#shithappens – you cannot avoid it but you can learn how to deal with it – On this site and in my blogs I share my own personal journey, to highlight that people are not on their own in this journey we call life! #WARNING CONTAINS OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE
Feelings, emotions are and can be a bastard, we all doubt ourselves at times, if we didnt i think we would all be walking fucking Psychopath’s. We can never escape feelings of self doubt, but we can learn to manage them.
FACT – EVERYONE at some point in their life, doubts themselves, for some this can happen on a hourly, daily basis, the key to dealing with self doubt (in my humble opinon) is learning to accept that Self Doubt exist’s in all of us.
Those people who appear to deal with it better, are those who accept that we all live with self doubt
Who are able to listen and hear when self doubt is around
Who are able to step back and ask themselves “Is this fear talking?”
Who can ask themselves “what assumptions am i making about myself?”
Who can take a step back and look at what they are thinking and ask themselves “are these assumptions true?” – half the time they arnt, infact they are dam right, fucking irrational
The shit part about Self Doubt is most of the time, they always seem to always fucking appear when we feel at our lowest. Self Doubt come’s from a very irrational place, deep within us. It’s always there, you cannot escape it, BUT you can Learn to manage and live with it
Whilst everyone admires her spirit is she doubts her own
Whilst everyone loves her, she doesn’t love herself
Always running away
It doesn’t matter how far you go
Your thoughts and feelings will always follow
I’ve done the same myself
Put on a brave face
Fuck em! I say “i’ll show em all”
Bury my head in sand, take a line
“Everything will be fine”
Fuck it “I don’t care!”
The problem with this is
That you do care more than you know
And that’s plane to see
Running around trying to please
Feels nice in the short term
But is hard to constantly try to achieve
You are not a failure?
You haven’t failed?
You just forgotten to listen to yourself
Take some time out for you
Carry on what your doing
Believing and achieving in work
But save some time for you
You are not alone
If you need to talk I’m always on the end of a phone
I was looking through social media and all the reactions to the three incidents over the weekend and it dawned on me that, 90% of these people, who are quite rightly, upset, scared, angry and who want justice are also frustrated that “no body is doing anything about it” “No body care’s” I would question “who these somebodies are?”, some blame the
I haven’t seen one person, say “ok this is happening, but what can I do?”
Lets face it, shit happens all the time and its getting worse, so what can YOU, what can WE do? We can have our rant on social media, we can stand at the bus stop, talking about the the state of our city, moan and blame everyone else, but is that ‘really’ helping anyone? Really?
What can you do? Personally, a starting point would be to stop blaming, after all it doesn’t solve anything, blaming others releases us from taking some responsibility for ourselves.
Imagine what would happen if more people stopped blaming and started to try and understand and accept that whilst this society isn’t what it should be, “but what can I do?”
The thing is though, is that we are not living in the past anymore, any advise based on our own personal experiences, is basically useless, because whilst we are still the same and we have survived so far, our communities, society, our cities all over the world isnt the same. Whislt we have ben trying to manage our lives in our bubbles, our communities are changing around us too.
I am not the same person I was 10 , 20 years ago
My environment, my community isnt the same as they were 10, 20 years ago neither
The guy who stabbed someone this weekend, do you know their history, their background? We hear that people carry weapons for safety, now people would say you dont need a weapon, but lets face it, if you feel threatened, its natural that we either go into fight or flight mode. We don’t know the victims or perprators background. Who are we to judge or blame?
I cannot read another post, because all I see is blame statements, I don’t see anyone coming up with solutions. Individuals are so quick to push the responsibility on others, any one else but themselves.
And really who is listening to you? When you post your thoughts and opinions? I could say who is listening to me? but quite frankly i dont care who is reading my opinions, this is my space, i am trying to work on myself, instead of blaming every other fucker
They are all essentially saying the same thing, but worded differently.
You may well think, well what can I do? if you are interested in connecting with like minded people you could start with going to the Love Sheffield Facebook Page this is a new group of individuals who are asking the same thing “what can i do?”
