There are 3 levels of listening;
Level 1 - when you are in your own head and hardly listening, other than to yourself.
Level 2 - when you are engaged and listening to the other person
Level 3 - when you are locked in, can hear everything, totally listening and aware of sub plots and meanings to what they are saying. You are 'In the zone'.
Liken it to going to the movies. You get into the cinema, sit down, the trailers come on. You are watching but your head is on the journey, the seats, the bloke in front, the popcorn. You are in level 1.
Then when the movie starts you are watching, listening, getting into the action - Level 2. Engaged
As it continues you get totally submerged in it. You are aware of the characters, the plot, subtle messages the director is saying. You can take everything in. Here you are in level 3.
Makes you think doesn't it? Which level do you operate in? How many times has your missus said, 'are you listening to me?' As you scroll the important Facebook updates, "Of course darling" you lie, '"can you say it again?"
I've been a terrible listener all my life. I spend an inordinate amount of time in my own head. It's a nightmare sometimes. Trying to second guess what the other person is thinking as I'm trying to have a conversation. Makes it tough. Especially when you're thinking they are thinking, "You're a fucking idiot!" - low self esteem projection conversations are a real bummer.
I'm also a terrible 'cutter inner'. Interjecting into people's sentences before they have a chance to finish. Or worse still finishing their sentences for them. My girlfriend gets so annoyed with me for doing this.
It's not my fault. When you spend a majority of your time in your own head and believe yourself to be right 99% of the time and are impatient. How can you wait for a person to finish what they are saying? It's like a chess game and your conversation and mind is 5 moves ahead. Good job I don't do cocaine anymore. I'm pretty sure nobody would stand a chance of getting a word in.
I've also been predominantly brought up by Welsh women. They constantly but in. When my Mum, Nan and Aunt Gwynie were in full flow no sentence was ever finished. They would be there for 8 hours and not one of them had finished a story or sentence. It was extraordinary. You had to but in just to get heard. I learnt off the masters.
Interestingly they didn't do it in an egotistical self obsessed way. They did it in a welsh matriarch gossipy way. Big difference.
So why do I talk of levels of listening today? Well I had a great example of it at work.
I'm the new boy so it is constant meetings to try and get up to speed about the organisation and everyone in it. Meeting after meeting of listening to people. It's good practice and a real god send I did the recovery coaching course and learnt about listening.
Trouble is I hit a dip at lunchtime in a meeting with 3 other people. I was observing the meeting. It started off OK, but after 30 mins I could feel the Wall of tiredness cascading over me like a monster wave. It started with the eyes going. You know when you're driving and you feel like you need to shut them? It was exactly like that. I kept blinking and refocusing but the room started moving and I felt like I was hallucinating. Fuck me it was only day 2!!! I can't hallucinate on day 2. Wait a week at least!
Then the stifled yawns came. I hid them behind my hand as I put it to my chin to try and look more engaged, enigmatic and interested. Not sure if I got away with it. Then the watering of the eyes came so it looked like I was crying. It was grim. I did consider excusing myself at one point but I battled on.
At this point I was entirely in level 1. All I could think was, "I bet they're thinking, God he looks really tired". My head was gone, good job I wasn't asked anything. That truly would have been curtains. But I was in a level 1 world of pain.
I manfully fought the tiredness. Shifting in my seat, placing hands on my chin, asking a question to try and shake myself out of the fog. Then after 10 minutes which felt like an hour, the eternal yawn went and I picked up. Yes!!! I went into level 2 and 3. Triumphant and with new found energy and confidence I even found myself asking some sensible and relevant questions. Holy shit. He's back!! I silently punched the air and finished the meeting in a unfeasibly good mood. An interesting experiment. Though I'm pretty sure the people in the meeting thought they'd just spent an hour with a crackerjack.
The rest of the day was spent solely in level 3 and I found myself enjoying work. Oh God, all those years of having a pop at people about workaholism may come back to bite me on the arse.
So It's farewell to Homes Under the Hammer my friends and hello 7am commute. How times change so very quickly and unexpectedly.
There's a tube strike tomorrow so that should be a right royal laugh. You can feel the stress levels rising in the London air. I'll have to pull a massive meditation out of the bag to get through it, either that or give Bob Crowe a bell and see if he's got any room in his Brazillian villa on holiday. You have to admire the man really. he truly doesn't give a fuck. One has to admire such brazen balls. I haven't seen brazen balls that big since St John Ford copped a football straight in the knackers in 1984 from 5 yards in Cox Green Under 13's Semi Final of The Maidenhead schools cup. I can still hear that scream today......it sends shivers down my spine. I wonder if the swelling's gone down yet?
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Monday, February 3, 2014
Day 34 - Reflections on addiction
As predicted, All the papers carried the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman on the front page. The news has travelled the world.
I only know what I read in the paper and lord knows if that's accurate. Relapsed last year went to rehab, cleaned up, relapsed, split with wife, lived alone away from kids, started using drugs again and died from a heroin overdose.
