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My husband is dying, and caring for him is an act of love

The saying ‘opposites attract’ could have been written for me and my husband Dave. 

When we met in 1995 through mutual friends we were both seeing other people, but even if we had been free agents, I wouldn’t have gone for him. He was a blonde builder who had left school at 16, I was a journalist and had always gone for dark-haired, academically minded blokes. 

When we both found ourselves single two years later and Dave asked me out, I hesitated – but then thought, why not? He was fun, and that’s what I needed.

Three weeks later, he proposed and I said yes. A couple of friends thought I was being reckless, that I was on the rebound, but in those weeks I got to know the real, kind-hearted, family man that Dave was, and I fell in love. 

Seventeen years later, we are still happily married and living in Florida with our three amazing daughters.

I have worked at my dream job on a national American magazine. Dave has coached little ones at YMCA soccer and basketball. For a long time, life was everything we dreamed it would be. 

Then in August 2017, after experiencing issues with his legs and then muscle twitches all over his body, Dave was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, also known as ALS: a progressive, neurodegenerative condition where the motor neurones that connect to muscles die, rendering them useless. He was 45 years old. 

Most people diagnosed with ALS die within three to five years after having lost complete control of their bodies, and there is no effective cure or treatment. 

I remember the moment we found out. Dave was quite level-headed considering – his main concern was for our daughters, and how much we should tell them.

He promised he would fight to make every day count, and was determined that this diagnosis wouldn’t define him or our lives. 

As his wife, however, I was totally crushed. I’d never had a doubt that we would be together forever, that we would grow old together with our grandchildren and God knows how many dogs.

Yet there we were, our bubble burst, and I was faced with watching the love of my life gradually lose all movement and die a premature death. 

Dave said to me at the time: ‘I bet you wish you hadn’t fallen in love with me!’ I wept, not because I was sad, but because I was thankful that even with this death sentence, I would get to spend every day with my soul mate. I knew then that we would make the best of it. 

Dave’s progression has been pretty steady. For a while, we vowed to do everything on his bucket list, which included trips to Alaska and Cuba for our wedding anniversary. 

Last summer we went to Yellowstone Park, cramming 3,000 miles into two weeks, but I realised it was probably the last time we could embark on such an undertaking. 

Dave is now in an electric wheelchair all the time. A couple of fingers on his left hand work enough to drive his chair but that’s pretty much it. He can still just about talk and eat but it’s getting harder. 

I have gone from being a wife and a lover to a full time carer, something that if I’m honest doesn’t come easily to me. I get him up, bathe him, dress him, feed him, take him to the bathroom – it’s not something I ever expected I would have to do for my husband and I hate seeing him lose his independence.  

Inevitably it has changed the way we love each other, too. In some ways, our love is deeper and we are more connected on a spiritual level. We value the little things more, like a kiss and a hug, or my hand on his while we watch TV. 

Dave tells me all the time how amazing and beautiful I am and how much he appreciates what I do for us all.

Looking after him is an act of love – when you can wipe another person’s bum, feed and bathe them, it’s love for sure. 

We talk about what’s to come – he wants me to meet someone else so I won’t be lonely after he’s gone. Death holds little fear for him because he feels his parents will be waiting, so he is able to comfort me and talking about it has made our relationship stronger. 

Death is one of the oldest taboos and I believe he will never be far away once his body has left this world. 

Sadly, the passion isn’t there as much anymore. I think Dave misses it more than me but he is limited physically and I have such different priorities now – just keeping him comfortable and alive for as long as possible are the things I think about more than anything. 

By the time bed time comes around I am mentally exhausted and just want to sleep, ready to do it all again the next day.  

Dave once asked me: ‘If you knew I would get ALS would you still have married me?’ and without a doubt my answer was – and still is – yes. 

The thought of not having our kids, or having lived a good life together and created so many memories – I’d do it all again just to have them, and to have him in my life.

To support Sharon and Dave in raising awareness about ALS, visit facebook.com/pg/livefasttakechancess/

Last week in Love, Or Something Like It: My husband became my wife and it’s made me love her more

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Love, Or Something Like It is a regular series for Metro.co.uk, covering everything from mating and dating to lust and loss, to find out what love is and how to find it in the present day. If you have a love story to share, email rosy.edwards@metro.co.uk

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My mum was always different to other parents – now I know she had bipolar

I’ve always known my mum was different. While other people’s parents were strict and smothering, Mum was fun, cool.  

