Living Our Lives.

The freedom to live our lives, the way we want to live. Not living up to what we perceive others expect of us. It is all too easy to get trapped in a negative environment, created by others and compounded by us. Do we not have a choice?
So if you are used to living in a negative environment, you may think this is the way life must be. Well, we do have a choice. I made the choice to distance myself from the negative elements that were eroding the remaining remnants of my all too fragile self esteem. Being vulnerable, being mentally ill, made me an easy target for those who used me to detract from their own insecurites. This 'easy target' decided that something had to change.
When I distanced myself from those who only saw me when they wanted something, who weren't really interested in me or how I was feeling, made me lonelier, more isolated. Yet it was a good kind of lonely, a good kind of isolation. For now I could reflect and evaluate what I truly wanted in my life. Now I would live my life according to my rules and not cater to the whims of people who considered me a convenience but not a friend.
Now I embrace the ideals of people who care about me and show respect rather than disinterest. In turn, the new people in my life receive genuine interest and caring from me. Positive interaction, positive respect, the power of a chosen positive environment. No more undermining, no more dismissing my validity. This powerful journey along my positive route grows ever stronger. I will never go back to that dark place, that negative place that almost destroyed my dignity. I am better than that and so are you.
So if being happy, experiencing positivity seems like a distant, fading memory; know that deep within you, the flame of renewed hope still burns. You have dreams about the life you want to live. Nobody has the right to destroy your dreams, your aspirations. Do not let them.
It is too easy to be suffocated by negativity, for being positive may seem like hard work and a most daunting task. Yet choosing to be positive is worth the effort. You can now make that choice about getting on with your new life, your new adventure, your new purpose. This is about living our lives. Nobody shall clip our wings just as we are learning to fly.

Inside a Cider Bottle

June 18th, 2008 marked the ten year anniversary of my realisation that I could not drink, ever again. On June 18th, 1998, my many battles with alcohol ended. If I had not stopped drinking, my battle was going to end anyway. I was that close to drinking myself to death. A long, painful drawn out suicide. Instead I chose to battle my addiction and finally win the war. Five weeks alone in hospital gave me time to reflect. I came to the realisation that if I was going to survive a self-inflicted ordeal, that I would leave hospital a free man.
I wasn't very original using alcohol as form of replacement for something missing in my life. My life was falling apart. Mentally and physically, I was a sad, pitiful example of someone who had almost given up on life and the wonders living could offer. My behaviour was bizarre and often bordered on incoherent. Physically, I was a severely jaundiced, bloated, 'yellow balloon'. Yet up until that day they stretchered me out my house, I didn't really care. 'Go ahead and die. You have no friends, your family here in England has left you for the sake of their own wellbeing. Drink yourself to death, nobody will even notice, you'll just be another pathetic statistic.' Such dark thoughts were relentless. To have survived that hell from ten years ago has given me the incentive to use my second chance to the fullest.
When I become aware that my mental health was deteriorating; I attempted to numb the panic it caused by consuming vast quantities of alcohol. Ofcourse, the horrible irony is that my drinking compounded my mental health issues. Not very clever, I know, but I was a desperate man in desperate circumstances.
Let me describe to you a typical day, ten years ago. After drinking myself into oblivion from the night before, I would wake up from a very poor, disturbed sleep, with a sense of panic. I need a drink, it is early morning and the off-license is closed. I wonder if I can last another hour? I stagger over to the off-license, still partially drunk from the night before. I purchase a two litre bottle of cider and take my 'salvation' back to my house. I have consumed the entire bottle within in minutes. I feel sick, I pass out for two hours, only to wake up knowing I must have more cider. So back to the off-license to purchase yet another two litre bottle of cheap, nasty cider. The pattern continues, I consume the cider just as quickly as the previous. I am in a constant state of 'topping-up'. I needed alcohol, this shadow of a man was physically and psychologically trapped and controlled by his master. I was a slave to drink. For the next three weeks, right up until that moment I was whisked away in ambulance, all I did was drink cider. No food, just cider.
Five weeks in hospital gave me the opportunity to get control back. I was determined to conquer my master. I wanted to live and I mean really live. So when I walked out of the hospital, I knew that I had broken the shackles that alcohol had placed on me. I knew I would make it, because the key element was that I was sincere in my conviction. The sense of relief I had goes beyond words.
I have been asked why I write such blogs. It reinforces my belief that I can choose to live in a positive environment. I write blogs as a form of personal therapy. I spend a lot of time on my own and think of my blog as a form of communication with the world. I sincerely hope that there will be people who read my blogs who get a bit of comfort from them. You see, I firmly believe that we all have the power within to challenge adversity. We can all demonstrate that negatives can be turned into positives.
Ten years ago, I was trapped. Ten years on, I am still not well but I am so much better. It has been a slow journey, sometimes painful, sometimes exhilarating. Ten years ago, I was stuck inside a cider bottle. Yet I crawled out and saw the world with a clear vision. I looked out from the top of the bottle and knew I had the right to live.

