Letting go of your past with words.

I’ve always found writing a cathartic exercise. An exercise I don’t practise enough really. I remember being a young child hiding under my cabin bed and writing nonsensical stories for hours, letting the writing come to life in my imagination and dance behind my closed eyelids. They may not have made much grammatical sense back then but it was a past time, one I loved, one I hold fondly.

I’ve always loved stories. Stories grip, tangle and weave beautiful images in our minds. They touch us, teach us and express some of the deepest corners of our minds, not only to ourselves but others too. The main reason I love stories because of the awesome power they have to relate. My one trait I favour as a human is an uncanny ability to tell a story. I often use this trait in social situations as an attempt to bond with people. I love setting the scene and putting people in my eyes, I love to see the reactions on people’s faces when I tell them of one of my escapades. What I love more though, is when someone tells me one back. That’s when bonds form, bonds form and connect us, they let us know that we are not alone.

This blog has been littered with posts about my life, some things of a more spiritual nature, some randomness, the odd story here or there. I use this space as a platform for ventilation. Despite being able to tell a story one thing I’m not is a very good communicator of feelings. I’ve never been able to quite personify my feeling verbally. Maybe it’s an underdeveloped personality trait, maybe it’s the fear of not getting the reactions I want, maybe it’s down to some form of childhood trauma. It could be all of the above but for when I write I begin to see things more clearly, I can be honest with myself and most importantly I can get those feelings out.

I’ve come to learn that suppressing yourself is not a good thing. Go figure? It’s obvious that it’s never a good thing but I’m sure I and many others do it because of an innate fear. A fear of being rejected, not accepted, embarrassed… ashamed of who you are. I often hide my more sensitive side these days because I can’t bear the thought of being ridiculed for feeling. What an alien thought… Being so suppressed that you won’t allow yourself to feel. You’re denying yourself a human right on that path. When you go down that path another darker, abstract path appears. You depersonalize.

The feelings that made you YOU start to disappear and hide behind closed doors in your mind. You know they are there, clutching at door handles, scratching their bludgeoned fingertips at the door, but you keep them locked in because it’s easy that way. It’s easy not to face them. Your outside world becomes darker and grey when you turn off. You’re just a shell of a person going through the motions, trying not to have the mask you’ve made ripped off. Taking away the mask would reveal the person you’ve come to despise.

There’s a reason this happened though, there’s always a reason. Nothing in life happens due to mere chance. You didn’t just one day find yourself on the dark path, you made a choice, you chose the dark path. My belief is that if you relate to what I’m saying maybe you’re treading the slow footsteps or you’re un an unfamiliar wilderness. The sky is black, the trees are eerie, the wolves are howling. The reason I believe is in your story.

This isn’t about reliving the past. To an extent, it’s not. It’s about telling your story, revisiting those feelings and unlocking the doors in your mind. Part of the reason you suffer is that you haven’t let go. Occasionally you open the door to those feelings and you sucker punch them right in the gut, kick them back in their place and only feed them on the scraps of negativity. You haven’t let go of the past.

I’ve found that the main catharsis comes when it’s written out in front of you. The thoughts that linger in your mind are spelt out on paper and you can see them for what they really are. Memories that don’t exist in reality, just in your mind. They are gone, over, they can’t hurt you anymore. Writing them down is the way to let it go. Accepting what you see as nothing more than a time that doesn’t exist anymore. There just old stories.

I’d like to tell my story now, I’d like to let go.


New year, new me…fuck off!

Okay so that headline is some what counter intuitive to one’s self but let me give some context. This may all seem strange but stay with me as it may resonate or at least give you some thought.

Time is endless, infinite it is the one constant in all our lives. The one thing that is certain is that you have time. Billions of us will wake up today with the new year new me bull shit. Let me tell you something, every day is new years’ day! Every day is the start of the new you! Don’t pigeon hole one day of the year to re create yourself. You have the power to start again now and become what you want to be… and now… and now… and now. The past your living in doesn’t exist anymore and the future your creating in your mind has no bearing on what is going on right now. Live in this moment, the moment is now.

I spent this morning reflecting on the last year (2017) going over my blog and realising that I’m self reflecting on a version of myself that doesn’t exist anymore. There for this blog has to die…like the past.

The irony of this post being written on new years’ day, but what better point to start than now. I’m starting a new blog, one’s that’s about my journey, who I am and what I want to achieve. I’m going to try and create a better version of myself and utilise the gifts I was given and learnt a long the way to become a better more well rounded person. It won’t be perfect, but it will be my kind of perfect 🙂

My hope is that I make some friends a long the way and become the man I was always meant to be. Here’s looking to the now, not the future 🙂


Kind Regards


Cancer…A fly on the wall.