Can you imagine if we, as individuals stopped blaming and started to take some responsability for ourselves instead of expecting someone else to help us or do something for us?
Its not rocket science, if more people started to adopt this attitude, then perhaps others might follow suit too. Even writing this, I honestly think “yes it does sound pie in the sky, airy fairy, because quite simply I really don’t this it is totally achievable” can we change the whole of society by making changes ourselves? Probably not! But i am certanly up for trying …
But what i am certain of is that t least by taking some responsibly for myself I will feel more empowered, more in control, surrounded by a society that seems out of control. We can still maintain some sanity amongst all the insanity around us. We can keep doing good things, keep being compassionate to others, we can start to learn and accept we cannot change others, but we can change ourselves and change starts with us right?
Blame just fuels and breeds Blame, the same can be said for compassion, compassion to others breeds compassion.
I was sat watching an episode of Big Brotherlast night, it was eviction night, it dawned on me, that it was like watching a fucking futuristic version of the scene out of Hunger games, but without the killing! The basic rules of the Hunger games are
Be entertaining. These are the Games after all; they are held for the Capitol’s enjoyment – in this case mine and the millions of viewers who tune in to watch it
If your time in the arena is boring, you won’t get much camera time, you won’t get much sponsor notice, and you won’t get many gifts. – in this case the gifts include, going from a nobody to an z lister,one in 14 people have the chance to scoop £100,000 and walk away with a delusional believe they are now special and have a new found, right and worthiness. Or even Special enough or have the right to endorse the latest shit quick fix product via instagram.
But before the actual eviction took place, the show took a look back on housemates previous recorded antics, which mainly involved hanging around the house, brushing their teeth, having a wesh, cooking, eating, getting dressed and I actually thought to myself “why the fuck am I watching this?”
But what struck me the most apart from the obvious, (that i was a sad fuck) was that the mental turmoil those three women, up for eviction were going through. Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not saying thatthey are victims? I mean they are supposed to be grown ass adults who can made their own decisions and have their own minds. But, you could see all three were riddled, crippled with self doubt. They were in the Diary room questioning, “what had they done wrong? Why had they been chosen? What had they said? What hadn’t they said? Had they been authentic enough? Had they been playing the game right?” .
Now I am all for wanting to be seen, to be heard, but not at the expense 0f someone else’s enter-fucking-tainment and what was even worse was “I was fucking watching it!”
I watched as Emma willis, the host of BB regaled and teased the audience with snippets of what lay in store for the un-suspecting housemates, fuck me it was just like watching
Caesar Flickerman, the host of the Hunger Games, but instead of vying for blood and death, she was gearing the crowds up for more character assassination. “YOU the audience have a chance to fuck with sad fucks heads in the house, just go to the BB app to find out how to do it!
I think its safe to say, that whilst I find human behaviour fascinating, and I love to watch reality TV, its safe to say that I will not no longer be watching BB ever again.
Its been a while, but thats because alot has been happening, life, work, relationships, worrying, overthinking etc etc… After building up some overtime, over the past couple of weeks, i decided to use it and take a much needed day off yesterday. And i soooo needed some “time out”, some time to think, some time to reflect and to basically #haveawordwimesen.
I find that it is soooo easy to fall back into the rat race we call “life”. Falling back into the bullshit of what is or isnt socially acceptable. Lately, I have been questioning my personal boundaries, and have kinda been feeling like have been compromising myself, which quite frankly has left me feeling like me head is up me fucking arse!
So basically on my day off, Just pottered around, catching up on house work catching up with good freinds, had some amazing conversations with people who i trust, people who get me and during one of these conversations yesterday someone said “your a humanist” which left me thinking, “what the fuck does that mean?” they shared how they saw me, wanting the best out of others, being passionate about others and that, this isnt a bad trait to have. To be honest i was flattered, because i really do care, so much so I find myself frequently questioning myself “Do I care too much?”
I dont necessarily like labels, or being categorised, it kinda takes me back to being young and back to those feeling’s of being misunderstood, but i do understand that for many people, they can help to make sense and give some order to peoples life’s. my own included, so i decided this morning to look up Humanism…..
