Day 5 of Fast
Koh Samui, Thailand
I'm in the home straight! Only one and half days to go. I haven't eaten for 5 days! Five bloody days. Incredible really.
When you're sitting at home or just getting on with your every day life you cannot comprehend going 2 days without food, let alone a week. For people who have never fasted it genuinely seems impossible. But it isn't. Just like a lot of things in my head.
I asked a fellow returnee, Leslie from London, what her family and friends thought of her fasting. "Oh they think I'm bonkers", she replied. Probably because it is.
Life here is different for us 20 or so fasters. The tropical climate, sun, heat, mediation at 7.30am, yoga at 8.45am, colema at 10am, juice at 1, 4, colema at 5 then final juice at 7 keeps the day full.
When you're at home fasting is nigh on impossible. It's a totally different cocooned environment here so you don't really miss eating too much and just get on with it.
She called it her 'annual MOT', which is pretty how I view it.
She also admitted to feeling negative, having low self esteem and feelings of isolation yesterday. So it's not just alcoholics that have those feelings, civilians do too. It made me feel better. I think identification on a deep level is one of the greatest things for a human. Feeling isolated or alone is corrosive for mind and health. Although she did say she had an addictive personality. Interesting. I shall investigate further tomorrow. Perhaps there are more addicts out there than we or they realise, undiagnosed just maintaining it the best they can.
We also discussed the weird process of fasting. She admitted to eating crap, drinking, getting stressed, living badly after her fast last year, with a brief restbite when she got home only to slip into bad habits and return again this year. Many people who come here have exactly the same cycle. Habits and lifestyles are hard to change.
When you get back to normal living. Busy job, kids, families, stress, commuting, London living, social life, whatever it maybe - it is hard to maintain good habits if you're used to bad ones. Finding the time to meditate, cook fresh food, exercise, see family, maintain relationships with friends, drink water, nourish yourself is difficult in a busy life. Unless of course that is your lifestyle, then it's a piece of piss. In fact when you are like that an unhealthy lifestyle seems alien and repulsive. It's like the reverse side of the same coin.
The key is to find a way to incorporate good habits into your life. I find it incredibly difficult after so long in bad ones. It is engrained and changing them is hard.
Still talking to Leslie today showed me I am not alone. There are many of us and why places like Spa Samui are so popular. But it is a quick fix and not the answer to long term health and wellness. This has to come from within and be maintained on a daily basis. This is the challenge for us all.
It is what happens between the fasts that is more mportant than the fast.
Having said that it does make me feel great and have shed 4KG's of excessive Xmas flab plus today my energy came back and my head feels clear. I still get the head invade me of course, as per yesterday but on the whole I am feeling much clearer. The fog is lifting. But I still remain.
Today has been OK. I woke early and ground out a 45 minute run, stopping for an ace meditation at my favourite spot. I managed 7.5 minutes this time and even got out of my own head for 3 of it. Fabulous. The run was great on the way back. Top off, sweating, stride lengthening, pace increasing, breathing rythmical, head flowing with positive ideas. It's like active form of meditation for me and I fucking love it.
Then I had a great Colema. I know I shouldn't say, but Christ so much came out I felt a stone lighter. 10 months of processed meat finally escaping. "Get out you little bastards" I murmured. I had to question my sanity at that point. I appeared to be talking to my own colon. 5 days of not eating clearly does that to man.
The rain poured down all day so I retreated to my hotel room. This is where the head started and I went into self. That is not a good place. I began to try and plot my future. Not being able to decide on counselling, therapist, trainer, coaching, writing a novel or becoming a self help guru. 'Where do I start?' I became overwhelmed and took to smoking cigarettes on the balcony. I was in danger of disappearing up my own arse again and into the black dog.
Luckily I had Colema number 2 (pun intended) however on the way I got into a great conversation with a fellow faster for an hour. I felt better. It took me out of me. I realised that connection with other humans are so important. I'm not great on my own.
Then I had another wicked Colema. I know this is stupid but just the action of having to do something you had to concentrate on other than your own thinking helped. The fact that more hidden cocktail sausages were released was a bonus. Instead of murmuring, empowered by new found confidence in shitting I repeated the 'get out you bastards' phrase but loudly this time.
I was kept amused throughout the day by my best mates on a WhatsApp group sending me pictures of delicious food all day. The bastards sent Tunnocks Tea Cakes, Burger and Chips, a massive beef rib and Sunday Roast. I love my mates, luckily the last image was of flatbread and hummus. Nobody likes hummus so it put me off eating for another 2 days. Cheers buddy!
As you can tell not a lot happened today. I return to my earlier statement. I honestly thought I couldn't go a whole week without eating but I can. I honestly thought I couldn't run a marathon but I ran 7 of them. I honestly thought I couldn't do an Ironman but I did 3 of them. I honestly thought I couldn't stop drinking but I have for 14 years.
So despite so much evidence to the contrary, that my head tells lies, why do I doubt I can become a coach, trainer, self help guru, write a selling novel, help many people, earn decent money, build the life I want, quit smoking, live healthily and be free of other addictions?
It's a question that I keep asking myself over and over again. One day I will stop believing it.
Love you all very much and please sponsor me for the London Marathon. I'm running it in 8 weeks for Action on Addiction and any support is appreciated.
https://www.justgiving.com/Nick-Evans23/
Nicholas 'Is that an adams apple or are you just pleased to see me?' Evans
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Day 4 of the Not So Secret Fasters Diary - Crash!
Day 4 of The Fast - Crash, Bang and Wallop!
Today was meltdown. A roller coaster. A day of two halves. A great example of fasting, alcoholism, the 'old angry negative me and AA recovery. I had underestimated fasting, being lulled into a false sense of security that it was a piece of piss and have no affect on my mental or physical state. How wrong I was.
Waking up it felt as if all the years of throwing toxins into my body had rolled into one big mother fucker of a crash. Aching, drained, devoid of energy with thick foggy, negative and critical head. The Black dog was on me.
I'm not sure what the black dog is. It's not depression, I'm not sure if it's my alcoholism or if it's just some black cloud that takes a hold. My mind has a tendency towards critical and negative thinking at the best of times. The monkey mind sometimes taking over. The conscious brain, with thousands of limiting self beliefs, worries, fears and anxieties runs amok. If you add alcoholism and the alcoholic mind to the mix it can become disabling. When these two collide and you add a sprinkling of fasting toxins leaving the body it can have a devastating effect. That's what happened to me today.
Old Nick, Negative Nick, Diseased Nick, Devil Nick took over from the moment I opened my eyes, like it had me in a vice like grip. It's as if my disease, the black dog and toxin crash had a meeting whilst I was asleep and agreed to fuck me up when I woke. "We've been expecting you Nicholas, welcome to the day. We are in control now."
I considered meditation, yoga, running or swimming but was welded to the bed. Indecision and apathy ran through me. I immediately castigated myself for not swimming. Comparing and despairing against my Ironman coach who would have been marching out to sea and swimming 1.5km by now. I looked out at the ocean and sank into extreme self hatred. "Why can't I just get up and get out" I whined to myself.
Then I spotted all the other fasters heading to yoga along the beach and I felt double despair that I hadn't made it yet this week and questioned my entire spiritual axis and motivation. It was 7.25am. I knew I was in for a ride with the head.
I attempted to 'get out of my head' with a guided meditation for 20 minutes. But I couldn't get 'turn that bollocks off, this is just a waste of time you know you'll still feel shit after' out of my head the whole time. The committee was in full conference.
I then made a fatal error, I scrolled through Facebook. Big mistake (so much for my social media detox) When you are feeling crap it is guaranteed to make you feel decidedly less than, by viewing loads of people with shiny happy lives doing great things, surrounded by love, family, great job or writing books or other amazing stuff. Sickening. I came across an interview with a lovely guy from AA, whom I helped in his early days and have nothing but love for. He's an actor, just about to be married and doing a film about his life growing up in London with himself, Ray Winstone and Paul Weller doing the soundtrack. The interview was glowing and it sounded like he was on top of the world.
In a healthy, happy and balanced state of mind, (particularly the one I found 3 weeks ago, but sadly lost a week later) I would be happy for him.
Instead, the black dog simply sunk me deeper into gloom. 'Fuck I'm 4 years ahead of him in recovery and what am I doing with my life? Where's my fucking interview in a members club in Soho for a national newspaper?"
I spent the next 30 minutes rubbishing my entire sobriety, life and future. It was compare and despair of the highest order. The Black dog wasn't just holding the steering wheel. It was driving the fucking bus too!
There is an old saying in AA. "Don't go into your head alone, it's a bad neighbourhood." I didn't just go in solo. I camped out overnight and bought the street. I was gone.
I attempted to read some pages of a self help book someone bought me called, "You Are A Badass, How To Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life." This just made me worse. The author talked about negative thinking, how we create our own misery and how you can earn a fortune and create the life you want in some simple steps. I felt like throwing myself off the balcony.
Jealousy and envy overpowered me. She's writing what I want, yet I don't know how to get it. And she was writing 'How to Get it' - I hated it even more. How am I going to earn my fortune? What is my self help book going to be if I can't help myself? It was full on whiny self hatred. Shoot me now!
I found all of my confusion and uncertainty about what I want to do with my life rising up and overwhelming me. I was almost hyperventilating. I smoked 2 cigarettes, prayed and with dread went for my 1st colema of the day. "Don't worry", I thought, "there's an AA meeting at 11am, that'll make you feel better."
So off I popped for the colema. Have you ever had one of those days where everything seems to go wrong and you're all fingers and thumbs and cant seem to get your shit together? Well that was me in the colema room. I literally couldn't get my shit together.
The pipe kept coming out of my ass, there was shit everywhere, I couldn't re-attach it and in the end I abandoned it half way through, traumatised and double castigating myself. "You can't even shit properly, you stupid bastard." the black dog said. I felt very low. I was even less than at shitting.
I staked everything I had on the meeting.
Meetings are very different to the UK here. There is no main speaker, this one was in an upstairs open air restaurant, over looking the beach. People sit round a table and it is pretty free and easy relaxed.
I got upstairs and Dr J was taking the meeting and there were 6 women around the table. 'Fuck' I thought. 'Just my luck'. They were all dressed as extras for 'Eat, Pray and Love'.
In my state I needed some old timer guys who would talk pure alcoholism and recovery and make me laugh and help me pull out of the misery. I needed to get out of my head, Instead I got Dr J and several middle aged women who were on a yoga retreat.
Now, I shouldn't be saying this because of the yellow card. It is Anonymous after all and it's not for me to go blabbing what is said in a meeting. I am aware I am probably breaking the twelfth tradition (or is it 11th) - that anonymity is the spiritual principle of AA, but I wanted ot commit it down to writing, as it highlights alcoholism, how you can fuck up and how you can make amends. Forgive me, if any AA's are reading this and shaking their head at me writing about it.
The meeting started 10 minutes late, which got my skin crawling. I was seething inside. An old timer once said to me, "a hallmark of good recovery Nick is a meeting starting on time and finishing on time." - I'm quite old school in the values that way. Everyone was sat around doing small talk. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I wanted my medicine. I felt deeply uncomfortable.
Then we did a reading about step 4, this is essentially character defects, how we are malfunctioned and our behaviour can cause pain to others. Instead of blaming others for everything it's usually something to do with ourselves and our reaction to life. I listened and nodded sagely. This was me. Who am I to judge and criticise others?
Then Dr J kicked off the meeting, again, as he has done for the past 10 years of coming here. I thought to myself. "Have respect, have tolerance and have compassion for the man." I looked him in the eye and listened to him talk.
10 minutes later I was getting twitchy. It was a 1 hour meeting, there were 7 of us and there were 29 minutes left. I told myself to 'shut up and listen more'. I did.
15 minutes went by and he was still going. Bits were coming off me by now. Steam was rising, resentment burning. His words were actually starting to hurt.
20 minutes passed and began going through my full (and trusted AA repertoire) of tricks to signify to Dr J that his time to speak was now up. I thought 'we're all going to get about 4 minutes here and this cunt has had 20'.
I rattled my chair, looked at my watch twice, yawned, put my head in my hands and finally with my head about to explode, did a huge sigh and kicked the table. Everyone looked round at me. He carried on undeterred.
My anger was rising. My head was doing cartwheels. I considered walking out, but finally I just cut in as he was speaking and aggressively said, "Is anyone else going to get a chance to share?" - He stopped dead, looked dumbfounded and replied back with venom, "Sure Nick, there's 25 minutes left, I'm sure everyone wants to hear you."and stopped dead.
There was an awkward hush. Even the rain stopped momentarily. Everyone looked at me. I kept my trap shut. A whole 30 seconds went by before one of the old girls said "Do you want to share Nick" I said, "No, I wanted to listen to others and share later."
Luckily a newcomer who doesn't give a toss about such AA ego stand offs and is so self absorbed (ring any bells Nick?) piped up. But the die was cast. My mood sank lower.
I managed to share. Throwing a couple of snide kidney shots to Dr J. It's the classic AA share in a general way but you are really aiming at someone. It's a low blow but I was fuming.
My mood was compounded at the end when one of the yoga girls, who didn't identify herself as an alcoholic shared about 'we' and 'us' and how people shouldn't judge and criticise and how she thought it was important people had the right to express their feelings. Fair enough,
But basically she was having a kidney shot at me, however what she failed to see was that whilst saying 'we shouldn't judge' she was actually judging me for sharing what I did. Classic blind denial and hypocrisy. Mostly found in the yoga spiritual kind of AA around these parts.
It wasn't the best meeting for me. I felt like I was in my early days. Angry Nick had come back with a bang.To be fair I could have said a lot worse, all I did was cut him dead, but I was still out of line.
The meeting ended. Everyone sat round indulging in small talk again. I left immediately with my head burning. Could today get any worse?
I stomped around, smoked a cigarette and went back to my room to sound off to someone. I had too. What followed was a 10 minute rant. By the end of it I realised I was out of line, that I shouldn't fuck with the traditions of a meeting and never cut someone off no matter what. But I also realised I was right though in my sentiments just not my actions.
I went to sleep, woke up, felt awful, and went back for my 2nd colema. Whilst I was waiting Dr J walked past. I knew what I had to do.
I went up to him, looked him in the eye and apoligised. I shouldn't have done it. He accepted and gave me some feedback. Saying on Thursday you said 'you prefer to hear people's truths and how they are feeling' I tried that today and still you didn't like it.' I felt guilty.
A - that he actually listened to me last week so tried something new and B - that he was sharing some painful stuff and I just cut him off.
I felt awful and we shook hands, I apologised again, I said he was a good man and offered him a hug. We embraced in a slightly stiff and emabarrased way and I walked away feeling so much better. I will never have a resentment again Dr J again.
I sailed through the 2nd colema, and thought 'yes i'm a competent shitter again' suddenly the world felt better. My energy cleared and I actually began to feel a little high, like I was on drugs. Fasting can do that to you.
I bumped into a newcomer from the meeting and said, 'I'm sorry for earlier, that's not usual AA behaviour", she said , 'Oh god don't worry about it, I was thinking the same as you.' - vindication!
The evening was spent eating clear broth and getting pummeled by the strongest thai woman I have ever seen with hands like shovels. It was a bona fide Thai Massage before you ask. A happy ending from her would have finished me off (perhaps not the best turn of phrase)
So there it is, that's day 4. So many lessons for me to learn'
Today was meltdown. A roller coaster. A day of two halves. A great example of fasting, alcoholism, the 'old angry negative me and AA recovery. I had underestimated fasting, being lulled into a false sense of security that it was a piece of piss and have no affect on my mental or physical state. How wrong I was.
Waking up it felt as if all the years of throwing toxins into my body had rolled into one big mother fucker of a crash. Aching, drained, devoid of energy with thick foggy, negative and critical head. The Black dog was on me.
I'm not sure what the black dog is. It's not depression, I'm not sure if it's my alcoholism or if it's just some black cloud that takes a hold. My mind has a tendency towards critical and negative thinking at the best of times. The monkey mind sometimes taking over. The conscious brain, with thousands of limiting self beliefs, worries, fears and anxieties runs amok. If you add alcoholism and the alcoholic mind to the mix it can become disabling. When these two collide and you add a sprinkling of fasting toxins leaving the body it can have a devastating effect. That's what happened to me today.
Old Nick, Negative Nick, Diseased Nick, Devil Nick took over from the moment I opened my eyes, like it had me in a vice like grip. It's as if my disease, the black dog and toxin crash had a meeting whilst I was asleep and agreed to fuck me up when I woke. "We've been expecting you Nicholas, welcome to the day. We are in control now."
I considered meditation, yoga, running or swimming but was welded to the bed. Indecision and apathy ran through me. I immediately castigated myself for not swimming. Comparing and despairing against my Ironman coach who would have been marching out to sea and swimming 1.5km by now. I looked out at the ocean and sank into extreme self hatred. "Why can't I just get up and get out" I whined to myself.
Then I spotted all the other fasters heading to yoga along the beach and I felt double despair that I hadn't made it yet this week and questioned my entire spiritual axis and motivation. It was 7.25am. I knew I was in for a ride with the head.
I attempted to 'get out of my head' with a guided meditation for 20 minutes. But I couldn't get 'turn that bollocks off, this is just a waste of time you know you'll still feel shit after' out of my head the whole time. The committee was in full conference.