It’s Christmas eve 2017. I’m driving my mother to the hospice to see my auntie, She’s had terminal brain cancer for 6 years now. Each day that passes brings her closer to the end. As I’m driving my mother utters the words “This is the end”. She didn’t have to say anything else, my eyes open up like an over flowing canal and the rest of the journey is held in silence.

We arrive at the hospice, it’s a sunny day, the cruel irony. Press buzzer, sign in, enter the room…There she is.  Her face is warped and twisted, skin pale and bruised. She struggles to string a hello together as she sit’s there paralysed in her chair. The once youthful look she held is gone, her hair in tatters and her posture crippled into a constant abstract shape.  A large chunk of my family surrounded her making idle conversation, ignoring the pure reality of the situation, death sits among us.

My over active ego tries to lighten the mood with tales of my latest dating exploits, new recipes I’m learning to cook and general waffle about my life, the family laugh and my aunt stares blankly into the distance. What seems like a life time of inane conversation continues and the doctor arrives and ushers my uncle out of the room. A cold silence fills the pale pink walls and the thought of places where you die and colour schemes oddly pops in to my head. I wouldn’t want to die in front of pale pink, give me something vibrant.

More time passes and some nurses enter the room, true saints, worship them not your sports hero’s and your depraved pseudo celebrities. They have come to give my aunt a morphine deliverance system. A tumour has grown on her ovaries and is pressing on the bowls. I turn to my nan (My aunties mother) and the look on her face haunts me, it hasn’t left my mind. All the blood in her face was gone, she looked dishevelled, twisted and scared…my stomachs in my hands. My uncle asks us to leave the room and give them some privacy.

We’re in the waiting room and my uncle sits down immediately with his head in hands revealing all. “The tumour in her ovaries has grown to large…it’s pressing on the colon and the bowl… she can’t eat, go the toilet, she can’t do anything…the doctor says a few days, weeks minimum” That cold silence creeps back in only broken by the flood of tears by my nan, I hold her in my arms trying to reassure her, but I have nothing, no words, no inspirational speeches, no wisdom…Sometimes you have to sit with the reality of a situation and feel every ounce of it, I’ve never felt such pain in my life.

My emotions couldn’t take the situation anymore but one last gut punch to the stomach was making my final good bye to my auntie. I walk into her room and she sits there a husk. I rest my forehead on hers and kiss her cheek. “I love you Jo”. The tears erupt from my ducts but I turn swiftly to hide them. “Happy Christmas.” I walk down the dimly lit corridors and feel like I’m dragging boulders with me, I can’t even say goodbye to the rest of my family.

I don’t pray to god in the car park. I look up to the sky which was once full of light and now is overcast with darkness and grey, the threat of a storm looms. I sit with the newly created memory I have of my family in pain and weep, I weep forever. I curse the world in which we live In as my new found feelings of hope and goodness are destroyed. If miracles are real that’s the only hope I have left.

losing control

It’s a strange existence I’m living at the minute, very strange. I’m so exhausted I can’t even tell you. It feels like I’m constantly screaming on the inside but there isn’t even a problem. There is nothing wrong, I keep telling myself that. I keep telling myself all the self help bull shit. I keep going through the breathing exercises, I keep trying to find my focus and I keep trying to motivate myself but I can’t and I don’t want to. I’ve become so anxious about everything I can barely bring myself to talk anymore. Everything is an over thought, every last thing has an analysis process.

My mind work likes a cinematic experience that I’m constantly analysing over and over again. I constantly judging myself about my actions and the way I act, the things I do and say. I’m constantly trying to self correct and present myself as normal and I don’t even know what that is. I’m constantly thinking about all the people that have come and gone in my life. I’m angry and jealous all the time about things that did and did not happen. I can’t let go of the things that did happen or face the reality that I have no control. I dream about the day I’ll feel normal again and have normal things only to let the thoughts and feeling of lose and self control over take me. My mind has never been clear cut, there has never been a clean thought or a direct line to one.

I haven’t felt the human touch of another person in a long time, not just in a sexual sense. I haven’t felt the love of another person warm me nor have I been willing to accept the ones who were willing. I pushed away every one who ever loved me for most of the reasons already stated. I didn’t always feel this way, I didn’t start this way. I was willing to try once. Despite always having residual feelings of of confusion, panic and worry I was always willing to overcome them but not anymore.

For the past year I have lived the same day in and out. I’ve had the same feeling each day in and out. The worst part about everything is every where I turn I just see pain and misery. Even the people I do have in my life all suffer and I can’t even help them. I’m just greeted with the same sad stories and tales of woe. I hate who I am. I don’t know why anymore. I feel so much guilt, I’m the guiltiest person in the world who hasn’t done anything wrong. I just don’t know what’s wrong.

