The Long Middle

As I write this, I am accused of serious offences by the police and am on bail, awaiting the Crown’s decision on what they want to do next. I’m calling this entire episode a season because, like a season, there are storms and periods of calmness, and long stretches of waiting for someone else to decide your fate, followed by more storms. The storms are rough, but they’re not constant. The season starts with a storm and ends with a storm, but there is a long, slow, excruciating middle which, if you’re not careful, will catch you out.

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Everyone’s storms are slightly different, depending on what your life was before, what the accusation is, the evidence, and how the process is handled by systems. My initial storm may be completely different to someone else’s, or it may be slightly easier in some aspects.

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For me, I had professional registration and a family, so my storm included social work, reporters, my professional body, and the PVG Scheme, as well as the criminal proceedings and bail. That doesn’t make my storm worse or easier than anyone else’s; it just means the make-up of it was unique to me.

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It will feel like everyone is attacking you at every opportunity and from every angle. Every email, phone call, and letter will fill you with dread, and your anxiety will remain on high alert.

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As with all major life events, it is likely (though not guaranteed) that everything will collapse at the same time. Things unrelated to your criminal proceedings will suddenly happen to you, whether that’s credit issues, taxes, health problems, or just companies not treating you fairly. They will all start up at the same time as the criminal matter, making all of your life feel as though it is being targeted by everyone.

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This isn’t true, of course. These things might have happened anyway, but you suddenly become acutely aware of them all at the same time, and your nervous system struggles to cope with so many battles on so many fronts.

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The feeling of being overwhelmed and just wanting it all to stop is normal, and it is relentless.

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At the same time, you will be gearing up for court appearances and arguing in your head what your defence will be, thinking about how you will present yourself and what optics will look best for your defence. You will be flooded with tasks, questions, and issues, and every day feels like a fresh battle. It may feel dark and lonely.

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Almost all of us will face some kind of restriction during this part of the season. That can range from mild restrictions on your liberty to incarceration or community bail orders that harshly restrict who you can see, who you can speak to, where you can live, and the freedoms you have.

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Perversely, the time when you need the most help from your support network, such as family and friends, is exactly the time when access to that network is restricted.

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I won’t lie or sugar-coat this part of the season. It is, by far, the most degrading, humiliating, dehumanising, and isolating period I have ever experienced.

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Now that sounds terrible, right?

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It is, but at the same time you are so occupied with all the attacks during this initial storm that you remain busy. In a strange way, that helps you move through it. You spend your days fighting fires and your nights practicing your defence in your head, usually pointlessly at this stage because your defence team hasn’t yet constructed the defence.

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However, it’s the next phase in the season that I found the hardest, and the part that I am writing to you from.

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The storm dies down. The emails slow to barely any at all. The post dries up and no one calls you. There are no meetings and, after the initial storm, it feels anticlimactic. You can almost feel as though the storm is over and relax into a false sense of security.

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This is a falsehood, though. You’re not out of the storm; you’re simply within its eye, with the climax still to come.

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Some of you will know by this point what you’re facing and may be able to start preparing for the ending, but regardless of whether you can prepare or still have to wait, this part is the most taxing on your nervous system and your mental health.

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It’s quiet. Constantly quiet. Scarily quiet. Unsettlingly quiet.

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But the impending doom is still there as you await the finale.

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This part of the season is not dramatic or even overwhelming in a firefighting sense. It is, however, incredibly long. The length of the middle will vary from one person to another, and it can last months or even years in some cases.

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During this time, your restrictions remain as they were set in the initial storm, and you will be told repeatedly that you have to wait.

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And wait.

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And wait.

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Sitting within this level of uncertainty for this length of time is unnatural for the human nervous system and can have a deeply traumatic impact on your mental health and wellbeing.

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What’s worse is that right in the middle of this long, painful middle, when you may need help the most, is exactly the time when you are restricted from support networks, limited in your access to mental health support, and refused help from all directions no matter how much you ask.

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Yes, you will have restrictions. Yes, you will have no autonomy or control over what happens next. You may be limited in who you can seek help from, and you may feel utterly alone.

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Now I’ve made that seem like the ultimate hopeless situation, so let me try to bring some hope back to this blog.

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Let’s take stock of what you can do and how you might get through this period.

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Firstly, and most importantly, don’t allow anyone to make you feel completely hopeless. No matter what you are facing, there is always a future. It may be different from your past, and it may not be fully clear at this point, but no matter what, there is some kind of future for you.

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You need to remind yourself of this daily. You don’t need to determine what that future is or what it looks like; you simply have to acknowledge that it exists.

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Then there are what seem like endless hours to overcome.

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These can be the hardest because, if you do nothing, you are likely to get stuck in a mental loop, going over everything again and again.

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On the other hand, you may find yourself restricted in what you can do and who you can see.

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Focus on what you can still control.

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There will still be people you can talk to, even if it is only through messages. Try to reach out to one of them every day.

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The system wants to isolate you, but isolation is where danger enters, so find ways to reconnect with people. Contacting support groups like Next Chapter Scotland, and having someone you can reach out to regularly, is a great way to maintain that connection.

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Hobbies can be helpful, though group hobbies may be off the table for a while.

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Personally, I’ve developed a routine to keep me going on a daily basis. This includes going to the gym, walking, reading, and talking with family and friends who I am still able to speak to during this time.

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It’s not about winning or losing. It’s not about thriving during this period.

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It’s about surviving.

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I don’t know if any of these words will help, but if nothing else, just remember:

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You are not your worst moments in life.

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