The Freedom to Find Each Other

It was early July in 1980. Our 1973, silver grey, Dodge Polara, my 'Smokey and the Bandit' mobile, was packed and ready to go.
We had quit our jobs, given up our apartment and put our few possessions into storage. We knew we were taking a risk, it virtually assured an uncertain future. Yet an uncertain future seemed favourable in comparison to the tragic past my future wife had endured.
We sat in our car and prepared for a two month adventure on the open road. We left Vancouver to drive on the Trans Canada Highway to the wonderful city of Montreal, a distance of almost 3400 miles. Before us lay countryside, more diverse, more awe-inspiring that I had imagined. Once leaving the urban sprawl of Greater Vancouver, we reached the Fraser Valley. Onwards we drove through the splendour of British Columbia, through the Okanagan Valley, heading further east to the majesty of the Rockies.
Surrounded by the magnificent backdrop of the Rockies, Veronica and I found an ideal location to stay for the night. The sun was setting behind enormous mountains, the swirling river beside us produced sounds that reached into my inner tranquility. It was a night to remember, we both drifted of into a deep, peaceful sleep. Alone in the wilds, alone with the lady I loved so much.
Our adventure continued. Through the Rockies, through the foothills of Alberta and into Calgary. Calgary, affectionately known as 'Cowtown', and home of the world famous Calgary Stampede. Our stop in this city was a brief but an interesting experience. We had to keep going, Canada is a very large country.
The landscape began to change dramatically. No longer was the terrain a mountainous or even a hilly splendour. For now we had reached Medicine Hat, Alberta and beyond that was a vast, flat expanse. We had reached the Prairies. As far as the eye could could see, was a panorama of overwheming flatness. The contrast in scenery was truly staggering.
Hundreds upon hundreds of miles of prairie lay before us. As our adventure moved on we arrived in the Province of Saskatchewan. Veronica and I visited the towns of Swift Current and Moose Jaw (how Canadian does the town of 'Moose Jaw' sound eh?). I have fond memories of Moose Jaw. We went and watched 'Close Encounters of Third Kind'..(yeah and we also went to the cinema there!).
Soon our travels would take us to Regina, the capital of Saskatchewan. A grand old city, right in the heart of the Prairies. Yet we did not stay long. Our curiosity led us to a destination about thirty miles north east of Regina. We had got some information of a town that had landscape very different to what we had seen during the last week or so. Upon reaching Fort Qu'Appelle, the information we had been given was no exaggeration. From the incredibly flat land that we had grown accustomed too was this town with hills that could be best described as very large bumps. A bizarre extreme to the terrain that we had been experiencing. There are even facilities for downhill skiing. Hard to believe what we observed , such a short distance away from the flattest darn land I had ever seen.
Yet, it gets even better. Not only were these hills standing proudly in the heart of the Prairies, we found a beach! Yes that's right, a beach smack dab in the middle of Canada. The beach was by a lake named Echo. You guessed it..before our eyes was Echo Beach. ("Echo Beach..far away in time"..hmmm..).
Quite the memory but it was time to move on. Onwards to Manitoba, onwards to Winnipeg (also known fondly, well during the cold season, as 'Winterpeg'). Winnipeg, capital of Manitoba and home to the Winnipeg Blue Bombers of the Canadian Football League. I like Winnipeg, however, there is one street corner you best avoid. The intersection of Portage and Main is evidently the windiest corner in all of North America. Beat that Chicago!
We moved onwards, ever further east, to the Province of Ontario. The land was no longer flat, we were now amongst the forested wilderness of north western Ontario. We came upon lake, a beautiful, pristine lake. Yet something was wrong. The water was clear, the fish floated on the surface, the fish were dead. We were sad, the tears streamed downed our faces. Had we witnessed the devastating consequences of industrial pollution?
We started heading south. Our southward route took us through Thunder Bay and past Lake Superior. Our next major destination would be Canada's largest city. Toronto, a huge cosmopolitan city. A 'melting pot' of humanity from all corners of the world. We went up to the top of the C.N. tower where the views were spectacular. One day, I hope to spend more time in this great Canadian city.
We had to move on, a month had nearly gone by and we were halfway through our money. Time to reach our final destination. Ah Montreal! Canada's second largest city and one of the biggest French speaking cities in the world. I loved Montreal. There is a quaint, 'old world' feel to this wonderful city. I recall, how we strolled through the grounds of the world's fair. I remember as a lad, seeing Expo 67 on the television. Expo 67 was a celebration of mankind. It also marked the centenary of the great nation of Canada. Montreal, a proud French-Canadian city in a proud, blessed country.
It was time return, to head west, to retrace the 3400 miles back to our home, back to Vancouver. I think back on those eventful two months in the summer of 1980. I smile as I remember those occasions that stay so fixed in my thoughts. The beer parlour in Pincher Creek, Alberta where all night long this one guy kept saying: "well I'll be a hound dog!" The night we slept in our car by a farm near Niagara Falls, only to be startled by a police officer, who shone a light on us. The time we slept in our tent by the shores of Lake Ontario, only to be woken up and virtually blown away, by an almighty hurricane.
It was an awesome experience. Our 1973, silver grey, Dodge Polara got us back to Vancouver. The journey had given us the chance to find each other, away from the evil that had left her so deeply traumatised. At last, without negative distractions, we began to discover the true love we had for each other. We had the freedom to find each other. If only that freedom had been lasting. For the 'ghosts' of her horrendous past continued to haunt her.
In a future blog, I will tell you about the disgraceful events that lead us to make a fresh start. I thank you for your time.