Twenty Years Ago.

It was Thursday afternoon, June 18, 1998.  I was slumped on the sofa in my usual drunken stupor.  A frightened man barely clinging onto the last, fragile remnants of a shattered, battered and bruised dignity.  A frightened man waiting to die a sad, lonely death.

I heard a knock at the front door.  A sound so rare for I could go weeks without any human interaction.  My only interaction, the sharing of such a desperate time with Mr. Alcohol, my best friend, my lover, my worst enemy.

I stumbled to the front door.  A bedraggled mess of a man.  A man, bloated and heavily jaundiced.  I opened the door and there was my doctor.

He took one look at me and immediately phoned for an ambulance.  For, before him, was the worrying sight of somebody who hadn't eaten for three weeks.  The only nutrition, if you could call it that, was the consumption of three, two litre bottles of strong cider per day. Before the doctor, a man drowning in a sea of alcoholic despair.  I was stretchered away.  This would be my fourth alcohol-related stay at a hospital.

Near the end of the first week of what would be a five week stay, I had my ex wife and my nine year old son, Tristan, make a fleeting visit.  For they were about to go to Canada with her boyfriend and their baby boy.  Through tear-stained eyes, I hugged my son.  A hug that I cherish to this day.  A hug that saved my life.

After that, I had no visitors.  No visitors to note that during the first week I nearly died.  No visitors to be there for my birthday.  And yet, despite it all, despite me watching others having visitors and listening to the laughter, listening to the crying, I had time to reflect, time to change, one last chance to live.

That one last chance, further enhanced when a nurse came over to my bed and stated that I had a phone call at the ward's reception.  Very weak, oh, so very weak, I was taken in a wheelchair to the ward's reception.  It was my mother phoning from Vancouver.  Her words of comfort, resonate with love, twenty years on.

I could go into the harrowing details of how I ended up as a mere shadow of my former self.  A paranoid character swigging back two litre bottle of cider down back alleys.  But, that's in the past.  A past that taught me lessons that through such a potential demise, I could become better, stronger, more compassionate.

I'd had a nervous breakdown twenty years ago.  So much had happened and I tried to numb the relentless workplace bullying, the collapse of my marriage, compounded by the fact my wife had gotten pregnant by another man whilst still married to me.  I couldn't cope.  I was scared.  I was going insane and the insanity was made all the worse with the insidious evil of the alcohol I consumed.

And twenty years on, I'm still fragile, still raw.  I battle with debilitating depression and chronic fatigue.  It impacts me so much that my blogging has been sporadic.  It impacts me so much that I've hardly the energy to be involved with one of my vital lifelines, the vital lifeline that be the blogging community.

Twenty years on, I do know that the day I left hospital,  I left as a free man.  A man, most importantly, genuine in his conviction that alcohol would never again control his life.

I choose to live for my son, Tristan 

I choose to live for our beloved dog, Penny.

I choose to live for my mother, my family and friends in Canada. 

And I choose to live for me.  I listened to the wisdom of my inner child. 

The Rainbow Warrior.

The last year has been one of significant upheaval.  Upheaval that's challenged my ability to cope with an overwhelming feeling of isolation.  Isolation that questioned my sanity.  Isolation that relived past times when I nearly drowned in my own unique sea of debilitating madness.  A madness that told me I was not worthy of being loved, of being respected.  

The last year has seen me start a new life in a new home.  The last year has seen my son start his new life in his own home.  The last year has seen me struggle in a relentless loneliness as I try to come to terms with the sense of change that has brought on tear-filled, "empty nest syndrome", bouts of panic.  

I sit here alone, day after day, night after night, without a partner to share a mutual realisation that our little boy, now a young man, is making his mark in his statement of independence.

My son, my beloved son, has not been well as of late.  He's wrenched his back and yet, kept going to work injured.  Perhaps a sad commentary, that so worried was he about losing his job, that he would jeopardise his health even further.  Thankfully, I managed to get him to see a doctor. Thankfully, he now has a sick note which should give him time to get better.  And yet, despite it all, I constantly worry about his well being.

  

The last year has impacted me in such a way that I'm barely able to formulate a blog posting. Chronic fatigue continues to linger.  An exhaustion, that despite numerous blood tests, has found no conclusive evidence as to why I'm so tired all the time.  It may well be psychological.  A condition that has made even switching on my computer a rather daunting task.

I will carry on.  The love of my son and all those vital to my life, will help me make it so. 