Reading that made me think about my a few things a general way. I'm not saying this applies to Mr Hoffman. I have no idea if it does or not. It just made me think when I heard that order of the events about patterns of behaviour many addicts/alcoholics go through.
Addict/alcoholic uses/drinks. Long term partner cannot deal with and gives ultimatum. "Stop or leave". User begs for their anchor, their rock not to leave and promises to stop using/drinking. User goes to rehab for 'quick fix' and show his rock he means business. User deep down doesn't want to stop or think they have a disease. User comes out of rehab, 'clean' and goes back to family, still not believing they have a disease so therefore doesn't go to 12 step fellowship or seek continuing help. User stays 'sober' but white knuckle sober. User doesn't try to change or deal with the diseased thinking. User cannot live like that and has incredible cravings and urges. User starts using/drinking secretly. Partner finds out. Partner leaves. User/drinker now in total self pity and distraught. Only way to numb pain? User drinks and drugs. User continues until they have a rock bottom. This is either health gives out, go insane, have a spiritual awakening for recovery or die.
Make sense? Again I stress I am not suggesting this is what happened. Many people's situations are far more complex and complicated than that. It would be out of line to surmise something on such sketchy details and judge something from the outside.
But I have seen it and heard similar patterns of behaviour 1000's of times. There are so many things at work. The disease of course. Which loves self pity. 'Poor me, poor me, pour me a drink'. The physical nature, Cravings and 'need' for a fix. The spiritual malady of addiction/alcoholism in terms of thinking and the other more subtle things that go with it. Complete co-dependency on another to make us feel OK. When they eventually go (and they always do if with a using addict, it's just a matter of when not if) the addict usually collapses. Emotional dependency. The inability to cope with feelings without 'medicine'.
That to me is why deep change is important. If you cut corners and avoid the hard yards. Like if you know your chronically co-dependant but put off doing something about it, there will come a day when the pain will hit. God help us then. I know I put that stuff off for years. Still do sometimes. Why? because who likes pain? Who wants to use it as a challenge or character building? I'd rather run away and seek some kind of fix. This is what I'm interested in now.
Fixing never really solves the real essence of the problem of course. But now. 12 years into recovery I'm beginning to see the consequences of not changing. The disease is patient and will wait. 1, 12 or 23 years. If we let up on the spiritual change it will claim us. Of that I have no doubt.
So, reflecting on yesterday's news. I just feel incredibly sad when another person is lost. It is not their fault. The change is gut wrenching painful.
I know it's difficult for most people to feel sympathy or empathy. But when something like a break up happens most people are sad, hurt or in pain. They may drink a little or act out a little. That is perfectly normal. But for an addict/alcoholic it's like a break up on steroids. The pain is greater in the head. The loss unbearable. Normal people will just say, 'you'll get over it, stop being so pathetic," because we all make judgments based on our experience. If I can get over it without making a fuss why can't you? But Because addicts have little in the way of balance or perspective. It gets bent out of shape. It's so strong it feels real. That is the danger time. That is the point where if you haven't got enough meetings In the tank, if your spiritual life isn't durable, then it's the most natural thing In the world to pick up a drink or a drug. Sometimes to catastrophic effects.
That is all I'll say. I have probably said too much. I'm not saying I'm right. It's too simplistic and there are 1000's of other ways/problems/reactions/situations. But it just sparked off my head when I read the news today. It makes me sad and passionate when I have seen so many representations of a similar thing and not one of the press mentioned the word addiction/alcoholism. It's not for me to say if Mr Hoffman was an addict or alcoholic but you can sure as shit guarantee if he was, it will say 'drug overdose on the death certificate not 'addiction'. Sad.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
I only know what I read in the paper and lord knows if that's accurate. Relapsed last year went to rehab, cleaned up, relapsed, split with wife, lived alone away from kids, started using drugs again and died from a heroin overdose.
Reading that made me think about my a few things a general way. I'm not saying this applies to Mr Hoffman. I have no idea if it does or not. It just made me think when I heard that order of the events about patterns of behaviour many addicts/alcoholics go through.
Addict/alcoholic uses/drinks. Long term partner cannot deal with and gives ultimatum. "Stop or leave". User begs for their anchor, their rock not to leave and promises to stop using/drinking. User goes to rehab for 'quick fix' and show his rock he means business. User deep down doesn't want to stop or think they have a disease. User comes out of rehab, 'clean' and goes back to family, still not believing they have a disease so therefore doesn't go to 12 step fellowship or seek continuing help. User stays 'sober' but white knuckle sober. User doesn't try to change or deal with the diseased thinking. User cannot live like that and has incredible cravings and urges. User starts using/drinking secretly. Partner finds out. Partner leaves. User/drinker now in total self pity and distraught. Only way to numb pain? User drinks and drugs. User continues until they have a rock bottom. This is either health gives out, go insane, have a spiritual awakening for recovery or die.
