mostly david ephgrave

It's a week today since I caught the train to Edinburgh to bring my show 'Good Grief' to the Fringe, and it's also the first chance I've had to take stock and write something to post here. The short answer to the question, "So, how's it going so far, David?" is, "It's going well, David; thanks for asking", though, as it's the Fringe, that comes with many caveats. Or am I just being pessimistic? The fact is Edinburgh's one hell of an endurance exercise, however you look at it, with a definite sense of one step forward, two steps back.  (And that's just navigating Cowgate.) The biggest challenge is doing it alone. Firstly, there's the logistical impact. Some people who bring shows to Edinburgh have producers and directors assisting them. Not old muggins Ephgrave. The only person I have working for me is my PR, who's brilliant and lovely, but I pay for that (well, not the lovely bit, which comes naturally) as I know with...

The other day, I dreamt about my dad, who passed away a little over two years ago. These dreams don't happen too often, but when they do, it can be difficult. It wasn't until I woke up that I remembered he was gone. In it, I'd bumped into him in a shop like Wilkinson, where he was browsing with a friend. I was in a bit of a hurry so it was more of a quick hello than anything. I may even have been a little brusque because I needed to get away. It was as I'd left the shop that I remembered there was something important I needed to tell him, but on turning back, I found I could barely lift my legs. The more I tried, the less I moved. I knew if I didn't hurry, he'd be gone, but it made no difference. It was like swimming against the tide. When I woke up, sadness hit me. The mundanity of the situation in the dream was bittersweet. I felt guilty for being irritable even though it wasn't real. It's not hard to decipher the meaning of my jelly legs. The prison o...

If there's one thing that brings me joy, it's watching my dog shoot around the garden. It's simple, uncluttered enjoyment for him and me. As a breed with poor recall, I never let him off the lead on a walk, but in the garden, he's free. He zips about like a nutter while I chase him, and by the time he's reached his limit, if you stand by him, you can literally hear his heart beating; it can't be healthy. The fact my dad loved seeing it too adds to the moment. The first time I brought Elwood over, he demonstrated his version of warp speed to my dad's delight. "You couldn't have a better dog" was how he put it, and Elwood's long since proved him right; he's a shaft of pure sunlight bursting past the bad bits. I'm writing this in the garden as we speak, watching Elwood sniff the air on a windswept day. Behind him, the only daffodil to break through the earth yawns open like a tiny, floral firework. The fact there's just one is appr...

While I'm slowly coming to terms with the abuse I suffered within a toxic family relationship and am learning tactics to cope with it, it's still hard to counteract the mental burnout. I'm dealing with many layers at once. Firstly, I'm receiving therapy for narcissistic abuse, which has specific and nuanced characteristics. One of the most painful aspects of recovery is learning you'll never rationalise with a narcissist. They'll never empathise, acknowledge or apologise for their behaviour. They can't be wrong. And they deliberately create drama to feed off; hurting you has an impact, and that's the best retaliation to hand if they can't compete with the truth (though if they can distract and deflect from their actions in the process, that's a bonus). And they have little autobiographical memory and endless double standards; it's one rule for you and another for them. On top of this, I'm gradually accepting that the person I thought they...

Life's sent me into a bit of a mad panic over the past few days. I don't know how to create any stability in the current circumstances without the small income I take from Mostly Comedy, and with the vast majority of the money I inherited after my dad died being piled back into buying my mum out of his house at a price that shows no concession for who she's dealing with. My work is on hold until the COVID-19 situation eases, and I'm putting a lot of energy into our podcast in the meantime in the hope of creating a financial stopgap for the club (except it's currently making a loss). On top of this, I'm trying to process the events surrounding my dad's death and my mum's active decision to not fix them. Despite her frequent disrespect for personal boundaries and inability to discuss a different perspective, I always assumed ours was a protected relationship. But I was wrong. Her words during our final conversation when I suggested a path to repai...

I spend a lot of time ruminating over the events of my childhood and those surrounding my dad's death. It returns, repeatedly, without choice. That's the nature of trauma from emotional abuse. And the impact when it's at its worst is frightening and can put me at risk. Recovery's often a case of one step forward, two steps back. You occasionally make leaps apparently from nowhere, though progress is fragile, particularly when you've been conditioned to take the blame, or made to feel your pain's only real if the person who causes it can see it. I hope this doesn't sound conceited, but yesterday, as I lay in the garden mulling it over, a statement came fully-formed in my head. And though I'd heard it before, at that moment, it had clarity:  "It's not your fault. You did your best. And if your dad were here, he'd see it." I can't understate what a massive shift this is. And last night, I had a glass of wine to celebr...