I've been through many a challenge in my life. I survived a total breakdown that cost me my marriage.  I survived five weeks in hospital devoid of visitors.  Indeed, I nearly died that first week in hospital.   One man alone as all around were surrounded by loved ones who laughed, who cried, who hugged.  I was the invisible man, drowning in tears that nobody noticed.

That second week in hospital and a nurse came over to my bed.  She placed me in a wheelchair and took me to the main desk.  I was handed the phone and listened to the voice of my mother.  My mother, so far away in Vancouver.  What she said would be the start of my renewal.  That experience would change my life for the better, forever.

I have to remember how far I've come as I work through the emotional torment of the past year. Focus on how proud I am of my son.

I gazed out upon such magical beauty.  Observed the wonders of the rainbow.  I listened to the gentle breeze whispering through the open window.  The clock ticked its rhythmic tone in the background. A tone set in harmony to the beating of my hopeful heart.

This is my son, Tristan, at two and a half years old.  I dearly love my son and that would never be in question.  Now my little boy has turned in a kind, pleasant, caring young man.  Yes, not only do I love my son, now I like my son.

Thank you, my friend.  This therapeutic, reflective post has the comments switched off.  All I ask is you spend a moment or two to absorb this posting of one lonely, reclusive man whose spirit will be inspired by the love of a son and the symbolism of a rainbow.

A Letter I Read In Disbelief.

A neighbour has a very noisy, aggressive Jack Russell terrier.  On a number of occasions whilst out walking Penny, our beloved Jack Russell terrier, the very noisy, aggressive Jack Russell terrier has tried to attack Penny.  The snarling and snapping of that dog is rather unsettling.

Each time Penny and I have encountered this dog while just trying to go for a peaceful walk, has ended up with Penny and I maintaining a calm demeanour.  Penny does not react.  I've been polite, good natured and courteous to the lady whose dog is causing so much aggravation.  She's said, on numerous occasions, how much she appreciates me not making a fuss about it.  I told her that I suppose her dog is trying to protect her.  I think maybe her dog is jealous of Penny, what with Penny being a famous yet modest internet superstar!

Penny and I continued to go out for walks.  We tried to keep our distance from her dog.  Thought it best for all concerned.  Yet, time after time, the lady would get very close to us with her aggressive little dog.  The yapping of the dog is so loud that at times I'd have to speak louder just so the lady could hear me.  My conversations with her were always pleasant, always cordial.  I try to be a polite, respectful neighbour.  Nobody needs the stress.

Last Wednesday morning I had a letter posted through my mailbox.  Upon opening the letter I couldn't believe what I was reading.  The letter stated that a neighbour of mine was lodging a complaint about me in regards to anti-social, aggressive and threatening behaviour.  The neighbour said they felt intimidated by me.  The letter went on explaining about what is acceptable behaviour within the housing community I now live in.  I was in shock.  I felt sick.

I phoned the person who'd sent the official letter of complaint.  I told the lady on the phone that I would like a meeting with the person who had made such outrageous allegations.  A few minutes later, the lady phoned me back and asked me if the next Tuesday at ten in the morning would be okay for a meeting with the person who accused me.  I told her that was way too long and I needed to  get the situation sorted as soon as possible.  She phoned me back again and a meeting was arranged for the next morning, Thursday morning at ten.

At the meeting, the lady with the very noisy, aggressive Jack Russell terrier, was the one who had made the allegations.  Staying very calm, I asked her why she had said such awful things about me. She responded by saying that I was yelling at her.  To which I responded that I had to speak louder because her dog was barking so loud.  I was actually trying to tell her that when she had been out of her apartment her dog was barking loudly.  So much so that a fellow neighbour said he was going to lodge a complaint if it continued.  I was only trying to warn her.  I pointed out how kind I had always been to her and that this seemed to be a perception issue.  She conceded that she had got it completely wrong,  She apologised, over and over again.

The letter that I received was ceremoniously placed in the office shredder at my insistence.  I hope that such a situation never happens again.  I really don't need this.  Especially when I'm struggling with my confidence and my mental health concerns.  Such an incident, in my fragile state, could of set me back even further.

After the meeting, I thought about how I could turn such a negative experience into something positive.  I talked to the supervisor at reception.  I offered to help set up a blogging community within the apartment building.  This was enthusiastically received.   My idea will be in next month's community magazine.

On the Thursday evening, my doorbell rang.  The lady who had made those horrible allegations against me was standing there with a box of chocolates.  She apologised again and gave me a box of Swiss chocolates.  A nice gesture and I hope that she's realised a lesson from all of this.  Perception and reality can be such a fine line.