I even I learned that there is a whole fucking Humanist movement, BUT please dont worry guys, I aint going no-where, i’m not about to start shaving me head, running off to a comune, or even worse turning “VEGAN” But i have just been taking a little look around this site and taking the bits what I relate to, so if i was to catagorise / label myself, it would be a humanist. If you would like to take a look, thee sen click here
So my take on it all is, basically a humanist is someone who shape’s their own lives in the here and now, because they believe it’s the only life we have!
This just reinforced everything i have been trying to say all along, and goes back to what i have been trying to say in these in these BLOGS #shithappens all the time, its “How you deal with it that counts”. Fuck societies expectations, because quite frankly we can and will never, ever be able to meet all of them! AND we have a choice about what expectations we place on ourselves, which is where #Havingawordwiyasen comes to play, because if you dont take the time out to think about “what it is YOU want” How will you ever know?
So after much, self questioning and self interrogation i have come to understand that i believe in “some” of the humanist values. These same values are the ones that make me who i am, which is a genuine, passionate, caring individual, who believes that “everyone” has the right to be heard, listened to.
Apparently my grammar still needs some work, but do you know what? I dont fucking care, because, if you can read it, understand it, and in my humble humanistic opinion thats all that matters! For thousands of years, humans simply used grammar without much concern for any hard-and-fast rules, well not until the grammer police turned up, a group of Elitist who decided that there should / ought to be rules about how something is said or written, seriously google it! Theres friggin tonnes written about it.
So please accept my apologies in advance, before moving forward, whilst I am committed to working on trying to perfect my writing style, I have taken the decision to “Not give a FUCK” about my grammer, I have reasoned that if i ever did want to publish, i can just get the grammer police in, who do know the rules.
I am dedicating this Blog to a guy called Dave, dave is another very compassionate, wise, educated and passionate individual, who is currently trying to find his way in life.
All Dave wants is to “Be heard” not to be famous or be the next new activist, but “just to be heard” Just to be listened to! now is that such a bad thing? I wrote this for Dave after hearing that after 4 months sober, Dave had made a decision to “have a blow out”. Upon hearing this news, some people freaked out, and to be perfectly honest I did too, hence this poem, but i genuinely believe that Dave will be ok, drinking or not, after all he is only human.
Ps, I have the permission off Dave to use this pic and share this with you, he doesnt care, because he cannot read or write, all that matters to him, is being heard
Dave did you know that not all super hero’s wear capes?
You have been on my mind of late
I remember the day well
The day I finally met you
Your date in court
You were a broken man, some guy on his knee’s
Claiming “no one knew your needs”
Just like one of thee mothers rabbit’s
Scared to come out, buried in thee warren
Asking thee sen “When is it going to happen?”
You took a risk, and dared to come out of your hole
This was the first time I really saw into your soul
I have seen you transform from an old guy
Too old for his time
To a guy, with courage and pride with nothing to hide
You smile is contagious and your whit know’s no bounds
You dared to risk , to try some thing new
Holding your head held high
With nothing to prove
Your questioning yourself, “and thats ok!”
I promise you
Living in my own skin sometimes too, makes me feel like running away
Your just questioning yourself, and again “thats ok”
I promise you mate, I do this myself EVERY day
But Dave, don’t you see?
Just how far you have come
So you’ve had a blip, so what?
Thats part of the process
Dont give up and throw away what you have gained
Life is fucking scary, I give you that
Are you really going to throw away all you have achieved
And drown your sorrows Into the bottom of a bottle?
I have had the pleasure and honour, to watch you grow, from that man, I first met
I know you don’t know me
But I know who you are
I’ve seen you achieve
I’ve seen you believe
Your “David Betts”
Please don’t throw yourself away
You have got so much to offer
I know you cant see it, right now
But trust me when I say, there is more to life going back to staring
at the bottom of that “fucking bottle”
Don’t do it for me,
Don’t do it for your mom
Do this your ya sen, you are worth much more
Fuck off that bottle, reach for that cape
You are my hero, I know you don’t see it
But I see you Dave, the potential to be a GREAT mate
And i’m not talking about aliens, before you start thinking i have totally lost the fucking plot.
