If I didn't have bad luck......

The old blues song tells us that if 'I didn't have bad luck..I'd have no luck at all'.....

I used to believe this. Call me older and wiser, but I'm beginning to see that it's maybe not true. Everything has a cause and effect - we make our own luck, as a result of our actions, or, as a result of unplanned events happening around us, over which we have little or no control.

Luck doesn't come into it - but maybe circumstance does!

You remember some months ago I posted about my 90 year old Granddad. He reckons he survived the war because of chance - his entire regiment was wiped out. He survived because he was seconded to drive a superior officer to another outpost on the day that his regiment was moved on. When he returned from his duty, they'd moved on. Later he found out that they'd all been wiped out. Luck? No, circumstance. My Granddad was required for another mission, and was elsewhere. Serendipity? perhaps - maybe it just wasn't his time.

Whatever you can attribute his survival to, he was meant to stay, and live the rest of his life. Maybe it taught him a life lesson - not to take anything for granted.

All of the trials and tribulations of the last few months are having a similar effect on me - I'm beginning to see that all that has happened over the last year, no matter how hard to take, have all happened for good reason.

Maybe I was sleep-walking through my life, excepting everything that was handed out to me without question, doing what was expected of me, and not doing what was right for me.

Perhaps I was still looking for acceptance from someone.

Anyway, the moral of this experience is that everything happens for a reason, good or bad, and no matter how bad things seem, if you learn something valuable from it, then it's been a good experience. And anyway, if you want things to improve, they will - provided you put the effort in, and stay true to yourself.

Bad luck? Nah - just experience.

The ghost of Christmas future....

I had a disconcerting, and also uplifting glimpse into a possible future this week.

My new job puts me in contact with what may be classed as 'leftover people'. These are the people that society has forgotten. If you like, they've fallen through the cracks, and are just there, existing, drifting though indifference.

I met one such 'exister' yesterday.

I work for an agency which provides a service, refurbishing and updating housing to meet a decent standard. I have met all sorts of people through this, all with one major thing in common - they've given up on themselves.

This particular individual lives with his brother, who has a low mental age, in a property they have inherited from their parents. I was called in because it was believed that a rogue trader was attempting to rip these two hapless men off, through bogus repairs, and ultimately through a deal in which the brothers sign over their property to them, in order to live as 'tenants'.

The gentleman I met has a drink problem, and, when we knocked on the door, a ramshackle individual eventually answered, then promptly fell over. Myself and a colleague had to help him to a chair, both of us holding on to him. He'd been drinking all day, watching cricket.

As his story unfolded it was obvious that this man was not ignorant of the facts, by any means. He'd travelled, held down a good job, and he'd in the past carried out some good work on his property.

But, it became increasingly obvious that this is a front. The years of abuse through excessive drinking had robbed him of his dignity and common-sense, and he is now easy prey for the conmen that feed on the weak.

I examined the house - the conmen wanted money from him to repair the roof. I found nothing wrong with it, except for a few loose slates. The conmen wanted £4000 off him, which they were prepared to 'write-off' as part of the deeds transfer.

Each time we tried to steer the conversation around to what was happening to him, the man would change the subject, or swig at his beer.

Eventually we spelled it out - the conmen want your house, at a fraction of it's worth, to sell on, whether you are tenants or not - in other words, they risk being turfed out onto the street. Finally the penny dropped.

The man's brother came home during our meeting. A very simple man, quiet, in a world of his own. We couldn't get through to him. His brother did, in a fashion, and both agreed to let us help.

They had been sold down the river on the back of a few cans of lager, and the promise of a few easy quid. Shocking, in a so-called civilised country, in the 21st century.

The whole sordid affair reminded me of a Dickensian tale of betrayal, and of exploitation of people who felt they no longer had choices.

It was a stark lesson.

Stark in so much that I realised that during my depressive periods, when my only comfort was a can of beer, when I stopped caring, when I gave up on myself, I was slowly turning into the poor, desparate man sat in front of me. He was oblivious. When I was at my worst, so was I.

And so, I liken this experience to that of Ebeneezer Scrooge, when he is shown the outcome of his behaviour. I saw myself, in 20 years time, sat in front of the TV all day with only beer for company, and only alcoholic aneasthesia for comfort.

It's so easy to roll over and give up on yourself, your talent, your promise, and accept easy pleasures as a way of numbing yourself to the loss of your youth.

And I realise how perilously close I was to following that path.

The uplifting side of all of this is that the experience gave me a jolt. It told me, 'this could happen to you if you let it - but you still have time to prevent it - you are still in control'. In a strange way it gave me a feeling of optimism.

Maybe I had to see what rock-bottom feels like, so that I can appreciate what I have now, and can have if I make it so. Perhaps all that has happened recently is serving to show me something, just like Marley's ghost does to Scrooge. I now strongly believe that I have to go through this in order to grow and learn how dark life can be when you give up on yourself.

I want my ghost of Christmas present to be the one who opens up the doors, lets the good stuff in, and buys Tiny Tim a turkey.

And herein lies a lesson for us all.

Letting Go

Ring out the old ring in the new.....

I haven't posted for a while - I've been busy with a new job, after a period of unemployment. It's not been the easiest period of my life by a long chalk, but I'm finally coming to the end of it, and it's time to start thinking again about the future, and what that may hold.

The original aim of this blog was to try to find out who I am, what makes me tick, and to try and rediscover a childlike curiosity about life, the universe, etc, etc.

I'd love to be able to say that I have some answers, but I'm afraid that, at the moment they elude me.

All I do know is that the past is gone. It's just dust, photographs and memories, good or bad. The future is as yet unknown - it's not mapped out for us, much as we would love it to be. People spend hundreds of thousands of pounds consulting psychics, fortune tellers, palm-readers and the like, in order to find out what their future holds, to give them something to hold out for, to look forward to, or to avoid. The truth is, no-one knows what outside, uncontrollable event may come to scupper their plans.

The only time frame anyone can control is right now. This moment. As soon as you think about it, it's already gone, consigned to history.

Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance of the future is also bliss.

However, and more importantly, our past influences our future, and our present much more than we might think. Every decision we make, the way we present ourselves to the rest of the world is influenced by our past. We become conditioned into a way of acting, thinking and being based upon what has, or has not worked for us before. Nurture.