I then made a fatal error, I scrolled through Facebook. Big mistake (so much for my social media detox) When you are feeling crap it is guaranteed to make you feel decidedly less than, by viewing loads of people with shiny happy lives doing great things, surrounded by love, family, great job or writing books or other amazing stuff. Sickening. I came across an interview with a lovely guy from AA, whom I helped in his early days and have nothing but love for. He's an actor, just about to be married and doing a film about his life growing up in London with himself, Ray Winstone and Paul Weller doing the soundtrack. The interview was glowing and it sounded like he was on top of the world.
In a healthy, happy and balanced state of mind, (particularly the one I found 3 weeks ago, but sadly lost a week later) I would be happy for him.
Instead, the black dog simply sunk me deeper into gloom. 'Fuck I'm 4 years ahead of him in recovery and what am I doing with my life? Where's my fucking interview in a members club in Soho for a national newspaper?"
I spent the next 30 minutes rubbishing my entire sobriety, life and future. It was compare and despair of the highest order. The Black dog wasn't just holding the steering wheel. It was driving the fucking bus too!
There is an old saying in AA. "Don't go into your head alone, it's a bad neighbourhood." I didn't just go in solo. I camped out overnight and bought the street. I was gone.
I attempted to read some pages of a self help book someone bought me called, "You Are A Badass, How To Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life." This just made me worse. The author talked about negative thinking, how we create our own misery and how you can earn a fortune and create the life you want in some simple steps. I felt like throwing myself off the balcony.
Jealousy and envy overpowered me. She's writing what I want, yet I don't know how to get it. And she was writing 'How to Get it' - I hated it even more. How am I going to earn my fortune? What is my self help book going to be if I can't help myself? It was full on whiny self hatred. Shoot me now!
I found all of my confusion and uncertainty about what I want to do with my life rising up and overwhelming me. I was almost hyperventilating. I smoked 2 cigarettes, prayed and with dread went for my 1st colema of the day. "Don't worry", I thought, "there's an AA meeting at 11am, that'll make you feel better."
So off I popped for the colema. Have you ever had one of those days where everything seems to go wrong and you're all fingers and thumbs and cant seem to get your shit together? Well that was me in the colema room. I literally couldn't get my shit together.
The pipe kept coming out of my ass, there was shit everywhere, I couldn't re-attach it and in the end I abandoned it half way through, traumatised and double castigating myself. "You can't even shit properly, you stupid bastard." the black dog said. I felt very low. I was even less than at shitting.
I staked everything I had on the meeting.
Meetings are very different to the UK here. There is no main speaker, this one was in an upstairs open air restaurant, over looking the beach. People sit round a table and it is pretty free and easy relaxed.
I got upstairs and Dr J was taking the meeting and there were 6 women around the table. 'Fuck' I thought. 'Just my luck'. They were all dressed as extras for 'Eat, Pray and Love'.
In my state I needed some old timer guys who would talk pure alcoholism and recovery and make me laugh and help me pull out of the misery. I needed to get out of my head, Instead I got Dr J and several middle aged women who were on a yoga retreat.
Now, I shouldn't be saying this because of the yellow card. It is Anonymous after all and it's not for me to go blabbing what is said in a meeting. I am aware I am probably breaking the twelfth tradition (or is it 11th) - that anonymity is the spiritual principle of AA, but I wanted ot commit it down to writing, as it highlights alcoholism, how you can fuck up and how you can make amends. Forgive me, if any AA's are reading this and shaking their head at me writing about it.
The meeting started 10 minutes late, which got my skin crawling. I was seething inside. An old timer once said to me, "a hallmark of good recovery Nick is a meeting starting on time and finishing on time." - I'm quite old school in the values that way. Everyone was sat around doing small talk. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I wanted my medicine. I felt deeply uncomfortable.
Then we did a reading about step 4, this is essentially character defects, how we are malfunctioned and our behaviour can cause pain to others. Instead of blaming others for everything it's usually something to do with ourselves and our reaction to life. I listened and nodded sagely. This was me. Who am I to judge and criticise others?
Then Dr J kicked off the meeting, again, as he has done for the past 10 years of coming here. I thought to myself. "Have respect, have tolerance and have compassion for the man." I looked him in the eye and listened to him talk.
10 minutes later I was getting twitchy. It was a 1 hour meeting, there were 7 of us and there were 29 minutes left. I told myself to 'shut up and listen more'. I did.
15 minutes went by and he was still going. Bits were coming off me by now. Steam was rising, resentment burning. His words were actually starting to hurt.
20 minutes passed and began going through my full (and trusted AA repertoire) of tricks to signify to Dr J that his time to speak was now up. I thought 'we're all going to get about 4 minutes here and this cunt has had 20'.
I rattled my chair, looked at my watch twice, yawned, put my head in my hands and finally with my head about to explode, did a huge sigh and kicked the table. Everyone looked round at me. He carried on undeterred.
My anger was rising. My head was doing cartwheels. I considered walking out, but finally I just cut in as he was speaking and aggressively said, "Is anyone else going to get a chance to share?" - He stopped dead, looked dumbfounded and replied back with venom, "Sure Nick, there's 25 minutes left, I'm sure everyone wants to hear you."and stopped dead.
There was an awkward hush. Even the rain stopped momentarily. Everyone looked at me. I kept my trap shut. A whole 30 seconds went by before one of the old girls said "Do you want to share Nick" I said, "No, I wanted to listen to others and share later."
Luckily a newcomer who doesn't give a toss about such AA ego stand offs and is so self absorbed (ring any bells Nick?) piped up. But the die was cast. My mood sank lower.
I managed to share. Throwing a couple of snide kidney shots to Dr J. It's the classic AA share in a general way but you are really aiming at someone. It's a low blow but I was fuming.
My mood was compounded at the end when one of the yoga girls, who didn't identify herself as an alcoholic shared about 'we' and 'us' and how people shouldn't judge and criticise and how she thought it was important people had the right to express their feelings. Fair enough,
But basically she was having a kidney shot at me, however what she failed to see was that whilst saying 'we shouldn't judge' she was actually judging me for sharing what I did. Classic blind denial and hypocrisy. Mostly found in the yoga spiritual kind of AA around these parts.
It wasn't the best meeting for me. I felt like I was in my early days. Angry Nick had come back with a bang.To be fair I could have said a lot worse, all I did was cut him dead, but I was still out of line.
The meeting ended. Everyone sat round indulging in small talk again. I left immediately with my head burning. Could today get any worse?
I stomped around, smoked a cigarette and went back to my room to sound off to someone. I had too. What followed was a 10 minute rant. By the end of it I realised I was out of line, that I shouldn't fuck with the traditions of a meeting and never cut someone off no matter what. But I also realised I was right though in my sentiments just not my actions.
I went to sleep, woke up, felt awful, and went back for my 2nd colema. Whilst I was waiting Dr J walked past. I knew what I had to do.
I went up to him, looked him in the eye and apoligised. I shouldn't have done it. He accepted and gave me some feedback. Saying on Thursday you said 'you prefer to hear people's truths and how they are feeling' I tried that today and still you didn't like it.' I felt guilty.
A - that he actually listened to me last week so tried something new and B - that he was sharing some painful stuff and I just cut him off.
I felt awful and we shook hands, I apologised again, I said he was a good man and offered him a hug. We embraced in a slightly stiff and emabarrased way and I walked away feeling so much better. I will never have a resentment again Dr J again.
I sailed through the 2nd colema, and thought 'yes i'm a competent shitter again' suddenly the world felt better. My energy cleared and I actually began to feel a little high, like I was on drugs. Fasting can do that to you.
I bumped into a newcomer from the meeting and said, 'I'm sorry for earlier, that's not usual AA behaviour", she said , 'Oh god don't worry about it, I was thinking the same as you.' - vindication!
The evening was spent eating clear broth and getting pummeled by the strongest thai woman I have ever seen with hands like shovels. It was a bona fide Thai Massage before you ask. A happy ending from her would have finished me off (perhaps not the best turn of phrase)
So there it is, that's day 4. So many lessons for me to learn'
- do not underestimate fasting
- do not underestimate my disease of alcoholism
- take care of the head otherwise the black dog will descened
- do not compare an despair
- why be so self critical?
- Learn to love instead of hate
- sharing my truth is important even when it's angry or fucked up
- you can say you are sorry and start again
- positive actions lead to positive mind-sets
- to thine own self be true
It's been an interesting day I hope day 5 is better and I don't fall out with anyone. Just imagine if I gave up smoking too.
Lots of love
Nicholas 'lady thai boy' Evans
Friday, February 26, 2016
Day 3 Of The Not So Secret Fasting Diary of Nicholas Evans Aged 43 and 3/4
Day 3
Today was another slow day in Paradise. Not a lot happens when you're fasting.
Get up, drink detox shake, eat tablets, shit, drink detox shake, eat tablets, shit, drink detox drink, eat tablets, go to bed and Repeat x7.
Except today was thrilling. So many things happened I can't wait to share them all with you.
Great news! The good body man wasn't by the pool today so my status as number 1 Alpha male was restored. Granted, the only other men were three 70 year old Eastern Europeans with bow legs and an overweight Chinese man who's wife wore armbands in a waist high swimming pool. Still, the sweet feeling of alpha status sated my wafer thin ego.
The morning was uneventful save for passing a German couple sporting matching Bum-bags and 'Def Leppard' t-shirts. They wore them without post-modern retro fashion irony. They were genuinely 80's warriors. In fact they pre-dated irony which actually made them twice removed ironic. Like an Irony Paradigm. You don't see many of them these post-modern ironic retro days. It was refreshing to see a couple genuinely dress badly.
I bumped into Dr John and had a brief but perplexing conversation. I asked him, "How long have you been fasting manager?" Averting my gaze he said, "I fast every year". I repeated the question but louder. "Oh, sorry" he said, averting once more, "Buzz used to be restaurant manager, fast manger, everything manager before he built a couple of villas up there in the mountains and hired them out." I was rather stunned by this reply. It took me a few seconds to wonder what the fuck was going on before I said. "Who's Buzz?". Dr John looked at me as if I was a piece of 'deep cleansed stool', like I should know Buzz as an old friend, "He was the fasting manager before me". "oh" I said and immediately left none- the wiser. What an odd man. Dr John, not Buzz. Buzz sounds cool, I'd like to hang out with him in his Villa's. I bet he looks you in they eye and answers a straight question.
Both morning and evening colema's were particularly nasty. Definitely something to be endured not enjoyed. The opposite of my life Motto.
However, the afternoon colema was made a little easier after a brief chat with a fellow faster and really interesting dreadlocked Grandmother from Portland. USA. She imported Sari's and jewellery from India to Portland. We talked about Goa and India and all the vivid colours and extremities it offered. We talked about fasting, the world and globalisation. When I asked her what Portland was like she replied, "alternative, but it's become gentrified". This sparked a 5 minute chat about how all the cool, creative artistic areas are becoming less affordable or 'gentrified. I offered up Kings Road, Notting Hill, Shoreditch and Kensington as examples in London of independent creative hubs that were now full of dull and samey investment bankers or similar types who can only afford to live there.
I became somewhat misty eyed and sentimental when I recalled to her the Kings Road of when I was 14 or the individual fashion stores at Kensington Market. She was kind and patient and when she asked what was Kensington Market was like these days, I replied "Maplin."
We both rather gloomily agreed this is a world problem and centred around capitalism and with a new unity forged we disappeared into traps 7 and 9 to shit ourselves.
Fasting is a great leveller. There we were discussing globalisation, vibrations and energy flows with her looking like the coolest granny you would ever see and me looking like David Hasselhoff in Speedos. Still I gave a good account of myself and seemed far more worldly than I really am. I think I just about pulled it off. She seemed impressed.
Back at the pool I got chatting to someone. After 10 minutes of idle chat, the waiter came over and placed a massive bowl of crinkle cut French fries in front of them. 'Holy fuck, how good do they look?" I remarked. "Did you know I was fasting?" "Sorry no, do you mind if I eat them?" "Not at all", I lied. I watched them eat every mouthful. They looked like the best chips I've ever seen. Golden, lightly fried, you could even hear the little crunch as they bit. "How good are they out of 10? I asked. "7.5" was the reply. They looked like a 15 to me but I was pleased with 7.5, though I think they underplayed it to manage my hunger. When they finished I found myself getting a little closer to them in the vague hope I could smell the chips on their breath. Then I realised how creepy it was. Fasting does that to you sometimes.
I ran again in the evening. My IM coach will be pleased. But not at the pace. In fairness I did pass two people on the steepest climb. But they were Thai pensioners, one of which had a limp.
I got my favourite vantage point, it was a little lighter tonight, so I was able to climb onto the rock jutting over the sea, waves crashing below me and stars twinkling above. There were no urinating dogs tonight so I was able to meditate for a full 10 minutes.
I decided the Sea is my Higher power. It doesn't give a fuck. It just rolls in and out relentlessly, waves constantly crashing and it's bigger than me.
On the bare-chested run back, I was applauded and bowed at by 4 Thai's leaving a restaurant. Granted they were pissed but they seemed to be impressed by my sweaty efforts. I like Thailand, the people are sweet. In England when you run bare-chested all you tend to get from people is a loud, "wanker!"
I have to admit diary, I caved in and drank a can of Schweppes Lime soda tonight after the run. It was a moment of weakness and I'm sorry. I know it's a slippery slope, after all i'm an addict and one lime/soda could lead to two, then a banana, then a pizza and before I know it i'm knee deep in deep fried ping pong balls and ladyboys.
I'll be a good boy tomorrow and ensure it won't happen.
Love you long time
Nicholas 'Thai-boy' Evans
Today was another slow day in Paradise. Not a lot happens when you're fasting.
Get up, drink detox shake, eat tablets, shit, drink detox shake, eat tablets, shit, drink detox drink, eat tablets, go to bed and Repeat x7.
Except today was thrilling. So many things happened I can't wait to share them all with you.
Great news! The good body man wasn't by the pool today so my status as number 1 Alpha male was restored. Granted, the only other men were three 70 year old Eastern Europeans with bow legs and an overweight Chinese man who's wife wore armbands in a waist high swimming pool. Still, the sweet feeling of alpha status sated my wafer thin ego.
The morning was uneventful save for passing a German couple sporting matching Bum-bags and 'Def Leppard' t-shirts. They wore them without post-modern retro fashion irony. They were genuinely 80's warriors. In fact they pre-dated irony which actually made them twice removed ironic. Like an Irony Paradigm. You don't see many of them these post-modern ironic retro days. It was refreshing to see a couple genuinely dress badly.
I bumped into Dr John and had a brief but perplexing conversation. I asked him, "How long have you been fasting manager?" Averting my gaze he said, "I fast every year". I repeated the question but louder. "Oh, sorry" he said, averting once more, "Buzz used to be restaurant manager, fast manger, everything manager before he built a couple of villas up there in the mountains and hired them out." I was rather stunned by this reply. It took me a few seconds to wonder what the fuck was going on before I said. "Who's Buzz?". Dr John looked at me as if I was a piece of 'deep cleansed stool', like I should know Buzz as an old friend, "He was the fasting manager before me". "oh" I said and immediately left none- the wiser. What an odd man. Dr John, not Buzz. Buzz sounds cool, I'd like to hang out with him in his Villa's. I bet he looks you in they eye and answers a straight question.
Both morning and evening colema's were particularly nasty. Definitely something to be endured not enjoyed. The opposite of my life Motto.
However, the afternoon colema was made a little easier after a brief chat with a fellow faster and really interesting dreadlocked Grandmother from Portland. USA. She imported Sari's and jewellery from India to Portland. We talked about Goa and India and all the vivid colours and extremities it offered. We talked about fasting, the world and globalisation. When I asked her what Portland was like she replied, "alternative, but it's become gentrified". This sparked a 5 minute chat about how all the cool, creative artistic areas are becoming less affordable or 'gentrified. I offered up Kings Road, Notting Hill, Shoreditch and Kensington as examples in London of independent creative hubs that were now full of dull and samey investment bankers or similar types who can only afford to live there.
I became somewhat misty eyed and sentimental when I recalled to her the Kings Road of when I was 14 or the individual fashion stores at Kensington Market. She was kind and patient and when she asked what was Kensington Market was like these days, I replied "Maplin."
We both rather gloomily agreed this is a world problem and centred around capitalism and with a new unity forged we disappeared into traps 7 and 9 to shit ourselves.
Fasting is a great leveller. There we were discussing globalisation, vibrations and energy flows with her looking like the coolest granny you would ever see and me looking like David Hasselhoff in Speedos. Still I gave a good account of myself and seemed far more worldly than I really am. I think I just about pulled it off. She seemed impressed.
Back at the pool I got chatting to someone. After 10 minutes of idle chat, the waiter came over and placed a massive bowl of crinkle cut French fries in front of them. 'Holy fuck, how good do they look?" I remarked. "Did you know I was fasting?" "Sorry no, do you mind if I eat them?" "Not at all", I lied. I watched them eat every mouthful. They looked like the best chips I've ever seen. Golden, lightly fried, you could even hear the little crunch as they bit. "How good are they out of 10? I asked. "7.5" was the reply. They looked like a 15 to me but I was pleased with 7.5, though I think they underplayed it to manage my hunger. When they finished I found myself getting a little closer to them in the vague hope I could smell the chips on their breath. Then I realised how creepy it was. Fasting does that to you sometimes.
I ran again in the evening. My IM coach will be pleased. But not at the pace. In fairness I did pass two people on the steepest climb. But they were Thai pensioners, one of which had a limp.
I got my favourite vantage point, it was a little lighter tonight, so I was able to climb onto the rock jutting over the sea, waves crashing below me and stars twinkling above. There were no urinating dogs tonight so I was able to meditate for a full 10 minutes.
