Empathy putting myself in Tims Shoes

Empathy to put ones self in ones shoes.

Today my guard slipped the strong facade the I can get through anything crumbled. Today started off ok I tried to put the hurt an fear off having try find the legal fee’s for Tim’s inquest to one side went in to Uni as normal treated my uni friend to a not so nutrititious breakfast of fruit loops, ribena an a Krispy Kreme doughnut why because I’ve put myself in her shoes she’s 18 new to Bradford away from home her parents and all her finance goes on student halls of residence and since I’m a momma I can’t have her go without and so I know she’s ok I mother her look out for her something my brother Tim did he looked out for everyone.

We filmed the remainder of our group presentation on interpersonal skills I was filmed with doing the introduction an conclusion talking about learning styles mixed with emotional tags my emotional tag is my brother Tim I strive be all I can because of him.

We finished filming went to psychology as normal today’s topic abnormal psychology I.e mental illness at first the topic didn’t register went over my head I was fine making notes but them it came to the you tube clip that broke me.

The clip we had put ourselves in the characters place they were alone in their flat hearing voices, fixated thoughts, trapped, alone thoughts obsessing an spiralling out of control. I in that moment shut all around me out the classroom distorted the view changed I was in Tim’s flat I was Tim every step took looking round every room was his nothing out of place, nothing that resembled home, this place was alien the voices worthless, useless whirled my head felt tense nervous giggles from my peers made me feel are they laughing at me I was stuck the room spinning felt back in Tims flat worthless, useless pierced sharp an fast I couldn’t, watch, listen take I felt sick I felt trapped and vulnerable and helpless an I got a surge I bolted I ran out of class couldn’t take anymore.

Outside the room reality smacked my face I was awakened I was at uni I sat I paused an the tears came it hit me hard how tim felt that week why was I not their looking out for him protecting him as am good at. It him me why did those supporting him not do anything the anger of last weeks decision surfaced the realisation we’ve no funding we may not be represented hit then the panic floored me #why it hit me did the fear an panic may not get not get outcome looking for an so how do I run away an escape that harsh reality.

Why did those that failed not put themselves in our shoes, why has the coroner put himself in Mums shoe’s why did legal aid when ripped away our funding not do an see the impact an implication of that decision why couldn’t they give us a break take away one of the worries an hurdles we’ve to pass I left uni early with a heavy heart reassured my friends an lecturer I’d be ok I chatted with mum wanted take her pain an fear away an her try with mine. I got in Home I fell in a crumbled heap on my bed I cried for Tim I sobbed why.

My soul is weary my mind an bodies tiered, heavy and broken tonight hopefully ill sleep tomorrow put my mask back on I’ll probably blot out what happened today I’ll try focus on what got me to go to uni ill look at my shoes thing off tim an I’ll ten fight get through another day wish someone though could now take my pain away put themselves in my place someone with the world on they’re shoulders trying to get the best outcome for her brother getting the it’s our fault we should have done more and the we should have saved him and well change as then they’ve walked our shoes walked our journey an finally understood that pain that Tim felt an next time meet a Tim they’ll act.

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A place to call home

Your home is Your Castle, Your Sanctuary the place you grow, make memories in it’s your dwelling, your abode, your place of safety and refuge, my hope it’s old it’s worn needs some tender loving care I moan about it my sons picked up I call it a shanties ramshackle house when I’m having a rant day so he now calls it old house wants a new house. At the same time though am lucky because this ramshackle house is my home. My brother Tim he sadly died not knowing or having that he obsessed got into vicious cycle fearing he’d be made homeless again when he died he was at a place called Cottingley Court, it was Transitional Housing for vulnerable adults affected by homelessness, addiction, and mental health he’d stayed their at crisis then he moved in to one of their flats to be assessed to determine what support he needed he was to be their at least a minimum of 6 months could have stayed up to 2 years and if warranted longer or moved to somewhere that could have offered permanent support. Tim in his mind didn’t feel safe, didn’t feel settled couldn’t make roots or settle because it wasn’t made clear he wasn’t to be made homeless wasn’t no plan no where definitive said this is your home. He once posted on his Facebook shortly after moving to cottingley court “I’m allowed Visitors” that dosent really say he saw as his home it says he saw as been in more of a inpatient or Care home, “I’m allowed visitors ” reading back is heartbreaking read I try putting myself in his shoes imagine the confusion he felt an tears run down my cheek all he wanted was one thing I moan about a place to call home, a home where he made rules a home that he opened up to his friends an family not somewhere dictated by guidelines to follow I.e no visitors after certain times cottingley court they advised offered crisis support but they didn’t an if we knew Tim was desperately struggling we’d have offered to stay with him help him make feel like his home we’d have him making the bacon butties with a brew he used make a decent buttie. He shouldn’t have resorted to drastic action he took when reaching out for help an reassurance he died broken, lost, isolated and desolate in a place that was supposed to be his home. 2 days before he died he spoke his fears with his GP, his GP just listened an made him tea an biscuits, tea an biscuits is what us his family should have been having at his house when visiting or should I say a coffee as where all coffee drinkers in our family we don’t offer visitors coffee we ask them make us a coffee, help themselves to whatever open our homes up sad ain’t it my brother’s gp could only help by make a cup of tea an biscuits an for a brief moment tim will have felt the sensation , feeling like home, Why couldn’t cottingley court give him that sensation help him realise was home , reassure him wasn’t to be homeless , give him the support an care he needed an why moved their in first place, why didn’t they keep him safe, protect him they were supposed to why did he not feel safe, why did he die feeling like didn’t have a place called home it’s not much ask is it have a place that’s yours an call home.