This is sometimes a good thing. It stops us from walking out in front of a bus, because knowlege tells us that we could get hurt. We don't go to see a particular film, or eat particular foods because we tried them in the past, and they did not agree with us.

Unfortunately though, this behaviour can have a limiting effect, and, if we are not careful can end up with us not doing anything that takes us outside of our safety zone. If we're not careful we can end up wrapped in a bubble.

And this is where this little preamble is taking me. I've wrapped myself up in a big, soft comfortable blanket. I take no risks. Nothing can hurt me. I'm safe.

But I'm also half dead. Doing the same old things with the same outcomes. Round and round in ever decreasing circles. Things start off the same way, and inevitably finish the same way, because my approach to whatever it may be, work, romance, friendships, is the same.

I don't wholeheartedly put myself into the situation, or I deliberately sabotage it before it can go too far, or I simply opt out when it gets difficult.

No more of this. I've had enough of it.

I need to live again, and not be half-dead.

Time to take some risks in my life and see where that takes me, instead of always playing it safe.

Where's My Motivation Here?

Motivation. We all struggle with it from time to time. Sometimes things go so easily, and we're all fired up to achieve things. At other times we just can't get started.

I'm really struggling to inspire myself to do things that I am more than capable of, and that once I've got them done will give me a sense of achievement. I guess the problem is that at the back of my mind I'm thinking, who am I doing this for? Well, of course the answer is, me.

Doesn't help though. You see, the problem with losing your identity is that you also lose drive. It seems easier to help others with their tasks than it is to carry out your own. For instance, with my ex-girlfriend, I would happily spend weekends going with her to art exhibitions, reading her essays and helping to set up exhibitions. Yet, when it came to doing my house up (which is a way that I can express my creativity and skill), I simply can't find the motivation to do it.

This to me is symptomatic of loss of identity. I have spent so long marching to the beat of other's drums that I have lost my own beat. What motivates me to get out of bed in the morning? Well, usually, work. However, being made redundant means that this motivation is temporarily gone. I should be getting on with doing the house up, but watching daytime TV and noodling round the net is so much more satisfying! However, it also means that I am wasting my time. All the time.

What would I like to be doing with my time? Well, getting the house finished for a start. I've been working on it on and off for over a year, and have another year's worth of work to do. All I can see stretching forward into the immediate future is weekends spent up to my eyes in dust and paint. Joy.

What would I rather be doing instead? I used to write music, and play the piano. I haven't touched the piano in over 3 years, it's gathering dust. I am very interested in art, and have always said that given the chance, I'd love to try painting - it's something I never really got into at art college, but I have had a taste for it in the last 2 years with my ex (she is an artist), and have always liked the idea of having some of my original artwork on the walls of my (yet to be finished) home. I'm enjoying writing this blog, maybe I'd like to write some more stuff. I like cycling, swimming, and despite the problems with my legs during childhood, running, but can I be arsed? I used to like walking, and was a member of a group - can I be bothered to join another one, even though I know it will do me good, and I'll meet some new friends into the bargain? Nope. I'm not even listening to music anymore - even though I have a large collection of music, and a couple of years ago bought the Hi-Fi I always wanted - it's also gathering dust.

I'd like to travel more - I've been to the US, Sweden, Italy, Taiwan and Hong Kong, and found all these experiences highly enjoyable. But can I motivate myself to save up to go away somewhere (Bibao is top of the list). No. Apathy has taken over.

Is this due to my lack of identity? As I said in my earlier posts, I have lost sight of who I am, and have lost my ambitions. I seem to be stuck in a rut of work, housework, DIY and shopping, only punctuated by trips to the pub now and again, which only leave me with a hangover, and bouts of depression. How did it come to this?

I seem to have become ground down, and stuck in a cycle of behaviour that marks me as lazy in my own mind. This feeds the inner bully - it likes to have something to pick on me for, and idling the time away is perfect for it. In effect I keep myself down, where its safe, where I don't have to put myself on the line.

I've got so wrapped up in my bubble that I sometimes find it difficult to even leave the house, or answer the phone. Its easier not having to relate to people. With one group of friends I regularly see, we always go to the same place, have the same conversation, eat the same crappy junk food afterwards, and then repeat it again the following week. It's boring....and it's making me boring!

Sorry if this sound like a whine from an over-indulgent teenager, but I am feeling so bloody frustrated at my lack of enthusiasm for life. It's all out there, but I seem to be stuck in here, wishing I was out there experiencing life, instead of being on hold.

What am I putting myself on hold for? Usually it was a new relationship - I needed to have someone around to kick me up the arse from time to time. Thats gone now. I'm on my own for the time being. So what am I doing with my new-found independence? Sod all.

There's absolutely no reason for me to be on hold. I'm not holding out for anything. And all that would happen when someone or something came along would be that I'd been out of circulation for so long that I wouldn't have anything to contribute. Or say even.

The link between good self-esteem and identity comes through what you do with your time. If you do nothing, you start to believe that you can do nothing, so you do even less. Then, when something comes along that needs your input, you just sit there opening and closing your mouth and looking scared, because you forgot how to do stuff.

The really stupid thing is that, when I have applied myself, and put the effort in, I've been extremely pleased with the results, and for a time this has boosted my confidence. But never enough for me to believe in myself.

I am sure I can do anything I put my mind to. If I can be bothered.

Art College - I Found Hodge At Last

Some people reckon that your schooldays are your happiest. I don't. I regard my time at Art College as my happiest time. It was here that I finally felt comfortable in my own skin, and in control of my future.

The first few months were a great time of experimentation. We tried out all of the various types of art and design activities offered, so that students could find the area in which they wanted to specialise. I already knew what I wanted to do, but tried everything out. I didn't always understand what it was I was meant to be doing, and sometimes did not try things wholeheartedly, but nevertheless had a great time.

For the first time in years I felt that I belonged. I made friends with the other students, and socialised a little, going to parties and to the pub. I even found my first serious girlfriend. I fell deeply in love with her, and it was with her that I lost my virginity. We had sometimes where we were able to be alone, and it felt great to be that close to someone.