I decided the Sea is my Higher power. It doesn't give a fuck. It just rolls in and out relentlessly, waves constantly crashing and it's bigger than me.
On the bare-chested run back, I was applauded and bowed at by 4 Thai's leaving a restaurant. Granted they were pissed but they seemed to be impressed by my sweaty efforts. I like Thailand, the people are sweet. In England when you run bare-chested all you tend to get from people is a loud, "wanker!"
I have to admit diary, I caved in and drank a can of Schweppes Lime soda tonight after the run. It was a moment of weakness and I'm sorry. I know it's a slippery slope, after all i'm an addict and one lime/soda could lead to two, then a banana, then a pizza and before I know it i'm knee deep in deep fried ping pong balls and ladyboys.
I'll be a good boy tomorrow and ensure it won't happen.
Love you long time
Nicholas 'Thai-boy' Evans
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Day 2 In the Big Brother Fast
Day 2 of the 7 Day Fasting Cleanse
Thursday 25th February 2016
It's been a slow day. Not much to report really. Finally I got an early night (2am) and woke at 7am for my first detox juice of the day. I craftily got it to takeaway, saving myself a 300 yard walk along the palm tree lined beach to the fasting centre. Instead I crawled out of bed and guzzled it one, though the crawl to the desk felt like a 300 yard walk. I felt leaden!
I promptly went back to sleep, yet again missing the 7.30am meditation class and roused myself at 9.30am. The bed felt like treacle. I couldn't move. All those late nights catching up with me.
Vague thoughts of an early morning run were soon banished and I nipped to the fasting centre for the 10am Juice. Juice times are 7am, 10am, 1pm, 4pm and 7pm. Think of a tropical 'One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest' medication time, but with palm trees, and you'll get the picture.
The 10am drink is the seminal part of the day. It's when all the fasters gather to drink and await their morning colema. There are 20 of us fasting. All at various stages. Some on day 1, others day 7 and some lunatics on day 12.
The chat is mostly, "what day are you on" which seems to be the opening gambit, followed by "how are you feeling?" and then the inevitable "is this your first one?"
The talk is like nothing else. Within 2 minutes of meeting Maria from Birmingham I learnt she had been constipated for many months and has suffered terrible gastric problems for years. I didn't ask for this information, it was readily volunteered.
Linda from Australia had a terrible reaction to the nutrition pills yesterday with 'everything coming out of both ends' and David from London was starting to go into detail about what was coming out during his colema before I walked away quickly.
There are some people who take it too far, These are the professional fasters. Repeat offenders who come back year upon year and go into great detail about what is in the colon, what they pass and wax lyrical about the amazing effects of 'deep stool cleansing'. This is too much information. I just want to get my head down, get the job done and get out. if they want to talk about 'deep stool cleansing' all morning that's up to them. I have no idea what it means and quite frankly don't want to find out. i'll be sure to avoid him tomorrow.
I bumped into Dr John, the fasting manager and fellow member of the AA gang. I have seen him consistently for over 10 years of coming here and I still cannot get a meaningful conversation out of the man. He is the sort of guy who never looks you in the eye when talking and never really says anything you can converse with. Bless him he is next to useless, nor is he a doctor but he seems to hang on to the gig year on year. Fair play.
I asked one of the girls who had been ill if she went to see Dr John for advice. She said, 'Yes but he talked for 5 minutes without actually saying anything." Sounds like the Doctor John I know. God bless him.
Then it was upstairs to the AA meeting, over looking the beach. A glorious environment and always a treat to get my real medicine for the mind and soul. We were a combination of fasters, jaded ex-pats clearly bored of listening to each other and visitors. 10 of us sat round a table.
Dr John took the meeting and kicked off with a 16 minutes power share, well more lecture really, that had everyone praying to god for tolerance. its been the same for 10 years and I found myself copping exactly the same resentment I had against him 10 years ago. 'Please shut the fuck up!' my mind said, my face though remained a picture of sunburnt calm. Clearly I have changed in 10 years, a little.
I had a share up, listened to others, gave the girl who had just come back after a 5 year relapse a hug and went on my merry way. I felt uplifted and nourished. I love AA, I really do and I'm so lucky to have it.
It takes this mental head, full of worry, fear, anxiety and self obsession back to normal. Like a Nurofen for my soul. There is something about a power of a meeting. Listening to other like minded lunatics, identifying or even trying not to tell people to shut up that lifts my mood and alters my attitude. I felt connected to the world again.
So much so I immediately went back to my room and messaged 4 people that I love them and I admire them greatly. I don't know what came over me. Sentimental old sod.
It was back to the sun lounger for the afternoon. I opted for the gay speedos for maximum tannage, thankfully the hotel is scattered with a few middle aged Eastern Europeans and those bastards love a budgie smuggler, no matter what shape they are in. I was in good company.
But a catastrophe mid afternoon. A new young couple appeared by the pool and the guy has a much better body than mine!! This was awful news and caused me to sulk for the rest of the afternoon. Thankfully he's German, so that was some relief.
The day passed with more reading, snoozing, tanning, pills, juices and the second colema of the day. I went later than the allotted 4-5pm slot so as to avoid the people literally talking shit.
By the evening I had sufficient energy to run 10km up the hills and along the coast, which would have pleased my Ironman coach, though the pace wouldn't. I even stopped halfway at a vantage point to sit on a rock and meditate for 10 minutes. I found it hard as i'm yet to find that peaceful state of mind as yet but one has to practice right? Sadly it was interrupted by a dog urinating by me so I decided that was a sign from God (Dog spelt backwards) to make my way back.
So there it is. Day two of the fast. I'm not hungry, I'm not craving food. It is actually a full day when you have all the pills, potions and colema's. It feels good not to load my system with so much sweetener, DC, caffeine and processed shit, though my mind-set is still in that space.
I attempted to write a manifestation list, though I couldn't decide what I wanted to manifest, so gave up. The head takes a while to clear when fasting to get focused and 'into the zone'.
Plus I came to the conclusion that I'm 43 and increasingly look like my father and should grow up when I come home. I have no idea what that entails but the idea is intriguing me.
Bring on Day 3!!
Thai Boy Evans
Thursday 25th February 2016
It's been a slow day. Not much to report really. Finally I got an early night (2am) and woke at 7am for my first detox juice of the day. I craftily got it to takeaway, saving myself a 300 yard walk along the palm tree lined beach to the fasting centre. Instead I crawled out of bed and guzzled it one, though the crawl to the desk felt like a 300 yard walk. I felt leaden!
I promptly went back to sleep, yet again missing the 7.30am meditation class and roused myself at 9.30am. The bed felt like treacle. I couldn't move. All those late nights catching up with me.
Vague thoughts of an early morning run were soon banished and I nipped to the fasting centre for the 10am Juice. Juice times are 7am, 10am, 1pm, 4pm and 7pm. Think of a tropical 'One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest' medication time, but with palm trees, and you'll get the picture.
The 10am drink is the seminal part of the day. It's when all the fasters gather to drink and await their morning colema. There are 20 of us fasting. All at various stages. Some on day 1, others day 7 and some lunatics on day 12.
The chat is mostly, "what day are you on" which seems to be the opening gambit, followed by "how are you feeling?" and then the inevitable "is this your first one?"
The talk is like nothing else. Within 2 minutes of meeting Maria from Birmingham I learnt she had been constipated for many months and has suffered terrible gastric problems for years. I didn't ask for this information, it was readily volunteered.
Linda from Australia had a terrible reaction to the nutrition pills yesterday with 'everything coming out of both ends' and David from London was starting to go into detail about what was coming out during his colema before I walked away quickly.
There are some people who take it too far, These are the professional fasters. Repeat offenders who come back year upon year and go into great detail about what is in the colon, what they pass and wax lyrical about the amazing effects of 'deep stool cleansing'. This is too much information. I just want to get my head down, get the job done and get out. if they want to talk about 'deep stool cleansing' all morning that's up to them. I have no idea what it means and quite frankly don't want to find out. i'll be sure to avoid him tomorrow.
I bumped into Dr John, the fasting manager and fellow member of the AA gang. I have seen him consistently for over 10 years of coming here and I still cannot get a meaningful conversation out of the man. He is the sort of guy who never looks you in the eye when talking and never really says anything you can converse with. Bless him he is next to useless, nor is he a doctor but he seems to hang on to the gig year on year. Fair play.
I asked one of the girls who had been ill if she went to see Dr John for advice. She said, 'Yes but he talked for 5 minutes without actually saying anything." Sounds like the Doctor John I know. God bless him.
Then it was upstairs to the AA meeting, over looking the beach. A glorious environment and always a treat to get my real medicine for the mind and soul. We were a combination of fasters, jaded ex-pats clearly bored of listening to each other and visitors. 10 of us sat round a table.
Dr John took the meeting and kicked off with a 16 minutes power share, well more lecture really, that had everyone praying to god for tolerance. its been the same for 10 years and I found myself copping exactly the same resentment I had against him 10 years ago. 'Please shut the fuck up!' my mind said, my face though remained a picture of sunburnt calm. Clearly I have changed in 10 years, a little.
I had a share up, listened to others, gave the girl who had just come back after a 5 year relapse a hug and went on my merry way. I felt uplifted and nourished. I love AA, I really do and I'm so lucky to have it.
It takes this mental head, full of worry, fear, anxiety and self obsession back to normal. Like a Nurofen for my soul. There is something about a power of a meeting. Listening to other like minded lunatics, identifying or even trying not to tell people to shut up that lifts my mood and alters my attitude. I felt connected to the world again.
So much so I immediately went back to my room and messaged 4 people that I love them and I admire them greatly. I don't know what came over me. Sentimental old sod.
It was back to the sun lounger for the afternoon. I opted for the gay speedos for maximum tannage, thankfully the hotel is scattered with a few middle aged Eastern Europeans and those bastards love a budgie smuggler, no matter what shape they are in. I was in good company.
But a catastrophe mid afternoon. A new young couple appeared by the pool and the guy has a much better body than mine!! This was awful news and caused me to sulk for the rest of the afternoon. Thankfully he's German, so that was some relief.
The day passed with more reading, snoozing, tanning, pills, juices and the second colema of the day. I went later than the allotted 4-5pm slot so as to avoid the people literally talking shit.
By the evening I had sufficient energy to run 10km up the hills and along the coast, which would have pleased my Ironman coach, though the pace wouldn't. I even stopped halfway at a vantage point to sit on a rock and meditate for 10 minutes. I found it hard as i'm yet to find that peaceful state of mind as yet but one has to practice right? Sadly it was interrupted by a dog urinating by me so I decided that was a sign from God (Dog spelt backwards) to make my way back.
So there it is. Day two of the fast. I'm not hungry, I'm not craving food. It is actually a full day when you have all the pills, potions and colema's. It feels good not to load my system with so much sweetener, DC, caffeine and processed shit, though my mind-set is still in that space.
I attempted to write a manifestation list, though I couldn't decide what I wanted to manifest, so gave up. The head takes a while to clear when fasting to get focused and 'into the zone'.
Plus I came to the conclusion that I'm 43 and increasingly look like my father and should grow up when I come home. I have no idea what that entails but the idea is intriguing me.
Bring on Day 3!!
Thai Boy Evans
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
The Not So Secret Diary of a 7 Day Fasting Cleanse by Nicholas Evans Aged 43 and 3/4
Day 1 of 7 day Fasting cleanse
Weds 24th February 2016
Spa Samui, Koh Samui, Thailand
Big Brother Fasting Diary
In the morning I received the 1st of my 3 hourly detox drinks and began digesting the supplements every 2 hours. The sun was scorching and usually fasters are encouraged to effectively lie around and do nothing all day. Result, I am world class at this!
Unfortunately due to the 7 hour time difference I didn't sleep until 4am and missed meditation at 7am and yoga at 9. Instead I breakfasted like a king on 2 cups of hot water and lemon and 4 silk cut, no-one has mentioned fasting shouldn’t include smoking. I consider it an essential to get through the days. I don’t smoke around the fasting place though. I have standards.
The afternoon passed with regular detox drinks and supplements, dozing between reads of 'The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole' (all I can handle whilst heavily jet-lagged) and I treated myself to the 1st of my 2 allotted clear broth soups a day before summoning up all of my will power to tackle my 1st colonic, self administered.
My attitude to these are similar to that of certain AA meetings. You don’t want to go, some are horrific to sit through, ultimately unpleasant but you always feel better afterwards. I won’t go into detail about this act of self torture – but it was pretty uneventful as far as they go – the frightening thing was realising I had another 14 to go before the end of my fast. Dear God!
You do let your mind wander on occasions when lying there, in the small room, with the bucket of water and tube up your ass – thinking – Why? What kind of holiday is this? Once you get over the ludicrous concept of flying half way round the world to stick pipes upur
The night was quiet, save for occasional cravings for Diet Coke, particular when sat in a café watching people eating drinking Diet Coke. Must be a little like a sex addict in a brothel not being able to do anything - although I wouldn’t know about sex addiction of course.
So my first day of fasting passes, I think to myself, "how on god’s earth am I going to last another 6 days?". I am already talking about cutting it short and asking questions like, ‘does eating a can of tuna now and again count?
It's going to be a long week.
(PS - I am very lucky to be here and I'm looking forward to it. See you tomorrow for day 2)
Weds 24th February 2016
Spa Samui, Koh Samui, Thailand
Big Brother Fasting Diary
Day 1
"Why on earth would you fly half the way round the world not to eat?" So said one Nicholas Edward Evans way back in 2005 on my first visit to Thailand. It seemed like a ridiculous concept then and no doubt to many of you now.
I simply couldn't get my head around it. I mean all that terrific Thai grub, plus how on earth can you go a whole day without eating, let alone a week? It's insane and why do it in the first place?
Fasting has thousands of years of ancient history. It is practiced by various religious orders. Designed to purify the soul and create discipline. At The Spa Samui they promote fasting and cleansing (yes we are talking twice daily self administered colonics) more as a health practice than religious/spiritual one. There are a few in England, but you're talking two grand a week to effectively shit yourself for a week in a nice hotel. For me, fasting is all about sunning yourself, sweating like a pig and boating 5 litres of water day. It has to be done in a tropical climate.
I was first introduced to it in 2006 when I was suffering with terrible low energy and heavy candida (like a feeling of being hungover all the time) I was trying to prepare for an Ironman (and failing), so a friend of mine recommended the 7 day cleanse at Spa Samui as a place to get my energy back.
I was ultra sceptical of course. As a fully paid up member to the contempt prior to investigation club and wary of 'all that spiritual bollocks' i thought it would be a load of old bollocks and never thought I could do it. Well i did and the results were remarkable. I felt alive and had bundles of energy managing to complete my Ironman a few short months later. I was sold. Cleansing and fasting worked for me and I have been a semi-regular visitor ever since.
It is a peculiar place with a litany of weird and whacky spiritual practices designed to realign the body and restore health. Yoga, meditation, energy clearing, aqua therapy, palmistry and many more besides. If you like your Chakra's being aligned this is the place for you. Their 'bread and butter' (God that's making me hungry) is the 7 day cleanse. The thinking is that with the increase in processed food, heavy metals (in farming not in music), pesticides, unhealthy western lifestyles and medicines, parasites live in our guts and have a huge impact on health and wellness. Many swear by it however others swear at it, thinking it's a load of old bollocks with no scientific or medical weight.
The words 'detox' and 'cleanse' are over used in today's society and quite frankly aimed at gullible bastards who will buy the latest fad thinking it will fix them. It won't, the industry is multi billion dollars and effectively a clever marketing con.
The secret of course to healthy and happy living in is in our daily habits. How we live our lives. If we did that then we wouldn't need a 'detox' or 'cleanse'. However in reality many of us don't live healthy lives and come to rely on something as radical as a 7 day cleanse to get out of these habits and reboot the system.
This place has all kinds of people. Guardian photographers, burnt out City Execs, New age American couples, annual health MOT re-booters, portly women with eating disorders, plumbers from Birmingham trying to get off 'that fucking beer and coke', to middle aged caffeine, nicotine and sugar addicts with occasional bulima which fucks their health. They are all here.
Plus they have 4 AA meetings a week, is right on the beach, 90 degrees most days and massages are £6 a pop (less the happy ending) - you can't get that in Somerset.
I wish I didn't have such bad habits that affect my health. I wish I didn't smoke, guzzle mountains of diet coke and dine on processed cocktail sausages and dry roasted peanuts half the time. But I do. I wish I didn't stay up far too late, or have a chaotic love life, be an occasional sex and love addict or engage in unspiritual practices that go completely against my Ironman training, sober spiritual life and wellness. But I do. I'm an arch self sabotager, so a cleanse is a great way to create space, re-eastablish health and try to work on why I do such things to myself.
Half the people who come here are in the same boat, (granted not to the extremes I seem to take it). They flog themselves with drink, drugs, shit diet, stress or other things, come here, clean up, cleanse get a great tan and go straight back to all the shit after. I am one of those people. Guilty as charged. The goal this time is to maintain health and alter the bad habits when I get back to normal life. This is my greatest challenge.
So I come here, to Thailand, home of the lady boy and casual sex to get away from all that at home. Bit like an alcoholic nesting home in Threshers really isn't it? It's got that reputation. When people say, "where are you going on holiday?" and you reply "Thailand", they give that slight smirk, raised eyebrow and say "watch out for the Adams apple".
