Tag: Life

The job is never done

We all seem to think that when we’ve done something, it’s done. It could be a simple short term thing like making a coffee, a medium term thing like paying a 6 monthly bill, or a long term thing like falling in love or teaching your children to cross the road.

But think about it. Nothing’s ever really ‘done’ is it?

You drink that lovely coffee and it meets it’s need for a while – takes away your thirst, gives you that caffeine shot, sharpens you up. And sooner or later, you feel thirsty again, feel fatigued and you…. well what do you do? Have another coffee? Trouble with that is that coffee doesn’t really slake your thirst as by it’s nature it makes you more thirsty, quicker. And the comedown from the caffeine high usually makes you feel lower than the initial fatigue that you tried to stave off. Maybe it’s time to try a different approach. Drink water to rehydrate your body (I also find it fills me up more and I eat less rubbish!) and get a bit of fresh air to sharpen you up. (Don’t have a smoke whilst you’re getting that fresh air….!)

Bills…. a nemesis to us all. Even as you pay, you know that sooner or later you’ll have to pay again. There’s a job that’s never done. Like an endless landscape of hungry hippos opening and shutting their mouths, gobbling up your hard earned cash with the odd unwelcome surprise expense like a new tyre for the car or yet another pair of shoes as your Batman or Wonderwoman grows at a seemingly inordinate and ever increasing rate.

Which then brings me onto long term things. I don’t know about you, but I have often made the mistake of thinking that once I’ve done or said something, it’s done and I can move on. Something simple like explaining to Batman that, once he’s finished his ice lolly after dinner, to take his plate to the kitchen and put it in the sink. There are two pitfalls here. Firstly, there are a million other more interesting things to be thinking about. Like going back to his Lego, watching Scooby Doo or poking his lolly stick up Baskerville’s bum. Secondly, he didn’t listen in the first place, no matter how carefully I calmly explained what to do and asked him if he understood, and saw him nod, so there’s no chance of him remembering tomorrow. I put adult logic to it – I can follow and remember simple instructions. Why doesn’t he? Of course I am forgetting that I was once his age and almost certainly did the same thing, and the times when I don’t hear Jenny’s voice through the white noise and don’t follow and remember her simple instructions. You should always remember that you are by no means anywhere near perfection yourself! (He said to himself.) So tomorrow, I will say it all again.

That, of course is long term Parenting, and has more of a bearing on Batman’s future than my own. But consider yourself, your relationship, how you look after yourself, and how you live your life in general.

We all have important aspects of the above and more that we should order and prioritise as we live. Try and keep focused and look at your priorities every day. It’s so very hard at times to keep those balls in the air. But take some time each day to treat yourself and those around you like plants. See if any water or feed is needed. Sometimes a bit of pruning, cutting and shaping will be required. It will hurt, perhaps, but it encourages new growth and more flowers to light up and fragrance your life.

When we hurt, we think it will stop hurting one day, that one day we’ll wake up and feel different. You hear of people who have suffered huge loss that wake up one morning and start their lives again. Ding. And off we go. But what went before never really leaves you. It’s always there and you mustn’t lose sight of it’s presence. Deal with it and face it – accept that it’s there and probably always will be.

A little bit every day will mean that a build up and backlog of ‘things’ and feelings is less likely. It all sounds like hard work, but if you kid yourself that doing one small thing will last forever, you will wake one day and feel snowed under – or continue to do so. That feeling will only grow and bring you down.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Be real and truthful to yourself. As you do things to help life tick over, so over time, they do become easier. But keep your eyes open on the big picture. The job is never done.


Cautionary Signals

Here’s a little analogy in life for you to think about.

On particularly busy high speed, high capacity railway lines, multi aspect signalling is used. Different aspects and colours give train drivers advanced information about how close the train in front is, and where to stop – a safe distance behind the rear of the train in front.

There is a descending order of safety depending upon the aspect you see. Green tells you that two or more signals are clear ahead. Double yellow tells you that the second signal you will see is red. A single yellow tells you that the next signal is red. And red…. means stop.

So you can tear along quite happily at 125mph when you’re running on greens. Sometimes you can see two or three signals ahead too, on a straight section in clear weather. You soon reach and pass the signals at that speed, I can tell you. When you see a Double yellow, you should always assume that it’s double yellow because there’s a red in two signal’s time. But it’s not quite as simple as that. It could be that you’ve caught up a slower train, or you’re reaching a town or city where trains tend to bunch up and slow down as they are routed through various junctions. Knowing the area and route you are travelling will give you some idea of what to expect, whether it’s a dead stop or just reducing your speed. Either way, you have to start slowing down and pay close attention to what’s in front of you for further information.

I like to apply these principles to the way I live. It’s exhilarating to be tearing along at breakneck speed through this life we live, but it’s important to read and pay attention to the signals. When you see life’s double yellows, be cautious. It might be that you have to slow down a bit, just for a while, before returning to full speed. It might be that you have to slow down to negotiate a junction. Or it might be a full stop and phone the Signaller for further instructions!

All too often, we are too busy rooting in our bag for something, not paying attention, or even like to be a cavalier ‘laugh in the face of danger’ driver and try to drive our trains at full speed on double yellows. Some signals are not evenly spaced and before you know it, you’re emergency braking and sailing past a red, far too fast, hoping that the rear of another train will not come looming up from round the blind corner you’re approaching.

You don’t have to crawl through life nervously waiting for caution, or to stop, but pay attention to the signals. They are there to help you and keep you safe.

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.

What do you feed roses with?