I nearly failed my first year, because I was letting having a good time interfere with study. I remember turning up to a crit drunk after spending all lunch time in the pub. The lecturer took me aside and told me that I had talent, and that I shouldn't throw it away. I worked harder.

Things with my girlfriend got too intense. We got 'engaged'. She had some problems at home with an overbearing step-father. I thought I could rescue her and became her support network. She'd also come to me following a break-up with an abusive boyfriend. I didn't know it, but I was her 'rebound' boyfriend. Inevitably it was doomed, but I clung on, becoming more and more possessive and moody. I eventually became so frustrated at the situation that I lashed out at her verbally, and she called it a day. I was not the same again for sometime, and I stayed away from having relationships for nearly 4 years after that. It took me a long time to get over her rejection. I felt like a 14 year old again.

So, I poured all of my energy into my work. I worked late, often later than my fellow students. I took my work very seriously. I was determined to be a great designer. I did twice as much work as everybody else, and pushed myself hard.

I was a very serious young man. I was always passionate about design, and my second love, music, and would be very critical of things that I did not agree with. I nurtured my individuality, and became a very snappy dresser (or so I though!). My idols were the German designers and artists of the Modernist era, and I modelled my dress on them. I took to wearing round glasses, and wearing very smart clothes. I had a close friend at the time who was equally obsessed, and we spent a lot of time analysing design and music. I felt that I belonged to an exclusive club, and I loved it.

When the time came to choose a University place, I chose Newcastle, as far as I could get from home, and my unhappy school days. I wanted a completely new start.

The end of the course came, and because of all the work I'd done, I gained a Distinction, and high praise from the External Moderator. Some of the other students resented this, and my place at Newcastle (another student, more popular than me went for a place and wasn't offered one, and with a friend started to spread malicious gossip). This made me feel awkward. I'd done nothing to these people. I had not been arrogant, and had praised their work where I felt they'd done well. I didn't understand.

Luckily, my close friends were supportive, and told me that the other students were just being jealous. I remember that during my last few days, a few came up and wished me well. One particular girl, who I had always fancied, but never felt was in my league told me that she had always liked me, and that had I not have been with my girlfriend, we could have got together. That made me feel very good about myself, and I never forgot her, or what she had said.

A Wish For Someone Dear

'I wish for you a world of simplicity and compassion,
Tenderness that's always new,
And that there is no limit to what you are'.

Rebirth

What do I mean by rebirth? Is it possible to be reborn halfway through your lifetime? Or, are we shackled by our past, our upbringing and our beliefs?

I am coming to the end of what has been a particularly painful period in my life. Through it I have lost my job, seen a significant and intense relationship come to an end, and battled the deepest depression I have ever felt.

What have I learned from this, and how can it help with my rebirth?

Well, the first major life lesson I have learnt is that its unhealthy to cling onto situations that are no longer of use. I have worked in a particular profession for the last 7 years, and although it has seen me scale new heights, and learn valuable skills, it has also brought with it untold stress, frustration and feelings of helplessness. I have let the tide take me wherever it chose, and sometimes into waters that have found me struggling to stay afloat.

Its now time to assess what I really want out of my career. Should I accept the status quo, or should I strive for what I truly believe in? Redundancy has been a real eye-opener for me. I have been in this situation before, but never like this. The lack of work in my profession (architecture) is staggering. Most of my ex-colleagues have lost their jobs, and I feel especially sorry for those who chose to study for 7 years, often whilst holding down careers and raising families, only to find themselves unemployed. They chose this profession as their vocation. I did not. So, without any regret, I have decided to walk away from architecture as my career, and to focus on what really interests me. Quite how this will manifest itself is determined by the job opportunities out there, but I think that my time as a member of the architectural profession has come to an end. I am now trying to follow my vocation, which is design. I have applied for a lecturing post at a local university. I hope that this brings forth a much-needed change in direction for me.

As for relationships, I have lost someone who was especially dear to me. This person is very special to me, and although we are no longer together, and although our separation has been heart-breaking for me, I still have strong feelings for this person. For the first time I am able to let someone go, without any malice, the only regret being that we couldn't hold it together. I do not regret any aspect of our relationship, because it has enabled me to learn so much about myself, and in the process has led me to this point in time. I will always be grateful for the relationship for that reason. The woman I was involved with is going away for a year to travel. I wish her well, and hope that she is kept safe, and that the experience is everything she hopes for.

As for me, well I guess that I am embarking on my own journey, to find myself, and to expell some demons that live within me, hopefully for good.

The other life event that has unfolded has been a deep and long-lasting depression, which has made me re-evaluate everything within my life, and to try to make some far-reaching changes to my attitude to life. I am only just beginning to feel better, so my journey is only just beginning, but I am already optimistic for my future. It is liberating to finally realise that the only thing that has ever held me back is me, and that it is completely within my power to make the changes needed. I am feeling much more centered in that knowledge.

The next year will represent a water-shed period in time, where I shall finally emerge from within my shadow, and hopefully open up and embrace experiences for what they really are. I have some way to go to re-discover the child-like curiosity I would like to experience, but, as the old saying goes, 'every day is a school day'!

Letter to my younger self.....

I've just read an illuminating article about Zoe Lewis, who suffered from mild depression for 20 years without realising it. Eventually, at the insistence of a concerned friend, she went to group therapy. One of the tools used was to write a letter to her younger self, at a stage where she had suffered trauma as a child. I'm going to try that here, writing to myself at approximately age 14, at the stage where I was being alienated at school.....

Dear Simon,

You don't know me yet. I am you in 23 years time. I know you extremely well. I used to be you. I know that you are unhappy at the moment at school because everybody is ignoring you.

It's not nice to feel so alone, especially when you have to try to find somewhere to sit in a class of 30 people who don't want you to sit next to them. Try not to let this get to you. The other children do not know any better. You see Simon, children don't know their own opinions, or how their behaviour effects others, especially sensitive children like you. Its not your fault.

There's nothing wrong with being sensitive, it shows great care of others, compassion and gentleness. These are admirable skills to have. However, when your sensitivity allows people to press your buttons because they want a particular response from you - in your case, they want tears, or a tantrum, it can become a burden. I am not suggesting for a minute that you harden up, that would be such a shame because your sensitivity can be a great attribute. But, Simon, you need to learn to react differently to anxiety, because there is a risk that later on in life, you will meet far bigger demons than a classroom of 14 year olds, and how you deal with them can have profound effects on your life ahead.