On Saturday evening, my doorbell rang again.  This time, it was a dear older lady from across the hallway.  Even though I made no mention of the meeting I'd had, somehow word had gotten around. She just wanted to see how I was because she was worried about me.  She told me she'd vouch for my good nature.  It turns out I'm not the only person that lady had lodged a complaint about.  Rather ironically, she had made complaints against folks who have been very nice to her.  I do understand that the lady in question has her own mental health issues.  These, however, need to be addressed with her having the right support.

Yes, I had a sleepless night before that meeting.  Playing over and over again in my mind what I could of possibly done wrong.  A week later and I'm much calmer, especially knowing that my reputation as a kind, caring, well meaning man is truly intact.

Apologies for an unusually long post by my standards.  I had to get it out of my system via the therapy that is my writing.  Peace and goodwill to you, my friend.

Check Out The Checkout.

This is an exercise in writing a post very quickly.  So quickly that I've no idea what I'm actually going to write.  This exercise into the unknown sentence after this sentence, is another way to see if I can work through this ridiculous fatigue that I've been experiencing.

Got into my car.  Started car.  Drove car to the supermarket.  Parked car.  Strolled towards supermarket.  I pass by somebody I don't know but recognise their face from all the others times I've passed by then but don't actually know them. They don't know me either but recognise my face. This means we give each other that slight recognition head nod that people do who don't know each other but recognise each other's face.  We both very quietly whisper "hello."  It's always a whisper to somebody you don't actually know but recognise their face.

I'm now grocery shopping.  Milk, cheese, eggs, pasta, juice without sugar and sparkling water from some Scottish mountain stream.  I see the kid riding the front of the shopping cart.  I see his parents pushing the cart and think what f**king idiots!

I notice the one checkout open is devoid of shoppers.  By the time I get down the aisle, the checkout is no longer empty.  It seems that everybody was hiding at the end of the aisles waiting for the opportunity to get to the one checkout that was no longer devoid of shoppers.

The store manager realises that another checkout needs to be opened.  As soon as the checkout beside the checkout I'm at opens, I insist that the lady in front of me with only one item, goes ahead of me to the the newly opened checkout.  She thanks me.  As soon as she's about to head to the checkout, some asshole with his full shopping cart, swoops in front of her and proceeds to put his stuff on the conveyor belt.  In my mind, I meet the dude out in the parking lot and beat the crap out of him.

I patiently wait for my turn at the original checkout.  I go a bit ballistic when I notice that the basket I'm about to put on the stack of other baskets will not go on properly because some idiot has left the handles of a basket inwards.  I re-stack the baskets and mumble something about it being one of my pet peeves.

My turn and I have a nice chat with the lady cashier.  She states, "Judging by your accent, you've been a broad."  I reply, "Nope, as far as I know, I've always been a male,"  She giggled and I realised she actually meant "abroad."  "Where does your accent come from?", she inquired.  "Well, it starts at the bottom of my throat and works its way out of my mouth."  "Very funny!", she replied, "Where are you from?", she then asked.  I actually got to tell her it's a Canadian accent.  Rather different from the number of times I've been asked what part of the States am I from!   "How long have you been here?", she asked.  "About ten minutes.  Oh, you don't mean how long have I been in the store.  Okay, on and off, since October, 1987."

Took my groceries and wandered past the self-serve, so-called, express checkout.  The queue to use the self-serve made me glad I used the checkout where you can converse with a human.

Put my groceries in my car and headed back home.

I look at this sentence and notice that this has taken twenty minutes to write.  Should I check it for tipos, um, typos?  Nah, just publish the darned thing and see what happens.....Take that, fatigue!!!

Gutter Balls.

As I continue to challenge my fatigue, try to discover the underlying cause, I thought it might help if I travelled back in time.  Back to a time when I was one of the greatest athletes in the world you have never heard of. 

Oh yeah, a bit of reminiscing, way, way back in time, back to the early 80's.  And I mean the early 1980's.  

I was a five pin bowling star.  A game rather unique to Canada.  A game that takes some adjustment if you are used to ten pin bowling.  You try five pin bowling after ten pin bowling and five pin makes you feel like you are in some kind of a marbles competition.  

For more insight into five pin bowling you can always visit Jo at: JO ON FOOD, LIFE AND A SCENT OF CHOCOLATE

Here is our five pin bowling team.  Been so long that I cannot remember all the names of the team members.  I can tell you that the incredibly good looking guy on the back right of the photo with the tacky green spotted shirt and 1970's porno movie type moustache, is, yes, actually me!  Of course, I've never seen a 1970's porno movie.  I assumed the reference to my moustache must be correct. The young lady I'm placing my hands on her shoulders is the young lady I ended up marrying. Maybe she divorced me because I was a better bowler than her.  Moving on to the next photo.....