In several times of coming here I've never done anything remotely dodgy. I've had enough of that in London. Weirdly I come here to get away from all that. Honest!
Thailand isn't just Sin City, it is full of health and wellness, beautiful islands, great food (not that I'll be sampling much) amazing climate, spiritual practices, peace, calm and of course Fasting. I'm a big fan. Besides all the 65 year balding podgy men bouncing young Thai girls on their knees in bars kind of puts you off all that way of life.
The words 'detox' and 'cleanse' are over used in today's society and quite frankly aimed at gullible bastards who will buy the latest fad thinking it will fix them. It won't, the industry is multi billion dollars and effectively a clever marketing con.
The secret of course to healthy and happy living in is in our daily habits. How we live our lives. If we did that then we wouldn't need a 'detox' or 'cleanse'. However in reality many of us don't live healthy lives and come to rely on something as radical as a 7 day cleanse to get out of these habits and reboot the system.
This place has all kinds of people. Guardian photographers, burnt out City Execs, New age American couples, annual health MOT re-booters, portly women with eating disorders, plumbers from Birmingham trying to get off 'that fucking beer and coke', to middle aged caffeine, nicotine and sugar addicts with occasional bulima which fucks their health. They are all here.
Plus they have 4 AA meetings a week, is right on the beach, 90 degrees most days and massages are £6 a pop (less the happy ending) - you can't get that in Somerset.
I wish I didn't have such bad habits that affect my health. I wish I didn't smoke, guzzle mountains of diet coke and dine on processed cocktail sausages and dry roasted peanuts half the time. But I do. I wish I didn't stay up far too late, or have a chaotic love life, be an occasional sex and love addict or engage in unspiritual practices that go completely against my Ironman training, sober spiritual life and wellness. But I do. I'm an arch self sabotager, so a cleanse is a great way to create space, re-eastablish health and try to work on why I do such things to myself.
Half the people who come here are in the same boat, (granted not to the extremes I seem to take it). They flog themselves with drink, drugs, shit diet, stress or other things, come here, clean up, cleanse get a great tan and go straight back to all the shit after. I am one of those people. Guilty as charged. The goal this time is to maintain health and alter the bad habits when I get back to normal life. This is my greatest challenge.
So I come here, to Thailand, home of the lady boy and casual sex to get away from all that at home. Bit like an alcoholic nesting home in Threshers really isn't it? It's got that reputation. When people say, "where are you going on holiday?" and you reply "Thailand", they give that slight smirk, raised eyebrow and say "watch out for the Adams apple".
In several times of coming here I've never done anything remotely dodgy. I've had enough of that in London. Weirdly I come here to get away from all that. Honest!
Thailand isn't just Sin City, it is full of health and wellness, beautiful islands, great food (not that I'll be sampling much) amazing climate, spiritual practices, peace, calm and of course Fasting. I'm a big fan. Besides all the 65 year balding podgy men bouncing young Thai girls on their knees in bars kind of puts you off all that way of life.
As I write this as I come to the end of the 1st
day of fasting. The cravings and hunger are constant, at one point this evening
I became so hungry I considered eating my own fingers.
After checking into a plush hotel next to the fasting spa, I immediately went to the spa to pay for my 7 day fast and receive
my pre fast tablets. I was checked in by a rather lumpy ladyboy, who was rather
more boy than lady. No amount of pink lip gloss could mask her blatant
masculinity. Still she gave me 10% discount so fair dues.
They recommended a 48 hour pre fast
detox diet of raw food and water. Obviously I didn't quite stick to procedure. Gorging on as many sandwiches, cakes, nuts, crisps and
diet coke during the 18 hour journey I could. I arrived in Samui bloated and knackered. I was ready to fast!
In the morning I received the 1st of my 3 hourly detox drinks and began digesting the supplements every 2 hours. The sun was scorching and usually fasters are encouraged to effectively lie around and do nothing all day. Result, I am world class at this!
Unfortunately due to the 7 hour time difference I didn't sleep until 4am and missed meditation at 7am and yoga at 9. Instead I breakfasted like a king on 2 cups of hot water and lemon and 4 silk cut, no-one has mentioned fasting shouldn’t include smoking. I consider it an essential to get through the days. I don’t smoke around the fasting place though. I have standards.
The afternoon passed with regular detox drinks and supplements, dozing between reads of 'The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole' (all I can handle whilst heavily jet-lagged) and I treated myself to the 1st of my 2 allotted clear broth soups a day before summoning up all of my will power to tackle my 1st colonic, self administered.
My attitude to these are similar to that of certain AA meetings. You don’t want to go, some are horrific to sit through, ultimately unpleasant but you always feel better afterwards. I won’t go into detail about this act of self torture – but it was pretty uneventful as far as they go – the frightening thing was realising I had another 14 to go before the end of my fast. Dear God!
You do let your mind wander on occasions when lying there, in the small room, with the bucket of water and tube up your ass – thinking – Why? What kind of holiday is this? Once you get over the ludicrous concept of flying half way round the world to stick pipes up
The night was quiet, save for occasional cravings for Diet Coke, particular when sat in a café watching people eating drinking Diet Coke. Must be a little like a sex addict in a brothel not being able to do anything - although I wouldn’t know about sex addiction of course.
So my first day of fasting passes, I think to myself, "how on god’s earth am I going to last another 6 days?". I am already talking about cutting it short and asking questions like, ‘does eating a can of tuna now and again count?
It's going to be a long week.
(PS - I am very lucky to be here and I'm looking forward to it. See you tomorrow for day 2)
Nicholas 'Khun' Evans
Friday, February 19, 2016
Children of Alcoholics of The World Unite!
This week is The Children of Alcoholics week (COA), It's aim is to increase awareness for children who are affected by parental alcohol problems and the support available.
1 in 5 children are currently living with a parent who has alcohol problems. It is a family disease and the long term affects are hidden and profound on the child. It is a silent problem and not something usually explored in society. The week is all about raising awareness and I'm all for it.
As a an adult child of an alcoholic (ACOA) and a product of an alcoholic dysfunctional home, I wanted to write from first hand experience in the hope it gives both an insight and understanding as to the long term affects.
Firstly a disclaimer. Most of us have had some kind of trauma growing up. This piece is not designed to 'own' trauma more than others. Many people have suffered physical and sexual abuse as a child, or even lost their parents at an early age. Some have gone through divorce or been victims of neglect.
All of these of course are awful and have long term affects. However I know many people who have suffered such trauma and gone on to have fantastic lives. Either through 'getting on with it', or working through issues. So this piece is not designed to be 'my life is worse than yours' or even 'children of alcoholics have it worse'. It's merely stating the facts of what it does to a young person and the long term affects in adulthood.
I don't speak for everyone of course, because every individual is different. I speak for myself. Amen!
I was 3rd son of 3. The youngest baby of the tribe. My Mother was/is the best and most caring teak strong welsh maternal, caring matriarch you could wish for. Nurturing with the biggest heart. We were all 'darlings' and encouraged to express our feelings. She was always caring and a tremendous source of love and strength. There wasn't anything she wouldn't have done for her children. We were loved and lucky. A 5ft 2 (and a half) ball of Welsh energy and superhuman will. She, without knowing, was also an Alanon waiting to happen.
My father, was a 6ft 2 charismatic Welsh legend. Mike Evans. The big I Am. Funny, clever, generous, sociable, larger than life. Like a welsh Jack Regan in my eyes. He was my hero growing up. Piercing eyes, huge gut, big beard and a Ford Granada Estate. God I loved that man. 'what a true man' I thought. He seemed about 12 ft tall and I wanted to be like him.
He was also a raging alcoholic. Nobody knew that of course, but over the years, the funny, charismatic and ultra-talented man turned into a monster controlled by Tenants Super and Whisky and was reduced to a terrifying violent and hopeless drunk who dominated the family for many years and finally left it to become a street drunk winding up dead at 65 years old, alone.
The early years were great. Fond memories of family outings & occasions, we were loved. It all seemed normal like most other families I knew.
Then it began to change. My father would come home drunk a bit, then if I'm really honest most of the family occasions were instigated by my mother. Looking back, even when I thought everything was Ok he had begun his descent into the disease. He would argue with people who didn't exist, have conversations with imaginary people, always ending in the sentence 'you fucking wankers' and began to smell, look menacing (which I know now to be all his secret drinking) and he his mood would turn. I became edgy and scared of him. The house was then dominated by the mood of one man. The alcoholic. (See why it's a family disease now?)
I now know this to be the stages of alcoholism. The resentment, the self pity, the self centerdness. He became someone you had to walk on egg-shells around. The whole atmosphere began to change. There were fewer family outings and everything we did seemed to be with my Mother. He was there but wasn't there if that makes any sense. His mere presence menacing.
And then it really got messy. We moved house (as I learnt he drank the family house away and we had to move) and there followed 2 years of heavy alcoholism, madness and domestic abuse. Police were called, he attacked my Mum and brother several times, and any semblance of normality went out of the window.
He would drive me to football with 4 tins of Tenants Super on the floor and a can between his legs, sipping away saying 'don't tell your mother'. It was 9.30am. He was gone by that stage. To be fair though he still managed to criticise my performance even though he didn't actually see it. Thanks Dad!
The whole atmosphere was menacing, fear based and chaotic. This became normality. All the while life went on as normal. I went to school, had cricket trials, played football, hung out with friends (they would never come round though) - but you could never tell anyone what was going on at home.
Then after yet another violent episode the police were called, (back then domestic violence wasn't even on the radar) The Police asked my Mum if he could sleep in the Garage, even though he had just tried to kill her! He left and I remember looking out of my window, I was 13 and crying that my poor Dad had left. My hero had gone. I can't remember ever feeling that sad and crying uncontrollably.
By then he had taken to living in his car, or doss houses - on one occasion me and my two brothers went to the Salvation Army to ask him to stop drinking and plead for him to get well. He didn't or more to the point couldn't. He was sick.
Over the next year I saw him infrequently. We had to move and hide our address from him. He would turn up drunk at my school, or where I worked and menacingly demand to see me. It was embarrassing and frightening. But I took it all in my stride. It was normal living after all. Standard for a child of an alcoholic.
Finally he left for good. We didn't know where he had gone and had no contact. I was suddenly fatherless, even though he had long since stopped becoming a regular father. It happened in stages, just like the stages of alcoholism and it just became my Mother and I. I was 15.
At 15 you want to start drinking, going out, getting girls. I had two older brothers, one of which was sensible and couldn't wait to get away and find a stable girlfriend and family unit which he used to replace the one he didn't have with us, then I had the oldest brother, who was essentially Dad Mark 2, an alcoholic, manic depressive artist, charismatic, funny and my hero. He fucked off when I was young too and made sporadic appearances. Both my male role models. Both alcoholics. Both of whom I was desperate for approval from both left me and thus created a huge feeling of need and insecurity inside. Welcome to adolescence Nicholas!!
Essentially I was left with me at 15, trying to be the big I AM in school and amongst my friends, a loving sensitive youngest son at my poor Mum who had done everything to keep a roof over my head and feed me, and a 15 year old trying to grow up and be a 'man'.
If I look back, I was all over the place and had no idea who to be, what to do or where to go. I just pieced things together the best I could.
"Don't turn out like your father", would be the mantra I got from my Mum when I started to drink. No chance I thought, he was a proper alcoholic. Little did I know that I had that gene raging inside me and was soon to turn to black out drinking and drugs from the age of 18.
Growing up in an alcoholic home was both confusing and thrilling. Chaos and drama became the norm and quite frankly I was bored when there wasn't any. Same to this day.
I also felt above my friends as they seemed to have normal dull lives, but underneath I felt terrible less than and jealous towards them. It makes you feel isolated and alone.
Then this fuelled the real dangerous poison in me. Self-pity. God I felt so sorry for myself that I had endured such hardship and lost my father. This combined with a spikey 'fuck you' arrogance became my standard feeling I took around with me for years and still have to this day.
Being a child of an alcoholic fucks you up. There's no two ways about it. It creates confusion and disharmony and affects your adult life. How? Does anyone recognise these traits at all?
1 in 5 children are currently living with a parent who has alcohol problems. It is a family disease and the long term affects are hidden and profound on the child. It is a silent problem and not something usually explored in society. The week is all about raising awareness and I'm all for it.
As a an adult child of an alcoholic (ACOA) and a product of an alcoholic dysfunctional home, I wanted to write from first hand experience in the hope it gives both an insight and understanding as to the long term affects.
Firstly a disclaimer. Most of us have had some kind of trauma growing up. This piece is not designed to 'own' trauma more than others. Many people have suffered physical and sexual abuse as a child, or even lost their parents at an early age. Some have gone through divorce or been victims of neglect.
All of these of course are awful and have long term affects. However I know many people who have suffered such trauma and gone on to have fantastic lives. Either through 'getting on with it', or working through issues. So this piece is not designed to be 'my life is worse than yours' or even 'children of alcoholics have it worse'. It's merely stating the facts of what it does to a young person and the long term affects in adulthood.
I don't speak for everyone of course, because every individual is different. I speak for myself. Amen!
I was 3rd son of 3. The youngest baby of the tribe. My Mother was/is the best and most caring teak strong welsh maternal, caring matriarch you could wish for. Nurturing with the biggest heart. We were all 'darlings' and encouraged to express our feelings. She was always caring and a tremendous source of love and strength. There wasn't anything she wouldn't have done for her children. We were loved and lucky. A 5ft 2 (and a half) ball of Welsh energy and superhuman will. She, without knowing, was also an Alanon waiting to happen.
My father, was a 6ft 2 charismatic Welsh legend. Mike Evans. The big I Am. Funny, clever, generous, sociable, larger than life. Like a welsh Jack Regan in my eyes. He was my hero growing up. Piercing eyes, huge gut, big beard and a Ford Granada Estate. God I loved that man. 'what a true man' I thought. He seemed about 12 ft tall and I wanted to be like him.
He was also a raging alcoholic. Nobody knew that of course, but over the years, the funny, charismatic and ultra-talented man turned into a monster controlled by Tenants Super and Whisky and was reduced to a terrifying violent and hopeless drunk who dominated the family for many years and finally left it to become a street drunk winding up dead at 65 years old, alone.
The early years were great. Fond memories of family outings & occasions, we were loved. It all seemed normal like most other families I knew.
Then it began to change. My father would come home drunk a bit, then if I'm really honest most of the family occasions were instigated by my mother. Looking back, even when I thought everything was Ok he had begun his descent into the disease. He would argue with people who didn't exist, have conversations with imaginary people, always ending in the sentence 'you fucking wankers' and began to smell, look menacing (which I know now to be all his secret drinking) and he his mood would turn. I became edgy and scared of him. The house was then dominated by the mood of one man. The alcoholic. (See why it's a family disease now?)
I now know this to be the stages of alcoholism. The resentment, the self pity, the self centerdness. He became someone you had to walk on egg-shells around. The whole atmosphere began to change. There were fewer family outings and everything we did seemed to be with my Mother. He was there but wasn't there if that makes any sense. His mere presence menacing.
And then it really got messy. We moved house (as I learnt he drank the family house away and we had to move) and there followed 2 years of heavy alcoholism, madness and domestic abuse. Police were called, he attacked my Mum and brother several times, and any semblance of normality went out of the window.
He would drive me to football with 4 tins of Tenants Super on the floor and a can between his legs, sipping away saying 'don't tell your mother'. It was 9.30am. He was gone by that stage. To be fair though he still managed to criticise my performance even though he didn't actually see it. Thanks Dad!
The whole atmosphere was menacing, fear based and chaotic. This became normality. All the while life went on as normal. I went to school, had cricket trials, played football, hung out with friends (they would never come round though) - but you could never tell anyone what was going on at home.
Then after yet another violent episode the police were called, (back then domestic violence wasn't even on the radar) The Police asked my Mum if he could sleep in the Garage, even though he had just tried to kill her! He left and I remember looking out of my window, I was 13 and crying that my poor Dad had left. My hero had gone. I can't remember ever feeling that sad and crying uncontrollably.
By then he had taken to living in his car, or doss houses - on one occasion me and my two brothers went to the Salvation Army to ask him to stop drinking and plead for him to get well. He didn't or more to the point couldn't. He was sick.
Over the next year I saw him infrequently. We had to move and hide our address from him. He would turn up drunk at my school, or where I worked and menacingly demand to see me. It was embarrassing and frightening. But I took it all in my stride. It was normal living after all. Standard for a child of an alcoholic.
Finally he left for good. We didn't know where he had gone and had no contact. I was suddenly fatherless, even though he had long since stopped becoming a regular father. It happened in stages, just like the stages of alcoholism and it just became my Mother and I. I was 15.
At 15 you want to start drinking, going out, getting girls. I had two older brothers, one of which was sensible and couldn't wait to get away and find a stable girlfriend and family unit which he used to replace the one he didn't have with us, then I had the oldest brother, who was essentially Dad Mark 2, an alcoholic, manic depressive artist, charismatic, funny and my hero. He fucked off when I was young too and made sporadic appearances. Both my male role models. Both alcoholics. Both of whom I was desperate for approval from both left me and thus created a huge feeling of need and insecurity inside. Welcome to adolescence Nicholas!!
Essentially I was left with me at 15, trying to be the big I AM in school and amongst my friends, a loving sensitive youngest son at my poor Mum who had done everything to keep a roof over my head and feed me, and a 15 year old trying to grow up and be a 'man'.
If I look back, I was all over the place and had no idea who to be, what to do or where to go. I just pieced things together the best I could.
