Waking up can be difficult at times.
Today the sunlight of truth prised open my eyes, waking me from my sleep of ignorance as I discovered that in 2008, 5706 UK citizens took their own life.
Initially I took a moment to contemplate why someone would wish to pay the ultimate price to pass through a toll gate into a brick wall; this curiosity was, however, short lived and rapidly replaced with gratitude that my own outlook on life automatically steers me down a different road, albeit on a congested motorway flooded with car wrecks...of the non-proverbial variety.
In keeping with my own flawless ability to ruin a perfectly good day for myself, I, somehow, managed to drive my car into the back of the car ahead. In truth the driver in front of me had just been stopped in his tracks by another driver who adopted a bull-like characteristic and accelerated at the sight of a red traffic signal.
Realising what he had done, and clearly in no mood to face the consequences of his actions, the coward who caused the accident drove away before anybody else’s senses had returned.
Maybe old uncle Karma will fancy paying him a visit soon? It would be nice to get him out of my hair for a few days at the very least!
Needless to say my entire weekend was ruined, as was my mood. Owing to the accident my seat was vacant at the West Brom game (I hate missing the football) and I had sustained two injuries; a lower back pain and a severe fracture to my pride. Both will heal much quicker than the imminent £500 hole in my bank balance caused by the pending shovel of insurance excess!
I saw Sunday as an opportunity to take a few steps towards repairing my outlook of the weekend. So I went to play football. I hadn’t played in any given capacity for around three years but it always used to cheer me up so I figured it couldn’t do any harm to give it a go.
As it so happens I was awful. Kicking a piece of inflated leather is a lot harder than I recall. Regardless of the obvious lack of skill, I was actually having such a good time! The process of running myself into the ground, physically speaking, really had the desired effect and before long the memory of my accident was pushed right to the back of my mind.
That is...until I hurt myself.
Somehow I swung my leg to kick the football and kicked my friend instead. Don’t worry, he was fine, although my ankle did swell to the size of a small apple. A really small one, like a crab apple.
Again, I reverted back to feeling sorry for myself. This couldn’t be old uncle Karma, what does he have against my ankle?
So in hindsight last weekend was one I would rather forget (which does bring an air of contradiction to the whole point of looking back in hindsight). If I could return to last Saturday and catch the train instead, I would, but I can’t and that low is one I’ll have to deal with.
One thing I have learnt over my brief 22 year stint on this planet is that the low moments are well worth dealing with because the highs, however few and far between they may be, are too amazing to not capture!
Sometimes you may just need to seek the highs while the lows land in your lap. But could I ever take my own life and starve myself of the next high?
OK, so last weekend highlighted that this can be a cruel existence that we live and has caused me to take a new stance; this world can throw whatever it likes at me.
It can put me through as many car wrecks as it can muster because if I was ever presented with the choice of this life or no life at all, I wouldn’t even need a second to consider.
Hello cruel world...
Saturday, 27 March 2010
Monday, 15 March 2010
The art of giving up...
May 7th 1945, German troops finally laid down their arms after six years of bloody, hell bent warfare.
I would wish anyone, trying to pinpoint a more significant example of surrender, good luck.
Although I join the mass ranks of individuals who are eternally grateful for what was sacrificed during the Second World War to maintain our great nation’s liberty, my focus today is set solely on a much less significant mark in the history books.
In my opinion, the foundation for a real friendship is the ideology that you never give up, regardless of material circumstance. Of course, the beautiful thing about friendship is that there never has, and never will be, any written laws but given the chance there are certain shores that you naturally would never intentionally swim to...
So many waves to ride, such a small surfboard.
Recently I found myself laid flat, face down in the shallow, salty waters of regret as I failed to attend the celebration that had been planned for an old friend’s birthday. Granted, this was due to my own lack of sobriety at another friend’s gathering, which led to me spending my night with them instead. The next morning I promptly apologised for my no-show and offered to buy my old friend dinner. Never being the type to buy anyone dinner, I had made this offer simply for one purpose; to see my friend.
