Learning to Say NO

Ever since I can remember I have had an overriding ambition to help people, to make them happy. As a child I always hurried to the kitchen to make tea for everyone, rode my bike to the next village to tend my nan's garden, dug worms for the bantams that my dad kept and collected the eggs, even when the little buggers tried to peck my eyes out.  I learnt to do the laundry and clean the house at an early age. You see both my parents worked, I could see that by doing these things it made their lives easier, I liked that. I felt my actions had meaning, they contributed, that made me feel useful. I took this mantra through my childhood and into later life. When I was 16 my nan had an operation, I just dropped into the role of live in carer, cook and cleaner until she was better. By then everyone knew I would be the one to do this, I always was. I didn't see then that I had become obvious and convenient. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of that stay, Nan was my role model, that time together I can look back on, knowing that none of the other grandchildren had spent that close, loving time with her. She was an amazing lady.

I left home a little after that, to become a nanny. I had a brief couple of months with a Kuwaiti family in London that ended when they wanted to take me back to Kuwait, my parents said no. Probably a good decision as it goes. Next I was a nanny to Matthew, whose parents were going through a trial separation, they also needed me to look after Anthony, who was deaf and a friend of the family. I also accumulated lots of extra tasks during that time that were not part of my job but his mum worked and was training as a nurse so I wanted to help. Soon I did all the jobs in the house, even got to know the whole extended family as they all needed a little favour. I never saw myself as taken advantage of, I was falling over myself to help this family. And I got my result. Mum and Dad reunited, the extra time I had given them had allowed them to talk, date and I felt good that I had had a hand, no matter how small, in this reunion. They are still together today and went on to have a daughter. Of course, I was out of a job.

When I was seventeen I moved to the seaside as I had managed to get a job in a computer components factory. Although I was primarily dealing with weighing out the tiny components for orders, I also became adept at covering reception, office and factory floor work when people needed me to fill in. During this time I met hubby no. 1. I rented a room with small kitchenette and shared bathroom. He was a friend of my neighbour, we went to pubs together, the beach, I met his family and worked in his dad's shop. Then I went to visit my family for the weekend, on my return he had a ring, he had missed me. I summoned up the speech that would explain we hardly knew each other, I didn't think of him that way, but the words died on my lips as he gushed on about how happy his family was, our friends, the surprise engagement party they thought he didn't know about. What do I do? Could I let all these people down? No. I carried on, thought maybe we could string it out, he wasn't the most reliable of people he probably would never get round to it. But he did. We did.
 By this time I worked nights at a retirement home and a few hours a day in his parents' shops paying off his gambling debts that his family had neglected to tell me about. So while I worked, he played. If I couldn't give him money he borrowed it from his family who were quite happy to oblige, as they had found a way to get the money back. Me. One day I sat in the kitchen of our little flat, with the remnants of the card game of the night before and thought, "Is this life? Do I have to live like this? Can I live like this?" I knew the answer was no. I was 18 and felt like 50. I admit, it took 5 ultimatums but by no.6 my father in law developed a conscience, helped me move out to a tiny bedsit, four flights up in the same town.

I started again, I worked and looked after me, for a while. In time, I started seeing a friend, who was kind, shy and didn't take without giving. We became inseparable, moved in together. We cared about people, cooking for and feeding the girls in the other flats who thought vodka and toast was a varied diet. We looked out for them, some asked me to take a spare key in case they lost theirs, I was a mother hen. One night I was woken by a strange sound like someone was choking, a scream. I knew who it was, I grabbed a key, ran to her flat. The guy was on top of her, his hands around her throat, I rushed him from the side and knocked him off the bed, the girl was hysterical screaming. I tried to comfort her, she clawed and flailed, so I gave her a resounding slap around the face. She took a breath then started to cry, breath, calm down. The police were on the way and the guy on the floor had started to rouse, so I sat on him until they came.

Different girls came and went. We looked after them all, storing stuff and giving baths to the girl who went to protest by living in trees, birth partner to the girl whose boyfriend was in prison for drugs. Phoning her mum, who had disowned her, to let her know she was a grandma. I once stood as a human barrier between the beater and the beaten and passed him his belongings through the door, escorted him from the premises, took his key and told him what would happen if he came back. All because she asked me to.

By the time we had a child of our own we had moved to another town. We fed the local kids whose parents smoked and drank away their benefits,became child minders to the kids whose parents didn't pick them up from nursery, because they were still in the pub. We had a little girl who climbed in through the window and slept on our sofa because it was violent at home. The woman opposite who couldn't pay her bills because she couldn't read them, so I helped her understand them and went to the post office with her to pay them properly.There were birthday cakes made, party dresses sewn from second hand bridesmaid dresses and street parties for VE Day.

We fostered too. First was my husband's little brother who didn't get on with his stepdad and needed support to finish school and years later his daughter who at 10 months was a burden on her teenage parents. Then the teenage mother who decided she did want her baby after all. All were found flats, furniture, food and money. Then we moved back to my hubby's hometown. My eldest son had a best friend who had family problems, he stayed on and off. Then my daughter's friend needed a family as her mother was ill and couldn't care for her. She lived with us until her mother died and a family member stepped up and adopted her. Then my son's friend returned from Spain with no home and needing a family to put him through school. We took them all in.

In amongst all this giving, saying yes, doing the right thing there came a day when we needed help. Our daughter was ill, we had three other young children, no money, no car and a daughter suddenly in a wheel chair.We learnt a hard lesson. We were on our own.  People suddenly didn't want to bother us, stopped calling or just plain left us to it. We were so busy in the struggle we found ourselves in, stressed beyond sleep and reason that we didn't notice at first. After my daughter died there was a silence, we were avoided. I realised we no longer had many friends.

My parents both suffered from cancer and died within 2 years of each other. Both times they needed nursing and care. I stayed for a month when mum was ill caring for her till the end so that she could die in her own bed. Then I stayed and cared for dad, to help him grieve. For twelve years we cared for my FIL, he could be difficult and demanding, he had a mental illness, life was difficult.

Now we are just us again, FIL recently passed away and this weekend for the first time in a very long time we are not looking after, caring for, cooking for, doing a little job for, babysitting for anyone. I want to say that, we are going to say no. That we will put ourselves first. But I look back and think of people we have helped, whether they appreciated it or not and know that I am glad we did it.  Maybe, it's not, "No", we need to learn but, "If I can."