the whole family "mental"?

I've always felt this. That somehow this is how people view my family.

Having a family member with mental health issues does NOT make a family "rubbish". It does not make the relative with the mental health problems "rubbish". Yes, there may be problems in the family; but they are NOT something for other people to latch onto. They are not a "label"; a pigeonhole. They are not the only things about that family.

Problems can exist within ANY and EVERY family. And they are not there for other people's titillation. For the spreading of salacious gossip, or to make other people feel better at whoever's expense.

I have lived with problems in my family, and I have lived with the effects of how other people have reacted to them. I have lived with the consequences of poor decision making by my Local Authority, who chose to ineffectively address the problems by sending me early to School. But they then compounded them by holding me back, and exposing me to bullies. I have lived with lack of recognition and support, by teachers and other authority figures. People who, had they opened their eyes, could have helped. I have been wrongly labelled "bad", or "problematic" - as have my family.

Too often, people just stop at what they think they see, the superficial. Is it because they are scared to get involved? Because they don't know what to do? Or because they can't be bothered?

Was my life a forfeit for that of my mother? She was unwell; so I, as a child, could compensate? Did the authorities, and powers that be try hard enough to understand, to help find a viable solution? Neither my mother, nor I could help our positions. My father, at work full time, was just never there. Who should have stepped into the breach?

Isn't this a perfect example of why EDUCATION is so desperately needed! If those in positions of authority, or in caring roles, such as Teachers, Council Officials and the like had been better educated, might they have spotted what was going on? Might they have stopped the bullying? Might they have praised and rewarded my academia? Might they have helped my mother out at home, or monitored her symptoms more effectively? Who knows... Only I know they FAILED.

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