My offer was ignored and before long I realised that under the shallow waters, where I currently resided, lurked an ominous pit of quicksand. No, Craig, you’re not going anywhere just yet.
The entirety of the conversation I had with my ‘old friend’ is unimportant. What I will highlight was her apparent need to hurt my feelings. Perhaps she took pleasure in mocking personal battles that I have had to deal with over several years, or maybe her response was simply a product of the ‘tit for tat’ culture that seems to have engulfed at least part of her personality.
Either way I was greeted with a torrent of abuse, underlined by several strongly negative interjections.
Finally, with her white flag of surrender waving frantically, it was suggested that we would never be friends. The quick sand dissolved and there has been no contact since.
Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions.
When it comes to words I am anything but tone deaf, so when I stumbled across the above definition of ‘Art’ a chord was struck that has since been playing its way around my thoughts.
You see, I can’t help but feel that an unfair, perhaps even distorted, picture has been painted here. In fact, if this was the work of Van Gough I believe his other ear would be subject to the bread knife any time now.
Has the person in question convinced themselves that I am just a bad person? Have they conveniently pieced a jigsaw together made of entirely misconstrued circumstance?
I am sincere enough to place on record how sorry I am for my mistakes, all of them, which have affected anyone.
You will be spared the speech of my sudden realisation as to who my real friends are. I’ve always known exactly who they are.
As far as my friendship with my ‘old friend’ goes; Gingerly, my door will always be ajar.
I guess I just haven’t mastered the art of giving up...
I would wish anyone, trying to pinpoint a more significant example of surrender, good luck.
Although I join the mass ranks of individuals who are eternally grateful for what was sacrificed during the Second World War to maintain our great nation’s liberty, my focus today is set solely on a much less significant mark in the history books.
In my opinion, the foundation for a real friendship is the ideology that you never give up, regardless of material circumstance. Of course, the beautiful thing about friendship is that there never has, and never will be, any written laws but given the chance there are certain shores that you naturally would never intentionally swim to...
So many waves to ride, such a small surfboard.
Recently I found myself laid flat, face down in the shallow, salty waters of regret as I failed to attend the celebration that had been planned for an old friend’s birthday. Granted, this was due to my own lack of sobriety at another friend’s gathering, which led to me spending my night with them instead. The next morning I promptly apologised for my no-show and offered to buy my old friend dinner. Never being the type to buy anyone dinner, I had made this offer simply for one purpose; to see my friend.
My offer was ignored and before long I realised that under the shallow waters, where I currently resided, lurked an ominous pit of quicksand. No, Craig, you’re not going anywhere just yet.
The entirety of the conversation I had with my ‘old friend’ is unimportant. What I will highlight was her apparent need to hurt my feelings. Perhaps she took pleasure in mocking personal battles that I have had to deal with over several years, or maybe her response was simply a product of the ‘tit for tat’ culture that seems to have engulfed at least part of her personality.
Either way I was greeted with a torrent of abuse, underlined by several strongly negative interjections.
Finally, with her white flag of surrender waving frantically, it was suggested that we would never be friends. The quick sand dissolved and there has been no contact since.
Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions.
When it comes to words I am anything but tone deaf, so when I stumbled across the above definition of ‘Art’ a chord was struck that has since been playing its way around my thoughts.
You see, I can’t help but feel that an unfair, perhaps even distorted, picture has been painted here. In fact, if this was the work of Van Gough I believe his other ear would be subject to the bread knife any time now.
Has the person in question convinced themselves that I am just a bad person? Have they conveniently pieced a jigsaw together made of entirely misconstrued circumstance?
I am sincere enough to place on record how sorry I am for my mistakes, all of them, which have affected anyone.
You will be spared the speech of my sudden realisation as to who my real friends are. I’ve always known exactly who they are.
As far as my friendship with my ‘old friend’ goes; Gingerly, my door will always be ajar.
I guess I just haven’t mastered the art of giving up...
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Sticks and Stones...
"I don't ever wanna talk to you again.
You're a pathetic little boy that needs
to grow a pair of balls! Laters loser!"
