Tag: Beginning again

Upside Down Day

Tonight I am working my first night shift in 11 months. It was a real wrench to leave home, Wonderwoman was crying and didn’t want to sleep and I couldn’t get away. Nor did I want to. But Mrs Fog our childminder stepped in, and within seconds my little insomniac was snuggled into her bosom and completely serene. A lovely picture with which to throw myself together and leave the house.

I felt really low as I drove. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but the 9 months I have been away from it have given me the chance to consider other things in life.

I started work at 16 and swapped my awkward gangly lack of confidence and insecurity for the identity of ‘Railwayman’, which I maintained all the way until last April when I first took sick leave with Anxiety and Depression. I returned for 3 days in July, and then left for a family holiday abroad, where I promptly fell ill with a ruptured bowel and almost died. Well that gave me even more time to think.

It has felt along the way that my life has been building up towards a series of pivot points that have happened in quick succession this year.

I am no longer principally a Railwayman. I am me, a Husband and Father, with a dog who is my best friend, and my dream is to teach myself to make great cakes and coffee and for these last two (now three!) lines to be my cornerstone.

God it’s so scary. I lasted until I was 49 hiding that awkwardness, that lack of confidence, behind a uniform, behind function, behind my geeky obsession with railways. And now, with thanks to that comfortable and warm cloak that protected me all those years, I have cast it off and walk forward into myself, into an entirely new life. It’s fantastic, I feel lucky, and the journey is sometimes incredibly exhilarating. But sometimes, when I want to carry on my journey, I have to dip back into the past and I don’t want to do that any more. But the future needs to be paid for, so hey ho, 10 night shifts it is!

I put the radio on in the car, and this came on, as if to spur me on. I felt a lot better as I listened to it and wanted to share it with you, as we all plod along, or slide down the helter skelter, into our lives and dreams.

Shock

This morning, I have been considering the subject of Shock and the effect it has on our lives, from the very beginning. It comes in many shapes and sizes, some we bring upon ourselves, others visited upon us by others. Either way, by and large, it hurts.

Maybe Shock and Surprise are cousins. Surprise is the kinder cousin, you get to meet it first on a childhood birthday for example, when you open the most brilliant present ever and realise that the person who gave it to you had thought about you and by association, must love you a lot. Or at least thinks a great deal of you.

Shock is the darker, moodier, unpredictable cousin who you know, but does stuff you don’t expect and sometimes can be very hurtful, pretending to be surprise, but when you least expect it, slapping you in the face just after you’ve opened up that most brilliant present ever.

I guess all our lives start with Shock. A baby born into fresh air from it’s Mother’s womb cries. From that lovely liquid all enveloping warmth, the reality of fresh air shocks it to life. Crying at that point is seen as a good thing, as it’s the first indication that the baby has been born alive. And consider the environment the baby has been born into. A harsh cold hospital with lots of blue curtains and people in masks, or outside in the world, anywhere. Childbirth is traumatic on the mother, but actually equally traumatic on the child. (Yes, I know. I’m a bloke. What do I know?!)

During childhood, Parents use Shock to train their children. It could be ‘don’t run into the road or you will get run over and die’. It could be shouted: ‘I TOLD YOU NOT TO RUN INTO THE ROAD, YOU ALMOST GOT RUN OVER’. Or it could be a slap, or a thrashing, or a hiding, or whatever your Parents threatened or indeed visited upon you. Now in one way, and delivered properly, Shock is an effective tool. (It also gives rise to questions that you then have to dig deep to answer – “Daaaaaaad. What does ‘die’ mean”?! Good luck with that one!) But all too often, the Shock is delivered by it’s wicked Uncle Horror, with Shock looking particularly smarmy as it arrives. Horror and Shock are born out of lack of patience at best, or nastiness and evil at worst.

During adulthood, Shock’s method of delivery changes a bit, sometimes still accompanied by Uncle Horror, and is built upon the foundation dug in no small part by your Parents. The thing that makes you feel stupid, though, is that the choices you have made lead you to Shock. The job you choose, the person you choose to go out with. So when that Shock really gives you a kicking, it feels even worse because you also feel like a mug for bringing it upon yourself, walking into it with your eyes open.

When you make a decision, you make it based on the information you have at the time, and in no small part on what you want in the future…. lots of money, a good relationship, kids…. ad infinitum. When it all falls down, you are left in the initial cloud of dust, rubble all around you, gazing at the desolation of your 9/11, your 7/7. Shock.

I won’t flower this up. Give yourself a break, for goodness sake. You did what you thought was right at the time. Shock is the realisation of those times you got warning signs that things weren’t quite right, that you were heading down a wrong path. The worst thing is not that you misjudged, or made the mistake. It’s not learning from it. And seek comfort – not in the bosom of the same mistake again, but carefully consider what happened, seek help and gather good people around you that will help you move on. They are there. It’s not easy, but take one day, one hour, even one minute at a time.

Here’s a song about a moment of Shock. If you’re going to listen to it, stop. Find a nice quiet comfortable place and let Richard wash over you. Let it hug you and comfort you and start you moving on.