"Don't turn out like your father", would be the mantra I got from my Mum when I started to drink. No chance I thought, he was a proper alcoholic. Little did I know that I had that gene raging inside me and was soon to turn to black out drinking and drugs from the age of 18.
Growing up in an alcoholic home was both confusing and thrilling. Chaos and drama became the norm and quite frankly I was bored when there wasn't any. Same to this day.
I also felt above my friends as they seemed to have normal dull lives, but underneath I felt terrible less than and jealous towards them. It makes you feel isolated and alone.
Then this fuelled the real dangerous poison in me. Self-pity. God I felt so sorry for myself that I had endured such hardship and lost my father. This combined with a spikey 'fuck you' arrogance became my standard feeling I took around with me for years and still have to this day.
Being a child of an alcoholic fucks you up. There's no two ways about it. It creates confusion and disharmony and affects your adult life. How? Does anyone recognise these traits at all?
- Inability to form lasting relationships for the fear of being abandoned? I could write a whole chapter on this as the litany of former girlfriends who have all fallen in love with me only to be rejected due to my chronic deep rooted fear of commitment will no doubt testify.
- Addicted to Compulsive/Disfunctional relationships/people - Settle down with a lovely, stable, loving, nurturing girl or go out with alcoholic, coke addict who is chronically co-dependant needy and sexually attractive? Do I really need to ask - let's go mental!!
- Comfortable more in chaos than calm - Being brought up in chaos makes you think it's normal. Calm and normal therefore become boring and dull. Give me a bit of chaos otherwise I may have to sit with uncomfortable feelings. Fuck that!
- Low Self Esteem and High Ego - Being abandoned by an alcoholic parent tends to make you feel you're a piece of shit deep down. Yes your mother may say she loves you but if your father and hero leaves you then it makes you feel worthless and like something is wrong with you deep down. But NEVER ever admit that unless it's to girls to show your vulnerability and help them fall in love with you more so you feel safe and wanted only of course to let them down because you are chronically afraid of commitment. See above for details. Standard fayre for child of an alcoholic.
- Dishonesty - leading a double life in formative years. Chaos at home, fine to the outside world. Or covering up your true feelings to one parent who is still around doing their best to bring you up even though you want to rebel. Effectively means living a double life and 'compartmentalising' emotions is normal and lying, deceit, covering up but with a good heart becomes normal patterns of behaviour. Tricky to have long term relationships with this shit going on.
- Self Criticism and cynical - If you feel like a piece of shit, it's pretty normal to criticise yourself if you don't particularly love yourself. And why would you love yourself if the one hero in your life has left you? Standard for child of alcoholic. Plus you are cynical for the rest of the world because everything will fuck up somewhere down the line, right?
- Self sabotage - Closely aligned with above. If you hate yourself then you will stop at nothing to sabotage good stuff. Job, relationship, health, happiness. Whatever it takes to fuck up feeling good is a popular long term affect and one of my specialities.
- Victim Mode - another belter this one. Not only do you feed it but you seek other's to perpetuate it too. People who have been in your life for too long and won;t feed that bullshit story anymore have to go and be replaced by new people who show you nothing but pity and buy into the victim story. This has to go because it is hugely destructive and boring to the rest of the world. Nobody likes a victim.
- Other addictions - Er, yes of course. Where do I sign up? Another staple diet. Like father like son. Or even some less glamourous addictions like food, sugar, sex, love - anything to fix those pesky feelings huh kids?
- Finally seeking approval and attention - God this is engrained. I will go anywhere to anyone to get approval and attention. Like a puppy needing to be patted. I hide it but I am a shameless attention seeker and this all stems from being the child of an alcoholic. Hero abandoned you? seeking love? God yes please and I will stop at nothing to get it.
Not all people have these of course and there are many more. But that gives you a flavour of the long term affects. I am comfortable with them today and they are getting better. Time takes time to work through things. It's better to accept them and admit they are there than deny it and pretend it doesn't exist.
My style is to make friends with them, poke fun at them, accept them. If sometimes I act in them and indulge then so be it. It doesn't make me a bad person but it's better to have awareness around them then at least you can do something about them.
Point is, it doesn't have to disable your life. It doesn't have to be awful and you don't have to pretend they don't exist. But you DO have to do something about them not to use then as an excuse, absolve yourself from responsibility and sit in the problem forever. There is a way out.
It doesn't make them any worse than other people's shit. We all have issues. But it does mean that hopefully you will identify if you are like me. If you have a family member with alcohol problems there are ways you can help them. We didn't have any information back then, it is different now.
So that's my monster piece. Thank you for reading. Feel free to share or comment. If you want some help or information there are a couple of websites below which will give you information and I am running the marathon this year for Action on Addiction who do a lot of work in this space for kids and families - so dig deep if this piece moved you and I will love you very much.
https://www.justgiving.com/Nick-Evans23/
To be honest I'll love you anyway because I'm a love addict and you read my piece, so I got my attention I seek from you. Thank you. Just Feed me and like my post!! Old habits will always doe hard.
PS - I don't blame my Dad or parents and wouldn't change anything for the world. We are all a products of our experience and it's what makes us all fabulously unique and magnificent bastards.
http://www.coaweek.org/about/
Love you very much
Nicholas Evans
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
You Don't Have to Be Mad to Have Bi-polar........
Last night's excellent documentary, 'The Not So Secret Life of a Manic Depressive' on BBC1 was deeply moving. It was aired to coincide with mental health week.
If you have been affected by Bi-polar either as a friend, family member or sufferer, watch it on I-player. It is Informative, educational, tragic and inspirational. Compelling viewing.
I am not an expert on the condition. I do not have it and I haven't worked in the field. So why write about it?
All I do is speak from personal experience. I have grown up with it. My brother has Bi Polar 1 (the most serious form) and I have witnessed the effects upon him and the rest of the family over 40 years. I also know people who have it and a good number of people who live with clinical depression and other mental health disorders.
I am not unique, we all do.
Bi-polar disorder affects around 1 in 100 adults. That's about 4 million in the UK, plus of course family/friends/partners, so that's around 10-12 million people directly affected. But what actually is it?
Medication has certainly evolved over the years and many people are able to live happy and normal lives. So this piece isn't a cry of pity or sorrow for people affected.
I come from a compassionate place. I cried during the documentary. It made me sad, Mental illnesss always has. We've all got our touching points. For some it's sick animals, kids or homeless. There are many things to make us sad in this world, It's hard to feel such compassion for all things, but for me, the thing that really touches me is mental illness and addcition. It just tears my heart out and grabs me every-time.
I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was doing a week's work experience in a mental health hospital when I was young. Perhaps it was seeing my brother sectioned on many occasions. Perhaps it was seeing my hero of an older brother reduced to a drooling child like figure walking with a limp like a 7 year old when heavily medicated. Heart breaking to see strong people reduced to a child like status.
It's the vulnerability that gets me every time.
I have friends who will hate me making a song and dance about it as they just want to be treated normally. I have friends who live with it, talk about it and write books on it to helps others. They live a normal life. Excellent role models.
These are the real experts. The people who have it and the ones who treat them. I am merely an observer.
And boy is there a lot to observe! A crazy roller-coaster of behavioural patterns, manic episodes that spiral into huge grandiosity, relentless insanity, fabuously hilarious schemes, hurtful damaging actions, fractured relationships. It's tough to witness.
When untreated it's tragic, or when the sufferer doesn't want to treat it, or is too scared or too closely aligned with other addictions to be able to give treatment a chance. It puts such an enormous strain on those around them and usually means they cannot function within normal confines of society. Most will self medicate or form other addictions, and in some cases it can result in suicide. Sometimes it can go relentlessly untreated for years which is like a living suicide in itself.
The bottom line is just like any other form of disease or health issue, The person has to want to do something about it for treatment to work. People didn't chose to have mental illness, but trying to have an attitude of acceptance certainly helps. Easy for me to say though when I don't have it.
I have alcoholism .I am lucky in that sense and I wouldn't swap my disease for Bi-polar. Yes I am prone to feelings of isolation, self obsession, self pity and self hatred. I have my off days and off weeks followed by feelings of optimism or hope, but not a patch on what Bi-polar suffers get, even more so without medication. My brother once said 'I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Trying to live with this head daily is so hard."
The poor bastard. I get it, I really do.
That is not to say that people with Bi-polar are victims. They are magnificent bastards. Slightly eccentric but always with a heart of gold and exceptionally talented in their own field. They live normal lives and certainly don't use it as a self pity fest.
Clearly there are different cases and disorders, they are not all lumped into one, but observing someone with the worst kind over the years is particularly painful.
But the individual also has to take responsibility. It is crucial to help with diet, rest, sleep, regular treatment, medication and exercise. These all help conditions and just like you and me as normal humans (well you are) - we feel better mentally when we live right. When we go on the piss, eat crap, never exercise, sleep little, get stressed our mental health suffers. Multiple that by around 1million and we may get an idea of what someone living with the condition may get.
I don't blame people for not looking after themselves though. I don't. I am full of self hatred half the time and I don't have a mental illness. I can't imagine what people with Bi-polar or clinical depression must feel like sometimes. The urge to say 'fuck it' and self medicate or blot out feelings must be vast. A quick jog around the block must seem like a marathon.
Watching that documentary made me want to scream and shout. Funding has been cut radically over the years. Prognosis and treatments are average to say the least. Doctors seem to dish out anti-depressants like candy to anyone with a complaint. It's turned into a pill culture with treatment services like a 'drive through' now, such is the pace people are seen then spat out. Standards and facilities have declined so are the ones who really need the help getting the right kind?
Are we tolerant enough of it? Do we know as much about it as a society as we should? Do we actually recognise depression as a disease? We rarely see 'depression; on death certificates of suicide victims do we? Just like 'alcoholism'.
Yes we have #mentalhealth week, clever social media campaigns and adverts, but when the push comes to the shove are we really that more educated and informed? Are we really that compassionate to those that suffer? I'm not so sure.
We live in a selfish and harsh world. The weepers and self indulgent drama queens give people with mental disorders a bad name It means people of an older generation are more cynical of mental illness. Some see it as self indulgent and 'weak'.
"Pull yourself together" is a commonly thrown at people, "we never used to mope about". I understand this sentiment as let's face it there are a lot of lazy, self indulgent, mopey bastards about who check themselves into the nearest clinic to treat a little bout of depression like it's some kind of trendy fad.
Depression is banded about too easily these days, without true depth and understanding of what it is. Anti-depressants are prescribed like a sponsored pharmacy. Sure most people will have periods of feeling down, but to some it is a lifetime clinical disorder. The trouble with these soft as shit self indulgent X-Factor, 'the Only Way is.....' selfie posing generation of self indulgent drama-queens is that real depression or mental illness get's merged into these idiots and creates a bad image.
This annoys and frustrates me. At least the documentary last night was serious and informed. It needs more education and treatment and for people to have a wider acceptance of it and it's true meaning. Not to be down for a few days so 'I'm depressed' but true compassion and understanding it is part of every day life and to reduce the stigma.
But do we really give a shit? We do get a bit of compassion fatigue don't we? I mean there is a week for everything. Cancer week, Mental health week, child of an alcoholic week, addict week, diabetes week. All are tremendous causes and important to raise awareness but we get a bit fatigued sometimes. So I do understand people's apathy or fatigue by yet another campaign for awareness. It's not our fault but it is if we stigmatise it.
Let's undersatand it is a disease. Let's understand the ripple effect on families. Lets encourage people, let's be compassionate, let's try and help. But How?
Donate a tenner for the marathon, or get a t-shirt saying 'I hug mentally ill people' - find something I don't know what, even if it's to look up depression and think of any of your friends have it. Call someone you think is struggling. Just do something. Anything! Even if it is to have more acceptance of it than you did yesterday.
I do think one thing is vastly under-rated and goes under the radar as a treatment. Exercise. A powerful mood lifter. A vastly underated medicine. Getting up and out, being active is so good for mental health and many think crucial in their health.
"yeah yeah", is usually the come back. But it is clinically proven to raise levels of adrenaline, balance the brain and really aides recovery or living with mental illness (or indeed other health issues) much more effectively than some medications.
Why the fuck doesn't the Government prescribe personal trainers and gym memberships and fitness coaches to help people with their daily lives? Wouldn't it save on long term medication and treatment? Isn't prevention better than cure? And whilst you are at it I include diabetes, obesity, addiction and other health related issues to that model.
Isn't it easier to live life with a 'buddy system' - someone who you can check in with, learn from, be accountable too, get help from?
I know this is a radical idea but how simple and effective would that be? A Health Coach who can work with people combining PT, Counselling, listening and coaching. Perhaps that would help?
The thing that touched me most in the documentary, was the Chef who was grade 1 Bi-polar and
the thing that made me cry was his boss. She owned the restaurant, and despite his mood swings, she was committed to helping him. It made me cry.
I thought, 'I need to be more like that' - if we all individually and as a society gave people a chance more, tried to help and encourage what a world we would have. I love to be encouraged don't you?
Yes there will always be fuckwits about but instead of being like most corporations or individuals, only concerned with profit and self, or the bottom line and our own ends, this woman ran a business but wanted to help her employee. How good is that?
I love that attitude, That's what I took from the programme. That's how I feel now.
I feel emotional. I want to get on a plane and go and give my brother a hug, I want to give the girl from the tooting meeting a hug who suffers bi-polar along with alcoholism, she is so sweet and such a tryer who doesn't have a shred of self pity in her body but clearly struggles. So vulnerable and adorable.
I want to shake the man's hand from the rooms who tours schools talking about mental wellness and health who is a reovering alcoholic, manic depressive and one of my heroes and role models (despite his dandruff and courdroy)
I want to tell my mate who has it and always berates me for making a thing of it as he insists since medication and prognosis it's not a thing and lives a normal life that I admire him greatly and underneath our masculine banter, I love him and have total respect.
These are my heroes. God i'm welling up. I feel fired up. I am crying writing this.
Tears of emotion, of passion, Tears for my brother who doesn't want to get well. How long can you give the excuse 'I have a mental illness' but also tears because I know deep down it's not his fault and he is not alone.
I feel so helpless, completely powerless. I wish I could do more. I wish I could help.
So if anyone who reads this lives with a mental illness. I salute you and if i'm honest I much prefer you than normal people. Some of those are as dull as fuck.
Carry on being mad. I mean we live in an insane world anyway. Look no further than Donald Trump. The most insane people of all are the ones who pretend to be normal but deep down are not.
If you are nuts. Don't worry about It. So am I. We all are to some lesser or greater degree. It's what defines you and I am proud of you for having it. Do not hide it. Do not feel bad about it. Do not deny it. You are massive legends and be proud of what you are.
I'm off to weep
Support Mental Health week in whatever way you can and if you want to learn more about it or are concerned for a loved one or family member go to this website for more advice - http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/a-z-mental-health/
God bless you all.
Nicholas Edward Evans
If you have been affected by Bi-polar either as a friend, family member or sufferer, watch it on I-player. It is Informative, educational, tragic and inspirational. Compelling viewing.
I am not an expert on the condition. I do not have it and I haven't worked in the field. So why write about it?
All I do is speak from personal experience. I have grown up with it. My brother has Bi Polar 1 (the most serious form) and I have witnessed the effects upon him and the rest of the family over 40 years. I also know people who have it and a good number of people who live with clinical depression and other mental health disorders.
I am not unique, we all do.
Bi-polar disorder affects around 1 in 100 adults. That's about 4 million in the UK, plus of course family/friends/partners, so that's around 10-12 million people directly affected. But what actually is it?
Bipolar disorder used to be called ‘manic depression’. As the older name suggests, someone with bipolar disorder will have severe mood swings. These usually last several weeks or months and are far beyond what most of us experience. It can be genetic, triggered by externals, or developed over a period of time. Usually the sufferer has a chemical imbalance in the brain and the symptoms can lie undetected for years. Regular treatment includes medication, therapy, CBT, exercise and advice on 'living right' to help the condition.
I come from a compassionate place. I cried during the documentary. It made me sad, Mental illnesss always has. We've all got our touching points. For some it's sick animals, kids or homeless. There are many things to make us sad in this world, It's hard to feel such compassion for all things, but for me, the thing that really touches me is mental illness and addcition. It just tears my heart out and grabs me every-time.
I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was doing a week's work experience in a mental health hospital when I was young. Perhaps it was seeing my brother sectioned on many occasions. Perhaps it was seeing my hero of an older brother reduced to a drooling child like figure walking with a limp like a 7 year old when heavily medicated. Heart breaking to see strong people reduced to a child like status.
It's the vulnerability that gets me every time.
I have friends who will hate me making a song and dance about it as they just want to be treated normally. I have friends who live with it, talk about it and write books on it to helps others. They live a normal life. Excellent role models.
These are the real experts. The people who have it and the ones who treat them. I am merely an observer.
And boy is there a lot to observe! A crazy roller-coaster of behavioural patterns, manic episodes that spiral into huge grandiosity, relentless insanity, fabuously hilarious schemes, hurtful damaging actions, fractured relationships. It's tough to witness.
When untreated it's tragic, or when the sufferer doesn't want to treat it, or is too scared or too closely aligned with other addictions to be able to give treatment a chance. It puts such an enormous strain on those around them and usually means they cannot function within normal confines of society. Most will self medicate or form other addictions, and in some cases it can result in suicide. Sometimes it can go relentlessly untreated for years which is like a living suicide in itself.
The bottom line is just like any other form of disease or health issue, The person has to want to do something about it for treatment to work. People didn't chose to have mental illness, but trying to have an attitude of acceptance certainly helps. Easy for me to say though when I don't have it.