I want to die. A short poem

A bold statement I whisper out of my lips as I’m curled up under my blanket.

The soft linen of my bed sheets feel like a prison cell.

My arms are so heavy, they weight more than anything I’ve ever had to carry.

The sunlight cracks through the curtain and punches my eyes.

The longer I lay here, the more I want to die.


Can you hear me scream? Anyone, can you hear me scream with in myself

Constant feelings of shame and self doubt

Ridicule, anger throw in some more

I really don’t want to be in this place, I don’t want to live anymore


Everything’s fine but the feelings remain the same

The consistent circle of loathing and fearful pain

The ugly demons that haunt my mind

hold me closely as I want to die

I want to die.

I’m currently going through a bad bout of depression. It’s something I’ve suffered with on and off with since about 18 years old. I used to have a really bad weed habit in my teens which lead to paranoia and social anxiety. I combated it eventually in my early 20s but through out events in my life I’ve dealt with bouts of depression on and off. Usually treated with medication to get me back on the horse and flying straight again. This time it’s different, this time it feels uglier than before, this time I don’t know how to move forward. You want to know the funny thing? This time there’s nothing actually wrong.

I’m actually very fortunate at this point in my life. I have a well paying job, a family that loves me, a roof over my head, no relationship but I’m not tied down. Yet all of these things I have these, privileges in my life mean nothing to me anymore. I’m so ungrateful for the things I have running in the background of my life that I simply don’t care anymore. My sister had a child a few weeks ago, I became an uncle. As I went to the hospital to meet my nephew I wondered how I felt, I felt nothing. I picked up the new born baby and held him in my arms and had to fake emotions of joy and adulation. That was more upsetting to me, so there was at the very least one feeling.

I don’t want to see, talk or even involve myself in human interaction anymore. Something I was craving before I realised I had slipped back into this hole again. The worst thing about it all is it feels like a dream, like non of this is real. I constantly sleep and when I wake up I have to ask myself if this is real, a dawning realisation tells me it is, followed by another that it doesn’t have to be, I can just go back to sleep and hope to wake up a better person.

The structure to anyone’s purpose should be the pursuit of fulfilment. Bettering themselves, achieving goals and building relationships. I don’t want to do that, not anymore. I used to want it so badly that I would obsess about it. Every failed attempt is what had lead me to this point.

I don’t want to live anymore, because I don’t see a point. The strangest thing being that I only slightly well up with tears as I write that sentence. Just because I don’t want to live anymore it doesn’t mean I’m going to kill myself. I’m to much of a coward to do that but one thing that gives me comfort is knowing that I have the choice to die on my own terms. No cancers, no old age, no long strung out death sequence. I can just disappear out of existence right now and I don’t have to deal with the pain in my mind anymore. If you have some kind of solution for me, please share your words but I know I’m the only one who can save myself. I just don’t know where to start.

Driving me crazy.

I’m in a lot of pain right now. It’s a strange feeling, I have no physical wounds or aliments, but I’m weak. I’m driving home from work and I’m tired, the last 9 hours of my life have been dedicated to working in solitary confinement repeating the same manual task over and over again. It’s been cold today and all the muscles in my body have been tense, my feet are wet as water has soaked through my boots and I’ve inhaled more carbon dioxide than any thing know to man.

My drive is also a solitary one, I leave the site to miles upon miles of what appears to be endless country side. Half way through my journey the weight of my bones drag my arms down, I feel like I can’t grip the wheel, my lungs start coughing up debris from the day and I’m undone. It’s such a beautiful day. It’s a mixture of bright sun that pierces the clouds and the aftermath of rain, the puddles sparkle with bravado and the heat of the sun aluminates my path.

A tear runs down my cheek as I’m staring into the distant and my bottom lip starts to tremble uncontrollably. I’m telling myself to be a man because there’s know need to feel the pain I feel right now and my arms become even more heavier than before. I breakdown. floods of tears fill up the car and everything becomes blurry, I can’t see. The road in front of me becomes a million miles longer and it doesn’t matter how fast I put my foot down I’m going nowhere. I think of every choice that had lead to this point but non of it makes sense, just a mish mash of bad memories and mistakes.

I finally arrive at my destination and collapse on the floor and try to breathe, the weight of my body is holding me to the ground and each second that passes as unremarkable as the last. The sheer sound of silence around me doesn’t sooth me it just puts an exclamation mark to everything that’s wrong. I’m on my own and have been for a long time now. The cat meows. I snap back to reality, I dust myself off, wipe the tears and stretch. Same time tomorrow?… I’ll see you then.