I know that when it gets too much, you go to the music room and play the piano. Being alone means that the other kids can't get to you. They are too busy outside in the sun. Wouldn't you like to be outside enjoying the sunshine? And the same at home, always drawing. It's good to be good at something, and I can tell you that you will make a good living from drawing. But it can't be everything. You must have balance in your life.

You also must have friendship. I know that at the moment you don't really have any close friends, but you will when you are older. You will have friendships that endure many years, and which you will find enriching. However, in order to make friends, you need to make an effort.

I know that right now, you are happy with your mom and dad, and your grandparents. Sad to say, they won't always be around. You will have times when you are away from home. Eventually they will pass away. It will be hard to take, but you must cherish the time you have with them.

Finally, Simon, try not to be disheartened. None of this is your fault. You are a good, warm-hearted child with much talent, and you will do well for yourself in your future life.

Just please, don't hide yourself away hoping that things will get better. Show the world how good you are at your music and your drawings, and make friends. Achieve balance in your life. Its not all about studying for a good career, or making your parents proud of you.

You only get one chance at your life Simon. Grasp whatever opportunities are shown to you, and live your life to the fullest. Then, when you are true to yourself, people will want to be your friend, and you will not be so alone.

I love you very much, and I look forward to hearing of all the fun you have had on your journey to adulthood.

Much love,

Future Simon.

The Path to Forgiveness

I haven't posted for a while. There have been various reasons for this, which I won't go into here. I found creating my chronicle of my earlier years cathartic, and I will return to it later.

Today, I want to explore my attitudes to those who I think have harmed me, or damaged me along the way, and why this has happened. Most importantly, I want to try to understand what these things have taught me.

I have, for many years held great resentment against those who I feel robbed me of my carefree childhood, and of my ability to grow into a rounded adult. I have felt for a while now that my only defence against feeling inferior was to channel all of my efforts into being good at my career. This way I could gain approval from those who doubted me.

I have learnt over the past few weeks, owing to my own experience of redundancy, and a relationship breakdown, that my identity depends on more than a successful career. My relationships cannot have unconditional support and loyalty, in the way that my close family relationships have.

Those kids at school did not specifically have it in for me. Most of the time I was invisible to them anyway, as I hid myself away from them for most of my later time at school. In my case, disappearing is the best form of defence. If situations make me feel uncomfortable, I climb into my shell and hope that they go away. This is most unhealthy. I also am afraid to say what I think, in case my honesty, and assertiveness pushes people away.



So, what did those kids at school teach me? (the real answer is in italics)

1. Its not good to be different from the crowd.

Actually no. Children don't understand individuality - at early stages of development, they only know what they have been told is OK. This is why during my school years I was an outsider, and then whilst at Art college, where expression was encouraged, I felt part of something. What I didn't grasp is that it's OK to be different, as long as that difference does not offend or hurt anyone. If people don't understand, then it's up to me to explain why I think differently to them, or walk away. I should like what I am, and what I represent, and respect other's choices.

2. Because the kids at school didn't like me, no-one likes me.

Not true. I don't know whether the kids at school liked me or not. I never asked them! I was afraid of what they might say in return. They were probably very ambivalent towards me. I gave up on joining in with them, and didn't make the effort to be 'liked'. I retreated into what felt safe to me. People do like me, I have a number of loyal friends, dating back years. I have had relationships, and been in love a number of times. However, I have never been very good at maintaining those relationships - I have always relied on people making the effort with me. I'm not good at making the effort back.

3. Because I was bullied, I will always be inferior to everyone who is normal.

Wrong again. I am not inferior. The only person who keeps putting me down is me. Me internal bully sets the tempo and theme of my close relationships. I constantly have an anxiety that things will go wrong, in any situation, and of course this becomes an obsession, and then a self-fulfilling prophecy. I am intelligent, not horrible to look at, have a sense of humour, and have every opportunity for a successful career. I'm not a lost cause by any means. But my internal bully keeps telling me I am. My low self-esteem is eating away at me, and undermining the good things in my life.

4. I am not good at coping with things going wrong.

True, I'm not. In fact I'm terrible. If anything goes wrong, even a little thing, it can ruin my day, and I make damn sure that it ruins the day of anyone unlucky enough to be around me. I am very bad at reacting to negative situations. If I lose my job, it's all my fault, I blame myself, and it's a complete disaster. I can't see the bigger picture, only the worst case scenario. Any change, no matter how small or large, is an opportunity to grow. Life is about change. There are no constants, and the only person you can rely on to survive life events is, ultimately, yourself. There are no super-heroes to come and rescue you. But, you need to keep a level head, and be pro-active.

5. But I'm not pro-active....

This, I think stems from the period at school where I started a band with some friends. In that instance I was pro-active. I set up the rehearsals, picked the material, was the musical director, and so on....When it went wrong, I almost gave up on any activity that involved arranging things with other people. I either did my own thing on my own, or went along with others plans. I stopped striving for what I wanted to get out of something, or achieve. This is another symptom of low self-esteem - my drive left me. Over time, that drive has become non-existent, to the extent that I have little ambition left, and drift in and out of situations, with little or no control over the outcome. I don't yet know how, but I need to find a way of empowering myself.


6. People will always see through me, and find out my failings.


This is a terrible burden. I have felt this a lot recently. A relationship I have been in has failed, but we have still being seeing each other. We have mutual friends in the area in which I live, and a couple of weeks ago bumped into them. I felt that my ex-partner had told everyone every single failing of mine, and that everyone was looking at me and thinking 'what a loser'. It's the most awful feeling of self-hate. I felt that everyone was talking about me behind my back, telling each other what a failure I have been to lose my relationship with their friend. This is most probably not the case, and I'm being paranoid. This is just the same as when I was being blanked at school. I felt that everyone was talking about me behind my back, saying how worthless I was. They probably weren't, and were more likely to be taling about teenage stuff. But I felt that all eyes were on me, the freak-show. I still feel that now. When things go wrong, I feel that everyone I know is looking at me going 'he's done it again, the loser, screwed up'. This again is self-bullying. It's a mental form of self-harming, and possibly more damaging because it re-programmes the brain, and thought patterns into self-dillusion and ever deepening low self-esteem.