After a great weekend away, i’m back and keen to resume my writing, I have just been writing a slot in the introduction to the book and thought i would share some of it with you guys, also its national recovery month, a time were we are actively encouraging people to speak up and reach out from the fucking shame and stigma addiction can keep us isolated and a prisoner in our own selfs. Here’s my excerpt from the book….
I used to think it was me who thought and felt like I did but I have realised that, I wasn’t alone, from sharing my story times over, about growing up, my relationships, my addiction, dealing with dads addiction. I soon became to realise that I wasn’t alone in my thoughts fears, anxieties, confusion, hurt, sadness and anger.
There is soooo much fear surrounding the word “addiction” and not just for those who are using substances to help dull the pain. Its as painful, if not more painful for a loved one to watch helplessly, from the sidelines without being able to self medicate, seeing someone they love, slowly distroy themselves.
There is alot to be said for sharing your story with strangers, you might not think it, but as you listen to other peoples stories you realise you are not alone, they too have felt and experienced similar fears, anxieties, confusion, hurt, sadness, anger, frustration and many more… and when you share with even just one person, two or more,something can and does, start to change
Those thoughts and feelings of of isolation can start to lift
Those thoughts and feelings of shame will start to dissolve and become easier to live with
Those thoughts and feelings of confusion become clearer
Those thoughts and feelings of hurt can start to heal and become easier to live with
The thoughts and feelings of sadness can become more manageable and become easier to live with
The thoughts and feelings of anger are ok and completely normal
Those thoughts and feelings of frustration, starts to enable you to see clearer.
Heres a bit a poetry for thee
Sharing is a slow process, it can be scary
After all you are not used to baring your soul
The journey is different for everyone, each unique
Off to London later, I am really really looking forward to switching off, seeing sights of London I haven’t seen before, catching up wi our Harry and possibly my crazy, Irish cousin.
This week has been a tough one, but I have to say I am pretty proud of how I dealt with some of the shit that has come in my direction. Now don’t get me wrong, its not all been shit, its national recovery month, my favourite work month of the year. Being surrounded by miracles, inspiring people, inspiring stories, recovery month just reinforces how lucky I am to have a job I love AND get paid for it. I literally get a high feeling being surrounded by these inspiring souls, infact, If one could live without money, I could quite simply work with people in recovery for nothing. I reckon you will still see me volunteering a day a week after I retire – “when ever thats gonna fucking happen, cos at this rate the official retirement age is looking like its gonna be 90”.
There have been a couple of evenings this week, when I have woken in the middle of the time, thinking about work, well I should say worrying about work related issues. One time, which I’m pretty impressed wi me sen, I just got up outta bed, had to run downstairs bollock naked for a pen, run back up, put the small light on me mobile phone and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I just dowloaded all the ideas, thoughts onto paper and “abracadabra” Ive only just drafted a comms plan for best Bar None “next fucking year”. The ideas were flowing they were keeping me awake, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep, because I’d be worrying about forgetting all those great ideas.
Then there have been a couple of work related issues that normally would have sent me turrets into hyper mode. But instead of replaying incidents, scenarios around in my head, which would only trigger feelings of anxiety and stress, I took the thoughts, put them in front of me, deconstructed them, took some time to thing about them, asked myself what was I “assuming about these issues” , looked at the facts and #hadawordwimesen.
The website isn’t called #shithappens for nothing, I know I like swearing, its a form of expression for me, its who I am, but reality is that shit does happen all the FUCKING time and most of it is out of our CONTROL, but I am genuinely starting to realise that just because shits happening around me, I DO have a CHOICE on how I respond to it. Trust me previously, dealing with similar issues, I would have been going on a ranting expedition, telling anyone and everyone how angry or frustrated I was, doing their heads in as well, no doubt.
But I can honestly say that giving myself some space and time, just an hour in the morning to download my shit in me diary, is really helping me to be able to step back, de-construct, review, think about how that situation is making me feel, ask myself what “what can I do?” Be clear about “what I cant do or change” and give myself a fucking break!