She let us wear the most ridiculous clothes to school, gave me the green light to get a crew cut – the best thing that had happened in my young life – and would make impulsive choices, like deciding a sunny Tuesday was better spent at a theme park than in a classroom. 

My childhood was happy, for the most part. Idyllic even.  

I had no idea that Mum was ill. When she’d make huge life decisions, like moving across the country, seemingly on a whim, it was still fun, cool.

When, on impulse, she flew to India with a friend? Fun, cool.  

It was only shortly afterwards, when she was admitted to hospital following a breakdown, that being different stopped being fun or cool.  

While she had obviously been unwell for a long time – probably since she was a teenager, we found out years later – she’d done a great job of masking it. Even those closest to her had little or no idea.  

That particular hospital admission was the start of a long, painful road – one that we’re still travelling down now – and it’s only today, some 20 years later, that I’m learning exactly what was going on for her then.  

If my childhood was perfect, the years that followed were nothing short of chaotic. Mum and Dad separated. My older brother left home. Mum, who’d fallen pregnant with a new partner, suffered a miscarriage. There were several suicide attempts.  

Extremely vulnerable, she lurched from one toxic relationship after another. She threw me out when I was 14 during one manic episode. An hour later, tearful and apologetic, she begged me to come home.  

We moved house countless times. Unable to look after herself, never mind us, things like managing money and paying bills were impossible. We were made homeless.  

I missed almost a year of school looking after her and my younger brother. I was scared to leave Mum on her own. Fearful, sometimes, to go to sleep.  

It wasn’t all bad – there was love and laughter, even in the darkest of times. But everything felt precarious. I’d tiptoe around Mum, never quite knowing what mood she was going to be in.

I was worried about her, of course, but I was angry too. Angry at her, the world and that there didn’t seem to be anyone I could turn to.

Here we were, drowning, while everyone sailed on by. Why couldn’t they see us? Why wouldn’t they help?  

It’s hard for me to recount everything; much of it I’ve never talked about before, or blocked out as it’s too painful to recall. But this Mental Health Awareness Week, I think it’s important to face the messy realities of mental illness and the impact that it can have on families.  

To move beyond the hollow narrative to ‘be aware’ or ‘beat the stigma’ and provide actual resources to deliver tangible help and support for people in the same situation.  

Because, in all those years, really not that much has changed. Families like mine are still struggling. Mental health services are still stretched. And people like Mum are still not getting the help they so desperately need.  

It was only five or six years ago, in her 50s, that my mum was finally given a diagnosis. She is bipolar and has borderline personality disorder. Suddenly, the impulsive, reckless behaviour made sense, as did our lives. But we didn’t get there without a fight.  

After another suicide attempt and fraught night spent in A&E, we were sent home because there were no beds available.  

When I asked the exhausted-looking doctor what I was supposed to do if she tried to kill herself again, he shrugged apologetically and told me to phone 999.  

I felt like that 14-year-old again, alone and drowning. Thankfully, a bed did become available eventually, and she was admitted to a hospital in south London where she was, for the first time ever, put on medication, giving her some control over her illness and allowing her to build a life for herself. 

I’d love to say that the story ends there, but as anyone who loves someone with a long term mental health condition knows, it’s not as simple as that.  

The reality of mental illness is that sometimes, there is no neat, happy ending. These past few months have been particularly difficult for Mum, and every day I’m worried another breakdown is coming.

If the last 20 years have taught me anything, though, it’s learning to accept the ups, the downs, and everything that goes along with them. Learning to accept Mum for who she is.

Her illness is a part of her, yes, but it’s not the only part of her. She’s also funny, clever, supportive, kind and so much more.

So whatever the future holds, we’ll face it, and we’ll face it together. Even if right now, we have to be apart.

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My Quarantine Routine: Bibi, a carer at a retirement village

We’re all incredibly grateful for healthcare staff who are looking people during the coronavirus pandemic.

But sometimes the carers who help older people and disabled people are forgotten about.

They’re still going out every day to care for those who need some assistance and putting themselves at risk.

Today for My Quarantine Routine, Bibi Taylor explains what it is like being a carer at a retirement village during these times.

She works as a Night Personal Care Assistant, at Audley Mote House in Kent 

This is how she spent Monday April 20.

5.30 pm

My husband has woken me up with a lovely roast dinner. I have been working since Friday night and he says I deserve to be spoilt. We’ve recently celebrated our 34th wedding anniversary and it’s nice he still wants to treat me. 

