Author: Anna findlay (Page 2 of 2)

A lovely article about how swimming in the sea helps people cope. Greg Martin interviewed me in late November 2020. I didn’t swim in the sea until I was in my 30s (I was scared of fish)! Now I swim in the sea most days. If I don’t the day is more of a struggle. This article was written a few weeks ago.

“ I started regular sea swimming at the start of lockdown 2. I find exercise with a bit of a community feel really helps my mental health.”I love RS Fitness gym in Newlyn, but since it was closed I decided to try something new. I’ve always loved sea swimming and find just being near the sea very therapeutic. I thought winter sea swimming would be too ‘hardcore’ but in lockdown 2, sea swimming was clearly the new sourdough!”After seeing so many folk in the water around Penzance, and with a bit of nagging from my lovely neighbour, Beccy, we both decided to give it a go. We are both addicted to it now!”Jumping in the sea is like pressing a reset button in my head. If I’m grumpy, overwhelmed or tired, getting in the sea just makes me zing. It takes me straight into the present moment where my mind is totally focused on just being in the water.”The sounds, the colours, the sparkles, the sounds of chat and laughter around as we all challenge and support each other. Each of us facing our own battles and being held by the gentle spirit of cold, salty water. I really notice the lack of this zing if I don’t swim – it sets me up for the day.”(Image: Greg Martin / Cornwall Live)12 of 19

“The sense of community, of finding my tribe, has been such an unexpected gift. The sea is no place for airs and graces- just refreshing reality. Many of us are trying to keep our heads together and, literally, above water.”My personal battle is with life itself and the huge grief that I will always have to live with.”I struggle with mental health issues and so did my son.”Ben was so strong and I’m incredibly proud of him. Tragically he lost his battle.”Ben was my only child and was just 23 when he died in October 2019. Ben lived in Brighton for the last year of his short life. He swam in the sea regularly. I feel closest to him when I’m in the sea.”Being a tiny part of a vast, seemly endless, ocean makes me feel that maybe he’s not so far away. I never thought I’d ever be 100% happy again. But in the sea I have been – for a few precious moments.”

https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/gallery/sea-swimmers-cornwall-finding-solace-4747075?utm_source=linkCopy&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=sharebar

Ben also liked swimming in the sea when he lived in Brighton. One of his key workers sent me a lovely memory which mentions this. I can just picture his hair!

The one about the seagull you already know, and the time he set off the fire extinguisher. I’m sure I could remember some other stories too… I only found out about the longboarding down devils dyke because Ben came to our appointment with his arm in a makeshift sling made from an old T-shirt. I remember he wasn’t that keen on seeing me at that point in time so I’d always offer to make him a cup of coffee and every time he said “cor, yes please!” like he was gasping for a coffee. He barely sat down for a minute before he finished the coffee, started rolling a fag, placed it in his mouth and got up and paced round the room waiting for me to finish talking to him.

He was always excited about something. One day it would have been going to a festival with his sister, the next it would be some good honest labour he had planned. Anyway on that day he was telling me how useless the A&E was (hence the makeshift sling) he asked me if he could have a sick note for his work because the arm hurt but it looked okay and I remember Dan was suspicious that Ben hadn’t hurt his arm at all. I watched him leave on his bike with his arm in a sling wobbling down the driveway towards the beach. His hair was always wild and salty at that time because he was bathing in the sea every day.

Whenever I think about Ben I’m always tempted to play a game he introduced me to, “Polytopia” a “good old turn based strategy. Very difficult Neil” I might have a game later this evening and see if I can think up any more stories.

The house next door has seagulls nesting in the chimney, the racket they make! Anyway they have affectionately been named Bert and Ethel and there’s a young chick that’s fledging. I often think of Ben and his seagull while sitting outside with them.

Its just too difficult to write about the day Ben died, and how I found out about it. So this year I’m going to mark the date with a happy post.

I sent the email below to Ben, 4 years ago. He had just dropped out of Uni at the end of his first year, but was still living in the Netherlands. We thought he was still studying, it was so hard to get hold of him via phone or email and when it did it just felt like I was nagging him. I decided to send him some happy thoughts on an email in case he would like it. I reminded him he had love running through his DNA and he could tap into that any time.

From: Anna Findlay Date: 18 September 2016 at 17:13:36 BST To: Ben Subject: Happy times!