So despite this week being a mixed bag of miracles and shit, I have still managed to maintain some calm, managed to stay relaxed, managed to keep focused, managed to be productive, I have achieved what I wanted to do, knowing that this weekend away, I will be able to “switch off” and CHILL
So on that note, I’m off, no thinking or worrying for me for the next four days, just time to chill, suck in my environment for the weekend, chill and have a few laughs wi the old man, and see me mates, until I return next week and throw mesen back into the fucking rat race we call life.
Its the annual recovery Bike ride, which means today wont feel like work, because I have the honour of being around, so many other people who themselves are practising#havingawordwitheirsens I love being around people who are learning to find out who they are, who take a risk everyday to be someone different, someone who is practicing not to be self destructive, practising being more constructive, Learning to live instead of give, being opposed to doing.
It is also my youngest daugters Birthday, she’ll be on route now from Scotland to her new home town of Manchester, then celebrating with friends, before trotting off to Ireland at the end of the week. So happy Birthday Lauren, your card and surprise pressie is on route too…
My first thoughts upon waking this morning was… WARNING “get ready cos this is how my brain can operate in a morning….”
White lies and why do we tell them? Ya know the ones where you are telling a story and whilst most of it is true, there are some bits you leave out
Why do people feel the need to exaggerate? or
Elaborate make something seem or appear better or worse than it actually was?
Is telling a white lie a bad thing?
Who are you lying to really? Is it yourself or the other person?
I caught up wi me buddy Kate Mitchell “who is actually a best selling author, erm I might add”. Fuck me who would have thought when I was growing up I would be friends with not just one but two published writers? Ooo Ooo and I know that Lucy Rocca, best selling author of the A-Z of binning the booze, but lets be honest, I have only met her once.Oh and I know Kathryn Littelwood, Author of cultivating “Mad Cow”, but again i have only met her once, and spoken over the phone about DWP the impending Universal credit system coming into place soon. I’m turning into a reet name dropper and flash git ain’t i? Anyway I digress…
Me and Kate were catching up after not speaking, well apart from the occasional messages and facebook post, for over a year.
The mad cow was called me whilst making apple jelly, not none of that package Jelly shit, homemade (apparently she doesn’t like waste) she wa making it from the apples from her garden. She wa busy stirring, multitasking, pouring bleeding vats of the stuff onto jars whilst chatting to me on the phone.
It was nice to have a catch up and share some of my journey so far. I remember a while ago after a couple of blogs I had written her asking me “when are you finding time to write the book?” . I remember telling her a white lie at the time, saying “yeh its coming on great, I’ve taken your advice,I make time to write every morning, I’ve included me in the story,have sorted the structure and rather than pick off from where I left off before, I have started from scratch and my writing and approach to writing certainly felt different, more honest”
Now don’t get me wrong, none of is actually a lie, its all true but not all of it, what I failed to mention was that whilst I am writing every day, “Tapping away practicing me morse code” well, thats what our old man says it sounds like from me room every time he wakes up in the morning, He’ll even tap rapidly on my door walking past saying “morning weirdo” . But what I really failed to share with Kate at that time was that I actually spend more time, first thing in the morning, writing in my personal journal, which currently stands at 31,314 words. This though is my very very private writing, its the place where I off load, all the weird shit that goes on in me head “and trust me you dont wanna be reading any of that!?. But then somehow a blog comes out of it, hence this one this morning
So yes I am writing thats the truth, but what once was a desire to write about my dad and his journey with alcoholism, has actually turned more into a therapy session for me sen #havingawordwimesen. I am still writing the book, but I find it far more easier to put aside a good whole afternoon or day even to be really able to focus on that part of my life, that part that included dad, rather than dedicating time every day.
And whilst we were talking and I was being totally honest about the time I actually spend writing, dedicating time to the book, I realised “thats ok!” I was even more reassured when Kate shared that she can be a reet lazy git, and will often go days with out writing, then spend four days cooped up in her room writing like a woman possessed.