I realise it's difficult to see, but this is the trophy I received for being part of the Varsity Ridge, Vancouver Bowling champs, 1980-81.  This brings back some fond memories and will be a catalyst as I continue to battle this chronic fatigue.

I recall the first time I went five pin bowling.  I was about fourteen.  The person trying to teach me told me to, "Try to avoid getting gutter balls!"  I was curious about that statement.  I had a very long shower when I went home.

Looking For That Spring In My Step.

I'm still struggling with a relentless fatigue.  At least I'm trying to do something about it.  The effort is daunting.  The visualisation of  better times ahead, creates the catalyst.  The catalyst to have the determination to get out from under the duvet cover.  The duvet or doorway dilemma continues.  The doorway to the outside, to the possibilities of an energised spirit, embracing the great outdoors. The "klahanie", shall make me rise above the clouds of confusion.

I'm eating better, taking supplements, trying to get more exercise.  Although my blood tests have still not given a conclusive result, just maintaining a healthier lifestyle has got to pay dividends.  I admit that I've not been taking care of myself.  There's nobody to kick me up the butt.  Which means a virtual kick in the butt, from you, my kind friend, will most certainly inspire.

The past eight months have been months of great upheaval on so many levels.  Maybe, just maybe, part of my exhaustion is psychological.  I'm no longer in the role of single dad.  I feel useless and miss the times when my beloved son relied on me.  I suppose I'm experiencing "empty nest syndrome."  When the pain of such loneliness is at its most profound, I sit here as the sound of silence screams at me.  May the screams become a gentle whisper.

In my attempt to work through the exhaustion, I decided the purchase of a new camera might get me out there again.  I share with you a few photos of locations within ten minutes of where I live.  It's a start and may I photograph further afield.

It started with a ten second stroll down the hallway in the building I know live in.  The above view is of Leek, Staffordshire, England from a hallway window.  I shared the above photo on the Leek, Staffordshire Facebook page.  I'm amazed at the positive reaction I got on that Facebook page.

Across the road from where I live is Brough Park.  Just beyond the edges of the park is this pathway. A pathway, just ten minutes from home.  

There before me, just to the west, a vision of green, pleasant tranquillity.  

A farmhouse off in the distance.

More views to soothe my soul.

The sun began to set.

Time to turn back around.  Time to feel good about going out for an hour.  A significant event for this reluctant recluse

I realise you may be involved in the A to Z Challenge.  Thus, bearing this in mind, I have switched off comments.  I just want you to have a few moments to absorb the wonders I have begun to see through the photographs I share.

Back in my new place.  I gazed out the bedroom window and noted the moon.  The gentle breeze swayed through the trees.   Off in the distance an owl hooted its haunting song.  The creek roared below.  I'm getting there as the senses return.....

After The Blood Test.

Yes indeed, I'm attempting to make some sort of triumphant return to the wonderful world of blogging.

I've been struggling with constant fatigue.  Fatigue that lingers around like a bad smell.  I've been like this since before Christmas. I knew I needed medical consultation. 

Through the wonders of our universal health service, I got my situation coordinated, hopefully for the betterment of my well being.  Saw the doctor two Thursdays ago who arranged for me to have three blood tests with the nurse on the Friday.  Blood test results were ready last Wednesday.  I saw the doctor on Friday to go over my blood test results.

One blog test, sorry, blood test was to check out my liver and kidneys.  All was fine with that test.  Another test was for my thyroid.  All was fine with that test.  The third blood test was for my blood sugar levels which were a bit too high.  

This means I now have to go on a low-fat, low-sugar diet and see how that goes.  In the meantime, I shall be discussing my lifestyle on April 2 with a "Practice" nurse.  This has me a little worried because I'd rather see a real nurse.  It reminds of the time I was working for a mental health charity.  I was introduced to this one lady.  I asked her, "What's your job?"  She replied, "I'm a complimentary therapist."  To which I responded, "Okay then, pay me a compliment!" 

I'm having a heck of time with this fatigue.  Yet, getting something done about it makes me feel that little less exhausted.  I'm grateful for the emails and the private messages on "Farcebook" checking up on how I'm doing.   It's most heartening and I'm truly grateful.

During my absence, I still find I've got blogs on the brain.  Did I mention I went for a blog test?  The test determined I was going to have to reapply for my blog license.  This means I'm back to "Learner" blogger status and will be monitored by the watchful eyes of Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar! 