Hi Ben I thought it might be nice to remind you of some happier times we have shared over the years. I’ve loved being your Mum. In no particular order-

• Getting Devon and you and him curling up in his dog bed together.
• Your 8th birthday party complete with dog pooh cake made by Aunty Laura.
• Climbing the apple tree right to the top at Old Hall cottage and bouncing on the trampoline in the garden.
• The village bonfire at our house and John throwing fireworks on the fire every year even though I told him not too.
• Scalextrix in the attic. Me and you going to Belgium together.
• Then when you were much older going to Groningen together for the first time.
• Swimming Topsham open air pool after school in Clyst st Mary.
• Harry Potter world with Phil and drinking butter beer!
• Camping at Trewan Hall and the evolution of the Ghetto. Devon turning up the summer fair at Trewan and being offered as a raffle prize! Bouncing on the grass on the Island near Treyarnon beach.
• You being sent home from school for smelling of Lavender! You were kept in a toilet cubical at school until John could collect you! You had 4 showers and went back to school!
• You skate boarding or scooting everywhere in the village.
• Your first ever job lifting a flag at the polo pitch in langham when there was a goal. You made this even easier by literally lying down on the job!
• Sailing courses on Rutland Water.
• Cooking chocolate cakes in a mug in the microwave.
• Seeing you chilling in the hammock in the back garden.
• Your Duke of Edinburgh revelation!!
• Choosing one present to open every Christmas Eve.
• Visiting you in Groningen in your first year and you showing us round your uni. Going out for an Indonesian meal.
• You bringing me a fig back for breakfast that you had found on a tree.
• You working in the charity shop and choosing my 40th birthday present from there.
• You being embarrassed because I sing in the street!
• Keeping conkers in the safe.
• Going out for walks with you when you were a baby and were in the back pack. You squeeled with excitement when you saw a dog!
• Cycling to nursery school in York. You were on the back of my bike and if a train went under the bridge we had to stay and wave at it even if we were late!
• Spending days standing on the bridges at York station waving at trains!
• You and Marcus being cheeky page boys! And taking loads of photos of the waitress at our wedding.
• Reading stories together after work and school in Bath. Quite often we’d fall asleep together in your little bed.
• Getting a Blue Peter badge!
• Watching you having a surf lesson and you picking it up really quickly.
• Watching how gentle and loving you were to Sox and Devon.

I miss you- I’ve got loads (more) happy memories of you and hope you can remember some good times too. You are very loved xx

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

F.Y.I – This is an introductory post. If you are new here then it’s best to read the blog from the bottom up as it’s written in chronological order, added to over time. Newer posts are at the top.

---

I really wish that I didn’t have to introduce you to this blog- but I do…

My reasons for wanting to write about Ben have evolved since he died nearly a year ago. Much to my surprise I find writing very cathartic and a helpful way to process my thoughts. My old English teacher would be laughing as English was never my strong point- hey hum. I write from an emotional place, when the feeling moves me. Grammar etc is not top of the agenda but I do read it back afterwards and add a bit of punctuation in here and there.  I’d rather it was ‘real’ but thank goodness for spell check!

Up until now I’ve shared my thoughts about Ben on Facebook (I’ve included these at the bottom of the blog). However over time I’ve realised that that is not the best way to share raw, sometimes very sad and possibly ‘triggering’ thoughts. Hence this blog where folk can read things if and when they want to. It’s also a place to collate photos and share the music I associate with him. Feel free to add to them. I’m very untechnical so this is all a bit of a challenge- bear with. Marcus Harding, Ben’s oldest friend from Preschool in Bath,  has set this blog up for me. Ben would have loved that.

I never want to forget about Ben so all I have are precious memories and a blog is a way of capturing that. Its also interactive so other people can share their thoughts. It is a safe space. A kind place where we accept other’s point of view. I will only write from my point of view and will not use the blog as a way to blame anyone. I try very hard not to do ‘what ifs or if onlys’…. they don’t change the tragic outcome.

However the failings of the mental health service (Until he arrived in Brighton) were a big part of Ben’s story, so that will be part of it. As will the wonderful people/ professionals who touched Ben’s life. To be human is to be flawed and vulnerable. And a bit of a twat sometimes.

I imagine the people who read this are mine and Ben’s friends and family. However if you know people who may find it helpful then please feel free to share it. Writing about mental illness and the death of a much loved son is a gritty, cry-ie, snotty, messy subject. Its not something everyone feels comfortable with. But I do and I want to celebrate Ben’s short life and the unique perspective he had about it and what its like to live without him.

Benedict James Jeary was born in Oxford on 14/04/1996. It was a beautiful birth. A Sunday. All of his family were there to welcome him to the world.

Benedict James Findlay died at Telscombe Cliffs, Peacehaven near Brighton 19/10/19. It was a tragic death. A Saturday but I didn’t find out until the police came to tell me on the Monday. He was alone.

Ben’s Mum,

Anna x

Benedict (Ben) James Findlay

14.04.96 -19.10.19 Loved Forever.

Gosh being raw with grief in the run up to Christmas is really hard. I can’t face putting up the Christmas decorations as there are so many memories attached to them. Little home made Santas from pre-school when life was full of hope. I’m going to put some fairy lights up though obvs.

Then there’s Christmas shopping- I saw THE PERFECT gift for Ben. He was always really hard to buy for as he didn’t want material possessions. But the socks which make you look like you are wearing flip flops would have made him chuckle. I always gave him a Christmas stocking- I’ll miss doing that.

It’s incredibly hard but they say grief is the price of love and I loved Ben soooo much even when his personality changed totally over the last couple of years.