You're a pathetic little boy that needs
to grow a pair of balls! Laters loser!"
Someone elses shoes...
We've all done it, analysed a situation and wondered what it would be like if it were you experiencing that fete. These last few days I have done exactly that.
Quite honestly, I have absolutely no idea what I would do if i were to discover that my 18 year old son was about to be a dad. I, equally, have no inclination as to what I would have done should I have found out that his girlfriend was 7 months into the pregnancy and would be gifting life into my family within 2 months!
I don't know what I would do.
Those shoes didn't fit me too well, I'll try this pair;
Where would I turn if my girlfriend told me she was pregnant...with twins? What do I do next? Do I have what it takes to be a dad? Am I old enough? Can I afford this huge change in my life? Do I have the willpower to stay loyal to my new family? What will my parents say?
I don't know what I would do...
One thing is for sure, all of the parties involved in the above scenario need to wear in their new attire within the next 60 days.
Its so very easy to judge in this situation, I mean, how stupid and irresponsible could you possibly be, right? Your income is almost non existent and you refuse to even acknowledge that you have a girlfriend. The flag is certainly being flown for stupidity.
That, however, is the point where I have to slam the breaks on. There's no car crash yet, although the airbags have deployed and the warning light has been flashing for the last 7 months. So I'll take a step back. You could be a brilliant father! I sincerely wish you a lifetime of luck, after all, this is a lifetime adventure you're about to set out on.
Moving on..
Let me tell you about a very special day! 17th February 2010. Its special, first and foremost, as it is the celebration date of the birth of RG - who just so happens to be one of my closest friends (I need to come back to this in a later blog, though.)
less important to the world, but equally as important to myself, this day is special for another reason...
Gingerly, I attended RG's birthday gathering at a small pub in Stourbridge. Its only owing to my huge respect for RG that I attended knowing full well that it was a potential anxiety banana skin.
Ladies and gentlemen put your bananas away! Once I had managed to jump the hurdle that was worrying me most, which was the first corner hurdle of entering the room to that moment when everyone looks at you to see who you are, I was fine. Scratch that, I was so much better than fine. I had such a good time!
For several glorious hours I'm almost certain that I returned to my usual self...my old usual self! Of course, I can be forgiven for not being certain, after all, it has been such a long time since I was that person that I struggle to recall what he was like. It felt like him, though.
As a rule I avoid naming people in my blogs. Everyone is equal as far as I'm concerned. But today I have this overwhelming urge to express my gratitude to the following people who rescued me for a night, probably without realising it.
Ruth Grove
Hannah Pollard
Zoe Holness
Craig Jukes
Andrew Moore
Hannah Grove
Lucie Tromans
Most of you won't even read this. But I love you all. Thank you so much!
Because of you..
Go ahead, present me with every shoe you can find!
I'd still choose to walk away wearing my own <3
Quite honestly, I have absolutely no idea what I would do if i were to discover that my 18 year old son was about to be a dad. I, equally, have no inclination as to what I would have done should I have found out that his girlfriend was 7 months into the pregnancy and would be gifting life into my family within 2 months!
I don't know what I would do.
Those shoes didn't fit me too well, I'll try this pair;
Where would I turn if my girlfriend told me she was pregnant...with twins? What do I do next? Do I have what it takes to be a dad? Am I old enough? Can I afford this huge change in my life? Do I have the willpower to stay loyal to my new family? What will my parents say?
I don't know what I would do...
One thing is for sure, all of the parties involved in the above scenario need to wear in their new attire within the next 60 days.
Its so very easy to judge in this situation, I mean, how stupid and irresponsible could you possibly be, right? Your income is almost non existent and you refuse to even acknowledge that you have a girlfriend. The flag is certainly being flown for stupidity.
That, however, is the point where I have to slam the breaks on. There's no car crash yet, although the airbags have deployed and the warning light has been flashing for the last 7 months. So I'll take a step back. You could be a brilliant father! I sincerely wish you a lifetime of luck, after all, this is a lifetime adventure you're about to set out on.