I check my work phone for updates from the team from through the day. I’ve got Rheumatoid Arthritis, so it takes me a little while to get up and going. I pop into the shower, get dressed then head down to the kitchen to prepare my lunch for my night shift. 

Before I set off to work, I say goodnight to my husband and son. This is my last night shift before a few days off so just one more night to do.

I’ve been working for Audley Care for the last 10 years based at Audley Mote House in Kent. I love the property owners at the village and the incredible team.

We share our days and stories on our private team A-team Facebook group. It makes for such a nice feeling of community and means you are never alone. It keeps us all motivated. 

Before I start my shift it often occurs to me how our lives have changed so suddenly and we’re all experiencing something so unexpected.

6:50 pm   

I jump in the car and put my music on. I am definitely a singer in the car, it helps me relax and feel calm before my night shift. 

7:15 pm

I arrive at work and walk into reception. As part of the enhanced health and safety procedures anyone entering the village must have their temperature checked when we sign in at reception, so I do this and use some of the hand sanitiser at reception. 

I get my handovers from the reception staff from the carers who have been working through the day. 

7:30 pm

My first call of the evening is one of the property owners who lives in the main house at Mote House – just a routine call. We put on full PPE before going to see any owners in the village under the new guidelines, even if it’s just a usual visit to help with medication or something.  

We put on our masks, gloves and aprons. We are so lucky. We have a constant supply of PPE and change it for every call. At first it was hard as I couldn’t breathe; the masks felt very claustrophobic, but now it has become my normal look and I’ve got used to it.

During this call we are also giving some medication to the owner’s wife, so we change our gloves and aprons. We are chatting by the window and notice a lady from the apartment opposite walking over to say hello. I open the window so they can have a chat from a safe distance. They both tell me how much they’ve enjoyed this as they haven’t seen each other for weeks, and it gives a sense of normality. 

8:15 pm

I head back downstairs in the main house. I wash my hands and use the reception computer to check handover emails from the day team. I also use this time to go and grab the keys for my next call.  

8:40 pm

Full PPE back on for my next call. 

One of the things that’s more important than ever is spending time with the owners, especially those who are on their own. On this call I chat to the lady about her life as a young child, being evacuated during the war. It’s so interesting and the time passes so quickly. Before you know it it’s time for my next call. 

9:15 pm

Another routine call. Again, I’ve got my full new PPE on, all changed from my last visit. It feels so normal now in this routine of full PPE on and then off again. I head back to the main house, wash my hands and get ready for my next call. 

10:00 pm

My next call is waiting for me in his lounge. I give him his medication first as he’s ready to get up to wave at his friend across the way in the apartment opposite.

I have been encouraging owners to wave through the windows as they are unable to visit one another and now he is doing it every night. I love to put a smile on their faces during this difficult time, especially when they are advised to not see their family and loved ones outside the village. 

I finish my call and he tells me ‘goodnight, stay safe’. It’s something he says to me every time I leave him at the moment.  

I head back to the main house, sanitise my hands. They are starting to get sore now from all the hand washing and alcohol sanitisers, but I’ll just have to get some moisturiser on them.

10:35 pm

Put my full PPE on again and head out to my next visit. I’m singing along to ‘happy and you know it’ whilst giving the owner his medication and he starts joining in.

Before you know his wife has joined in to and we are all singing along. She tells me she hasn’t heard him singing for years. It puts a smile on all our faces. 

Anyway, call finished, I take my PPE off and put it in the plastic sack that I’m getting used to carrying around with me.

11:15 pm

This is a new call for me tonight. I always am slightly apprehensive before a new call, but I put my new PPE on and I’m fine. Head back to reception before my last call of the evening. 

11:45 pm

It’s my last call of the evening! Full PPE on, do my call and then all the PPE off. Wash my hands and go back to the office to do some admin. 

I write my handover for the morning, complete some online safeguarding training and cancel my holiday I had booked – we will still be in lockdown, so my holidays are on hold for the moment.

I wipe down the computer and everything I have touched. You can’t be too careful. I’m opening doors and lifts with my elbows now and trying not to touch door handles.

2:30 am  

I head through to the library in the main house, have my lunch and take some time to relax. I’ve started crocheting rainbows as a sign of hope and to raise money for UK carers. So far I have raised £135 so I get on with making some more. 

I also have the care phone with me, it goes quite literally everywhere with me during my night shift, just in case there is an emergency. It means I can be contacted immediately and alert the team as needed.  