I have mostly maintained a positive attitude about my life and worked through the hard times. This is almost singularly down to the mighty love and nurturing of my Grandparents. My Nan and Grandad have been, and always will be, a huge force of goodness and love for me. My Grandad never lost touch with himself or humanity in general, having fought through the Second World War with the Royal Artillery, alongside the 8th Army in North Africa and up through Naples and into Germany towards the end of the war. When my Dad and I went round to their flat to tell them that my Sister was in a coma, seriously brain damaged and unlikely to survive, my Grandad cried. A (still) big, strong 81 year old man having come through all those horrors, and through past society in general, not keeping a stiff upper lip and letting his feelings happen. He was years ahead of his time. My Nan…. my Nan never failed to see the bright side of things, and if there didn’t seem to be one, she would simply keep going, finding little things to smile and laugh about to keep everyone cheery. She never gave up, she always had hope, and whilst I’ve struggled with life a fair bit, their love, influence and example have guided me through much.

When I was going out with the woman that was to become wife number one (I only capitalise the word ‘wife’ for Jenny, my present and last Wife!) we got matching tattoos with each other’s names in. (Schoolboy mistake. Never get a name tattoo.) And there it stayed, for years, quietly festering, malevolently, on my shoulder. Wife number two said right from the very start that she wasn’t bothered and didn’t care and I couldn’t afford to get it lasered off, so there it stayed. I don’t know why, but at that point, it didn’t cross my mind to cover it up with another tattoo. Then marriage number two broke up and one day I found myself driving down a huge hill into Plymouth, where I have family. I suddenly knew it was ‘the time’ and decided there and then to get that tattoo covered up – after all, if I couldn’t find a decent artist in a city full of matlows (sailors), where the hell else would I find one?!

I found a great, award winning artist who freehanded in biro what I asked for: a beautiful rose with lots of swirly stems with buds on. I wanted to signify something beautiful, growing out of something that had caused me immense pain, after holding the promise of love, hope, and a long and happy life.

It was an afterthought really – but it struck me afterwards that you pile shit on soil to grow beautiful roses. That rose now always reminds me of a period of great relief, a new start in life, where I started to grow again – and in some ways for the very first time. And that’s really the point of today’s words – it’s brown, it’s smelly, it’s horrible, both in reality and figuratively, but it’s full of nutrients that would otherwise go to waste. Clever Mother Nature, naturally recycling her, and our, waste. And out come nice things.

Sometimes, we don’t see the shit coming down the hill, it just hits us. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we see it coming and have half a chance of directing it to the place where it will be able to fertilise what we are trying to grow. Either way – take the shit you are given, hold your breath, put it where you want it, and start to grow your roses.

See, my Grandparents are still there. Horticulture from my Grandad, and Hope from my Nan. Quite possibly the best gifts I could ever share with you.

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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.

 

You Can’t Win Them All

Here is one of those life moments where there are no rules, no right or wrong answer. For me, it sums up the contradictions of being an Other Half, doing your best, and talking and listening properly. And, I suppose, just thinking in the heat of the moment.

Last night I had to pop up the supermarket for some razors. Jenny asked me to get Oreo Ice Cream for the superhero sproglets. Now you wouldn’t have thought that I could get something so specific, wrong. But it turns out that I did.

I went to the freezers, and there it was, shining like a beacon in the darkness. A tub of Oreo Ice Cream, ready to be descended upon and devoured by a slavering, raging pack of hungry Alligator-esque 5 year old twins. So in the basket it went, and I set off for home, revelling in my Hunter Gatherer success. I had sprouted very long hair and would return to my cave, where I would invent the wheel. Or knowing myself, reinvent it.

This morning, it transpires that opposite the freezers that contain the Oreo Ice Cream, amongst the children’s Ice Lollies, are Oreo biscuits filled with Ice Cream, which are different. And are the ones I should have bought. So even though I did exactly as I was asked, and got exactly what I was asked for, I was wrong.

Now we are a great couple, who are nice to each other, respectful, and look out for each other. Neither of us mind being wrong. It’s a drop in the ocean, non problem in life, but it is intensely annoying when you do your best with something so simple and are still wrong.

That’s life though, isn’t it? Go back to the start, do not collect £200. It’s a good lesson in observing how life is, obviously it’s bound to happen again as I am unlikely to ask for confirmation about something seemingly so finite and exact. So don’t sweat the small stuff. Inwardly roll your eyes, shrug and move on. You can’t win them all.

But then again, maybe I have. Because, if the kids don’t eat that lovely yummy ice cream, guess who will?!

Just The Beginning

Well here we go. I have myriad things to say, share and postulate upon. Perhaps you’d like to join me. I am a 49 year old Dad of three, Zak 20 and twins Batman and Wonderwoman, 5. I am 2 1/2 times married: Jenny and I have done the Nikka in a Mosque and will do the Civil ceremony…. sometime soon. (She doesn’t know I have started this blog, so I won’t get in trouble for being vague.) We are not Religious, even though I just typed the word ‘Mosque’. I’ll type it again just to be edgy. Mosque. There you go.

I was diagnosed with Anxiety and Depression last year and am currently on Sertraline to even out my peaks and troughs, which generally works. I have been having counselling since last June, which has been really hard at times, but even though I feel (and probably smell) like I have been wading through shit and treacle for 9 months, it’s bloody brilliant and the journey is incredibly liberating.

All this (and more) has led me to a multi exit crossroads in life. There seem to be more than three exits, which would make the word ‘crossroads’ wrong. It’s more of a Cathedral full of doors, none of which are the right or wrong door to walk through.

So as this blog unfolds, and I open various doors and have a peak, you can come with me. I hope you will laugh, and if you need it, that it helps you along your journey too.