7. I have nothing to give anyone. I only take.


I think this stems from an unwillingness to give myself up to situations. I am very reserved. This is usually due to a fear of falling, or of failure. It's easier to stay on the sidelines, where it's safe. Worse than that, I am a great critic of others, without actually trying to do things myself. I fear losing myself in situations, such as in a relationship, friendship, or an activity, because I'm afraid of what people might think of me. I need approval, and need to do things that I feel I am good at, so that I don't look like a failure. This limits what I do with myself, and interactions with others. What is there to fear, other than fear itself? What is more life enriching? Giving things a go, wholeheartedly, to experience something new, and potentially exciting, or to watch others trying daring things, and criticising? What will I have to look back on when I am old? A steady job, a car and a nice house, or a rich life full of happiness and good memories?

8. I'm better off on my own, that way nothing can harm me.

Really? If that was the case, why am I pouring my heart out in this blog, and publishing it in cyberspace for everyone and their dog to read? If there ever was a need to reach out somehow, this was it. No-one is out to get me, or to deliberately harm me. In many respects, due to things not going my way, I have reverted back to that little boy, playing on his own because the nasty other kids have called him a horrible name, or broken his favourite toy. This is what mental programming does for you - when life gets tough, you revert to tried and tested behaviour. This is OK for a while, but is results in cyclic behavioural patterns. Something new happens, and it's good. You can't believe your luck. For a while you can't get enough of this new thing. Then you doubt your good fortune. Then you test the situation to see if it holds true. Then this brings up doubts as to whether it will last. Then you start to withdraw from the situation because its no longer easy to achieve success. Things change, and you react badly to that change. You withdraw effort, and resist change. Then it really does fail. Then you retreat back into your shell, ready for the next cycle. This pattern must somehow be broken, because thats the way I have lived most of my life, and whilst its OK to keep starting over when you are a child and an adolescent, there's only so many times you can do this as an adult, and in any case, I'm tired of starting over hoping for things to be different. Invariably they always end the same, because of my response to situations as they arise. This isn't self-bullying, by the way, this is a recognised pattern of my life, and especially in my close relationships with others. And a pattern that I would dearly like to break.

9. If only....

I was better looking. I had more money. I had a better job. I was good at football. He/she was more like me. I was popular.....Another pattern of mine. Buddhism teaches you that the only time you are able to experience is the present. The past is past, and although it has influenced you, and shaped you, it is the past, and can no longer effect you. The future is completely out of your control. You have no way of knowing what may happen, when or how. The only sure thing is the here and now. Every breath you inhale represents the present moment. You are living though it, and experiencing it, and as soon as you exhale, you have relegated the previous breath to the past, where it will always stay. One day there will be no new breath, and this stage of life will be over for you. In other words, if you are dwelling too much in the past (as I am here, in an effort to understand it, reconcile it, and then file it away), or think too much about the future (which I am very guilty of - the 'if only' effect), you can miss what's happening right now, in the present - the only time period you can positvely influence. I have spent so much time thinking 'if only' that the time has been and gone, and fundementally, nothing's really changed, other than I've lamented the time that has already been wasted in yearning for a better tomorrow, or wished for things to return to a time in which I felt happy. Ironically, this is usually the period of time before all of the bullying at school started, when I was happily playing at home in the early 70s. I am very nostalgic for that time, and not very good at embracing the new, the radical or the untried. I am not so good at recognising that these events are now in the past, and whilst its good to look back, it's today's experiences that will influence my future memories. I can't remember the last time I really had fun, in the true unabandoned way you do as a child. Nor can I remember a time when I achieved something I was really proud of. I was asked what I felt my greatest achievement was recently, and my response was based on work. I can't really think of anything from my personal life recently that has enriched me. This is part of longing for the better future that never comes - it only happens if you do something now towards that future.

10. Nobody loves me.

Well actually, a lot of people do. Except the most important person in my life. ME. Low self-esteem has robbed me of the ability to love, or even like myself. I am very poor at accepting praise from people, and am exceptionally modest about my abilities. I think that good things only come my way through chance, and that I don't deserve them. Or even worse, that I will fail in my task at hand, and be exposed as a pretender or loser. This lack of self-worth is severely limiting in many ways, and forms part of my need to limit my involvement in other people's lives. By staying aloof, I cannot be found out. I use humour to mask any need to really communicate with people meaningfully, or mock other people's afflictions to divert attention away from my own failings. In my later life, I have sometimes turned into the bully, ridiculing and belittling people as a way to bolster my own fragile ego, and as a way to join the 'group'. As with those who bullied me, I am actually ambivalent towards the target of my verbal abuse, but use it as a means of self-defence, to re-direct any scrutiny of myself away. I find myself thinking in these situations, 'you are no better than the person you are picking on - so why do it?' - the answer, because it feels good to not be on the receiving end for a change. This attitude is abominable, and makes me no better than the bullies at school. The abused turns abuser, first to themselves, and then others. How do you learn to love yourself? I'm not altogether sure if I'm honest. I'm quite happy in my own company, and will always find ways to occupy the time. I'm more uncomfortable around other people. I think I am quite in tune with myself, or at least the negative aspects of my character, and hold strong opinions about myself, based on my low self-worth. I was always decribed as 'self-sufficient', which is quite true - but in the same way that an old couple who hate each other stay together because they no nothing else. Just because I can quite happily be alone, does not mean that I am not lonely, or that I like being alone.

Life Begins at 90

My grandad turned 90 this week. He is still active, still loves life and is on the whole happy. We joked today that if he was a super-hero, his special power would be pottering. He loves to potter. His garden shed is an alladin's cave of items he has collected over the last 60 years. He is a war veteran, and was involved in the D-Day landings. By sheer luck he survived the war, and it's cruel mental torture, and settled to a simple life as a driver. He married a beautiful woman when she was 19, and they have had 66 years of happily married life. He is a simple man, but a deeply thoughtful and loving man. He still loves life, and although he is no longer able to do some of things he has always enjoyed, still lives everyday to the full.