Somebody asked me for directions the other day.  I forgot I wasn't in North America and gave the English dude directions in North American.  "Could you please tell me how to get to Stoke on Trent?" he inquired.  "Sure thing", I said.  "Go four blogs down and make a right turn.  Proceed another three blogs and make a sharp left.  Then again. considering that Stoke is about eleven miles west of here, you might be better off to Blog Hop onto a bus."   Did I mention I still have blogs on the brain?  

Blog To The Future.

The past three months have left me in a state of flux.  "What the flux is going on?"  I thought to myself more times than I care to mention.

I'm so far out of the blogging loop that the loops have loops and I'm going loopy just thinking about all the loops I've missed.

The past three months have been a time of much upheaval.  Physically and emotionally.  Major changes in my personal life, my son's personal life and yes, the life of Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!

My son was originally supposed to move into his own home on August 18.  Then it became September 19, then September 26 and finally, yes finally, on Wednesday, October 15, my son moved into his home.  That would be the day he came over to my new home to take Penny back to his new home.

Three months of uncertainty, of all consuming worry about my son's predicament, came to an end.  No more of him living in limbo at my ex wife's home. Wednesday night I sat alone in the quietness of solitude.  Solitude that also brought a revelation.  The knowing that despite the new void, the depressive, debilitating environment I had experienced, was now starting to vanish.  The dull fog dissipated.  I knew that my son, indeed, that I had coped very well.  I was proud of him.  I was proud of myself.  My little Tristan, now a young adult, embracing the independence he'd craved with with every ounce of his adventurous dreams.

Now, both our new lives begin.  A sense of loss and yet a sense of a gain for us both.  A harmonious balance awaits.  This I know.  A fresh start.  A new magic.

Sensitivity, being finely tuned, did bring on one of the worst bouts of depression I've ever known.  Yet the depression was all about caring, of concern, of love.

It's time to go Blog To The Future.  I'm glad to be back.  Thank you for all the support, the caring I've received from so many sources in the background.  You have touched my heart.

A Sincere Adventure.

Music shall soothe me.  I let the gentle tones wash over me.  Oh how I need the music.  I type the words that flow.  Flow in unison with the moisture of tear-stained cheeks.

I am the island of dreams, of hope, of reaching out and embracing the sea of humanity that terrifies yet challenges me.  I am that lonely man beyond your computer screen.  I am the lonely man who has braved the world beyond my front door.  Each time I went out I began to flourish.  Each time I went out my enthusiasm was met with resentment.  The flourish faded.  I faded back into my other world of the uncomfortable comfort zone.

Soon, I will try again.  I cannot let the raw emotional wounds of the positive energy saboteurs continue to scupper my right to a peaceful, positive life.

I know that those who would bully consider me a vulnerable, easy target.  A target to mask the reality that they are insecure about who they really are.

Yes, my friend, I'm scared.  Yet beyond the fear, beyond the front door, I shall seek out the sincere adventure that has eluded me.  I know it's there.

Seven Sees.

Today, February 21, marks the seventh anniversary of this blog.  Seven years ago today this blog was born with the hopes of being part of a sharing, caring blogging community.  This I have realised.  During times of trouble, you've provided me with comfort, with encouragement.  For that, I'm profoundly grateful.  .

Seven sees me more determined than ever that we celebrate the differences and learn lessons from such diversity.

As of late, my interaction has been sporadic at best.  Overwhelming circumstances in my personal life have made my ability to focus on writing, a most difficult proposition.  Not only am I dealing with the upheaval of an impending move to a new place, I'm incessantly bombarded by a ruthless government that wont accept the huge amount of medical reports that confirm I'm not well.  Now, they are sending a health care professional to my house to perform a face-to-face assessment.

Over and over again, I'm having to dredge up the painful memories that I desperately try to move on from. Such evil irony.  They're making me sicker with the stress and anxiety.

It all gets too much.  Along with the constant hassle by the British government, my neighbours are becoming intolerable, yet again.  Thank goodness I may not have to tolerate my neighbours for much longer. I worry about my son as he will have to find his own place.  I worry about our beloved dog, Penny, during such unsettling times.

Seven sees me clinging onto my remaining fibres of positivity.  I must not allow the negativity to take me back to that horrible place of hell that nearly killed me.

Seven sees me still believing that there will be positives out of the perceived negatives.  The flickering flame of hope will not be extinguished.  I visualise that day when I can breathe.  A day when suffocation by those who would sabotage my yearning to live in peace, will finally leave me alone.