Moving on..
Let me tell you about a very special day! 17th February 2010. Its special, first and foremost, as it is the celebration date of the birth of RG - who just so happens to be one of my closest friends (I need to come back to this in a later blog, though.)
less important to the world, but equally as important to myself, this day is special for another reason...
Gingerly, I attended RG's birthday gathering at a small pub in Stourbridge. Its only owing to my huge respect for RG that I attended knowing full well that it was a potential anxiety banana skin.
Ladies and gentlemen put your bananas away! Once I had managed to jump the hurdle that was worrying me most, which was the first corner hurdle of entering the room to that moment when everyone looks at you to see who you are, I was fine. Scratch that, I was so much better than fine. I had such a good time!
For several glorious hours I'm almost certain that I returned to my usual self...my old usual self! Of course, I can be forgiven for not being certain, after all, it has been such a long time since I was that person that I struggle to recall what he was like. It felt like him, though.
As a rule I avoid naming people in my blogs. Everyone is equal as far as I'm concerned. But today I have this overwhelming urge to express my gratitude to the following people who rescued me for a night, probably without realising it.
Ruth Grove
Hannah Pollard
Zoe Holness
Craig Jukes
Andrew Moore
Hannah Grove
Lucie Tromans
Most of you won't even read this. But I love you all. Thank you so much!
Because of you..
Go ahead, present me with every shoe you can find!
I'd still choose to walk away wearing my own <3
Monday, 8 February 2010
Spotlights...
Note to self: Self loathing is not healthy.
And that ends now!
Lately I've been sitting in shadows; the shadows of others and of my apparent 'former self', the person numerous people asked me to pacify in the past and yet would now rather have back. People tell me they miss me. I miss me too.
Ultimately, my aim is to walk out of these shadows, permanently. Until then I have my spotlights. Random moments of light that temporarily drown out the shadows and allow me to enjoy myself and be comfortable. I control these spotlights.
Unfortunately I am of the belief that there isn't a soul on earth who quite understands this. Time and time again people reach for MY spotlight and point it directly at me. I beg of you, please do not force me out of the shadows when it is not my time to shine.
Do you think you are doing me a favour? I assure you that you are not. I count myself lucky that I have discovered these random moments of light and I cease on every single one when and if I can.
When you shine the spotlight on me,
I'm just a rabbit in your headlights.
And that ends now!
Lately I've been sitting in shadows; the shadows of others and of my apparent 'former self', the person numerous people asked me to pacify in the past and yet would now rather have back. People tell me they miss me. I miss me too.
Ultimately, my aim is to walk out of these shadows, permanently. Until then I have my spotlights. Random moments of light that temporarily drown out the shadows and allow me to enjoy myself and be comfortable. I control these spotlights.
Unfortunately I am of the belief that there isn't a soul on earth who quite understands this. Time and time again people reach for MY spotlight and point it directly at me. I beg of you, please do not force me out of the shadows when it is not my time to shine.
Do you think you are doing me a favour? I assure you that you are not. I count myself lucky that I have discovered these random moments of light and I cease on every single one when and if I can.
When you shine the spotlight on me,
I'm just a rabbit in your headlights.
Thursday, 4 February 2010
A little poorer, a little richer...
Here ends the five days of procrastination as I finally make a blog entry. I've missed my little space! Sometimes, though, starring at a blank entry, waiting for the words to come flooding out on their own, doesn't bare fruit.
Right now you could say that I'm on cloud eight, unfortunately cloud nine is currently occupied by JP, who is due to have her baby in the near future. Due to this I was more than happy to set up camp next door.
To my delight this week has been rather productive on my part. I've managed to see FOUR of my very good friends after work on various days, I've also managed to get through a fair amount of work in the office. Of course nobody will notice the latter.
On Tuesday I went for a quiet drink with RG and ZH, with CJ turning up later on in the night. Honestly, I can't recall much of the night owing to my eyes being closed for a good portion of it. I was exhausted! Despite nodding off I was, once more, wearing that huge grin; I didn't say much that night, I literally sat and observed my wonderful friends. The relief of feeling so at ease with them almost led me to tears, its been over a year since I'd been just completely comfortable with my surroundings!