Make sense? Again I stress I am not suggesting this is what happened. Many people's situations are far more complex and complicated than that. It would be out of line to surmise something on such sketchy details and judge something from the outside.
But I have seen it and heard similar patterns of behaviour 1000's of times. There are so many things at work. The disease of course. Which loves self pity. 'Poor me, poor me, pour me a drink'. The physical nature, Cravings and 'need' for a fix. The spiritual malady of addiction/alcoholism in terms of thinking and the other more subtle things that go with it. Complete co-dependency on another to make us feel OK. When they eventually go (and they always do if with a using addict, it's just a matter of when not if) the addict usually collapses. Emotional dependency. The inability to cope with feelings without 'medicine'.
That to me is why deep change is important. If you cut corners and avoid the hard yards. Like if you know your chronically co-dependant but put off doing something about it, there will come a day when the pain will hit. God help us then. I know I put that stuff off for years. Still do sometimes. Why? because who likes pain? Who wants to use it as a challenge or character building? I'd rather run away and seek some kind of fix. This is what I'm interested in now.
Fixing never really solves the real essence of the problem of course. But now. 12 years into recovery I'm beginning to see the consequences of not changing. The disease is patient and will wait. 1, 12 or 23 years. If we let up on the spiritual change it will claim us. Of that I have no doubt.
So, reflecting on yesterday's news. I just feel incredibly sad when another person is lost. It is not their fault. The change is gut wrenching painful.
I know it's difficult for most people to feel sympathy or empathy. But when something like a break up happens most people are sad, hurt or in pain. They may drink a little or act out a little. That is perfectly normal. But for an addict/alcoholic it's like a break up on steroids. The pain is greater in the head. The loss unbearable. Normal people will just say, 'you'll get over it, stop being so pathetic," because we all make judgments based on our experience. If I can get over it without making a fuss why can't you? But Because addicts have little in the way of balance or perspective. It gets bent out of shape. It's so strong it feels real. That is the danger time. That is the point where if you haven't got enough meetings In the tank, if your spiritual life isn't durable, then it's the most natural thing In the world to pick up a drink or a drug. Sometimes to catastrophic effects.
That is all I'll say. I have probably said too much. I'm not saying I'm right. It's too simplistic and there are 1000's of other ways/problems/reactions/situations. But it just sparked off my head when I read the news today. It makes me sad and passionate when I have seen so many representations of a similar thing and not one of the press mentioned the word addiction/alcoholism. It's not for me to say if Mr Hoffman was an addict or alcoholic but you can sure as shit guarantee if he was, it will say 'drug overdose on the death certificate not 'addiction'. Sad.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Day 33 - Addiction - The Rapacious Creditor - Philip Seymour Hoffman RIP
I was going to write about The Wolf of Wall Street today. A 3 hour glorification of excess, drink, drugs, money and greed. Some funny bits but it left me bored and just a little angry at how Hollywood continues to glamorise addiction/alcoholism.
However today, Oscar winning actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman has reportedly died of a heroin overdose. According to news reports he was found dead at his home in New York, with a needle hanging out of his arm. A sad end for a fine actor. A sad end for anyone. Another soul lost to addiction.
He really was a fine actor. Displaying both artistic merit and popular appeal. A rare feat in modern cinema. His range was immense. He had integrity in his performances. From Boogie Nights to Magnolia. However my personal favourite was supporting Tom Hanks in Charlie Wilson's War. He was genuinely superb in that. Very funny.
According to those in the know. He was one of the most gracious and humble humans. A true gent. Clean and sober for 23 years up until a relapse in May 2013.
He had everything one could ever want. Popularity, critical acclaim, money, fame, family, 3 kids. But he also had addiction.
It cares little for status, power, wealth or social standing. Addiction cares little for anything other than killing you. It is a deadly foe. A terminal illness. A deadly disease.
He was a big Hollywood star so naturally there will be huge publicity. Social media is buzzing full of R.I.P's, and rightly so. However did you know that 822 people die every day worldwide from addiction? That's another 821 Phillip Seymour Hoffman's who will not be getting a status update on Facebook. Nobody will know other than their family/friends. Perhaps we should spare a thought for those too. That's 300,000 people every year who die of addiction and overdoses.
If you add alcoholism and alcohol related deaths, which is 2.5 million a year worldwide, or 7,000 people per day. That means today there will be 8,000 dying of drink or drug related deaths. A truly frightening statistic.
Do not judge them, criticise them ,moralise on them. Do not say it is their choice. Do not say they were just unlucky or doing it to cover up their problems. Alcoholism and addiction is a disease. Plain and simple. See the statistics above if you don't believe it. And if you still don't believe it go and ask the family members, the children, the partners, the ones left behind.
I feel sympathy, empathy and sadness. I feel the same for anyone lost to cancer. Addiction is the rapacious creditor. It will take everything from the addict and sadly as we've seen today it won't be happy until it's taken a life.