Seven sees me, no matter what happens, that I'll deal with it in a sober state.  Once upon a time, alcohol was my love, my best friend.  One day, my "best friend" nearly killed me.  I got scared, saw the tears in the eyes of my nine year old son as I lay dying in hospital.  That was the day I turned it around, got better and became a free man.  A day, nearly sixteen years ago, forever etched in my heart.

Seven sees this free man defiantly refusing to be chained.  Resolute in his determination to see this through.  I thank you for being here.

Stilts And Stairs.

I've been rather in the background lately.  Challenging the latest bout of deep depression.  A state of despair so debilitating that just switching on the computer is a struggle.

Once again, despite the exhaustion I'm feeling, physically and mentally, I'm going to use the positive therapy that is the wonder of the written word.

While sitting in my darkened living room, the only sounds, the ticking of numerous clocks, I got to thinking about my involvement in "Sanity Fair."  A yearly one day event on a Saturday, in mid-June, in Stoke on Trent.  Sanity Fair, a street festival of well being that aimed to bring further public awareness about mental health.  A street festival with the purpose of reducing the unfair stigma attached to mental health issues.  

Sadly, Sanity Fair is no more.  The memories linger on.  

During the 2008 Sanity Fair, I got to help out the events coordinator.  One of the requests from the events coordinator was for me to go and get three people who were located in a room on the third floor of the nearby library.  

Not exactly sure where they were on the third floor, I asked the library's receptionist.  "Excuse me, I'm looking for three clowns.  I've been told they are in a room on the third floor, but I'm not sure which room." Looking rather bewildered, she said she wasn't sure which room the three clowns were in, but I shouldn't have much trouble identifying them.

Up three flights of stairs I went.  The very first room, as luck would have it, I found the three clowns.  For some stupid reason, I asked them, "Are you the three clowns I'm looking for?"  Considering there was apparently no other clowns on the third floor, unless you include me, I had the clowns I needed.  

To my amazement, said clowns had stilts on. When they stood up in the room, their heads touched the ceiling.  I thought they would of waited to put their stilts on. We all went down the three flights of stairs. Visualise three clowns on stilts walking down three flights of stairs.  Indeed, visualise the perplexed looks of the people in the library as we walked by.

Here is a photo of the three clowns on stilts.  

I'm feeling better now.  Thinking back on that rather surreal moment makes me feel like I'm the fourth clown on stilts.  

Where You Be On That Tree?

I get a fair amount of emails that relate to mental health well being. They send me encouragement, support, understanding and gratitude. I'm touched by it all and experience a wide range of emotions. They appreciate my willingness to speak openly, transparently of my own mental health issues. Issues that are only a small part of who I am. There's a lot of pain out there. There's also a lot of hope.

At the bottom of this posting, if you so wish, are the backlinks that relate to mental health well being. If you're struggling, might desire some positive reinforcement, the backlinks may well be of help.

I have worked for a number of mental health charities, ran a men's group for the homeless, the rough sleepers and worked as a drugs counsellor, primarily with those who were addicted or worried about their alcohol intake.

The above illustration was sometimes used in discussion.  In a way, it fits into that ongoing, Tree of Life: Branching Out, collaboration. I will state, before somebody mentions it, the above illustration is not of Casper the friendly ghost and a collection of his spirited friends. Which means, if you ask which one is Casper, don't ask. Which means someone will now ask.

Just out of interest, think which one represents you on that tree and what that signifies.  .

Below are the links to the previous postings in chronological order. I hope, if you've never read them before, or want to reread them, they will be of some comfort. Thank you and remember, through awareness, through understanding, reaching out and helping each other, we can realise a better world.

We Are All In This Together.

Recognising Our Validity.

Improving Your Self-Esteem.

A Motivational Goal.

All In This Together?

I'm not normally one to do a political posting.  However, my last posting had some political undertones.  It takes a lot to make me this outraged.  I hope those who are experiencing such situations will back me up.  What I'm about to tell you maybe something you can relate to, no matter where you live.

I know that there are a lot of nations where unrest and the mistreatment of their citizens is prevalent.  However, this does not diminish the ongoing attack by the British government on the most desperate in our society.

In Britain, we have a coalition government.  They have imposed austerity measures.  They tell us that, "we are all in this together."  Austerity, is their way of targeting the poor, the sick, the disabled, the vulnerable.  They have brutally attacked the benefits of the genuine claimants and have left the unfortunate in a state of despair.  They have decided that we are scrounging off the system.  Yes, of course, there are those who are claiming benefits who should not.  To assume and label the vulnerable as abusing the system is an immoral outrage.  The stories of helplessness, of those who have committed suicide because of this, are increasing at a worrying level.

