Monday 4th January 2016 - F**k, It really is the New Year Isn't it?

With New Year's day last Friday. It gave us the weekend to consider 2016. Creating a false start to the New Year. Lulling us into a false sense of hope, cheerfulness and security. The ultimate cock tease.

2016 stretched out like a Goddess. Full of hope and wonder and possibilities. Full of new beginnings and interesting events. New Years felt so wonderful. So utterly uplifting. Free of fear and pressure and real life. Work could piss off for a few days we could glory in new year hope.

New year stroked us and whispered beautiful things in our ear. It brought us tea in bed and made us scrambled egg and smoked salmon. It dived through the waves by moonlight and ran naked along a deserted beach. New Years danced provocatively to soulful Buddha beats and rendered us semi hard through our elasticated Xmas jogging bottoms. New year made slow beautiful love to us and bought us kebab and chips after.

New Years was sweet. New Years was beautiful. New Years was a crock of fucking shit.

Why? I'll fucking tell you why. Because New Years was on a Friday. That's why. It knew it had a weekend after it. The bastard. It knew it didn't count. It wasn't real. It knew it could dance like never before because work wasn't until Monday.

Monday 4th was real. New Year was a fantasy holiday. Who the fuck does anything on a weekend. It was like a liar on Tinder chatting you up without telling you they were married. New Years was a CAD.

Today is the proper New Year.  The first Monday/work day of the year. The real deal. When all the aspirations and goals set over the fantasy of the holidays becomes a crushing reality. Fuck you New Year with all your resolutions and Jules Holland Hogmany. Where the fuck is he on the Jubilee Line this morning?

Fuck New Year and all it's promise of new horizons and romantic breaks when you had to get on the tube at 6.43am crushed. When the kids wouldn't wake up or you still woke up next to him/her.

Fuck New Years when you reached for the coffee or still smoked on the way to the station. Fuck New Year when you realised you work in a shit hole job on a shit hole salary with shit hole people.

Seems a long time ago now doesn't it? That New Years Eve and New Years day? Followed by the weekend. Lulling us into a false sense of hope that was crushed this morning when reality kicked in, Bastard!!!

Fantasising rather than actually doing it is so much more fun. Sure I'd like a great job, business, home, money, financial security, health, happy zestful life. But do I REALLY have to put the effort in to get it? Can't I just remain in that holiday loop dreaming and writing it down?

Successful people of course reject this way of thinking. The fun is in the action. Doing something with a purpose and energy means it doesn't feel like work. It is just what you do. That's the gold right there. The holy grail. I do wonder if these people suffer as chronically with procrastination and sloth as me? Clearly not.

And what of today? The first day of the rest of your life? Except it was like the others. Did you do the same job? Follow the same path? Think the same way? Did you make any changes to normal? Did it follow the pattern of 2015?

Me? I worked from home. A lethal challenge for an arch procrastinator and recovering 'alkie'. Why? Well because at any given time the 'black cloud' of fear & low self esteem can strike, Rendering any positive actions like wading through treacle. Then when you sprinkle a little 'overwhelmed as to which direction, what to do' into the mix -  essentially crippling you into inertia.

These of course are ideal conditions to engage in full avoidance and procrastination. After all, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow/next week/month/year? Trouble is by avoiding it doesn't actually make the problem go away, it just hides it for a while and actually makes it grow until it reaches colossal proportions. Putting things off may feel comfortable but it's the worst thing you can do. The fear is winning then. "That's right my little fear ridden bitch. I've got you now" The fear will say to you. Owning you like a BDSM master whipping his little gimp.

Today I have been gripped by the fear along with a touch of low mood, a smidgeon of self doubt and dash of insecurity. The shitty committee was in the full board meeting - full throttle;

"You've fucked it now haven't you? You haven't juiced. You haven't drunk 10 litres of water. You haven't run 20 miles at 6am like all those successful people. You woke up late. Look at you. You're smoking and drinking tea. You'll never change you bum."

My committee are proper cunts, don't worry about that, Proper bastards the lot of them out to get me.

"Watch some of those successful speakers on You Tube. Go on buy the Sun newspaper where The Body Coach Joe Wicks is doing a clean in 15 challenge. Look at him, he's successful and only 26. He's minted. What are you? 43 and smoking you tosser."

They were savage;

The huge 'Fuck it' button was close to being pushed. When these bastards are in town sometimes the only solace is to give in and avoid. Cream cakes, ice cream, adult websites, endless smoking, DVD box-sets or whatever else there is to avoid the pain becomes so appealing.

But..........From somewhere I mustered the effort and energy to come back at them. Like a boxer on the ropes In the 11th round. Hurt, stumbling around, behind on points, bleeding from both eyes, pissing blood. (Not really I was in my dressing gown drinking tea with my nuts out to be perfectly honest. The dressing gown was the only thing I had in common with a boxer but you get my rather clumsy metaphor)

"Fuck you committee. You negative self serving horrible little bastards. Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Fuck you fat 'eat as much as you can fit in your mouth' bastard, fuck you cancer boy, fuck you smoking man, fuck you unprotected sex man, fuck you porn boy, fuck you procrastinator, fuck you bedsit boy, fuck you failure fucker, fuck you street drunk. Fuck you Sire Negative Cunt. Fuck all of you. Fuck you."

That told them. (I apologise if anyone is offended by bad language but it was my head not me.)

It's like the film 'A Beautiful Mind', where Russell Crowe learns to live with the characters in his head he thinks are real. Alcoholism is a little like that. Mine are varied and live deep in my mind. They make me think they are true and the true me. They wrap themselves around my soul and make me think they belong to me. They don't. They are John Barleycorn. Determined to sabotage my life.

It's a battle but I told them to fuck right off today. Good boy Nicky boy.

Instead I then went to the gym for a session with my amazing coach, who underneath his cheery demeanour really is the world's grumpiest bastard giving me huge mirth and I settled down for an afternoon in front of the laptop doing the best I could, the cricket and Columbo remained firmly off. A triumph for this little soldier.

The point is today, its Ok not to feel amazing. So I haven't launched into the year like a rocket. I haven't got the level of success I see others on social media (the age old awful phenomenon of compare and despair) So I haven't yet become the ultra lean n clean healthy guru (I may never be) - but I did OK, I didn't catastrophise. I didn't fuck everything and run (F.E.A.R) I just did what you guys did today. Just got on with things.

It's not a 9/10 day but it's not a 1/10 write off. Perspective Nicholas, it's a good thing sometimes.

And that little cock teasing bitch of New Year. Next time you fall on a Thursday and Friday, don't drag you little sisters Saturday and Sunday into it to back you up. Man up and don't lull us into a false sense of security again so we have to take on a whole year at once on a Monday. Let that be a lesson to you.

If you survived today you're a legend. If you are maintaining you're goals from Thursday night you are incredible and I salute you. If you've broken them already and feeling despondent fuck that. Get back on it tomorrow or message me and i'll set you straight.

We are all warriors. We are all legends so I want you all to finish reading this and repeat to yourself, quietly or loudly if you want (especially if you're in a packed train carriage) -

"I'M a MASSIVE FUCKING LEGEND and I'M DOING OK"

Love you all very much and let's have this 2016 Bastard.

Nicky Boy