RIP Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and the other 7,821 who passed away today and fuck the Wolf of Wall Street. Do something useful with the proceeds from the film.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
However today, Oscar winning actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman has reportedly died of a heroin overdose. According to news reports he was found dead at his home in New York, with a needle hanging out of his arm. A sad end for a fine actor. A sad end for anyone. Another soul lost to addiction.
He really was a fine actor. Displaying both artistic merit and popular appeal. A rare feat in modern cinema. His range was immense. He had integrity in his performances. From Boogie Nights to Magnolia. However my personal favourite was supporting Tom Hanks in Charlie Wilson's War. He was genuinely superb in that. Very funny.
According to those in the know. He was one of the most gracious and humble humans. A true gent. Clean and sober for 23 years up until a relapse in May 2013.
He had everything one could ever want. Popularity, critical acclaim, money, fame, family, 3 kids. But he also had addiction.
It cares little for status, power, wealth or social standing. Addiction cares little for anything other than killing you. It is a deadly foe. A terminal illness. A deadly disease.
He was a big Hollywood star so naturally there will be huge publicity. Social media is buzzing full of R.I.P's, and rightly so. However did you know that 822 people die every day worldwide from addiction? That's another 821 Phillip Seymour Hoffman's who will not be getting a status update on Facebook. Nobody will know other than their family/friends. Perhaps we should spare a thought for those too. That's 300,000 people every year who die of addiction and overdoses.
If you add alcoholism and alcohol related deaths, which is 2.5 million a year worldwide, or 7,000 people per day. That means today there will be 8,000 dying of drink or drug related deaths. A truly frightening statistic.
Do not judge them, criticise them ,moralise on them. Do not say it is their choice. Do not say they were just unlucky or doing it to cover up their problems. Alcoholism and addiction is a disease. Plain and simple. See the statistics above if you don't believe it. And if you still don't believe it go and ask the family members, the children, the partners, the ones left behind.
I feel sympathy, empathy and sadness. I feel the same for anyone lost to cancer. Addiction is the rapacious creditor. It will take everything from the addict and sadly as we've seen today it won't be happy until it's taken a life.
RIP Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and the other 7,821 who passed away today and fuck the Wolf of Wall Street. Do something useful with the proceeds from the film.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Day 32 - 6 Nations Weekend & Manxiety
Firstly, apologies. I'm writing Saturday's blog on Sunday morning. I was just too busy yesterday to cram one in. It was a choice between spending quality time with my girlfriend and writing a blog. I know what you're thinking. It's a no brainer. But she persuaded me to change my mind and see her instead. (Joke, though that will clearly put me on a no blozzer for a week ration)
6 Nations
It's Rugby weekend. The 6 Nations has started. The traditional time in the calendar for this annual event of mostly middle aged middle class guys to don their Barbour and corduroy, tuck the Daily Telegraph in their pockets and watch the Rugger over a few classes of Sauvignon Blanc. I know that's a sweeping generalisation but you get the drift. Then of course you have the young brigade who install themselves in a pub and spend the Rugger weekend as an excuse for getting totally and utterly wasted. They love rugger weekends because it gives a freedom pass for intense binge drinking. 'Well, it's the Rugby isn't it'
I live near Twickenham Rugby Stadium and international days is like a corduroy convention. Incredible. Late at night is very amusing as you see hundreds of very sensible Dad type men, clearly management accountants or responsible middle class professionals totally and utterly wankered. It's like a seen from Dawn of the Dead except in Corduroy. A Middle class zombie movie,
Me? Well I was most definitely in the 'drink as much as you can and end up watching the games with one hand over an eye to stop the double vision'. It was an excuse for complete mayhem and that was the way I liked it. That was a long time ago now.
It's like a mini world cup every year when the part time fans join the hard core and watch 30 men representing their country knocking seven bells of shit out of each other. Girls like watching it because the players are huge, Men like watching it so they can tell everyone how the game should be played. Everyone's a winner. It's a feel good tournament.
These days my viewing experience is slightly different. There is no all day session. No double vision. No zig zag walk home after a 12 hour marathon. Instead the morning is spent attending a 12 step meeting, tea with some fellowship men about our head, our insecurities, our worries. Then it's to the gym to read the papers and build up to the game. Then the game is watched by doing hill sprints on a treadmill, cross training heavy weights and cycling. Watching it on the screen and listening on the headphones.
Granted it's not a very social way of watching but it's a fuck sight more healthy than destroying 12 pints, 6 sambuka's and a bottle of red. Plus I reckon I'll remember the game tomorrow. And I won't wake up in a police cell. Bonus.
Manxiety
Great article in The Times yesterday about Manxiety. It was a Man's guide to Therapy. I think I will do an alternative version at some point. But the basic gist was a Psychotherapist writing about how more and more men are finding life hard to cope with and how therapy can be a game changer.
Men struggle to open up. It is considered strong to bury your worries/difficulties and cope with them on your own. Unlike most women, men don't see it as natural or normal to discuss their problems with friends. For many admitting they have a problem is an alien concept. It is hard for men as most are brought up (whether it be from upbringing or social conditioning) to believe that suffering in silence, never admitting to pain, sadness or insecurity is a sign of masculinity. To many 'opening up' is a sign of weakness.