I'm struggling with dark thoughts at the moment; a familiar territory reinstated by my circumstances. The best way to manage difficult emotions is to approach them kindly and without judgment. Being hard on yourself for being hard on yourself is counterproductive. The physio I see for my vestibular migraines uses the analogy of keeping a glass topped up to prevent my vertigo attacks; if tiredness, stress or caffeine trigger symptoms, the trick is to minimise exposure to reduce the chance of it. With depression, that's more difficult, as with recovery from emotional abuse. You may have strategies in place to combat it, but when the problem's less tangible, it can be harder to identify the triggers, and therefore easier to blame yourself. And, like anything, the tools might not always work, particularly when you're challenged considerably. And if it's severe, you somehow have to keep yourself safe, which can be very hard when you're in a pit. The othe...

I lost my dad a year ago today; I don't know where the time's gone. He's never far from my mind though. And nothing I do could have happened without him. Because, as he once poetically put it, "You can't even wipe your own arse".  I'm inevitably feeling a little fragile. There's a dull, heavy ache in my body and the need to take things gently. Anniversaries seldom hold much weight for me as I know the date's arbitrary, but this one's a little different as it marks the first year gone. The first full cycle. And that's not easy to consider, however matter-of-fact I try to be. I visited the cemetery today where he's buried, as I often do, and took my dog with me. It was probably due to the hot weather more than anything, but when we arrived at the grave, my dog sat down at the foot of it and made himself comfortable, chewing the grass. It seemed like a good idea, so I joined him (minus the grass bit). We sat there together, by m...

It's fair to say we're living through a difficult time, and while it's hard to know what's ahead, it worth taking the opportunity to take stock of where we're lucky. I know I couldn't manage without my wife, and how fortunate I am to have her. We've been together for fifteen years and married for a little under six, and she's my most ardent supporter. Being with me isn't straightforward and comes with its challenges, but she stands up to them and makes things better. If I hadn't had her to help me through the mental health mess I was in when we met, I wouldn't still be here today. I know I wouldn't. And that comes with a lot of pressure, but she's still with me (the fool) and, despite it all, we still have a lot of fun. And while it may be soppy, I'm grateful for our dog. He brings a spark to my day and fills it with energy and positivity. He came from Wood Green Animal Shelter a little over a year ago and is a perfect fi...

I'm navigating a situation at the moment that threatens to overwhelm me if I'm not careful.  (Thankfully, I have support, and I'm approaching things mindfully, but it takes a lot of careful management to keep my panic at bay...except I shouldn't have to do that.) To make matters worse, the other party's never careful. If they feel wronged, they lash out. And they feel wronged always. That's not hyperbole; if anything, I underplay it. And in their world, a lie's as good as the truth if it has the desired effect. And what's the difference? Now's the only reality and everything else is projection. And nothing is sacred if it strengthens their point. (With that mentality, years of abusive behaviour can be dismissed in a few seconds, because it didn't affect them negatively; not for me though as I lived through it with awareness.) Yesterday was a struggle. More than once, I felt on the verge of giving up. At one point, I looked at one of...

Today, I received word that my dad's gravestone has been laid, along with a photograph to prove it (not that I was in any doubt). It's these things you can be a little unsure how you'll react to; it was like seeing his coffin at the funeral or carrying his ashes casket at the burial. There's a sense of finality and actuality that can be a little unsettling if don't prepare yourself for it. But any time I worry, I remind myself that it's just my dad and I love him, and I needn't be afraid, because there'll never be a reason to be frightened when he's nearby, ever. When the paramedic asked if I wanted to see him when I arrived minutes after he'd died, I faltered for a moment. But I quickly mentally corrected myself, because I knew I had a responsibility to him as my dad, and because I knew he'd need me. He told me more than once towards the end that I made him less afraid when I was there, so I was glad there was a way I could acti...

It's a measure of how appalling things have been in my personal life since my dad's death in May that I haven't posted here for the best part of three months, and was barely writing here before that either. I stopped because I found myself stuck in a loop with nothing new to say, or at least nothing I felt I could express freely without making my circumstances worse.  Being honest, this hasn't really changed, and I don't feel much more secure than I did back then, and this is largely thanks to the sustained behaviour of someone from whom I'd expect the opposite treatment if how they are related to me bore a resemblance to their conduct around me. But the stark reality I'm coming to terms with is the person I needed never existed for me or anyone else. They used to read my blog regularly, "So I know you're okay", which makes me wonder whether they noticed I'd gone silent, or why reading I was struggling didn't make them any kinde...

Today we buried my dad's ashes at the church in Woolmer Green where we had his funeral, opposite his old school and the pub he drank in regularly, in the same grave as his parents. The service was brief but pleasant, in the presence of his close family, and I had the responsibility of lowering the casket at the opportune moment. Doing this was hard, inevitably, but it also meant a lot to be the one to do it, and I hope it would give me dad comfort to know the task went to me; I love and miss him unceasingly and he's always on my mind (look out, Willie Nelson), and he told me not long before he died that I made him less afraid, so I hope I helped. There's one conversation we had in his last few weeks that was pertinent. Like many men, we didn't express the depth of our feelings until the last moment, but they could still be summed up in a few words. At the time, my heart ached as we navigated difficult topics knowing there wouldn't be a second chance. But I ...