Shared how she loved my blogs, “even though my grammar left a little to be desired!” Laughing to with her, I shared how at one point, my shit grammar was one of the main reasons I never ever seemed to make any progress on writing, I mean I procrastinated for years, worrying about, spelling, grammar, what people would think? Would people read my stuff and say “nah it didn’t happen like that” . But guess what, I think I can safely say that over the past four months, since I set off to Ikea, bought me desk, converted my bedroom into a makeshift office, I basically I am learning NOT to give a SHIT what anyone thinks!
And guess what? Thats been the most liberating part of my journey so far, I can share my thoughts, opinions, hopes, fears, aspirations, stories of people who inspire me – Well not all of it, “I’m telling a white lie AGAIN because you’d be having me sectioned if you read some of that morse code shit that comes out of this keyboard of a morning”. But it is soooooo nice to not give a flying FUCK what anyone thinks! Positive feedback is a bonus, its humbling, its nice,and if no one likes what I write then thats a bonus too, because they can make a choice not to read it, “I ain’t forcing it down anyones throat!”
Four years ago a long time friend who i also class as my soul mate was diagnosed with an inoperable tumour on his Liver.
I will remember the moment that Mick called me, for the rest of my days, Its was St Patricks day, i was in the pop up tent at the top of Fargate, Mick had been to see the consultants that day for an update on his progress, or lack off, Mick had gone along to that appointment hoping to find out “how long he had left”
He had been on my mind all that day, fingers platted waiting for him to call, I had to wait, to stalk him for the outcome would have been more about me, than him! I mean FUCK me his was him who was courting with death, not me!
I honestly wasnt expecting him to call that day, after all deep down i think we were all expecting bad news, so when my phone buzzed and micks name was there, i rushed outside of the tent and braced myself for the news.
At first i couldnt work out what Mick was saying, the guy was fucking inconsolable, crying like i have never heard anyone cry before. It took a few minutes for him to be able to compose himself and break the news, i braced myself for the worst, but he simply said “Its gone?”
I was like “what the fucking hell do you mean its gone?”
Mick “Its gone, the tumour has gone”
I mean it was fucking amazing news, the best outcome ever? but how the fuck does someone get told, “you haven’t got long to live, theres nothing we can do” to “its gone, the tumour has gone”
Trust me i could write angrily for quiet some time about the outrage, anger i felt towards the Dr’s, imagining how the fuck the past few months had impacted not just on Micks life, but his families. But quite frankly thats not worth my energy or time, and also that would be about me. But one thing i learned from that whole experience is that “None of us know what lies in store for us”
That day reminded me that freindships are the most precious things we can have, its not about quantity its the quality of our friendships that matter most.
Just recently, Mick has had to undergo some more test, as i appears that something has returned, no one knows the outcome, but depsite living the past four years facing, living with the reality that … I cannot even say it
This guy, never ceases to amaze me, we/I now make that effort, time to call him, we can go from being serious to fucking taking the piss out of anything and everything in a nano second. I feel more alive around Mick, sharing my own fears, thoughts than i do around anyone else. Inspired by my blog, Mick has started his own and despite sometimes debilitating self doubt, he too is learning to listen to himself, put his needs and wants first, and lets face it, he aint got nothing fucking else to lose has he?
I read Micks latest blog / post yesterday and it made me smile, laugh out loud, so with his permission i would like to introduce to my good friend Mick Holmes, before i go, i just wanted to say again, (cos i know he will be reading this, once he gets his sorry ass outta bed) – I love thee mate, see ya in a couple of weeks xx
When 4yrs ago the Dr’s told me I’d got an inoperable Tumour on my Liver and had only got months to live. After the initial shock had subsided, I kept believing that I would prove them wrong short answer to the outcome is that the Tumour mysteriously disappeared (I’ll explain more on that in another post ) but when I first was told I was “on my way out” so to speak, to keep myself focussed and in a healthy frame of mind I set myself lots of difficult challenges
Yesterday was another inspiring, special day. As soon as I heard that the author and creator of sobersistas was doing a book reading as part of recovery month, I knew I had to be there. I was fortunate to be able to attend both personally but also in a work capacity, as this was part of Recovery Month. Lucy Rocca shared more than just about her experience and relationship with alcohol, she shared about her lack of identity, and the lack of a relationship she had with herself. The penultimatemoment in her life was finally #havingawordwihersen, taking a step back was the time a few years before, being a single parent, she found herself waking up in the hospital covered in her own vomit to be told they had found her out of it, outside her own home.