5:20 am 

I get an emergency call to attend. Grab all my kit, sanitise my hands, put my full PPE on and take the night porter with me; also in full PPE.

I always get nervous for emergency calls, and especially now at this time, but my job is to help people and I don’t give it a second thought. We have to call the ambulance for this owner, but it’s not linked to coronavirus. 

6:45 am 

I am running a bit late now for my regular early morning calls, but all the owners understand that these things happen and are reassured by the fact they can have help so quickly if they need it. I have a call at 7am and then one at 7.30am – my last call of the morning. I finally take all my PPE off for the last time today. 

8:00 am

I’m back in reception now. Catch up with the reception team so they are aware of how all the owners are before they start their day and leave my handover for the day care team as they arrive. 

9:35 am

I make it home. I was delayed by the emergency call this morning but it’s part of the job. 

When I get in, I take off my shoes and they are left on the doorstep, my pink tunic and uniform goes straight in the wash, and I get in the shower. My husband was recently diagnosed with blood clots on his lungs, so I worry about putting him in danger, but he tells me everyday to go out and help people.

It’s a beautiful day – we have been so lucky with the weather. We sit in the garden together and have a cup of tea. 

I get into bed and grab a few hours sleep. It’s a Tuesday so I am off tonight and will be able to catch up on the sleep I’ve missed.

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Coronavirus has triggered my fiancee’s anxiety levels so high she can barely cope – The Sun

DEAR DEIDRE: Because of her workload, my fiancee’s anxiety levels are sky-high.

Now the coronavirus crisis has turned her into a demon. It’s threatening our relationship.


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We’re in our mid-thirties and she is deputy head teacher.

The pressure is ridiculous, even more so with issues concerning the children of key workers, etc.

She endlessly watches the news and googles developments hourly. It’s made her a mess. We’ve been living together a year and I love her but we are arguing more than ever.

DEIDRE SAYS: So many of us are finding our anxiety levels are going through the roof.

Keep telling her you love her but say your relationship is suffering.

Insist you talk together about agreeing one hour a day when you will catch up with the news together and talk it over.

But also pledge to give one another a soothing daily massage and do some mindfulness relaxation together.

The Headspace app is offering free meditations and exercises called Weathering The Storm. See headspace.com/covid-19.

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I'm white, my boyfriend's mixed-race – I've had to learn we'll never be accepted

We met in Walsall by way of Tinder and after date number two, we both realised this could be something special. 

Around him, I felt like I could finally be myself without airs or pretence, and I loved how expressive he was, how forthcoming and earnest. We thrived on our similarities as much as our differences.

We’re both proud of our backgrounds, for example, though they are worlds apart: he’s from the Black Country, with all its industrial heritage and recognisable dialect, and I’m from the West Midlands, which is all rural beauty (and a right-leaning stronghold). 

Also: I am white British and he’s mixed British-Jamaican. At first, this meant nothing more than mutual appreciation of our respective stories and experiences. I learned about the Jamaican food served on his grandma’s dinner table and in turn I would tell jokes about the British hillbillies of Herefordshire. 

We were a few months in when the problems started. I wanted to meet his family, but their traditional Caribbean views around LGBT+ people, opposition to our cultures and lifestyles, meant that it wouldn’t be possible. ‘It’s something that’s not really talked about,’ he told me. Silence had been instilled in him by his parents, out of respect for their elders.  

We have been together for well over a year now, but half of his Jamaican family don’t know I exist. As much as I wish our relationship could be celebrated, I have had to teach myself to understand why ‘just telling [them]’ wouldn’t work. Appearing at his grandmother’s doorstep would cause outright confusion; I simply would not be welcome. I’ll never go to his Jamaican family’s parties or eat at their tables.

I’ve had to learn to accept it and, though it was difficult at first, I have grown in tolerance, just as anyone delving into other cultures or backgrounds should do.  

Besides, we have also faced problems with my family. Casual racism pops up intermittently. My aunties, uncles and grandparents have all been known to make derogatory comments towards Black politicians when they pop up on the TV, or talk about ‘getting over it’ when discussing the history of racism in Britain. 

My boyfriend has learned to contend with my family’s indecorous ‘humour’ because he loves them and they genuinely love him – a huge amount. He puts it down to ignorance rather than genuine malice. He’s kind about it, and says we shouldn’t chastise them, though I implore him to do so – with my help if need be.  

Perhaps it’s because he has to deal with a lot more than me. We both get occasionally shouted at in the street, despite not holding hands or showing much affection publicly at all (a lesson from both our parents about the pitfalls of others’ ignorance) but he faces a deeper level of prejudice that I don’t.  