The article targeted the following problem areas that most men face. (I know girls do too by the way but let's stick to Manxiety for now)
All areas I have(and most men, if they are honest) have struggled with at one point or another in my life.
The article also uncovered some interesting statistics;
Feeling alone in your struggles. Unable to tell the truth. Feeling guilty for feeling them. Feeling less masculine and weak. It's a lonely, dark and isolating place to be. It breaks my heart and if I'm honest is the reason I write this blog. It's what drives me. I'm like an Open up evangelist!
Counselling allows the patient to talk about the problem, therapy tries to find out why the problem exists and coaching tries to find the patient ways to move forward from the problem. All are valid.
What I am particularly interested in, is the concept of 'suffering in silence'. As if mental health, addictions, insecurities, status issues are a dirty word and sign of weakness. I think the opposite, I guess I'm almost evangelical in trying to promote them as socially acceptable. That by admitting to them is no big deal. I find it heroic. Most people have them to some or less degree. I find admitting them takes the strength out of them and solutions can come in. Ignoring, suppressing or pretending they don't exist in my opinion causes more harm.
Let me ask you. If one person reveals a vulnerability then it usually allows another to do so as well. How often have you been in a group when one person dares to be honest it usually changes the dynamic of the group and allows others to as well? Ever seen that? I do a lot. It fascinates me.
Imagine that concept on a society level? On a system level? Perhaps then the 67% figure would reduce. People wouldn't feel so alone or ashamed to have these feelings and seek help.
Of course making them acceptable is one thing, having the correct procedures, practices and treatments in place to help improve them is another. I'm working on that one at the moment. It's a long haul.
I have a number of people emailing me saying, "I really identify, I feel like that too, I'm having problems in this area, reading your blog helps etc etc'. That's music to my ears. It tells me I'm onto something.
Yes I write for enjoyment first and foremost. Yes I write for attention or creative outlet. Yes I'm stupid and inane some days. But ultimately the theme or drive behind it is in my passion to make our problems more acceptable. To try and inject a little humour in them. To make it OK to be us. Then to try and find solutions to them and change.
It's on-going. A journey. I guess I'm very fortunate to be 'in recovery' and have a 12 step fellowship where opening up is mandatory. Within 5 minutes of meeting someone, you usually know exactly how they feel, their worries, their insecurities and inner head. You don't even know their last name for fucks sake. How mad is that. But it works!
My advice is seek someone you trust or a professional and share that head. Share those worries or insecurities. Tell your truth. Do Not suffer alone. Because your probably not. We all have similar worries and are often surprised when we share them, someone else will say, ' I feel that'. Even that can often make us feel better. Do it with someone appropriate though. Otherwise it can make you feel worse if the other person just can't get it.
The only thing I would say about the article and therapy. It's not much of a laugh is it? Isn't laughter a form of therapy too? I know when I lose my sense of humour, take myself so seriously (as I was yesterday) that's not a good sign. Then life becomes something to endure, not enjoy and I've spent too much of my life in that space. Having said that it takes a while to develop that and come through the messy bog. Once you can laugh a little that's a good sign of a shoot of recovery.
The reason for Together We Are Stronger, is because I can't do it alone. If you can good luck to you. Not everyone has problems after all. Not everyone needs therapy, counselling, 12 step fellowships. But an awful lot of us do. I know I do.
In the US you're almost seen as weird if you don't have a therapist. I'm not sure I'm on board with that as then you can rely too much on professional help and avoid personal responsibility. There is part of me that likes the old school way of getting on with it.
I think a half way house solution of 'caring and sharing' followed by some good old fashioned 'get the fuck on with it' is a powerful combination.
Anyway rant over. I'm off to go and Watch Wolf of Wall Street. A 3 hour vicarious look at drink, drug, orgies, money, excess and greed should get me nicely spiritually balanced for the rest of the day.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
6 Nations
It's Rugby weekend. The 6 Nations has started. The traditional time in the calendar for this annual event of mostly middle aged middle class guys to don their Barbour and corduroy, tuck the Daily Telegraph in their pockets and watch the Rugger over a few classes of Sauvignon Blanc. I know that's a sweeping generalisation but you get the drift. Then of course you have the young brigade who install themselves in a pub and spend the Rugger weekend as an excuse for getting totally and utterly wasted. They love rugger weekends because it gives a freedom pass for intense binge drinking. 'Well, it's the Rugby isn't it'
I live near Twickenham Rugby Stadium and international days is like a corduroy convention. Incredible. Late at night is very amusing as you see hundreds of very sensible Dad type men, clearly management accountants or responsible middle class professionals totally and utterly wankered. It's like a seen from Dawn of the Dead except in Corduroy. A Middle class zombie movie,
Me? Well I was most definitely in the 'drink as much as you can and end up watching the games with one hand over an eye to stop the double vision'. It was an excuse for complete mayhem and that was the way I liked it. That was a long time ago now.