The tactic of the coalition government is to pit those fortunate enough to have work against those who either cannot work, or cannot find work.  A catalogue of propaganda and misinformation.

Austerity in Britain.  A nation where the poor, the sick, the disabled, the vulnerable pay for the mistakes of the incompetent fortunate.

 

David CameronVerified account‏@David_Cameron

This is the menu for the #G8UK dinner. I’ll chair a discussion on tax, trade, transparency and Syria at 830 tonight pic.twitter.com/GAWDxvEDkI

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 This is what appeared on Prime Minister David Cameron's twitter feed on June 17, 2013.  Personally, I consider it insensitive and immoral during these austere times.  A blatant disregard for those who are now suffering under his government's policies.   "All in this together?"  Tell that to the poor, the sick, the disabled, the vulnerable.  The unfortunate people who worry about such 'trivial' things as a roof over their heads and food on the table.

That quote above sums it up.  I shall continue to oppose those who attempt to put me back in a state of anxiety, of despair.  How dare they impose in such a way I'm barely managing to do this posting.  My peaceful defiance grows stronger.  The more adversity I receive and the more adversity others receive, the more resilient, the more  inspired we become.  This mental cruelty shall be ended.   To make the already sick, sicker is an evil irony, imposed by an evil, vile government.

If you wish, the next two links can give you some more information.

Transplant Patient Linda Wootton Dies After Being Judged 'Fit For Work'

British people are committing suicide to escape poverty....

It Wasn't A Career Choice.

You may have noted, if you are somebody who has kindly been reading my last few postings, that they are bordering on surreal.  An attempt at lateral thinking humour.  Not that I constantly think about laterals.  Although I did take a lateral once from the quarterback and ran over one hundred yards for a touchdown.  I was good at that type of football and we played according to Canadian Football League rules.

I rearranged my bedroom a short time ago.  Moved the wardrobe to a different location.  Put the bed by a different wall.  Went to my bedroom that evening and never bothered to switch on the light.  I jumped into bed.  That would be the bed that wasn't there because I'd forgotten I'd moved the bed.  I crashed to the floor.  On the way to the floor, I knocked my left shoulder on the wardrobe I suddenly remembered was also in a different location.  Yes, ouch!   The next night, I remembered to turn on the light switch.

Writing is my therapy.  There are times when life is at its most challenging and discouraging.  I attempt to instil a bit of light-hearted banter.  I hope that the distractions I thus write are also a bit of comfort to anybody who might be having a struggle.  Trying to make sense of what might seem a senseless situation.

I didn't make mental illness a career choice.  When the teacher asked us, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", one said, "airline pilot", one said, "doctor", another stated, "nurse".  I did not declare, "I want to become mentally ill and become a virtual recluse!"  I actually said , "I want to be an entertainer!"  The teacher smiled.  The class laughed.   An overwhelming negative environment can take its toll on the most resilient of us.  I have and continue to challenge elements that would have the audacity to sabotage my right to a peaceful, positive life.

Recently, I endured a most frightening time with a series of hospital visits.  I endured being summoned in for a face-to-face medical assessment that was to question my illness.  An assessment that occurred only a few hours after I'd had a biopsy in a bummer of a location. I proved my case and the benefits I wish I didn't need,  were awarded to me.  Two months later, the forms I had to fill in to get my benefits, have started all over again.  It's like being in a benefits nightmare "Groundhog Day".  Just when I was starting to feel better, the anxiety starts again.

And with the gentle music of nature's orchestra playing through the wind chimes, I ponder....I calm down..  Thank you for being here.

I Cannot Go Back There.

I'm not a well man.  I have mental and physical issues to contend with.  Like so many, I'm now experiencing the hell the British government is imposing on the sick, the poor, the vulnerable, the disabled.  All in the name of cost cutting while the incompetent fortunate smirk at the plight of the impoverished.  Many now live in fear, fear of keeping their houses warm, fear that they might not have enough to eat.  Scared to the point of hysterical panic that they might lose their homes.  Many are now living in fear of what tomorrow brings.  I am one of them.

In between my visits as a hospital outpatient over my medical problems, I'm now being summoned for the dreaded medical assessment that has wreaked havoc with so many desperate, frightened souls.  Several people have been deemed fit to work, when in reality, they are not.  If I am deemed fit to work, it will destroy me.  Workplace bullying in various jobs, both paid and voluntary, have left me in a state of deep despair.  