In some of his circles, being gay is seen as a ‘white thing’, although the gargantuan LGBT+ community of colour might have something to say about that.  

Being gay, being interracial: these can be small battles compared to what many couples go through but for us, and couples like us, staying together requires understanding and tenacity. Our differences don’t impact our love for one another – the impact comes when our love intersects with those around us. 

We tried to point out others’ racism at first, keeping it light-hearted, fearful that a lecture or reprimand wouldn’t have the desired impact. But we cannot simply say, ‘This is how we are, like it or lump it’, because he’d lose the family members he loves dearly.

And, I must admit, it upset me for a long time; I felt it was personal. Of course that isn’t the case at all – some people are simply too entrenched in the very little that they know of the world. Nigel the Twitter Troll with an egg avatar could pick up a few teachings, too.

He felt it better to enlighten and educate, rather than chastise and berate. It’s an incredibly British way of fighting British-style racism – the subtle way.

Some might feel it’s not helping the fight against racism if we don’t stand up and push back, but this is the way we handle it. In my boyfriend’s case, his traditional values are simply at loggerheads with the part of him that is gay and in love with a white man. 

True love is subjective to every couple who uses the term but my boyfriend and I use our togetherness to beat prejudice where we can – even though at times it’s like trying to extinguish a blazing inferno with a pocket fan and a water pistol. It’s about making a relationship work as though the barriers outside aren’t closed. 

Last week in Love, Or Something Like It: I manifested my husband

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Love, Or Something Like It is a new series for Metro.co.uk, covering everything from mating and dating to lust and loss, to find out what love is and how to find it in the present day. If you have a love story to share, email rosy.edwards@metro.co.uk

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Jenelle Evans to Fans: It’s My KIDS Who Are Pissing Me Off, Not David!

We probably don’t need to tell you that the coronavirus pandemic is at the forefront of everyone’s minds these days.

The vast majority of Americans are under orders to stay at home, a situation that’s resulted in high tension for those living in dysfunctional family situations.

And if you look up “dysfunctional family” in the dictionary, you’ll probably be greeted by a photo of the Eason clan.

Yes, as you’ve likely heard by now, Jenelle Evans is back with David Eason, and the two them are once again living on The Land with the three children of whom they still have custody.

David and Jenelle are both deeply unstable human beings, and the two of them living together after a short separation — during which Jenelle slept with another man — seems like a recipe for disaster.

David was a jealous, rage-fueled, dog-killing manchild before, and that was when he had Jenelle’s money to spend.

Now, the two of them are forced to live off of whatever sponsored content cash Jenelle can scrape together before her many, many critics point out to her latest ad partner that she’s an abusive bigot.

So it came as no surprise when indications that Jenelle and David were fighting again began to pop up on her social media pages.

“Can’t trust a soul…. EVER,” Jenelle wrote on Facebook last week, adding, “When will it stop?”

“Someone take me away, far away,” Evans later added.

Since the Easons live in the middle of nowhere and no one in America is leaving their property these days, fans naturally assumed that Jenelle was talking about David.

Now, however, Evans has revealed that it’s not her husband who’s driving her up a wall — it’s her kids.

“If I post I’m having a bad day, stop assuming it’s because of my husband,” Jenelle wrote on Instagram over the weekend.

“Everyone’s having a hard time coping being at home with kids 24 seven and things can get tense some days,” she added.

“I post my feeling sometimes hoping people can simply relate.”

So when Jenelle said she can’t trust anyone, she was talking about … her kids?

That seems to contradict some of Jenelle’s other posts from last week, such as the one in which she wrote, “My kids are the only ones that make me happy.”

Yeah, we’re gonna go ahead and stick with our original theory that Jenelle and David are having issues.

The latest drama comes just days after an interview in which Jenelle outlined the ways that she and her husband would be less horrible to one another going forward:

“I told him if we were to ever work out our marriage a lot of things would have to change,” she said.

“We discussed how things went wrong and talked about preventing an argument before it blows up into something more,” Evans added.

“David was there for me through everything that happened, good or bad, and was my best friend. I just couldn’t imagine my life without him. I felt like I gave up on him, but he never gave up on me.”

Asked about the specifics of how things would be different this time around, Jenelle laid out a plan that spoke volumes about how awful her marriage has been up to this point.

“Setting boundaries like no cussing, name-calling, and lower our tone of voices,” she said.