I'm trying to find a little pocket of calm in a difficult time of change. It isn't easy. I have to accept I won't be able to reason with the person at the root of it because they're in denial. So I have to come to terms with their behaviour again. I now know this was inevitable, but it's still upsetting, particularly when I consider how quickly they apparently decided to abandon me for good. I miss my dad: the other day, I had a crisis and my first thought was to ring him for advice, then I remembered a beat later this wasn't possible. Coming to terms with the fact the conversation's over is such a horrible part of grief; I get out of a friend's car at the same spot he used to drop me off at and he's on my mind; I reach the end of a pack of coffee filters I bought when he was still alive and have the morbid thought that he went first. The other night I had a dream about him, and it was only the next day that I realised it wasn't the f...

I'm at a bit of a loss over what to do next, due to the lost momentum in my work-life and the emotional difficulties of my current situation. The cancellation of Edinburgh was nigh-on unavoidable, but while going ahead was already on a knife-edge because of my dad's death, the removal of the project I'd kept at least one eye on throughout the latter stages of his illness took away the opportunity to deflect some of the pain with work; doing it was something he was very much behind too, so taking it out of the diary was an extra wrench. I also pulled out to give myself time to rebuild, following the stress of my dad's deterioration, although the month that followed offered little opportunity. I have moments when I honestly don't know how to deal with what's being thrown my way. A disagreement over the principle behind what my dad didn't know when he wrote his Will looks set to drone on indefinitely, with the other party unwilling to acknowledge event...

I don't have the mental energy to write at the moment as recording my current situation is overwhelmingly repetitive and negative, and attempting anything comedic feels forced. It's been like this all year to an extent, although it worsened recently. I've been treading water, which I hate. Work has been stripped back to the bare bones and is mostly too much to contemplate. Meanwhile, negative events in my life are being reframed and debased, while my acts of support and forgiveness are forgotten. And I'm trying to navigate a situation I think anyone would struggle with, let alone when they're prone to mental illness. Perhaps the most commonly recurring lesson from therapy is you can't change the way other people act so much as how you respond to their actions, which I think is true. But, my God, that theory's being tested at the moment. Patience is the key, but it's devastating when the penny drops that you'll never be able to reason with th...

It such an obvious, shitty aspect of losing someone, but a week ago, I was talking to my dad, trying to convince him to eat and drink to build his strength, and now he's gone. My mum sent me a text at the exact moment he died last Sunday as I got the train back from visiting a friend in Northampton today. It was such a strange thing to comprehend as the week has flown, while also dragging emotionally. Yesterday, I logged into his doorbell camera from home and flashed the lights to make sure they were still working and it hit me again that the house is now empty; this is a strange thing to consider when it's been so busy recently. My dad's parents moved there not long after he was born in 1946. His mum died in the late 1980s when I was small, his dad in the late 1990s, & now he's gone too. The house always had movement until last week. And it's the last geographical link to my childhood that's still in the family. Also today, my mum and I went over for ...

I was sad to hear the news about Albert Finney's death today as he was a great actor, but also because he's long had a special significance to me. It was while watching the film Big Fish a number of years ago that I noticed how much Finney resembled my grandfather; something which took me surprise and knocked me for six. And it was during the scene where his character listens as his son beautifully narrates how his life story will end that I was so overtaken by how much he looked like my dad's dad (who had died five years previously) I was suddenly in an involuntary flood of tears. Watching that scene, it hit home that my grandfather had gone and I'd never see him again and that I never knew him as well as I would have liked. He'd been a strong presence in my family: an ex-sailor who'd joined the navy before the war and ended up serving throughout (and being involved in the D-Day Landings), who had a cutting sense of humour, but who had always been nice to ...

Sometimes, good news comes in small, yet no less valid packages; so it was for me today, when I received a breakdown of my Edinburgh settlement. Now, don’t get me wrong: the amount quoted won’t act in lieu of a pension (Ha!:“Pension”), but I'm pleased to say not only will the remaining half of my venue hire fee be covered by my ticket sales, I’ll also get nearly two hundred quid back. ‘What’s this, David?” I hear you ask. “They're paying you ?” “Yes, that’s right,” I reply to no-one in particular, “£191.07, to be precise.” Let’s not get too excited; if you tally up the cost of PR, digs, flyerers, technicians, printing, travelling and living, I’m nowhere near being in profit - but I am up on last year, which suggests if I'd had a later performance time, I may have fared even better. There’s definitely a small sense progression when I compare things to 2016; particularly now I’ve had a few months’ distance. The outlay ...