And the ripple effects of all of this?  My son, my beloved son, who through this economic mess, cannot find meaningful employment.  He continues on with his drawn out process of enlisting with the British Navy.  In the meantime, my young man cannot sleep properly, he is sad and it's breaking my heart.  My mother, my family in British Columbia, are worried sick over what's happening to me and my boy.  I do my best, with their support, to see a positive aspect to all of this.  

It's so exhausting.  I'm barely able to write a posting.  I'm barely able to interact within this supportive, caring blogging community.  My transparency, my verbalisation are important.  In my world, the truth is I struggle to sleep and I'm often still awake around ten in the morning.  Finally, I drift off and wake up in a panic about four in the afternoon.  I was starting to get better and then this government and its inhumane policies brought it all back with a vengeance.

Maybe my medical assessment will be okay.  I have to cling onto that thought.  I cannot go back there.  Back to that dark, foreboding place where I was so ill, the only comfort was the sound of a whirring fan by my bedside.  A fan that played the music of a man losing his sanity.  What has this world come to when they dredge up the past, the past I tried to move on from.  

No matter what, I have to, I must not let the evil bombard my right to a peaceful, positive life. With your help and caring, with my family's support, with the focus that I need to maintain a healthy environment for my son and for Penny, our beautiful dog, I will keep going.  

I'm a teardrop of the shining orb

Which has a message I must absorb

A glowing tear

Beyond the fear.

A Motivational Goal.

This is another article in my series on mental health well being.  If you missed the other postings and would like to read them, they are in the links at the bottom of this posting.

Today's topic is about Motivation.

Motivation, the driving force behind your desire to accomplish a goal in your life.  Motivation is the ability to inspire others and yourself to achieve or maintain a more positive life.

1 :  Take small steps :  Set and achieve mini-goals with the focus on a major goal.  Succeeding at mini-goals, helps reinforce further motivation.

2 :  See things through :  A partially finished project is of no use to anybody.  Quitting can become a habit.  Instil the habit of finishing projects.

3 :  Favourable friends :  The attitude of your friends can influence your attitude.  If they can't be bothered to make an effort, there is a possibility you will be the same way.  Thus, if you want to progress, you have to be surrounded by people who want to progress and encourage your progression.  Favourable friends will motivate you and you will motivate them.

4 :  Learn new skills :  New goals may require the acquisition of new knowledge.  The learning of new skills can enhance your motivation to realise your major goal or goals.

5 :  Fifteen minutes a day :  You don't have to spend hours and hours to accomplish goals.  You may discover that the greatest progress is the sum total of a series of small efforts.  Try and spend about fifteen minutes each day doing something that gets you closer to realising your goal.

6 :  Take a venture :  Yes, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Failure can be the motivation behind learning from your mistakes.  Mistakes do not define you.  What you learn from your mistakes, defines you.

7 :  Positive affirmations :  Remind yourself of your goals everyday.  Have a one-sentence affirmation for your goals.  Using such an affirmation can keep you focused on the visualisation of your goal.  It can become a natural way of thinking.

8 :  Break your goals down :  Goals can be given up on because they seem overwhelming.  If your goals seem to be a daunting prospect, it's a good idea to break them down into smaller, realistic, achievable tasks.

9 :  Get it written down :  To see your goals written down and the progress you're making, will help motivate and help your chances of making your goals come to fruition.

10 :  Review your goals :  Ask yourself challenging questions.  If the progress towards your goal is not as you would of hoped for, what's impeding your progress?  It may well be that your priorities have altered and a particular goal may no longer seem applicable.  You might consider a rethink and concentrate your energy of a goal more conducive to how you are now.

11 :  Treat yourself :  Each occasion you achieve a goal,  give yourself a reward.  Knowing that you are going to have a treat at the end of your goal, is quite the motivation.

12 :   Savour the moment and  enjoy your success :  Validate the fact that you have achieved your goal. Take time out to really enjoy and reflect upon your accomplishment.  This will help invigorate you and renew your energetic enthusiasm to move on with other goals.  Positive momentum, indeed!

Through faith, hope, willingness, support and friendship, we are motivated.  To be motivated you must have a genuine desire.  Motivation is about focused dedication to gain a positive outcome.  Motivation continues through inspiration from others and inspiration from within.  We can all motivate each other to realise our goals.

And the photo at the top.  I look out my bedroom window and I have the motivation to get out there and be a part of it all.

Here are the links to the other postings in this series.

We Are All In This Together.

Recognising Our Validity.

Improving Your Self-Esteem.