She shared her story about how she went from being the life and soul of every party to isolating herself, mainly out of shame about what she had become, fear of bumping into neighbours, who may have heard “she was an unfit mother” prompted her to realise that, surely she cannot be the only woman, mother out there, who is struggling with their relationship with themselves, with alcohol, with parenthood, and all the shit life throws at women, Soberistas was like an adult version of mom net.
For the first time in her life, she had started to have a ‘real ‘ relationship with herself. Her journey with soberista’s started with her blog,she found that writing was a great form of therapy and being able to put it out there, off load her thoughts, feelings and emotions was liberating, not just for her, but for other mothers out there, feeling isolated, feeling alone, un heard, with no voice, but they had a voice via Soberista’s
Alot of what she said personally resonated with me, whilst she was talking I was trying to be mindful and present, trying my best to give her my 100% attention that she duly earned. But if i am honest, it was hard, her words, her story, resurrected memories, feelings I once felt myself many years ago.
My penultimate moment was waking up in Middlewood and thinking “what the fuck have you become?” I knew deep down in my soul that this wasn’t who I really was, I was in pain from years of what felt like being suppressed, unheard, a sense of feeling undervalued, overlooked, I was quite simply “broken”. But despite feeling like a shell of a human, there ‘was’ some spirit left, not a lot, but enough for me to start questioning “how the fuck had I arrived in this place?”I didn’t want me as a mom, let alone my kids? I didn’t want to see my kids in care?.
But being in there having the priceless opportunity to off load all these thoughts, feelings and emotions with a complete stranger, my therapist, I was able to start to see things more clearly, clearer than I have ever done in my life.
If I am perfectly honest, that was the first time I had been heard. Something that is wholly underestimated and undervalued in society and its not getting better neither, we live in a consumerist environment, were we are constantly being sold, told whats good for us, without questioning it? Just fucking plodding alongand ignoring the fact that every fucking single one of us “has a voice” and somewhere, somehow we have lost the ability to listen to it, to hear it or to even acknowledge it.
I have never felt better than I have done this past three months, I know that with writing I have finally found a way of listening to myself, whilst I sit here typing away in my bedroom, come office, my personal space and I am learning to re-establish a relationship with myself. I have realised that in fact by doing this over the past 3 months, my relationships with others are improving too, but Instead of constantly giving myself to others I am saving a little back for me.
I have always had a passion for the underdog, the unheard, those who have been rejected by society for “not fitting in”, because I know first hand just what that feels like and its the most loneliest place in the fucking world.
There have been a handful of people on the way since I woke up in Middlewood that morning, who by just giving me the time and space to “think for myself” that has enabled me to become the person I am today and over the past three months, i am coming into contact and realising that i am not alone, with my feelings, there are other people who feel the same way too.
Giving time, listening (which is not as easy as it sounds) to others, is far more precious than any fuckinglatest gadget, car, house, job, fashion, weight, balance in the bank account.
But you gotta start with making time for YOU first, before giving your all to others, thinking that by doing and giving your all to everyone else, in return you will feel valued, loved, wanted, accepted, quite frankly its just a form of denial.
I see people shame and judge other people walking the streets of Sheffield, off their tits on SPICE “the walking dead”, but they need to look in the fucking mirror and #haveaword with their sens, because quite frankly they are no different to those so called “zombies” we all bleed the same, we all have feelings, we all have our own ways of coping with this thing called life, there ain’t no handbook, everyone is unique and everyone deserves to have the opportunity to be listened too, but more importantly to be heard.