He is one twins, not identical, most certainly not in character. His twin brother also celebrated his 90th birthday, with all of us, but he is a shell. He gave up on life many years ago, and just exists. He has not enjoyed the best of health, losing an eye, and a leg to illness. He lives in a residential home, and sits most days in his chair. He has no interests.

However, both brothers are devoted to each other, and I know that when one goes, the other will be completely broken.

Interestingly, his nephew made a simple, and quite moving speech in tribute to both men. In it he said how their life was so much simpler, so much slower than our pressurised lives today. We are so charged with the need to achieve and accumulate that we have forgotten simple pleasures. My grandfather is testament to the need to just live the life that suits him, and to be satisfied with his lot. That makes him a very lucky man.

My grandfather is one of the kindest men I'll ever know, and I love him dearly. I was so proud to see him today, surrounded by his family, his 2 daughters, and the miriad of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He is humble, but, oh so lucky, and so rich in life experience. I love him.

Teenage years - Part 2

At the age of 13 I also had to start wearing glasses. All those years spent bent over drawings in my room at home had made me short-sighted. I was only supposed to wear glasses for reading, but for some reason I took to wearing them all the time. One of my heroes has always been John Lennon, and I guess it was my way of being more like him (!?). The other kids by now were 'casuals'. Tachini and Fila roll-necks and Nike jackets became the fashion in the playground. My parents would not buy me these clothes, and I wore a lot of Asda clothes, and worst of all, home-knitted jumpers and cardigans. In order to please my mom, I let her choose things for me. Whenever I got my own way and persuaded my parents to buy me sonething in fashion, they always got the wrong colour, or the wrong style. I still did not fit in. No big deal you might think, and perhaps I was being a spoiled brat, but having the right 'uniform' counts with fashion concious teenagers. Because I still did not socialise with kids my own age, I had no idea what to wear outside of school, and when I did got it badly wrong.

I remember my dad forcing me to go school discos and most embarassingly, a roller-disco. I clung to the railings all night, wearing completely the wrong clothes, and feeling like a complete mis-fit. I stopped going to these all together. I was so out of touch with the other kids, but I didn't mind as long as I did well with my classes, and could still do my music and my drawings.

I remember going on a trip to a Youth Hostel with the other kids. It was hell. We went somewhere in Yorkshire. I was sharing a dorm with the other boys, who largely ignored me. I enjoyed the walks, and enjoyed going out during the day, where I could daydream and enjoy the scenery, but the mealtimes and evenings were awful. I couldn't wait to get home, to my sanctuary.

I also remember going on a music weekend with the local wind band I was in. Similar story. The rehearsals were good fun, but the activities were horrible. There was a swimming pool in the grounds, and everyone was to pile in. I jumped in what I though was the shallow end and found myself completely immersed in 6-feet of freezing cold water. I though I was drowning and panicked. I was eventually fished out, and didn't go near a swimming pool again for nearly 20 years. I was also voilently sick on the coach on the way back, and remember running down the coach, having been handed a plastic bag to be sick in. I couldn't get it opened, so held it to my mouth as I ran. I showered the entire coach in vomit!

I couldn't wait for school to end. I wanted to be a car designer, and tailored all of my GCSE options to it. When the time came I holed myself up for the summer and revised. To my relief I got 8 O-level equivalents, and some A grades. My course-work was good (I'd not had much else to do during my spare time), and I was offered a place at the local Sixth form college. Most of the other bright kids from my school were going. I visited, took one look at the place, realised that it would be just like school, realised that all the kids who'd ignored me were going, and bolted!

Instead I got a place at the local Art College, which was auspicious - 2 of my uncles had also studied there. I was excited, and, best of all, none of the other kids from my school were going!

After 2 of the most miserable years at school, the end came. On the last day, still very few kids talked to me, and only a handful signed my shirt (an old tradition). I didn't care, I was leaving them all behind. I remember one of the girls, who had always been picked on for being a 'swot' came over to me, gave me a hug and told me that she thought I'd done well in my exams, and that I'd make a success of being a designer. I was very touched by this. I was also delighted to be leaving all of this behind for good.

Part 2 - Teenage Years

Following my slight humiliation at the School Proms, life suddenly became quite interesting. The girl I'd met at the Albert Hall became my first proper girlfriend, so far as relationships can go when you're 13. She lived not too far from me, so we could meet up after school, but this was not without it's drawbacks. Of course, we never got beyond kissing, but even that was awkward, there always seemed to be someone else around. And anyway, I was so clumsy that we kept clashing teeth! It didn't last long, but was a good taster!

My confidence must have been higher at this point, because I found myself a group of friends. In fact, we started a band. We initially called ourselves 'State of Play', and I played piano and wrote most of the songs. There was a guitarist and a drummer, and we met regularly at the drummer's house to practice. This was what I'd been waiting for! Saturdays became band days. We also used to go into Birmingham to look at the music shops. It was fun, and very rewarding. I found that my natural musical ability allowed me to learn a lot of the songs I'd been listening to at home. We played Pink Floyd, John Lennon, The Beatles and others. I started to go to concerts. We made recordings, and pursuaded the school music teacher to let us use the music block at weekends. We even had a 'fan'.

Over that period I wrote 30-odd songs, all juvenile, but I had a purpose, and more importantly I was in a gang. The guitarist got better and better, and because I never really understood guitars, I left him to it. The drummer though, was a different matter.....I kept telling him what to play, and how to play. This was ok at first, and he seemed to respond to it, and he certainly developed. But then my over-enthusiasm turned to bossiness. Another guy joined us now and again, who'd had piano lessons. I didn't like his rather mechanical playing, and I also didn't like his choice of music, so I usually vetoed his suggestions. The drummer's older brother also joined us on guitar. He liked this new-fangled 'Indie' music, and was always trying to get us to play songs by newer bands. I tolerated this, but kept bringing the music back to my tastes. We decided to play at the year-end review, and I picked a very ambitious song to play, about Vietnam (I know, I know). The other guys didn't really like it, and wanted to play something more up-beat. They decided on 'La Bamba', which was a massive hit at the time. I hated it, but went with the group decision. The performance was decidedly average, and my singing and playing was awful. But, the other kids loved it, and we played it twice! However, soon after the mood in the band changed. All of a sudden I was no longer seen as the leader, and more than that, the others started wanting the other guys in, and me out. Eventually they got their way. I left them to it, and carried on making music by myself.