And so far the scarf remains redundant!!!
What is this? There appears to be some sort of white, cold, powdery substance falling from the sky!
Yes Mr Local Authority, its called snow. It has graced us with its presence every single year since time began, which is more than I can say for your gritting service. You have no excuses for being ill equipped that will wash with me!
This year I have been less than impressed with the snowfall, I was even less impressed with the way the local authorities managed to 'cope' with the demand placed on them. Forgive me for introducing the innocence of the weather, however, it appears to be haunting me.
On several occasions I very nearly didn't make it into work. On one occasion I physically couldn't get there, not for the want of trying! For this I can forgive old Mother Nature. But don't your lips just curl when mothers take it a step too far?
One lovely snowy day (please interpret the italic as sarcasm) I attempted to make it home after my ever so exciting shift had finished. After struggling through streams of traffic I finally made it to my estate. I was inches away from home, I could smell the tomato soup, when an ominous crunching sounded from the underside of my car. It seems old Uncle Karma and old Mother Nature were having a bit of a jest at my expense.
To add my weather related blues, yesterday I was informed, via a piece of paper that was left on my desk, that the day I couldn't make it to work would be deducted from my wages. This isn't company policy and I know of no other cases of people having their salary penalised in this way. Honestly, I find this rather disconcerting, but not surprising. Regardless, I shall keep my head down and get on with my work.
Wednesday, the day my employer turned into a masked burglar, EK bought to my attention that she wasn't having the greatest of time and needed cheering up. Enter Haggis! After work I bought her a...frappocino? Basically I bought her a cup of cold coffee with a straw. We had, what could quite possibly be, the best chat we've ever had! By the end of the night I couldn't help but feel that my mission had been accomplished, EK seemed much happier. A good deed that had, in fact, been returned in kind. My spirits were high!
Further to this, I have even more plans to see both EK and HH this Saturday. Honestly, the wait is killing me as I have to look in the mirror every day and I'm petrified that my skin will get worse before then. I can feel my confidence getting a little stronger day by day, but Cousin Common Sense has kept my feet on the ground, he reminds me that this could all be too good to be true. I know he could possibly be right, I mean, I honestly don't feel as though I deserve the levels of happiness that I have encountered recently. I can't help but take comfort from the fact that, every now and again, his advice is only theorised. Maybe he's wrong...
Oh how I hope he is wrong.
So, two hits to the bank balance later, admittedly I am a little poorer.
Following two trips to see some of my closest and dearest friends, and plans afoot to do so again...Who cares about money?
I'm all the richer! :)
Right now you could say that I'm on cloud eight, unfortunately cloud nine is currently occupied by JP, who is due to have her baby in the near future. Due to this I was more than happy to set up camp next door.
To my delight this week has been rather productive on my part. I've managed to see FOUR of my very good friends after work on various days, I've also managed to get through a fair amount of work in the office. Of course nobody will notice the latter.
On Tuesday I went for a quiet drink with RG and ZH, with CJ turning up later on in the night. Honestly, I can't recall much of the night owing to my eyes being closed for a good portion of it. I was exhausted! Despite nodding off I was, once more, wearing that huge grin; I didn't say much that night, I literally sat and observed my wonderful friends. The relief of feeling so at ease with them almost led me to tears, its been over a year since I'd been just completely comfortable with my surroundings!
And so far the scarf remains redundant!!!
What is this? There appears to be some sort of white, cold, powdery substance falling from the sky!
Yes Mr Local Authority, its called snow. It has graced us with its presence every single year since time began, which is more than I can say for your gritting service. You have no excuses for being ill equipped that will wash with me!
This year I have been less than impressed with the snowfall, I was even less impressed with the way the local authorities managed to 'cope' with the demand placed on them. Forgive me for introducing the innocence of the weather, however, it appears to be haunting me.