This post seems very sad but there have been some lovely times this weekend too- meeting up with friends and walking on the beach with John. I went to Quakers even though I couldn’t stay long and heard mousehole Male voice choir sing and we won a fabulous hamper.

Sometimes I get huge waves of relief that Ben’s suffering is over. I spoke with his psychiatrist and Bens future was likely to be very difficult with regular hospital admissions and more medication. I think Ben knew that.

I had a beautiful dream where a young man with twinkly eyes and an impressive beard was handing me a white rose from the bunch he was holding. I accepted it and realised the young man was the Ben that could have been. And now maybe is. He ALWAYS wanted a beard (even before they were cool). He didn’t quite manage it on the earth.

Ben Findlay
I am blessed in so many ways xx

Where does love go when the one you love is no longer alive? I find myself in the middle of an existential crisis asking questions to which there are no answers. None.

When your child dies everything is out of sync. I’ve already had to choose where I want to be buried as I want to be with my boy. I’ve had to think about things most parents never think about.

When we got our first dog, Devon, a black Labrador we knew the deal. We would love him until he died. We would outlive him. We hoped Devon would live until Ben went to university and he did! He died just a week before Ben off to study.

We were sad when Devon died. Very sad. But we understood what we had signed up for. Devon had lived a full and happy life. After a few months of missing Devon we went to get George our red Labrador puppy who bumbled into our lives and into our hearts. Filling sadness with joy.

I can’t go and get a new Ben.
I didn’t sign up for him to die before me.
Love goes on.
But I don’t know where it goes.
Or where he has gone.
💔

Ben Findlay

It was Ben’s inquest in 3/3/20 Very sadly the verdict was suicide.

If anyone wants more info please give me a buzz/text on 07525 460802 or email me on annarfindlay@gmail.com

None of his care team saw it coming and neither did any of his family. He was totally sober with no drugs in his system. I respect it was his choice but I’m so incredibly sad he was suffering so much that he felt this was his only option.

Ben lost touch with almost everyone for the last 3 years of his life and his character changed totally.

Let’s remember the happy, cheeky, eccentric chap we loved. He was a free spirit and we held onto him as long as possible… but you can’t catch a cloud 💔

Some times are REALLY tough. Thats when I hide away so I don’t impose my grief on others. They come out of the blue and last night was one of those times.

It’s easy to make assumptions based on the ‘public face’ that is presented. I’ve plucked up the courage to let you see behind the mask.

I saw this poem and it resonated deeply. I’ve adapted it a bit.

My life goes on- I’ll dig deep and hope today is better. It usually is. Miss you so much Ben Findlay

Your life, that was yours to take,
But my heart, that wasnt yours to break,
From that very day my life has changed,
Now I walk round in an eerily daze,
A former shadow of myself,
I cant think, I cant speak, reality is hell,
The grief is like the dark raging clouds before the storm,
Are these flashbacks and nightmares now part of the norm?
I look back on that night in disbelief!
It didnt happen, you didn’t, you couldn’t!

But all you saw was a release.
You were so loved, but your demons were deep rooted,
Hidden locked away behind jokes and a smile,
I don’t know how you carried that burden,
I couldn’t walk in your footsteps not even for a mile.

I hope and pray you have now found your peace,
And maybe one day my heart will stop breaking and mourning my boy,
When that time comes it will bring me a great deal of relief,
But for now I will mask this pain,
Till the day I hold you in my arms again. ❤️

Poem by Chrissie Louise.

Let’s Talk About Death Baby …….

One of the things I’ve realised since Ben died is that talking about death is a mine-field for some people. I imagine every single person handles things differently. I can only speak for myself. I don’t think there is a general rule but then again I’ve never asked…

So for me- I LOVE talking about Ben. He is still very much my present and I love sharing memories and hearing other people’s stories of time with him.

When he isn’t mentioned it makes me feel like he’s been forgotten, is irrelevant or is somehow shameful. I know that is the last thing people want me to feel and that they are just not sure how to handle things…. ‘if it doubt do nowt’ kind of attitude.

Ben is still my pride and joy. My memories of him are so treasured and there were lots of laughs along the way. I’ve got birth stories, first day at school stories, embarrassing stories etc. How my boy died is just a small part of our story.

Sometimes the grief bubbles right to the surface and things feel too much. Everything is overwhelming- not just talking about Ben. On those days it’s MY responsibility to say that I’m struggling and can we keep it light and talk about silly things or nothing much. Or cake.

I know in the past I’ve been wary of upsetting people especially when their grief is raw/traumatic. That’s why I wanted to share my take on talking about death and I’ll ask folk in similar positions to let me know their thoughts. Because I care and we all just want to do our best.

The photo below was taken when Ben came to Cornwall for Christmas 2018. It turned out to be his last Christmas. He was quite paranoid and distracted but we managed to have a great time. He wore his balaclava a lot so we teased him that he was working under-cover and was our body guard. It made him chuckle. Ben Findlay x