Name-calling was a major part of Jenelle and David’s marriage before?

We’re starting to think all this boundary-setting might be too little, too late.

Whatever the case, it’s certainly not the kids who are to blame.

It seems the problem is with the adults who are behaving like children.

Jenelle Evans: My Phone is Smashed! I Can’t Trust Anyone! David Eason is Making My Life Hell! (AGAIN!!)Start Gallery

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My mum already has a new man in her life but my dad hasn’t even been dead a year – The Sun

DEAR DEIDRE: MY father hasn’t been dead a year and my mother already has a new man in her life.

My father was only 49 when he had a heart attack so his death was a terrible shock to all our family.

I am a guy aged 23 but I have a little brother who is ten.

Mum says this man was a friend of my father’s when they were younger.

My mother and I have had words about her new relationship as I think it is too soon for my brother who doesn’t really understand death.

I want to save him from any stress as he is the most important person in my life.

I don’t care what my mother does, I just want my brother to be OK.

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DEIDRE SAYS: I can understand why you might feel your mother is rushing into a new relationship, but often it is those who are most happily married who are quick to find another partner after being bereaved.

Anger is part of grieving but it will only hurt all of you in the long run – including your little brother – if you focus your anger on your mum now.

Your brother may benefit from a caring father-figure but maybe remind your mum how important it is he doesn’t feel pushed to one side.

You can find solid, understanding help for him through the childhood bereavement charity winstonswish.org.

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My boyfriend’s ex has been texting to get him to leave me — he’s considering it – The Sun

DEAR DEIDRE: MY boyfriend’s ex has been texting him saying that I stole him away from her and that I planned it.

She’s also asked him if he’s considered getting back with her.


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Got a problem?

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Send an email to problems@deardeidre.org.

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I’m 17 and my boyfriend is 18, as is his ex. She says I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.

My boyfriend and I are very happy and the last thing I need is for her to come between us.

We’ve decided to meet with her to have a chat to make her see sense but I don’t feel comfortable with her wanting to hang out with us.

DEIDRE SAYS: A chat with her is a bad idea.

You owe her no explanation and of course shouldn’t be socialising because of the health risk.

Your boyfriend should say he will block her unless she stops all this hassle.

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My 15-year-old son didn’t send me a Mother’s Day card this year — I’m upset – The Sun

DEAR DEIDRE: FOR the first time, my son didn’t send me a Mother’s Day card this year. He is 15 and only contacts me when he wants something.

I left my husband three years ago as he was abusive. My daughter came with me but my son stayed with his dad. My ex told them the split was my fault and they would be messed up because of it.


Get in touch with Deidre today

Got a problem?

My team and I are working safely from home but we are here to help you as always.

Send an email to problems@deardeidre.org.

Every problem gets a personal reply, usually within 24 hours weekdays.

You can also send a private message on the DearDeidreOfficial Facebook page.

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I’m 42, my daughter is 17 and studying for A levels next year. She is loving and kind and she makes me so proud. My son, on the other hand, has turned out like his dad. He has a terrible temper and that makes me scared.

I want to take my daughter on holiday when the coronavirus scare is over but I don’t want her brother to come as he would spoil it. Do you think that is wrong?

DEIDRE SAYS: He is an unhappy young man. I’m worried about the effect that living with his bullying dad is having on his well-being. Tell him you love him. Message him every day just being friendly, sending silly videos, asking how he is.

Talk to Family Lives about how you can help (familylives.org.uk, 0808 808 4994). My e-leaflet on Troubles With Teenagers explains more.

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My fiancée dumped me but my only mistake was lying about my debts – The Sun

DEAR DEIDRE: I LIED to my fiancée about money and previous debts.

It was a very big mistake as her ex lied about the same things. She has now dumped me.


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I am 31, she is 28 and we had a really great six-month relationship.

I began having therapy for anxiety and it brought back painful memories from my previous relationship where my ex physically and emotionally battered me.

I learned that honesty just meant more violence.

My fiancée says she needs time to think whether she can get past the broken trust part as everything else between us is good.

I hope in time she will be able to forgive me but for now she doesn’t want to stay in touch.

A previous partner lied to her and cheated on her.

I never cheated.

My only crime was that my demons from the past stopped me being honest.

DEIDRE SAYS: I can understandable why your partner is wary.

Our past can sometimes explain, but does not excuse behaving badly.

Stick with the therapy so in future you are ready to deal with situations that make you feel threatened and tempt you to lie.

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