On several occasions I very nearly didn't make it into work. On one occasion I physically couldn't get there, not for the want of trying! For this I can forgive old Mother Nature. But don't your lips just curl when mothers take it a step too far?
One lovely snowy day (please interpret the italic as sarcasm) I attempted to make it home after my ever so exciting shift had finished. After struggling through streams of traffic I finally made it to my estate. I was inches away from home, I could smell the tomato soup, when an ominous crunching sounded from the underside of my car. It seems old Uncle Karma and old Mother Nature were having a bit of a jest at my expense.
To add my weather related blues, yesterday I was informed, via a piece of paper that was left on my desk, that the day I couldn't make it to work would be deducted from my wages. This isn't company policy and I know of no other cases of people having their salary penalised in this way. Honestly, I find this rather disconcerting, but not surprising. Regardless, I shall keep my head down and get on with my work.
Wednesday, the day my employer turned into a masked burglar, EK bought to my attention that she wasn't having the greatest of time and needed cheering up. Enter Haggis! After work I bought her a...frappocino? Basically I bought her a cup of cold coffee with a straw. We had, what could quite possibly be, the best chat we've ever had! By the end of the night I couldn't help but feel that my mission had been accomplished, EK seemed much happier. A good deed that had, in fact, been returned in kind. My spirits were high!
Further to this, I have even more plans to see both EK and HH this Saturday. Honestly, the wait is killing me as I have to look in the mirror every day and I'm petrified that my skin will get worse before then. I can feel my confidence getting a little stronger day by day, but Cousin Common Sense has kept my feet on the ground, he reminds me that this could all be too good to be true. I know he could possibly be right, I mean, I honestly don't feel as though I deserve the levels of happiness that I have encountered recently. I can't help but take comfort from the fact that, every now and again, his advice is only theorised. Maybe he's wrong...
Oh how I hope he is wrong.
So, two hits to the bank balance later, admittedly I am a little poorer.
Following two trips to see some of my closest and dearest friends, and plans afoot to do so again...Who cares about money?
I'm all the richer! :)
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Forgiving the devil...
Please excuse the fragmented state and awkwardness of this post.
Its December 2008. Despite having a complete lack of confidence due to the state of my skin at the time, my friends had convinced me that my ego required alcohol and music. Honestly, leaving the safety net of my bedroom was the last thing that I wanted to do. I knew that I needed this, though. In a matter of minutes I had transformed my view of this night from being completely frightful, to being the most important night of my life. I'm aware how drastic this sounds, however, when your mindset is, not set at all, your general response to ANY given situation could be unpredictable. As was mine.
Nobody knows just how long I spent on self grooming that night. In hindsight I was ready to go after around 45 minutes. That was transformed into hours when I saw my own reflection in the mirror, no, the devil. A mirror is simply a sheet of reflective glass that mirrors whatever stands in front of it, thus the name...What I was looking at made me vomit. I knew how I looked, and this wasn't how I envisaged myself. Who the hell was looking back at me? This had to be the work of the devil, and if it was indeed his handy work he had me down to a T.
The guy staring back at me looked as heartbroken as I was.
I straightened my hair numerous times, at least 6. I changed my outfit more times that I can even remember. I brushed my teeth so many times that I must have lost at least one layer of enamel. Anything that I could do to take the attention away from my face I would have done. Obviously my face is my face and hiding it was a battle lost before it had even began. Gingerly, I ventured out.
I arrived at the flat rather late, owing to my obsession with the mirror. In my haste to leave the house I had forgotten to take a manly beer drink and so had to make do with wine. Not the end of the world and, anyway, wine sends me to the land of wobbly legs a lot quicker than any other beverage.
The second the door was opened my heart sank. I was starring at a room full of an awful lot of people. What made it worse was the fact that I didn't know most of them. Oh the confliction that passed through my mind at that moment. Do I leave? I desperately want to leave! Am I willing to fail? I'm already here now I can't just go.
In the end my privilege to choose was taken away as I was ushered inside.
One thing that I find amazing is how you can categorically convince yourself that everyone in a room is collectively starring straight at you because of your own insecurities. Truthfully everyone that I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting were starring straight through me like I'd never even arrived and that suited me perfectly.