It's like a mini world cup every year when the part time fans join the hard core and watch 30 men representing their country knocking seven bells of shit out of each other. Girls like watching it because the players are huge, Men like watching it so they can tell everyone how the game should be played. Everyone's a winner. It's a feel good tournament.
These days my viewing experience is slightly different. There is no all day session. No double vision. No zig zag walk home after a 12 hour marathon. Instead the morning is spent attending a 12 step meeting, tea with some fellowship men about our head, our insecurities, our worries. Then it's to the gym to read the papers and build up to the game. Then the game is watched by doing hill sprints on a treadmill, cross training heavy weights and cycling. Watching it on the screen and listening on the headphones.
Granted it's not a very social way of watching but it's a fuck sight more healthy than destroying 12 pints, 6 sambuka's and a bottle of red. Plus I reckon I'll remember the game tomorrow. And I won't wake up in a police cell. Bonus.
Manxiety
Great article in The Times yesterday about Manxiety. It was a Man's guide to Therapy. I think I will do an alternative version at some point. But the basic gist was a Psychotherapist writing about how more and more men are finding life hard to cope with and how therapy can be a game changer.
Men struggle to open up. It is considered strong to bury your worries/difficulties and cope with them on your own. Unlike most women, men don't see it as natural or normal to discuss their problems with friends. For many admitting they have a problem is an alien concept. It is hard for men as most are brought up (whether it be from upbringing or social conditioning) to believe that suffering in silence, never admitting to pain, sadness or insecurity is a sign of masculinity. To many 'opening up' is a sign of weakness.
The article targeted the following problem areas that most men face. (I know girls do too by the way but let's stick to Manxiety for now)
- Depression
- Anxiety
- Status Insecurity
- Job Dissatisfaction
- Fear of Commitment
- Porn
- Excessive Drinking/Drug Taking
- Problems with Intimacy
- Jealousy
- Infidelity
All areas I have(and most men, if they are honest) have struggled with at one point or another in my life.
The article also uncovered some interesting statistics;
- 30% seeking counselling are now men
- Within 10 year this will be 50/50
- 80% of people dependant on alcohol are male
- 67% of suicidal young men say they have nowhere to turn for emotional help
- 76% suicides in UK are Male
- 22% of counsellors are Male
Feeling alone in your struggles. Unable to tell the truth. Feeling guilty for feeling them. Feeling less masculine and weak. It's a lonely, dark and isolating place to be. It breaks my heart and if I'm honest is the reason I write this blog. It's what drives me. I'm like an Open up evangelist!
Counselling allows the patient to talk about the problem, therapy tries to find out why the problem exists and coaching tries to find the patient ways to move forward from the problem. All are valid.
What I am particularly interested in, is the concept of 'suffering in silence'. As if mental health, addictions, insecurities, status issues are a dirty word and sign of weakness. I think the opposite, I guess I'm almost evangelical in trying to promote them as socially acceptable. That by admitting to them is no big deal. I find it heroic. Most people have them to some or less degree. I find admitting them takes the strength out of them and solutions can come in. Ignoring, suppressing or pretending they don't exist in my opinion causes more harm.
Let me ask you. If one person reveals a vulnerability then it usually allows another to do so as well. How often have you been in a group when one person dares to be honest it usually changes the dynamic of the group and allows others to as well? Ever seen that? I do a lot. It fascinates me.
Imagine that concept on a society level? On a system level? Perhaps then the 67% figure would reduce. People wouldn't feel so alone or ashamed to have these feelings and seek help.
Of course making them acceptable is one thing, having the correct procedures, practices and treatments in place to help improve them is another. I'm working on that one at the moment. It's a long haul.
I have a number of people emailing me saying, "I really identify, I feel like that too, I'm having problems in this area, reading your blog helps etc etc'. That's music to my ears. It tells me I'm onto something.
Yes I write for enjoyment first and foremost. Yes I write for attention or creative outlet. Yes I'm stupid and inane some days. But ultimately the theme or drive behind it is in my passion to make our problems more acceptable. To try and inject a little humour in them. To make it OK to be us. Then to try and find solutions to them and change.
It's on-going. A journey. I guess I'm very fortunate to be 'in recovery' and have a 12 step fellowship where opening up is mandatory. Within 5 minutes of meeting someone, you usually know exactly how they feel, their worries, their insecurities and inner head. You don't even know their last name for fucks sake. How mad is that. But it works!
My advice is seek someone you trust or a professional and share that head. Share those worries or insecurities. Tell your truth. Do Not suffer alone. Because your probably not. We all have similar worries and are often surprised when we share them, someone else will say, ' I feel that'. Even that can often make us feel better. Do it with someone appropriate though. Otherwise it can make you feel worse if the other person just can't get it.