I have alcoholism .I am lucky in that sense and I wouldn't swap my disease for Bi-polar. Yes I am prone to feelings of isolation, self obsession, self pity and self hatred. I have my off days and off weeks followed by feelings of optimism or hope, but not a patch on what Bi-polar suffers get, even more so without medication. My brother once said 'I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Trying to live with this head daily is so hard."
The poor bastard. I get it, I really do.
That is not to say that people with Bi-polar are victims. They are magnificent bastards. Slightly eccentric but always with a heart of gold and exceptionally talented in their own field. They live normal lives and certainly don't use it as a self pity fest.
Clearly there are different cases and disorders, they are not all lumped into one, but observing someone with the worst kind over the years is particularly painful.
But the individual also has to take responsibility. It is crucial to help with diet, rest, sleep, regular treatment, medication and exercise. These all help conditions and just like you and me as normal humans (well you are) - we feel better mentally when we live right. When we go on the piss, eat crap, never exercise, sleep little, get stressed our mental health suffers. Multiple that by around 1million and we may get an idea of what someone living with the condition may get.
I don't blame people for not looking after themselves though. I don't. I am full of self hatred half the time and I don't have a mental illness. I can't imagine what people with Bi-polar or clinical depression must feel like sometimes. The urge to say 'fuck it' and self medicate or blot out feelings must be vast. A quick jog around the block must seem like a marathon.
Watching that documentary made me want to scream and shout. Funding has been cut radically over the years. Prognosis and treatments are average to say the least. Doctors seem to dish out anti-depressants like candy to anyone with a complaint. It's turned into a pill culture with treatment services like a 'drive through' now, such is the pace people are seen then spat out. Standards and facilities have declined so are the ones who really need the help getting the right kind?
Are we tolerant enough of it? Do we know as much about it as a society as we should? Do we actually recognise depression as a disease? We rarely see 'depression; on death certificates of suicide victims do we? Just like 'alcoholism'.
Yes we have #mentalhealth week, clever social media campaigns and adverts, but when the push comes to the shove are we really that more educated and informed? Are we really that compassionate to those that suffer? I'm not so sure.
We live in a selfish and harsh world. The weepers and self indulgent drama queens give people with mental disorders a bad name It means people of an older generation are more cynical of mental illness. Some see it as self indulgent and 'weak'.
"Pull yourself together" is a commonly thrown at people, "we never used to mope about". I understand this sentiment as let's face it there are a lot of lazy, self indulgent, mopey bastards about who check themselves into the nearest clinic to treat a little bout of depression like it's some kind of trendy fad.
Depression is banded about too easily these days, without true depth and understanding of what it is. Anti-depressants are prescribed like a sponsored pharmacy. Sure most people will have periods of feeling down, but to some it is a lifetime clinical disorder. The trouble with these soft as shit self indulgent X-Factor, 'the Only Way is.....' selfie posing generation of self indulgent drama-queens is that real depression or mental illness get's merged into these idiots and creates a bad image.
This annoys and frustrates me. At least the documentary last night was serious and informed. It needs more education and treatment and for people to have a wider acceptance of it and it's true meaning. Not to be down for a few days so 'I'm depressed' but true compassion and understanding it is part of every day life and to reduce the stigma.
But do we really give a shit? We do get a bit of compassion fatigue don't we? I mean there is a week for everything. Cancer week, Mental health week, child of an alcoholic week, addict week, diabetes week. All are tremendous causes and important to raise awareness but we get a bit fatigued sometimes. So I do understand people's apathy or fatigue by yet another campaign for awareness. It's not our fault but it is if we stigmatise it.
Let's undersatand it is a disease. Let's understand the ripple effect on families. Lets encourage people, let's be compassionate, let's try and help. But How?
Donate a tenner for the marathon, or get a t-shirt saying 'I hug mentally ill people' - find something I don't know what, even if it's to look up depression and think of any of your friends have it. Call someone you think is struggling. Just do something. Anything! Even if it is to have more acceptance of it than you did yesterday.
I do think one thing is vastly under-rated and goes under the radar as a treatment. Exercise. A powerful mood lifter. A vastly underated medicine. Getting up and out, being active is so good for mental health and many think crucial in their health.
"yeah yeah", is usually the come back. But it is clinically proven to raise levels of adrenaline, balance the brain and really aides recovery or living with mental illness (or indeed other health issues) much more effectively than some medications.
Why the fuck doesn't the Government prescribe personal trainers and gym memberships and fitness coaches to help people with their daily lives? Wouldn't it save on long term medication and treatment? Isn't prevention better than cure? And whilst you are at it I include diabetes, obesity, addiction and other health related issues to that model.
Isn't it easier to live life with a 'buddy system' - someone who you can check in with, learn from, be accountable too, get help from?
I know this is a radical idea but how simple and effective would that be? A Health Coach who can work with people combining PT, Counselling, listening and coaching. Perhaps that would help?
The thing that touched me most in the documentary, was the Chef who was grade 1 Bi-polar and
the thing that made me cry was his boss. She owned the restaurant, and despite his mood swings, she was committed to helping him. It made me cry.
I thought, 'I need to be more like that' - if we all individually and as a society gave people a chance more, tried to help and encourage what a world we would have. I love to be encouraged don't you?
Yes there will always be fuckwits about but instead of being like most corporations or individuals, only concerned with profit and self, or the bottom line and our own ends, this woman ran a business but wanted to help her employee. How good is that?
I love that attitude, That's what I took from the programme. That's how I feel now.
I feel emotional. I want to get on a plane and go and give my brother a hug, I want to give the girl from the tooting meeting a hug who suffers bi-polar along with alcoholism, she is so sweet and such a tryer who doesn't have a shred of self pity in her body but clearly struggles. So vulnerable and adorable.
I want to shake the man's hand from the rooms who tours schools talking about mental wellness and health who is a reovering alcoholic, manic depressive and one of my heroes and role models (despite his dandruff and courdroy)
I want to tell my mate who has it and always berates me for making a thing of it as he insists since medication and prognosis it's not a thing and lives a normal life that I admire him greatly and underneath our masculine banter, I love him and have total respect.
These are my heroes. God i'm welling up. I feel fired up. I am crying writing this.
Tears of emotion, of passion, Tears for my brother who doesn't want to get well. How long can you give the excuse 'I have a mental illness' but also tears because I know deep down it's not his fault and he is not alone.
I feel so helpless, completely powerless. I wish I could do more. I wish I could help.
So if anyone who reads this lives with a mental illness. I salute you and if i'm honest I much prefer you than normal people. Some of those are as dull as fuck.
Carry on being mad. I mean we live in an insane world anyway. Look no further than Donald Trump. The most insane people of all are the ones who pretend to be normal but deep down are not.
If you are nuts. Don't worry about It. So am I. We all are to some lesser or greater degree. It's what defines you and I am proud of you for having it. Do not hide it. Do not feel bad about it. Do not deny it. You are massive legends and be proud of what you are.
I'm off to weep
Support Mental Health week in whatever way you can and if you want to learn more about it or are concerned for a loved one or family member go to this website for more advice - http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/a-z-mental-health/
God bless you all.
Nicholas Edward Evans
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Valentines Day Special - So what actually is this thing they speak of called love?
Sunday 14th Feb 2016. Valentines Day.
Who's bright idea was it to put Valentines Day on a Sunday?
Secondly You have all the chores to do before working week/school, life tomorrow - pack, kids, admin, washing, car etc.
Thirdly you have the Sunday Roast dinner to contend with. Lashings of meat and sweat inducing carbs don't make for romance.
I'm not sure about you but I find all that about as horny and romantic as a Ford Focus estate. Though to be fair the boot is pretty roomy for dogging in the GX3 model.
I defy anyone to get jiggy after a massive roast dinner. Dreams of sexy romance are somewhat curtailed by passionate sweat mixed with meat ones, whisperings of sweet nothings are interrupted by meat smelling burps and long erotic passionate inducing foreplay is somewhat killed by rancid nuclear waste 'cabbage' farts from eating too much. Bet you're wet now girls hey?!! She missed that out of Fifty Shades didn't she?
No, Sunday is a rubbish day for Valentines love. By the time you've done all your chores, sport and eaten, the last thing you feel in the mood for is love. Perhaps a nap instead.
If you have managed to have a sexy romantic day after all that and gone dogging in your Ford Focus estate, leaving the kids with the mother-in-law, you have my up-most respect. (and slight revulsion)
It's an odd day isn't it? Valentines Day. If you are in a couple there's a lot of pressure to perform and show your love. If you're single there's a lot of pressure from smug couples reminding you you're single. Its a tough gig.
It seems that people are divided into a few camps on Valentines Day; Here are my observations;
The smug couple
Usually found posting pictures from a posh 5 star 'Spa' hotel somewhere South of Spain in matching white towelling robes holding up a glass of champagne. There will invariably be a picture of a love message in red rose petals spelt out on the bed.
These are the most nauseating of couples, especially to those of us who are either single or in love-less relationships. But don't fear, in reality the 'Spa Hotel', picked up on Last minute.com is actually a knocking shop with an outdoor jackuzzi with week old jizz on the side and people who post pics like that up will be split up within a year once they get to know the real them. Result!
The Married Couple with Kids
What Velentines Day? Love and romance stopped with the first kid. No pics as no time. In fact they barely have time to pick a card from Sainsbury's whilst getting the morning papers (the cheapest of course) let alone plan a romantic day. In fact the most romantic thing they get is a home made card from their kids saying 'I love you' which actually makes you more emotional than your husband asleep on the sofa after watching the sport all afternoon and eating too many roast potatoes (see above for description)
The Over Eager Woman and Slightly underwhelmed man couple
This can of course be reversed with the woman being the one who doesn't give a shit, and is slightly close to 'smug couple', however you will spot this kind of couple as the girlfriend, who has been desperate for a proper relationship for ages as 'time is knocking on', is so keen on displaying her new relationship on social media that she cooks a massive heart shaped brownie or cake to show her underdying love to her new man (who doesn't really like Brownies and is more interested in Match of The Day 2 at 10.30 if he's honest) - this is displayed with several pics on social media but the ironic thing is that after he eats this symbol of love he'll be so stuffed she'll have to settle for MOTD2 instead of multiple orgasms.
The Slightly Arrogant Couple
These do not recongnise Valentines Day. In fact they sneer at people who celebrate it and look down on the mass commercialisation of the day, instead they congratulate themselves on 'not buying into this shit' who 'don't need a day like this to show we love each other'. These are usually joyless fucks who have a miserable life and only get turned on by watching other couples at it.
The Unhappy Couple
God how many of these are there? These will post a picture on social media at a table at a restaurant smiling (to show they are having a great day) then go back to 60 minutes of silence listening to other people's conversations as they are more interesting than their own. Either that or they will spend the desert and most of the coffee after the main staring at their phones, scrolling through social media at people seemingly having better Valentine Days/relationships/lives than theirs.
The Happy Couple
I love these. They don't post anything on social media because they don't need to and spend the day present, in each other's company, enjoying each other and being in love with each other. I love these people and I salute you.
The Unhappy Singles
These are single who want to be in a relationship and will spend the day being miserable at couples having fabulous days getting heart shaped brownies cooked for them.
These singles will spend the day on Tinder, Plenty of Fish and Match.com having to block married people who are messaging them whilst in the toilet of the restaurant with their partner at the table for their silent Valentines meal. It's all connected see!
The Happy Singles
These are cool. These are single people comfortable with themselves, who respect themselves too much to have a shit and unhappy relationship. They spend the day with friends, working out, not eating their own body weight in heart shaped brownies. They smile at the unhappy ones, think back to crap previous relationships and optimistically look forward to the next one. You are legends!!
The Sex and Love Addicts
These will spend the day veering between self pity, empty loneliness, despair, chronic need and then euphoria, elation, self love and happiness. They will attempt to fix on anything to take them away from their feelings including former girlfriends, dating sites, sex sites, social media, Starbucks, Gym, Yoga, Muffins and will then finally come to conclusion it's all OK and they needn't fix in the first place as they are OK in themselves and instead do the unthinkable and 'sit with their feelings'.
Always a candidate though for a tempting late night call up to join the Ford Focus set. Roomy boot see.
The Over 60's
Great era this. If they are single they will most likely just get on with it and go and do a jive class or play bridge. They don't do self pity or loneliness. If they are together they will go to the theatre and laugh at the unhappy married 40 something's with kids and congratulate themselves for getting through it. Heroes.
Whoever you are it's a great day. Love can come in many forms and in many ways. Yes of course we all want someone to be there for us, to notice us to give us attention, to love us and receive love. It is a beautiful thing to have someone you love. It is the best feeling in the world to be in love. It makes the day colour instead of black and white.
It can come from yourself, a partner, a child, a sunset or doing 12 minute time trial at level 14 and 100RPM (yes I'm that sad)
So whatever you have done, whoever you are with, and I include yourself in that if you are on your own. From the words of Gandhi, who I found out today was a big sex and love addict.
"What is life without love" - Ghandi
(well in my opinion it's a late night dogging session in a Ford Focus.)
Love you all very much
Happy Vanetines
Nicholas Edward Evans
Who's bright idea was it to put Valentines Day on a Sunday?
Firstly it's a sport fest - 6 Nations Rugby, Premier League Football and International One-Day cricket.
Thirdly you have the Sunday Roast dinner to contend with. Lashings of meat and sweat inducing carbs don't make for romance.
I'm not sure about you but I find all that about as horny and romantic as a Ford Focus estate. Though to be fair the boot is pretty roomy for dogging in the GX3 model.
I defy anyone to get jiggy after a massive roast dinner. Dreams of sexy romance are somewhat curtailed by passionate sweat mixed with meat ones, whisperings of sweet nothings are interrupted by meat smelling burps and long erotic passionate inducing foreplay is somewhat killed by rancid nuclear waste 'cabbage' farts from eating too much. Bet you're wet now girls hey?!! She missed that out of Fifty Shades didn't she?
No, Sunday is a rubbish day for Valentines love. By the time you've done all your chores, sport and eaten, the last thing you feel in the mood for is love. Perhaps a nap instead.
If you have managed to have a sexy romantic day after all that and gone dogging in your Ford Focus estate, leaving the kids with the mother-in-law, you have my up-most respect. (and slight revulsion)
It's an odd day isn't it? Valentines Day. If you are in a couple there's a lot of pressure to perform and show your love. If you're single there's a lot of pressure from smug couples reminding you you're single. Its a tough gig.
It seems that people are divided into a few camps on Valentines Day; Here are my observations;
The smug couple
Usually found posting pictures from a posh 5 star 'Spa' hotel somewhere South of Spain in matching white towelling robes holding up a glass of champagne. There will invariably be a picture of a love message in red rose petals spelt out on the bed.
These are the most nauseating of couples, especially to those of us who are either single or in love-less relationships. But don't fear, in reality the 'Spa Hotel', picked up on Last minute.com is actually a knocking shop with an outdoor jackuzzi with week old jizz on the side and people who post pics like that up will be split up within a year once they get to know the real them. Result!
The Married Couple with Kids
What Velentines Day? Love and romance stopped with the first kid. No pics as no time. In fact they barely have time to pick a card from Sainsbury's whilst getting the morning papers (the cheapest of course) let alone plan a romantic day. In fact the most romantic thing they get is a home made card from their kids saying 'I love you' which actually makes you more emotional than your husband asleep on the sofa after watching the sport all afternoon and eating too many roast potatoes (see above for description)
The Over Eager Woman and Slightly underwhelmed man couple
This can of course be reversed with the woman being the one who doesn't give a shit, and is slightly close to 'smug couple', however you will spot this kind of couple as the girlfriend, who has been desperate for a proper relationship for ages as 'time is knocking on', is so keen on displaying her new relationship on social media that she cooks a massive heart shaped brownie or cake to show her underdying love to her new man (who doesn't really like Brownies and is more interested in Match of The Day 2 at 10.30 if he's honest) - this is displayed with several pics on social media but the ironic thing is that after he eats this symbol of love he'll be so stuffed she'll have to settle for MOTD2 instead of multiple orgasms.
The Slightly Arrogant Couple
These do not recongnise Valentines Day. In fact they sneer at people who celebrate it and look down on the mass commercialisation of the day, instead they congratulate themselves on 'not buying into this shit' who 'don't need a day like this to show we love each other'. These are usually joyless fucks who have a miserable life and only get turned on by watching other couples at it.
The Unhappy Couple
God how many of these are there? These will post a picture on social media at a table at a restaurant smiling (to show they are having a great day) then go back to 60 minutes of silence listening to other people's conversations as they are more interesting than their own. Either that or they will spend the desert and most of the coffee after the main staring at their phones, scrolling through social media at people seemingly having better Valentine Days/relationships/lives than theirs.
The Happy Couple
I love these. They don't post anything on social media because they don't need to and spend the day present, in each other's company, enjoying each other and being in love with each other. I love these people and I salute you.
The Unhappy Singles
These are single who want to be in a relationship and will spend the day being miserable at couples having fabulous days getting heart shaped brownies cooked for them.
These singles will spend the day on Tinder, Plenty of Fish and Match.com having to block married people who are messaging them whilst in the toilet of the restaurant with their partner at the table for their silent Valentines meal. It's all connected see!
The Happy Singles
These are cool. These are single people comfortable with themselves, who respect themselves too much to have a shit and unhappy relationship. They spend the day with friends, working out, not eating their own body weight in heart shaped brownies. They smile at the unhappy ones, think back to crap previous relationships and optimistically look forward to the next one. You are legends!!