A sense of freedom came over me. There I was having fun with some of my best friends in the world. Would I dare feel it? I did... I felt comfortable.
For around an hour I sat with huge smile cutting a gaping hole in my face. Everyone, myself included, was a little inebriated. When the alcohol kicks in there will always be (and there indeed was) one person who wants to be a little ambitious. So it was suggested that we all played a game. Me, my friends and everyone who I had hoped I would stay invisible to.
Exactly what game we played that night evades my memory. It involved us all sitting in a circle and giving a brief profile, if you will, of who we were. Luckily I was the first person to go, so I didn't have to wait. I'm not sure if I would've handled the pressure of waiting my turn. Surprisingly, it went rather well. A few jokes were made by myself, and few at my expense. But all in all I felt liked.
Along comes Ruth, by no means am I referring to my friend Ruth. This...person was nothing but my friend. This person will never be my friend.
Initially I found Ruth to be witty and humorous, we even exchanged a few jokes and shared in some banter, which resulted in an attempt, on her part, to chase me around the flat. I clearly managed to handle my frame with much more ease as I managed to bolt for the bedroom before she could even move. I shut the door and put a doorstop under it. I had escaped, thank God!
Or had I escaped?
Ruth (I hate that her name is Ruth because my Ruth is an angel) seemed to take exception to the inoperable door that I had placed in front of her. She proceeded to kick it a few times in vein.
Then she said the words.
"You're just a spotty twat."
And that was it.
I was thinking it, my mirror was definitely thinking it and everyone else was clearly thinking it.
Was my mirror the devil? No. Ruth was, and if she wasn't, she was certainly doing his dirty work. I didn't know this person and yet she felt empowered enough to say those words to me. Words that echo around the caves, that were once filled with my confidence, ever since.
To this day that moment still defines who I am. I had a choice. If I so wanted I could have retaliated to those words; believe me I wanted to retaliate. There was a time when I would have done so before she had even opened her trap. I credit myself with enough creativity to utilise one of her characteristics in a hurtful way. But I didn't want to hurt her. Instead I removed the door stop, left the flat and walked home, back to my safety net.
Usually that is where I can still be found. Wrapped up nicely in my safety net; hiding in my bedroom where the only person who can hurt me is myself. That has been the case for too long now.
Ruth won't even know what she did to me that night. Being the character that she was I have my doubts as to whether she would care if she did know. Perhaps old Uncle Karma should pay her a visit instead of sitting at my doorstep?
At no point did I feel hatred towards her even though many would. Every ounce of hatred that I had was directed towards myself. Please bare in mind that this was 2008. I am in a different place now. I am learning to love myself a little more all the time (and I don't mean with my right hand).
The realisation that I should have probably hated her, even if just a little, has reached me far too late. I have decided that I most certainly do not have the effort available validate her, Ruth, The Devil, with hatred when I need to focus on repairing the damage that she has done because she's kept me awake almost every single night since.
And so I forgive the devil and move on.
Its December 2008. Despite having a complete lack of confidence due to the state of my skin at the time, my friends had convinced me that my ego required alcohol and music. Honestly, leaving the safety net of my bedroom was the last thing that I wanted to do. I knew that I needed this, though. In a matter of minutes I had transformed my view of this night from being completely frightful, to being the most important night of my life. I'm aware how drastic this sounds, however, when your mindset is, not set at all, your general response to ANY given situation could be unpredictable. As was mine.
Nobody knows just how long I spent on self grooming that night. In hindsight I was ready to go after around 45 minutes. That was transformed into hours when I saw my own reflection in the mirror, no, the devil. A mirror is simply a sheet of reflective glass that mirrors whatever stands in front of it, thus the name...What I was looking at made me vomit. I knew how I looked, and this wasn't how I envisaged myself. Who the hell was looking back at me? This had to be the work of the devil, and if it was indeed his handy work he had me down to a T.
The guy staring back at me looked as heartbroken as I was.