The only thing I would say about the article and therapy. It's not much of a laugh is it? Isn't laughter a form of therapy too? I know when I lose my sense of humour, take myself so seriously (as I was yesterday) that's not a good sign. Then life becomes something to endure, not enjoy and I've spent too much of my life in that space. Having said that it takes a while to develop that and come through the messy bog. Once you can laugh a little that's a good sign of a shoot of recovery.
The reason for Together We Are Stronger, is because I can't do it alone. If you can good luck to you. Not everyone has problems after all. Not everyone needs therapy, counselling, 12 step fellowships. But an awful lot of us do. I know I do.
In the US you're almost seen as weird if you don't have a therapist. I'm not sure I'm on board with that as then you can rely too much on professional help and avoid personal responsibility. There is part of me that likes the old school way of getting on with it.
I think a half way house solution of 'caring and sharing' followed by some good old fashioned 'get the fuck on with it' is a powerful combination.
Anyway rant over. I'm off to go and Watch Wolf of Wall Street. A 3 hour vicarious look at drink, drug, orgies, money, excess and greed should get me nicely spiritually balanced for the rest of the day.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Friday, January 31, 2014
Day 31 - End of an Era, Transfer Deadline Day & Change will have to be tomorrow
"The body is the soul's house. Shouldn't we therefore take care of our house so that it doesn't fall into ruin?
Philo Judaeus
I like this statement. I like it very much. It gives me a sense of perspective about the inside job. About the search for self love. To look after oneself. Nurture and respect health. Nourish my soul. To seek self enlightenment and look after this precious thing called life.
Today I nurtured my soul by stuffing 4 saveloy's, 2 scotch eggs, a packet of pork scratchings and 6 slices of buttered corned beef down my neck. The Soul's House cleaning will have to wait until tomorrow. Do I win the least nutritious food of the day contest? Some days you just have that, 'fuck it I'll be healthy tomorrow moments', don't we? (He says hopefully not being alone) Progress Not Perfection.
*************************************************************
Today was an end of an era. My last day working on my own business in a shared office with my best mate. Next week I will be starting a superb full time job in town, of which I will have to get my head down, work hard and alter this blog accordingly. It's too good an opportunity to f**k up! I left the shared office today in Guilford. It's been base for just over a year and it will be sad to leave my best mate.
We have been like school-mates. Egging each other on to bunk off or mess around. Brilliant to lift the mood but useless at building a business. We were both as bad as each other, however there has been a change in the last few months where the dossing has decreased and focus has increased, as we twigged the only way to make a success of something is to work hard.
However it's still been nice, to interrupt him at some points, lean across the desk and whisper, 'I hate you'. Either that or make each other watch completely random You Tube clips. Watching Junior Kick Start form 1985 is so much better then a spread-sheet. A slacker doesn't need much excuse to slack, so we were bad and good for each other in so many ways. I'll miss him but it's time to work hard and get my head down.
I have learnt a lot over the past year in trying to set up a company/seek investment. There are so many times when you doubt yourself, what you are doing, your product, the future. It is a hard lonely road. You must learn self discipline, motivation, thick skin and self belief. There are so many things to consider and today after months of hard work a project I have had a great idea for had small investment confirmed. It will be a side-line project with a small team but it was a great way to end my entrepreneurial year. All the staff said, 'never give up' and 'it often happens in a different way to the one you started with.' They were so right, I found that out today.
It feels the right time to move into a new arena, but I will miss my mate a lot and to sit in the car in Tesco car park today eating pork scratchings at each other to see who had the loudest crunch will always stay with me. We laughed at each other in a moment of genuine happiness. We are 41 years old. Probably less in mental age than his 4 year old son. I love that man (In a masculine back slapping don't show your emotion kind of way)
**********************************************************
Today is transfer deadline day. (At this point women stop reading) - It is the most insane day of the year in Football. The media create a frenzied hysteria about club's scrambling around to sign players. Sky Sports go ape shit for it. Cue a rained on presenter being stationed outside the gates of each club with a group of out of work fans standing in the background cheering at a collection of over paid officials screeching past in blacked out window range rovers.
It is insane. 'Breaking News Jim. I can confirm Stoke City have signed a player nobody has heard of or know for £2.3 million'. Who fucking cares? 'Anyway onto other news Jim. Today 25,000 people were killed in Syria'. Boring lets see who Spurs have got in on loan.
It's mental. What other businesses rush around trying to do multi million pound deals by fax before 11pm as they are cheered or jeered by a series of middle age men in oversize nylon replica shirts they have paid £50 for? Football is now insane.
I actually witnessed today Sky Sports at it's best. They did a breaking news Exclusive story live from Stoke City FC. Some cameras picked up their chairman and CEO jumping up and down seemingly celebrating in their office. Sky reported the following;
"We can go to Stoke City for some exclusive news. I can confirm these are live pics of CEO and Chairman celebrating. We cannot confirm about what at this point but they have been chasing Lee Catermole all day for £5.5million. It maybe the signing they were waiting for."
Turns out they were celebrating the Pizza delivery turning up. That's Deadline Day for you. Sums it up really. Insane.