Right, now as much as i love sitting here and writing, i do have an actual job to go to, BUT at least i can face work, the world, knowing i have already been heard, listened to by me.
Its been coming on slowly and I know that I have done more in the last three months than the last three years, and it will get finished, I have no doubts about that. But something has been missing, and I think I might now know what it might be.
There has been an invisible barrier that pops up when it comes up when i start telling, writing the story and thats what I have realised today. I have always told myself that the book was about dad and mine and his relationship, but I dont think it is…
I remember vividly speaking to a woman, best selling author Kate Mitchell, The House Fell on Her Head who also happened to be my line manager in a past life, about my idea for the book. It was last year, and whilst I never acted on her advice then, I am now. Kate said to me,
“so what is your project about?”
I was thinking, ‘yeh i like the sound of that, approaching writing this book sounds less daunting when you call it a project’ her next question was about the project,
“So the book is about your dad right?”
“But Tracey how can you write about your dads story of addiction, without telling your own too, what about your own addiction? what about what you have overcome and achieved”.
I remember thinking back then, ‘wooooah, eeeeeerr no, slow down – yes there will some bits of me in the story, but its not about me though, its about dad. After all one of my main drivers, motivations for writing the book was to be able to share my experiances of being affected by alcoholism from the person, who wasnt drowning themselves, slowly killing themselves with alcohol, but from the person, who stood by feeling helpless, hopefully to help others and reassure them that all the guilt and anger is normal and part of the journey.
Writing about me sen just seemed self indulgent and fucking risky
Kate gave some great advice that day, she pointed me into the direction of some writing courses, writing clubs (which still to this day are not for me) she sent some books to help inspire and guide me through the post, which i read, contemplated with, but then the desire died a little again.
But now i realise it wasnt the desire that had gone, I was just overwhelmed with fear. I went away thinking “I need to rethink this” so i did. Another year of procrastination went by and here i am AGAIN. A little more confident, a little more ready to bare a little more about who i really am, who i was back then. I mean i hadn’t set out to set up me own website or blogging, but here i am, and i have to say i am getting more and more confident about writing, the more i write.
Kate was right, if I am going to tell this story, i have to share a little about who I am, what shaped me as a person growing up, observations about what was happening around me, how this shaped my beliefs and values at the time.
So this writing malarky, my project, my book, is about me and dad, but it is about the lessons i have learned over the years, its about the lessons i am still learning, and will still probably be doing right up until me death bed.
My life, like a snakes, it feels like i am constantly shedding my skin, many, many times over, each time learning something new about myself, who I see myself as, the lessons learned, lessons still being learned, every day.
So i have come to the conclusion, that this project, book ! will (hopefully be easier to write) because essentially its just as much about my journey as it is dads.
But i have learned some things that i believe to be true over the years and it is this…
As individuals we have learned, if we can help it, to avoid painful situations at all cost ! Even at the cost of our own self esteem.
Some of us stopped questioning things – i see it all the time
We have become programed to seek solutions outside ourselves
Its easier to seek advice from others, rather than listen to ourselves.
We have learned to trust the advice from others rather than trust ourselves.
You cannot buy self esteem on the internet or in shops
You cannot rely on others to support or maintain your own self esteem!
You can though – Start learning to accept who you are, you are more than your looks, that loved ones love you regardless of how you look
You can ignore all them marketing messages and stop seeking approval from society to determine what’s socially perfect and what’s not !
You can start this today and its not hard, in fact its alot by simply making a little time for you, a little quiet space, space to think, to #Haveawordwetheesen Just step back for a while, from this thing we call life and make some time for you, start listening to YOU
And on that note, i’m off, its 07.53 Pat the Twat will start stirring soon, the morning routine of taking the piss out of me tapping away in me room at stupid o’clock on a saturday will comence, buti wouldn’t have it any other way. Its my eldest daughters birthday, fucking 31! where did the time go. I am on babysitting duties later, to give her a break from motherhood and give her some time to be free, only for a night though, but more importantly i get to spend some quality Nanny T time wi our Jude.
I hope you have a brilliant time what ever you have planned this week end, Love Fordy xxxxx