I straightened my hair numerous times, at least 6. I changed my outfit more times that I can even remember. I brushed my teeth so many times that I must have lost at least one layer of enamel. Anything that I could do to take the attention away from my face I would have done. Obviously my face is my face and hiding it was a battle lost before it had even began. Gingerly, I ventured out.
I arrived at the flat rather late, owing to my obsession with the mirror. In my haste to leave the house I had forgotten to take a manly beer drink and so had to make do with wine. Not the end of the world and, anyway, wine sends me to the land of wobbly legs a lot quicker than any other beverage.
The second the door was opened my heart sank. I was starring at a room full of an awful lot of people. What made it worse was the fact that I didn't know most of them. Oh the confliction that passed through my mind at that moment. Do I leave? I desperately want to leave! Am I willing to fail? I'm already here now I can't just go.
In the end my privilege to choose was taken away as I was ushered inside.
One thing that I find amazing is how you can categorically convince yourself that everyone in a room is collectively starring straight at you because of your own insecurities. Truthfully everyone that I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting were starring straight through me like I'd never even arrived and that suited me perfectly.
A sense of freedom came over me. There I was having fun with some of my best friends in the world. Would I dare feel it? I did... I felt comfortable.
For around an hour I sat with huge smile cutting a gaping hole in my face. Everyone, myself included, was a little inebriated. When the alcohol kicks in there will always be (and there indeed was) one person who wants to be a little ambitious. So it was suggested that we all played a game. Me, my friends and everyone who I had hoped I would stay invisible to.
Exactly what game we played that night evades my memory. It involved us all sitting in a circle and giving a brief profile, if you will, of who we were. Luckily I was the first person to go, so I didn't have to wait. I'm not sure if I would've handled the pressure of waiting my turn. Surprisingly, it went rather well. A few jokes were made by myself, and few at my expense. But all in all I felt liked.
Along comes Ruth, by no means am I referring to my friend Ruth. This...person was nothing but my friend. This person will never be my friend.
Initially I found Ruth to be witty and humorous, we even exchanged a few jokes and shared in some banter, which resulted in an attempt, on her part, to chase me around the flat. I clearly managed to handle my frame with much more ease as I managed to bolt for the bedroom before she could even move. I shut the door and put a doorstop under it. I had escaped, thank God!
Or had I escaped?
Ruth (I hate that her name is Ruth because my Ruth is an angel) seemed to take exception to the inoperable door that I had placed in front of her. She proceeded to kick it a few times in vein.
Then she said the words.
"You're just a spotty twat."
And that was it.
I was thinking it, my mirror was definitely thinking it and everyone else was clearly thinking it.
Was my mirror the devil? No. Ruth was, and if she wasn't, she was certainly doing his dirty work. I didn't know this person and yet she felt empowered enough to say those words to me. Words that echo around the caves, that were once filled with my confidence, ever since.
To this day that moment still defines who I am. I had a choice. If I so wanted I could have retaliated to those words; believe me I wanted to retaliate. There was a time when I would have done so before she had even opened her trap. I credit myself with enough creativity to utilise one of her characteristics in a hurtful way. But I didn't want to hurt her. Instead I removed the door stop, left the flat and walked home, back to my safety net.
Usually that is where I can still be found. Wrapped up nicely in my safety net; hiding in my bedroom where the only person who can hurt me is myself. That has been the case for too long now.
Ruth won't even know what she did to me that night. Being the character that she was I have my doubts as to whether she would care if she did know. Perhaps old Uncle Karma should pay her a visit instead of sitting at my doorstep?
At no point did I feel hatred towards her even though many would. Every ounce of hatred that I had was directed towards myself. Please bare in mind that this was 2008. I am in a different place now. I am learning to love myself a little more all the time (and I don't mean with my right hand).
The realisation that I should have probably hated her, even if just a little, has reached me far too late. I have decided that I most certainly do not have the effort available validate her, Ruth, The Devil, with hatred when I need to focus on repairing the damage that she has done because she's kept me awake almost every single night since.
And so I forgive the devil and move on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)