The Sex and Love Addicts
These will spend the day veering between self pity, empty loneliness, despair, chronic need and then euphoria, elation, self love and happiness. They will attempt to fix on anything to take them away from their feelings including former girlfriends, dating sites, sex sites, social media, Starbucks, Gym, Yoga, Muffins and will then finally come to conclusion it's all OK and they needn't fix in the first place as they are OK in themselves and instead do the unthinkable and 'sit with their feelings'.
Always a candidate though for a tempting late night call up to join the Ford Focus set. Roomy boot see.
The Over 60's
Great era this. If they are single they will most likely just get on with it and go and do a jive class or play bridge. They don't do self pity or loneliness. If they are together they will go to the theatre and laugh at the unhappy married 40 something's with kids and congratulate themselves for getting through it. Heroes.
Whoever you are it's a great day. Love can come in many forms and in many ways. Yes of course we all want someone to be there for us, to notice us to give us attention, to love us and receive love. It is a beautiful thing to have someone you love. It is the best feeling in the world to be in love. It makes the day colour instead of black and white.
It can come from yourself, a partner, a child, a sunset or doing 12 minute time trial at level 14 and 100RPM (yes I'm that sad)
So whatever you have done, whoever you are with, and I include yourself in that if you are on your own. From the words of Gandhi, who I found out today was a big sex and love addict.
"What is life without love" - Ghandi
(well in my opinion it's a late night dogging session in a Ford Focus.)
Love you all very much
Happy Vanetines
Nicholas Edward Evans
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
3-D Honesty
"The thing I've always liked (and hated) about you Nick is your 3-Dimensional honesty, it's uncomfortable sometimes as it rings so true to me."
Anonymous tonight
When a guy said that phrase to me tonight I thought, 'he's having a pop the fat bastard'. Obviously I didn't say that to his face. I'm not that honest.
Then on reflection I thought, "3-D honesty, I have no idea what it is, but how fucking awesome does that sound!!" Very hyped over the top American and I love it.
3-D is 'in' right now. Films, Games, adult literature. If it's 3-D you can guarantee it adds another £10 to the bottom line and enhances 'viewer experience' (marketing term, don't kill yourself.)
3-D honesty sounds like some kind of super powered, multi-surround sound cluster fuck of honesty on steroids. Cool!
So many people say to me, "Oh I love that you're so honest Nick." Am I? I'm sure many women in my life and I include many ex-girlfriends in that, will disagree.
I have been a bad boy and dishonest on occasions. It has been part of me since growing up and living a double life from being a boy. Alcoholic madness at home, everything cool on the outside. I learnt to be an actor from an early age and live a double life.
Thus became exciting in teenage years as I was able to transfer this into girls and sexual adventure. Trouble is this has carried on until 43 and been the instigator of many failed relationships, hurting many women who have fallen in love with me along the way. Not proud or good.
But that's 3-D honesty right there. Honest about being dishonest and 'owning my shit.' The key of course is not to be heroic and respected for admitting, it's to not act it out in the first place and be honest.
But you know what I was honest. I went into most of them saying my history, my track record and admitting I was a co-dependant, sex and love addicted recovering alcoholic. Now the sane amongst you would probably run a mile but Christ those kind of people are so bloody attractive. Especially to ones who are also insane. A perfect match!
So there's honesty for you. Be open and accept it. Trouble happens when you deny and fight it. I'm not saying it will be a bed of roses but things are a hell of a lot easier to deal with when you accept them. 3D honesty.
So what does honest actually mean? The dictionary states - Free of deceit, truthful and sincere - candid, frank, direct, straight, straightforward, genuine, blunt, plain-speaking.
I have been told I am brutally honest. I have also been told that sometimes I say the right things, just in the wrong way. But you know what I'd rather be that than a bull-shitter or not give a toss.
It's as dishonest to withhold feelings and emotions and hide them as it is to lie and be totally dishonest. It's as dishonest to pretend you care when really you're just doing it for show (Facebook Paris flags anyone?)
And who is actually honest all the time? Surely that's impossible. Even Mother Theresa must have told a few porkies in her time?
And also watch out for people who start sentences with, "to be honest with you...." they are about to spout the biggest load of shit since Prime Ministers Question Time.
You really think the Government, Large corporations, Banks, The media and the clergy are being honest to us? God no. We live in an insane dishonest world, but many of us don't really give a shit because we're being too dishonest ourselves.
Having an affair, sneaking off to watch a bit of Frankie Vaughan, posting pictures on Facebook that make your life look better than it is? There are so many subtle forms of dishonesty we act in without realising it every day.
Clearly you can't be bluntly honest all the time, even if you want too. "He's shit in bed, no dick, she's a fat cow, my boss is a twat, he's an arrogant wanker, I hate my kids right now." ad infinitum. We have so many inner thoughts we simply cannot air them publicly - or can we? It's a risky strategy if you do.
Except of course when you are steaming drunk. Then you don't care and the real truth, usually wrapped in massive resentment and seething anger comes out. That's the real raw truth. This is why it's better if I don't drink anymore. This will usually end in P45, divorce and arrest, Usually in that order.
What I do like is honesty of feelings. Cut through the bullshit. Get down to root issues. No fluff. No crap. Straight talking, open and honest about how you feel. We love a good rant sometimes. On:
Your struggles,
Your resentments,
Your worries
Your successes
The rise of farmers markets.
You.
This is 3D honesty. Self awareness and self reflection. It is good to be honest about yourself, especially to a trusted source. It's a shit load better than sitting in resentment the whole time and blaming everyone other than yourself for problems and difficulties.
The world is full of bullshit. Movie stars who are Gay acting straight. Politicians spouting equality whilst raping the poor, brands advertising on TV that they care about you whilst ripping you off. Evangelical preachers spouting the word of God whilst pocketing huge collections for their own benefit. Photo-shop selfies, manufactured TV shows. I mean it's all a load of nonsense isn't it?
The least we can do is be honest about our feelings and cut the crap. That way we all know where we stand.
Now i'm off to manipulate someone into showing me attention by text to sate my chronic feelings of loneliness and low self esteem so my ego is being sated and counting how many 'likes' this blog got on Facebook. Am I going to tell them i'm doing that? Of course not, that would be far too honest now wouldn't it?
PS - I didn't say I was cured, a guru, a saint or had all the answers did I? it's progress not perfection.
Nicholas Edward Evans.
Anonymous tonight
When a guy said that phrase to me tonight I thought, 'he's having a pop the fat bastard'. Obviously I didn't say that to his face. I'm not that honest.
Then on reflection I thought, "3-D honesty, I have no idea what it is, but how fucking awesome does that sound!!" Very hyped over the top American and I love it.
3-D is 'in' right now. Films, Games, adult literature. If it's 3-D you can guarantee it adds another £10 to the bottom line and enhances 'viewer experience' (marketing term, don't kill yourself.)
3-D honesty sounds like some kind of super powered, multi-surround sound cluster fuck of honesty on steroids. Cool!
So many people say to me, "Oh I love that you're so honest Nick." Am I? I'm sure many women in my life and I include many ex-girlfriends in that, will disagree.
I have been a bad boy and dishonest on occasions. It has been part of me since growing up and living a double life from being a boy. Alcoholic madness at home, everything cool on the outside. I learnt to be an actor from an early age and live a double life.
Thus became exciting in teenage years as I was able to transfer this into girls and sexual adventure. Trouble is this has carried on until 43 and been the instigator of many failed relationships, hurting many women who have fallen in love with me along the way. Not proud or good.
But that's 3-D honesty right there. Honest about being dishonest and 'owning my shit.' The key of course is not to be heroic and respected for admitting, it's to not act it out in the first place and be honest.
But you know what I was honest. I went into most of them saying my history, my track record and admitting I was a co-dependant, sex and love addicted recovering alcoholic. Now the sane amongst you would probably run a mile but Christ those kind of people are so bloody attractive. Especially to ones who are also insane. A perfect match!
So there's honesty for you. Be open and accept it. Trouble happens when you deny and fight it. I'm not saying it will be a bed of roses but things are a hell of a lot easier to deal with when you accept them. 3D honesty.
So what does honest actually mean? The dictionary states - Free of deceit, truthful and sincere - candid, frank, direct, straight, straightforward, genuine, blunt, plain-speaking.
I have been told I am brutally honest. I have also been told that sometimes I say the right things, just in the wrong way. But you know what I'd rather be that than a bull-shitter or not give a toss.
It's as dishonest to withhold feelings and emotions and hide them as it is to lie and be totally dishonest. It's as dishonest to pretend you care when really you're just doing it for show (Facebook Paris flags anyone?)
And who is actually honest all the time? Surely that's impossible. Even Mother Theresa must have told a few porkies in her time?
And also watch out for people who start sentences with, "to be honest with you...." they are about to spout the biggest load of shit since Prime Ministers Question Time.
You really think the Government, Large corporations, Banks, The media and the clergy are being honest to us? God no. We live in an insane dishonest world, but many of us don't really give a shit because we're being too dishonest ourselves.
Having an affair, sneaking off to watch a bit of Frankie Vaughan, posting pictures on Facebook that make your life look better than it is? There are so many subtle forms of dishonesty we act in without realising it every day.
Clearly you can't be bluntly honest all the time, even if you want too. "He's shit in bed, no dick, she's a fat cow, my boss is a twat, he's an arrogant wanker, I hate my kids right now." ad infinitum. We have so many inner thoughts we simply cannot air them publicly - or can we? It's a risky strategy if you do.
Except of course when you are steaming drunk. Then you don't care and the real truth, usually wrapped in massive resentment and seething anger comes out. That's the real raw truth. This is why it's better if I don't drink anymore. This will usually end in P45, divorce and arrest, Usually in that order.
What I do like is honesty of feelings. Cut through the bullshit. Get down to root issues. No fluff. No crap. Straight talking, open and honest about how you feel. We love a good rant sometimes. On:
Your struggles,
Your resentments,
Your worries
Your successes
The rise of farmers markets.
You.
This is 3D honesty. Self awareness and self reflection. It is good to be honest about yourself, especially to a trusted source. It's a shit load better than sitting in resentment the whole time and blaming everyone other than yourself for problems and difficulties.
The world is full of bullshit. Movie stars who are Gay acting straight. Politicians spouting equality whilst raping the poor, brands advertising on TV that they care about you whilst ripping you off. Evangelical preachers spouting the word of God whilst pocketing huge collections for their own benefit. Photo-shop selfies, manufactured TV shows. I mean it's all a load of nonsense isn't it?
The least we can do is be honest about our feelings and cut the crap. That way we all know where we stand.
Now i'm off to manipulate someone into showing me attention by text to sate my chronic feelings of loneliness and low self esteem so my ego is being sated and counting how many 'likes' this blog got on Facebook. Am I going to tell them i'm doing that? Of course not, that would be far too honest now wouldn't it?
PS - I didn't say I was cured, a guru, a saint or had all the answers did I? it's progress not perfection.
Nicholas Edward Evans.
Monday, February 8, 2016
How to Deal with Resentments
"Resentment is the Number one Offender" - Alcoholics Anonymous
We wouldn't be human if we didn't get resentments. The government, your job, society, God, parents, childhood, partner's limp love making, the traffic, stupid people, call centres, rampant commercialisation of Valentines Day. Whatever it is we all suffer resentment at some point in our lives. It's called being human. Real life is tough. It's full of idiots.
Donald Trump may become President, how can you not feel that the world is fucked with that insane shit going on? No wonder we get into resentment.
Obviously there are certain degrees of resentment. Varying from A slight barb against someone's attire, all the way to searing hatred against a religion. Whatever it maybe, justified or not, resentments are one of the biggest blockages to spiritual growth. They are like cancer to the soul. The number one offender. I should know because I've been in it for 30 years.
How many families blank each other? "Haven't spoken in years", court battles, custody, wars over religion? I mean sociological resentment causes wars and death, personal ones cost peace of mind and money. They are dark and ugly. Many people sit in them, enjoying the misshaped hatred. Why? Well because I believe some people are horrible small minded self absorbed fuckers. They are welcome to sit in their own misery. They don't want to change so let's eave that particular breed of sickos alone.
Others such as myself, have been conditioned to pick up resentment because we are so sensitive to the level of madness in the world, oh yes, I forgot, of course because I am an insane ego centric arrogant ego maniac recovering alcoholic who picks up resentments at the drop of a hat. But the difference being is that I have always been willing to change. The fact that it has taken so long or that I have fought against it is not the issue. It's the journey and process of change which is key. You have to have willingness.
The disease of alcoholism creates resentments, 'real or imagined, it makes no difference, simply to make you want to drink - It's just a side affect of the disease and still happens long after you stop drinking such is the cunningness of it.
I have been in it for 13 years. Not even several inventories have crushed it. Instead I have enjoyed it, sharpened it. It's been as natural to me as blinking.
Why?
Because I loved the adrenaline of anger/resentment. I loved criticising and putting people down in my head as it made me feel superior. I loved feeling less than someone more successful then me because it fed my self hatred and 'poor me' self pity. I loved hating those happy successful bastards because they were doing better than me. Jealousy. It kept me where I wanted to be. Pissed off.
That's been my journey for the past 13 years of my recovery. Resentful.
Resentful of being in AA. Of not being able to drink. Of not being this. Of being too much of that. Blah blah. The only thing that has helped me get through it is a sense of humour. I have made fun of it. And let's face it when people go on a rant against something we identify with, it's like we are living through their rant. We love to hear people say what we think but can't say.
I've been that guy. A ranter. Not as bad as in my early 'Angry Nick' days of sobriety. Where I used to seek out tourists standing on the left hand side of the escalator so I could bump past them nurturing my sense of right and justice.
After all justifiable anger is the most satisfying of all. If someone is a proper cunt, oh my god how good is it telling everyone and letting the world know of their cuntishness. Beautiful. It is extremely important as a resentful alcoholic to be right at all times. Even when you are wrong and have been proved thus. Never admit it. Fuck me, never admit it.
That's me. It makes arguing interesting of course. Firstly you have to start one. As an angry resentful alcoholic that's easy. Just pick one of the countless imaginary made up resentments and let fly. Then stay in it for hours. Relentlessly creating new layers of resentment to argue your point. Then when you have been proved wrong, just storm out or slam the phone down. It's usually best to do this for something pointless and ridiculous.
But you know what and here's the deal - it's shit being in it all the time. I mean it sucks and so do you. It bars any kind of growth. It keeps you from being a success. It makes you miserable. It makes you separate and apart. It makes you small and it effectively in the long term renders you a miserable lonely old cunt who nobody really likes other than fellow miserable lonely old cunts who hate everyone and everything. Usually you will find these in Wetherspoons or the House of Lords.
So, here's the key. The money shot. The pearl necklace. The solution. Ready? Drum Roll..................
It's what you do with it that's the answer.
"Oh is that it?" you may say. "Hardly profound or wise is it? I Bet you were looking for a better solution than that. "Fuck me Nick, Is that all of you've got. You've dragged me into reading this shit all the way down with a catchy solution based title that made me read it and all you've said is 'it's what you do with it' - No shit Sherlock. What a limp dick of a punchline"
Well, hold your horses before you go judging me on that spunk sock of a solution. Let me explain.
One week ago my resentments cleared. I spent a day paying compliments and meant them. Since that day I feel normal. Not judgmental. Not less than. Not more than. I feel calm. I feel peaceful. I feel OK. I have no idea how or why but I do.
For 14 years I have been not drinking, going to meetings, praying to a God I have no idea what it is or even if it exists. I have helped numerous people. I have done my best with the programme, despite myself mostly but because it didn't want to drink and I was committed to trying to get better.
In that time I have been resentful, angry, I have developed bulimia, sex addiction, weird habits, caffeine and nicotine addiction. I have hurt many people, I have railed against things, ranted, raved, laughed, cried. I have hung on in there when my head wanted to explode with rage. I have been up and down in and out but all the way I have shared my resentment. I have voiced my anger. I have been authentic with how I am and most of all I have been willing to grow along spiritual lines even though my head didn't want too. I have been real and honest. I have been true to myself even when I was an angry bastard.
And you know what, all those years of madness, of anger of getting barred from Yoga have just been my journey until last Weds I woke up with a clear head and felt OK. I didn't feel that anger. I felt it's OK to be me. I didn't feel better than you or worse. I was just me, part of the world.
Now you maybe thinking 'and'. But trust me it's massive news to me that i'm just me and normal member of society. The isolation has gone and I have been well chirpy all week.
Don't get me wrong the 'old Nick' is still in full bloom and I get reactions to things all the time. My ego pricked on a daily basis, But I am also 'New Nick' in that I don't react, keep hold of the anger, feed off it and let fly anymore. I let it go much quicker.
I haven't changed anything in particular. My diet, smoking, diet coke, eating, sex conduct, relationships or any of my bad habits, but I feel like new. It's like grey clouds have parted to reveal blue sky. I hope it lasts, I really do.
I love it. I love feeling up. I love complimenting people and making them feel good. I like giving praise where due and I love teasing to liven things up. I love a laugh with people and I love to wake up and not feel fear. I love it all at the moment. It fucking rocks.
So, to sum up, in short. Here's the top 7 tips to deal with Resentment;
1 - Learn Them - "How can I do something about resentment if I don't know I am in them?" is the usual response. Well, if you have had failed relationships, are unhappy, skint, in a bad job, hate your life, partner, abuse alcohol, drugs, food, take medication, see a counsellor or act out contanstly or are in any way unhappy - you have resentment and it is your duty to get some self realisation and at least look at what they are.