I did at this time have another couple of girlfriends. Both of them were pretty girls from the posh side of town. I don't remember how it all came about, but I 'went out' with them for a few weeks respectively. Nothing more than hanging out with each other, and holding hands happened. But I felt good while it lasted. It all came crashing down when one of the girls invited me to a party at her parent's house. I thought we were ok, but it seems not. She used the party as a means to dump me, in front of everyone, and then proceeded with flirting with the other boys there. I had to wait until my dad came to pick me up, and witnessed the whole sorry charade. No big deal you might think, it happens all the time. But to a sensitive kid with an already fragile ego, this was torture. I avoided these kids at all costs afterwards.

I did one more performance with the drummer, a sing I'd written myself, at a school parent's evening. It was a shambles! I didn't play the piano, but one of those home keyboard things. I also remember wearing a ridiculous pink suit (it was the 80s after all!). Halfway through my deep and meaningful song about the trouble in Northern Ireland I hit the wrong button on the keyboard and triggered a bossa-nova rhythym....embarrassment! I never lived that down, or the pink suit!

My withdrawal from the band heralded the worst time for me at school. All of a sudden I became completely invisible. I would walk into class and no-one would talk to me. No-one wanted to sit by me. At playtime I was left to my own devices. I was still not allowed to play sports by the doctor, so I hungout with the school layabouts during games, or went to an empty classroom and did my homework. Then the bullying started again. I received threats of beatings by the older boys, who would wait for me to leave the school gates and follow me, issuing their taunts. Apart from 2 or 3 other kids, I spoke to no-one other than the teachers, and no-one spoke to me.

Home life was still good. I vaguely remember the recession effecting my mom and dad's relationship, owing to money worries, and there was tension (I later learned that they nearly split up at this point!). I was still shielded from upset. My dad was out a lot at the weekends. For most of my childhood he worked part-time as a musician. He loved this, and the money came in useful. We had a nice home, and occasionally went away on holdays. It was on one of these holidays that my mom got ill. We came back early and she went into hospital. I went to stay with my grandparents, miles away. I missed my parents, but my grandparents looked after me well, and helped with my home-sickness. My gran would take me to school on the train every day, and every afternoon would meet me. She always had a chocolate bar and a kind word for me. I think she knew that I was having trouble with the other kids, and one day rounded on one of the bullies and gave them an earful. My gran was fearful to those who didn't know her. The bullying stopped.

When I went back home, my mom was still ill, so my other gran would sometimes meet me from school. She always met me, and told me to put my hand inside her coat pocket....there was always a Mars bar there for me.

The bullying may have stopped, but the alienation didn't. I was still doing well at school. My grades were always good, and I only struggled with subjects like maths and chemistry. I got frustrated by this, and would scrawl messages into my desk with my compass. I got found doing this by one of the teachers. It was particularly offensive, and I was immediately hauled up before the headmaster. I was suspended. Sort of. Just before this I had been selected to play one of the leads in the school production of 'Joseph'. If I was out of school, the production couldn't go ahead. The other teachers lobbied the head, citing my otherwise unblemished school record, and I went round to personally apologise to the teacher concerned. The production went ahead, and I was a hit. Well, with the adults anyway. The other kids still were indifferent. What should have been my moment was hollow, partly by my own sabotage, but mainly by the complete lack of recognition by my peers.

Following this, I didn't put myself forward for anything again. I also soon afterwards stopped playing in the school band, or taking music lessons. I just gave up.

With GCSE's looming, I resumed playing sports. The twice weekly humiliation of not being picked to play in anyone's team, of pretending to swim, of running breathlessly around the sports track continued. The only sport I like was badminton. I even liked playing this outside of school. But I hated competing.

Seven Ages Of Man - A Limerick

Seven ages: first puking and mewling,
Then very pissed off with your schooling,
Then romances and then fights,
Then judging chaps' rights,
Then sitting in slippers, then drooling.

Why do I need to find myself?

Before I continue with my story, some notes on why I'm pouring this all out in cyberspace.

I feel that I've become too bogged down with 'stuff' - work, mortgage, bills, relationships and a need to keep thinking about, and empathising with, and caring for, other people. Not a bad thing you may think.

Which it isn't if you have a strong self-identity.

I don't. I lost myself in all this stuff, and especially in my bouts of depression and anxiety. I got so concerned and bogged-down in concerns over work that I forgot what life is about - enjoyment, fulfilment, friends, family, loved-ones. I often feel like a cog in a machine. Of course, all this has been brought to a head with the current financial turmoil, which for the first time has meant I have a real possibility of having no work, for sometime. I also got so bogged down trying to please others, and gain acceptance from others, that I forgot what I wanted. Life took me where it wanted, not where I chose to go. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what I want out of life anymore. Damn it, I'm having a mid-life crisis!!

I'm nearly 40. Do I want to look back on my life as a series of academic and work achievements and milestones, or do I want to look back and smile at all the fun, emotionally warm moments and love that I've shared?

This is about an attempt to tap back into a child-like curiosity about myself and the world around me, instead of having a world-weary cynicism about everything I encounter, and feeling that, whatever I do, it'll never be as good as 'the old days'.

This kind of mentality has been negative for so long now, that people around me have got fed-up of hearing it. So what if I feel that things were better then - we're here now, and it's not all that bad. Honest.

Introduction

Friday 23rd May 2009 represented a new start for me. I've been battling with depression for many years, and along the way have missed many opportunities, sabotaged loving relationships, lost touch with friends, and most importantly, lost touch with myself. May 23rd though brought a breakthrough moment in my search for 'normality'. I realised that for nearly 30 years I had been harbouring an illusion about myself, and that that illusion was the thing that had led me to depressive thoughts. Tired of self-destruction, I made a breakthrough that has paved a way back for me. I don't know if anyone is going to read this, but this blog is a step to finding myself again - 'Finding Hodge'.