2 - Accept Them. Once you know what they are, Acknowledge them don't deny them. People in denial are truly joyless fucks. At least accept the resentments then you can do something about them. You know where you stand with people in resentment who know they are. It's the ones in denial you never know where you stand with. Grim.
3 - Share them - don't allow them to build up in you and supress. This will then lead to heavy drinking, drug taking, depression or all 3. Let it out do not let it fester. Remember it is a cancer to the soul and it will eat you up if not released. Find a trusted source - then let rip and rant them out. Don't mistake with character assassination or gossiping. That's also shit. Just rant it out of your system then it is done.
4 - Own them - Don't shift blame to another. That's cowardly and shit. Then you are living in the problem. Own your shit. Understand your part then you will know if it's real or not and be a more agreeable human being. We usually have some part to play in a resentment. Look at yourself before destroying others.
5 - Laugh at them - Don't take yourself so seriously. If you cannot laugh at yourself that is the true sign of resentment. Once you can take the piss out of your own ridiculousness you have nailed it.
6 - Have patience in them and you - Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly - As long as you want to be free of resentment you will. it may take 12 days or 12 years but it will come.
7 - Fuck them - Not physically of course. That's for a sex addicts meeting, But fuck them off as soon as you get them. Remember don't feed them or they will grow. Get rid at your earliest opportunity just don't be ashamed of having them. Its Ok, just fuck them.
Never lose the faith and share from the heart, then I guarantee resentment will be lifted and we can all live a shiny happy life. I just hope 'New Nick' lasts. I like him.
Nicholas Edward Evans
@goanick
We wouldn't be human if we didn't get resentments. The government, your job, society, God, parents, childhood, partner's limp love making, the traffic, stupid people, call centres, rampant commercialisation of Valentines Day. Whatever it is we all suffer resentment at some point in our lives. It's called being human. Real life is tough. It's full of idiots.
Donald Trump may become President, how can you not feel that the world is fucked with that insane shit going on? No wonder we get into resentment.
Obviously there are certain degrees of resentment. Varying from A slight barb against someone's attire, all the way to searing hatred against a religion. Whatever it maybe, justified or not, resentments are one of the biggest blockages to spiritual growth. They are like cancer to the soul. The number one offender. I should know because I've been in it for 30 years.
How many families blank each other? "Haven't spoken in years", court battles, custody, wars over religion? I mean sociological resentment causes wars and death, personal ones cost peace of mind and money. They are dark and ugly. Many people sit in them, enjoying the misshaped hatred. Why? Well because I believe some people are horrible small minded self absorbed fuckers. They are welcome to sit in their own misery. They don't want to change so let's eave that particular breed of sickos alone.
Others such as myself, have been conditioned to pick up resentment because we are so sensitive to the level of madness in the world, oh yes, I forgot, of course because I am an insane ego centric arrogant ego maniac recovering alcoholic who picks up resentments at the drop of a hat. But the difference being is that I have always been willing to change. The fact that it has taken so long or that I have fought against it is not the issue. It's the journey and process of change which is key. You have to have willingness.
The disease of alcoholism creates resentments, 'real or imagined, it makes no difference, simply to make you want to drink - It's just a side affect of the disease and still happens long after you stop drinking such is the cunningness of it.
I have been in it for 13 years. Not even several inventories have crushed it. Instead I have enjoyed it, sharpened it. It's been as natural to me as blinking.
Why?
Because I loved the adrenaline of anger/resentment. I loved criticising and putting people down in my head as it made me feel superior. I loved feeling less than someone more successful then me because it fed my self hatred and 'poor me' self pity. I loved hating those happy successful bastards because they were doing better than me. Jealousy. It kept me where I wanted to be. Pissed off.
That's been my journey for the past 13 years of my recovery. Resentful.
Resentful of being in AA. Of not being able to drink. Of not being this. Of being too much of that. Blah blah. The only thing that has helped me get through it is a sense of humour. I have made fun of it. And let's face it when people go on a rant against something we identify with, it's like we are living through their rant. We love to hear people say what we think but can't say.
I've been that guy. A ranter. Not as bad as in my early 'Angry Nick' days of sobriety. Where I used to seek out tourists standing on the left hand side of the escalator so I could bump past them nurturing my sense of right and justice.
After all justifiable anger is the most satisfying of all. If someone is a proper cunt, oh my god how good is it telling everyone and letting the world know of their cuntishness. Beautiful. It is extremely important as a resentful alcoholic to be right at all times. Even when you are wrong and have been proved thus. Never admit it. Fuck me, never admit it.
That's me. It makes arguing interesting of course. Firstly you have to start one. As an angry resentful alcoholic that's easy. Just pick one of the countless imaginary made up resentments and let fly. Then stay in it for hours. Relentlessly creating new layers of resentment to argue your point. Then when you have been proved wrong, just storm out or slam the phone down. It's usually best to do this for something pointless and ridiculous.
But you know what and here's the deal - it's shit being in it all the time. I mean it sucks and so do you. It bars any kind of growth. It keeps you from being a success. It makes you miserable. It makes you separate and apart. It makes you small and it effectively in the long term renders you a miserable lonely old cunt who nobody really likes other than fellow miserable lonely old cunts who hate everyone and everything. Usually you will find these in Wetherspoons or the House of Lords.
So, here's the key. The money shot. The pearl necklace. The solution. Ready? Drum Roll..................
It's what you do with it that's the answer.
"Oh is that it?" you may say. "Hardly profound or wise is it? I Bet you were looking for a better solution than that. "Fuck me Nick, Is that all of you've got. You've dragged me into reading this shit all the way down with a catchy solution based title that made me read it and all you've said is 'it's what you do with it' - No shit Sherlock. What a limp dick of a punchline"
Well, hold your horses before you go judging me on that spunk sock of a solution. Let me explain.
One week ago my resentments cleared. I spent a day paying compliments and meant them. Since that day I feel normal. Not judgmental. Not less than. Not more than. I feel calm. I feel peaceful. I feel OK. I have no idea how or why but I do.
For 14 years I have been not drinking, going to meetings, praying to a God I have no idea what it is or even if it exists. I have helped numerous people. I have done my best with the programme, despite myself mostly but because it didn't want to drink and I was committed to trying to get better.
In that time I have been resentful, angry, I have developed bulimia, sex addiction, weird habits, caffeine and nicotine addiction. I have hurt many people, I have railed against things, ranted, raved, laughed, cried. I have hung on in there when my head wanted to explode with rage. I have been up and down in and out but all the way I have shared my resentment. I have voiced my anger. I have been authentic with how I am and most of all I have been willing to grow along spiritual lines even though my head didn't want too. I have been real and honest. I have been true to myself even when I was an angry bastard.
And you know what, all those years of madness, of anger of getting barred from Yoga have just been my journey until last Weds I woke up with a clear head and felt OK. I didn't feel that anger. I felt it's OK to be me. I didn't feel better than you or worse. I was just me, part of the world.
Now you maybe thinking 'and'. But trust me it's massive news to me that i'm just me and normal member of society. The isolation has gone and I have been well chirpy all week.
Don't get me wrong the 'old Nick' is still in full bloom and I get reactions to things all the time. My ego pricked on a daily basis, But I am also 'New Nick' in that I don't react, keep hold of the anger, feed off it and let fly anymore. I let it go much quicker.
I haven't changed anything in particular. My diet, smoking, diet coke, eating, sex conduct, relationships or any of my bad habits, but I feel like new. It's like grey clouds have parted to reveal blue sky. I hope it lasts, I really do.
I love it. I love feeling up. I love complimenting people and making them feel good. I like giving praise where due and I love teasing to liven things up. I love a laugh with people and I love to wake up and not feel fear. I love it all at the moment. It fucking rocks.
So, to sum up, in short. Here's the top 7 tips to deal with Resentment;
1 - Learn Them - "How can I do something about resentment if I don't know I am in them?" is the usual response. Well, if you have had failed relationships, are unhappy, skint, in a bad job, hate your life, partner, abuse alcohol, drugs, food, take medication, see a counsellor or act out contanstly or are in any way unhappy - you have resentment and it is your duty to get some self realisation and at least look at what they are.
2 - Accept Them. Once you know what they are, Acknowledge them don't deny them. People in denial are truly joyless fucks. At least accept the resentments then you can do something about them. You know where you stand with people in resentment who know they are. It's the ones in denial you never know where you stand with. Grim.
3 - Share them - don't allow them to build up in you and supress. This will then lead to heavy drinking, drug taking, depression or all 3. Let it out do not let it fester. Remember it is a cancer to the soul and it will eat you up if not released. Find a trusted source - then let rip and rant them out. Don't mistake with character assassination or gossiping. That's also shit. Just rant it out of your system then it is done.
4 - Own them - Don't shift blame to another. That's cowardly and shit. Then you are living in the problem. Own your shit. Understand your part then you will know if it's real or not and be a more agreeable human being. We usually have some part to play in a resentment. Look at yourself before destroying others.
5 - Laugh at them - Don't take yourself so seriously. If you cannot laugh at yourself that is the true sign of resentment. Once you can take the piss out of your own ridiculousness you have nailed it.
6 - Have patience in them and you - Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly - As long as you want to be free of resentment you will. it may take 12 days or 12 years but it will come.
7 - Fuck them - Not physically of course. That's for a sex addicts meeting, But fuck them off as soon as you get them. Remember don't feed them or they will grow. Get rid at your earliest opportunity just don't be ashamed of having them. Its Ok, just fuck them.
Never lose the faith and share from the heart, then I guarantee resentment will be lifted and we can all live a shiny happy life. I just hope 'New Nick' lasts. I like him.
Nicholas Edward Evans
@goanick
Thursday, February 4, 2016
How to Change Negative to Positive
An Easy Tip to Help Change Your Mood.
Hands up who finds it hard to change from negative to positive? Thought so, me too.
As a naturally pessimistic recovering alcoholic with a default button set to 'oh god it's all going to go wrong' or as a self centred fear based addict who wakes in fear most days. Turning negative to positive remains a lifelong quest.
It happens to us all. Whether we are addicts or not. It is a basic human condition for some. Of course some people have an in-built happy and positive device. They are mostly optimistic and 'up'. Watch out for these bastards. They are dangerous as they are far too happy for us miserable jealous sods.
I'm kidding of course. Grab hold of people like that and stay close. Surround yourself with as many up, positive, 'can-do' people as you can because it is contagious. Of course, if they are too successful and you find yourself falling into comparing and despairing, dip in for a bit of misery with a loser to ground you again. It's all swings and round-a-bouts.
Anyway, I'm not sure what has happened to me over the past two days but I seem to have begun to shift my negative to positive. My circumstances haven't changed. I haven't really received much in the way of good news outside affirmation (usually my staple diet for feeling good) - Much of my life and habits remain the same.
But yesterday, for some reason, I started to pay people random compliments and actually mean them.
Not in the 'If I pay a compliment I'm going to get something back' type of manipulative way, or even in that 'I best pay a compliment because I want to people please' type of way, or even in 'a best pay a compliment as they look like they need it' kind of way, or even socially expected to pay one back "yes darling that really suits you" type compliment even though you know it makes her look like Eric Bristow in drag.
No, mine were genuine and felt good.
Compliment Number 1 - lovely red nails
Newsagents, on the way to the tube, the plump 60 year old Indian woman served me my Diet Coke, Gum and Newspaper (standard fayre for the commute into town) - I noticed her outstanding large red nails perfectly manicured (a weakness of mine) and I immediately complimented her, "fabulous nails my lovely", she looked shocked then, spread them out in-front of me (made me feel a slight twinge I must admit) and said 'why thank you', smiled broadly and looked a little coy. I bid her farewell and left with a spring in my step. A genuine non-motive compliment. Result Nicky boy!
Spurred by this feeling of goodness that overwhelmed me I carried on into the west end.
Compliment Number 2- amazing coat
Starbucks Harley Street. Now, I must admit this was a compliment that had an alterior motive but it was genuine. A gorgeous cherub of a Japanese girl walked in as I was ordering tea. She had the most incredible full length coat on, huge collars and lapels and I thought wow. "Great coat, where did you get it" I asked (I know sounds like a shit chat up line but it was genuinely cool) "Karen Millen" she replied and then complimented me on my style and cowboy boots. Double winner! Turns out she was a concert pianist on her way to a shoot. We had a chat about music and I had never met a pianist in a Karen Millen ace coat and we parted on our merry way. (without a date I hasten to add)
By now I was enjoying this and felt good.
Compliment Number 3 - My Chiropractor looks younger than 2 years ago
Just to show I am not a compliment pick up artist. I saw my Chiropractor. A brash 55 year old Canadian dude with a short man complex and a mullet. I hadn't seen him for ages, he looked great. "wow man, you look younger, have you dropped weight?" He had lost two stone in the time since I last saw him and smiled when I said that. He still charged me full whack though and I left feeling good.
Compliment Number 4 - your my best pal I love my friend.
On the phone to an old friend. I was suddenly struck by the need to say, "I really like you and I'm pleased you're my friend" - we hadn't said anything like that in 20 years (apart from when drunk in the old days but then again everyone's 'yer best pal' in that state) I'm not sure he knew how to take it but it felt good anyway. Men don't usually talk to each other like that.
So there it is. Pay people compliments. But mean them with no hidden motive or because it's socially correct to do so. It wont work then. It makes you feel good. I'm not saying everything will change immediately but try it tomorrow. See how it works and let me know. It helps shift negative to positive.
Follow me on twitter @goanick or sign up for this blog. Share it and feel free to tell everyone you know to read it.
I love you for reading. Compliment number 5
Nicholas Edward
xx
Hands up who finds it hard to change from negative to positive? Thought so, me too.
As a naturally pessimistic recovering alcoholic with a default button set to 'oh god it's all going to go wrong' or as a self centred fear based addict who wakes in fear most days. Turning negative to positive remains a lifelong quest.
It happens to us all. Whether we are addicts or not. It is a basic human condition for some. Of course some people have an in-built happy and positive device. They are mostly optimistic and 'up'. Watch out for these bastards. They are dangerous as they are far too happy for us miserable jealous sods.
I'm kidding of course. Grab hold of people like that and stay close. Surround yourself with as many up, positive, 'can-do' people as you can because it is contagious. Of course, if they are too successful and you find yourself falling into comparing and despairing, dip in for a bit of misery with a loser to ground you again. It's all swings and round-a-bouts.
Anyway, I'm not sure what has happened to me over the past two days but I seem to have begun to shift my negative to positive. My circumstances haven't changed. I haven't really received much in the way of good news outside affirmation (usually my staple diet for feeling good) - Much of my life and habits remain the same.
But yesterday, for some reason, I started to pay people random compliments and actually mean them.
Not in the 'If I pay a compliment I'm going to get something back' type of manipulative way, or even in that 'I best pay a compliment because I want to people please' type of way, or even in 'a best pay a compliment as they look like they need it' kind of way, or even socially expected to pay one back "yes darling that really suits you" type compliment even though you know it makes her look like Eric Bristow in drag.
No, mine were genuine and felt good.
Compliment Number 1 - lovely red nails
Newsagents, on the way to the tube, the plump 60 year old Indian woman served me my Diet Coke, Gum and Newspaper (standard fayre for the commute into town) - I noticed her outstanding large red nails perfectly manicured (a weakness of mine) and I immediately complimented her, "fabulous nails my lovely", she looked shocked then, spread them out in-front of me (made me feel a slight twinge I must admit) and said 'why thank you', smiled broadly and looked a little coy. I bid her farewell and left with a spring in my step. A genuine non-motive compliment. Result Nicky boy!
Spurred by this feeling of goodness that overwhelmed me I carried on into the west end.
Compliment Number 2- amazing coat
Starbucks Harley Street. Now, I must admit this was a compliment that had an alterior motive but it was genuine. A gorgeous cherub of a Japanese girl walked in as I was ordering tea. She had the most incredible full length coat on, huge collars and lapels and I thought wow. "Great coat, where did you get it" I asked (I know sounds like a shit chat up line but it was genuinely cool) "Karen Millen" she replied and then complimented me on my style and cowboy boots. Double winner! Turns out she was a concert pianist on her way to a shoot. We had a chat about music and I had never met a pianist in a Karen Millen ace coat and we parted on our merry way. (without a date I hasten to add)
By now I was enjoying this and felt good.
Compliment Number 3 - My Chiropractor looks younger than 2 years ago
Just to show I am not a compliment pick up artist. I saw my Chiropractor. A brash 55 year old Canadian dude with a short man complex and a mullet. I hadn't seen him for ages, he looked great. "wow man, you look younger, have you dropped weight?" He had lost two stone in the time since I last saw him and smiled when I said that. He still charged me full whack though and I left feeling good.
Compliment Number 4 - your my best pal I love my friend.
On the phone to an old friend. I was suddenly struck by the need to say, "I really like you and I'm pleased you're my friend" - we hadn't said anything like that in 20 years (apart from when drunk in the old days but then again everyone's 'yer best pal' in that state) I'm not sure he knew how to take it but it felt good anyway. Men don't usually talk to each other like that.
So there it is. Pay people compliments. But mean them with no hidden motive or because it's socially correct to do so. It wont work then. It makes you feel good. I'm not saying everything will change immediately but try it tomorrow. See how it works and let me know. It helps shift negative to positive.
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I love you for reading. Compliment number 5
Nicholas Edward
xx
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