I was born an only child, in the West Midlands, in 1972. I had a happy childhood, with many friends, a loving and cossetting family and extended family, and was generally shielded from pain and suffering. I played out late in the streets with my friends, had birthday parties and started infants school. I enjoyed learning, took pride in being able to speak without a pronounced black country accent, and was by many standards, bright. What I was not though was socially adept. Being a doted on only child set me apart from the other kids. I was not into the rough and tumble of childhood - I didn't like getting into scrapes, or getting my clothes dirty. I never understood the competitive and sometimes combative nature of young children, especially little boys.

I also exhibited a typical only-child problem - an inability to share. This led to my disappointment when close friends who I thought were my friends alone, started to branch out and seek other friendships. Rather than join in with the group, I sought out other 'best' friends, and went through the process again. This got to be tiresome, so a lot of the time I played on my own - I could never be left out that way, and therefore could not be disappointed.

I was not into sport, but was more interested in activities like building things, drawing, music and my childhood passion - cars. My fear of looking foolish in front of others meant that I didn't learn to ride a bike until most of my friends had ridden off with the group, and I kicked up such a fuss at the swimming pool that my parents gave up trying to teach me to swim. This meant that I was set apart from the other kids - a quality that set me up for teasing.

Being the doted-on only child meant that usually, if I had a temper tantrum, or burst into tears, I got my own way. This doesn't work with other kids. If anything it adds fuel to the flame. I became a soft target. Wind up Hodge and watch him stamp his feet and have a fit! Man, I was a champion at fits! I even managed to clear the room at my own birthday party through a fit over a toy garage the other kids wanted to play with, but which I wouldn't share with them.

Over time these kids moved on. I felt that they didn't like me, and was paranoid that they were saying nasty things about me. They probably weren't, they were more likely to be off playing and enjoying themselves. So, I carried on playing in my own little world, drawing and making, attempting to play music, seeing my family and generally, in my own way, being quite happy.

I moved onto primary school, and this is where the real fun started! I went to a school some distance away from where we lived - I used to get a train there every day. None of the other kids lived anywhere near me, so I didn't socialise with anyone outside of school. All of the kids in my street went to pretty much the same school, so their social networks tightened.

This difference to the other kids set me apart all the more, and the teasing and taunting got worse, sometimes getting physical. I started to dread Monday mornings, and would sometimes cry myself to sleep. I would get so pent up that I couldn't sleep, or would feign illness to get off school - which sometimes worked! It was worse during the summer, when the other boys would play football, and take part in the school sports day. Being uninterested in sports, I could only take part in the 'soppy' events like the egg and spoon, or the sack race. I felt humiliated and belittled by having to go through this.

However, there were 2 saving graces. I lived opposite a steep hill, which, when it snowed became a sledger's paradise. All the kids from the estate I lived on congregated there, and for a while, I was part of the gang. We stayed out until it was dark, sharing each other's sledges, having snowball fights and pushing each other over in the snow. My other pleasure was music. I started playing an instrument, found I had some natural ability, and joined the school band. We had a fantastic head teacher who played an instrument as well, and he joined in with us. He was a very kindly man, and always brought his enthusiasm out in the kids.

My summer holidays were usually spent with my grandparents, who let me help them with jobs, building bonfires, going to the scrap-yard, fixing the house, fixing the car, going on picnics, going on trips to Cannock Chase and telling stories and playing games. They never judged me, or ridiculed me, and always encouraged my interests. This was all great until the time came to go back to school......

I got through primary school, reasonably intact, but very sensitive for my age. I still hadn't had the rough edges knocked off. I went to a secondary school, again miles from home. Although some of the kids I'd been at primary school with also went to the bigger school, I still did not socialise with any of them after school. Then, in the first week at school, I got mumps, and was off sick for 2 weeks. When I got back, new friendships had been forged, the new kids accepted, and everyone except me had learnt the timetable and their way around. I found it hard to fit in, and had to learn the ropes fast. This yet again alienated me from the others, and I soon found myself isolated.

Despite this, I did well at school. I was never out of the top classes, and usually got good grades. I did well at the end of term exams, and excelled at English, Art, Music and History. I got on well with the teachers, and seemed happy enough. I continued with my music, and took my grade 5 exam, passing it straight off. I was in several schools bands, and played solos at concerts. In an environment where I understood the situation, I was confident and outgoing. In all other situations I hadn't a clue!

At the age of 11, we moved to a new estate. I was relieved to leave my old street behind. I'd lost touch with my old friends, who had moved on and were hanging out with each other on street corners, flirting with girls and, well being pre-teens. The new house was on an estate inhabited mainly by newly-weds. Most of the children were babies, or at junior school. The new house was even further away from school. I immersed myself in my inner world all the more. I drew incessantly, cars, buildings, designing things. I was still interested in music, and finally got my own stereo system. I devoured any music I could get my hands on. However, not having a peer group to share my tastes with meant that I was out of touch with the other kids. My early likes were based on the music my parents' liked. Luckily they are both into music, and I grew up listening to The Beatles, John Lennon, Jethro Tull, all sorts of jazz and whatever was on the radio.

Soon after, I started having problems with my posture, and with my knees. They were swollen, and often gave me pain. The doctor diagnosed a condition which was basically the bones growing too quickly for the tendons. This was aggravated in one knee by a bone fragment which had chipped off when I had collided with someone in the playground. I had to have my legs tightly bandaged for 6 months. I also was forbidden to play any contact sports for 2 years - suited me!

My music at school was going well. I had some natural ability, and could play by ear. This was lucky, because I hated my music teacher, who was a bully, and would often bawl at me. Somehow, I ended up playing the only instrument of a particular type in the school band - I got it because my Dad was into jazz, and a musician he liked played the same instrument. I was set apart again. I wasn't bothered, I liked the instrument, although at the time I hated jazz! A band I was in won through to the Schools Prom. Our prize was to play at the Albert Hall. What was meant to be a proud day nearly didn't happen - I'd changed to a more mainstream instrument, and the bandleader wouldn't let me play, arguing that she'd got used to me playing the other instrument. My music teacher explained that there was no big difference between the 2 instruments, and I was allowed on stage. It was a fantastic day - my first time in London. I even got off with a girl. This was slightly embarrassing, because my legs were swathed with bandages, and they kept slipping when we tried to snog........