Anyway I'm off. This blog has slammed shut for the day
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Philo Judaeus
I like this statement. I like it very much. It gives me a sense of perspective about the inside job. About the search for self love. To look after oneself. Nurture and respect health. Nourish my soul. To seek self enlightenment and look after this precious thing called life.
Today I nurtured my soul by stuffing 4 saveloy's, 2 scotch eggs, a packet of pork scratchings and 6 slices of buttered corned beef down my neck. The Soul's House cleaning will have to wait until tomorrow. Do I win the least nutritious food of the day contest? Some days you just have that, 'fuck it I'll be healthy tomorrow moments', don't we? (He says hopefully not being alone) Progress Not Perfection.
*************************************************************
Today was an end of an era. My last day working on my own business in a shared office with my best mate. Next week I will be starting a superb full time job in town, of which I will have to get my head down, work hard and alter this blog accordingly. It's too good an opportunity to f**k up! I left the shared office today in Guilford. It's been base for just over a year and it will be sad to leave my best mate.
We have been like school-mates. Egging each other on to bunk off or mess around. Brilliant to lift the mood but useless at building a business. We were both as bad as each other, however there has been a change in the last few months where the dossing has decreased and focus has increased, as we twigged the only way to make a success of something is to work hard.
However it's still been nice, to interrupt him at some points, lean across the desk and whisper, 'I hate you'. Either that or make each other watch completely random You Tube clips. Watching Junior Kick Start form 1985 is so much better then a spread-sheet. A slacker doesn't need much excuse to slack, so we were bad and good for each other in so many ways. I'll miss him but it's time to work hard and get my head down.
I have learnt a lot over the past year in trying to set up a company/seek investment. There are so many times when you doubt yourself, what you are doing, your product, the future. It is a hard lonely road. You must learn self discipline, motivation, thick skin and self belief. There are so many things to consider and today after months of hard work a project I have had a great idea for had small investment confirmed. It will be a side-line project with a small team but it was a great way to end my entrepreneurial year. All the staff said, 'never give up' and 'it often happens in a different way to the one you started with.' They were so right, I found that out today.
It feels the right time to move into a new arena, but I will miss my mate a lot and to sit in the car in Tesco car park today eating pork scratchings at each other to see who had the loudest crunch will always stay with me. We laughed at each other in a moment of genuine happiness. We are 41 years old. Probably less in mental age than his 4 year old son. I love that man (In a masculine back slapping don't show your emotion kind of way)
**********************************************************
Today is transfer deadline day. (At this point women stop reading) - It is the most insane day of the year in Football. The media create a frenzied hysteria about club's scrambling around to sign players. Sky Sports go ape shit for it. Cue a rained on presenter being stationed outside the gates of each club with a group of out of work fans standing in the background cheering at a collection of over paid officials screeching past in blacked out window range rovers.
It is insane. 'Breaking News Jim. I can confirm Stoke City have signed a player nobody has heard of or know for £2.3 million'. Who fucking cares? 'Anyway onto other news Jim. Today 25,000 people were killed in Syria'. Boring lets see who Spurs have got in on loan.
It's mental. What other businesses rush around trying to do multi million pound deals by fax before 11pm as they are cheered or jeered by a series of middle age men in oversize nylon replica shirts they have paid £50 for? Football is now insane.
I actually witnessed today Sky Sports at it's best. They did a breaking news Exclusive story live from Stoke City FC. Some cameras picked up their chairman and CEO jumping up and down seemingly celebrating in their office. Sky reported the following;
"We can go to Stoke City for some exclusive news. I can confirm these are live pics of CEO and Chairman celebrating. We cannot confirm about what at this point but they have been chasing Lee Catermole all day for £5.5million. It maybe the signing they were waiting for."
Turns out they were celebrating the Pizza delivery turning up. That's Deadline Day for you. Sums it up really. Insane.
Anyway I'm off. This blog has slammed shut for the day
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Day 30 - Red F****g Trousers
I've only gone and bloody done it. Today was a step into the unknown. I made a bold leap into the world of middle aged fashion. Yes, that's right people. Today, the Evans wore his Red Fucking Trousers. (RFT)
Red Fucking Trousers? Yes. Red fucking Trousers.
Not jeans, chinos, slacks, cords, stay-press, Farah's or combats. They were trousers. Not just any old trousers. Red Fucking Trousers.
I can't quite believe it myself. I was down to go out for dinner with the girlfriend, so I thought I would surprise her. I'm sure she would probably have preferred flowers, chocolates or a Hermes scarf. Instead she got this little gay Boy in Red Fucking Trousers.
Because I don't have any idea what you wear with RFT's I cobbled together and outfit that was risky to say the least. I consider myself a man of unique style and good fashion taste. Yes I verge into the world of camp Bee Gee but I figure only a man in total touch with true masculinity can do that. I'm comfortable with my Man Camp look.
However I was in new territory here. Sailing in fresh waters. I didn't have any idea what co-ordinated, so i went with a sky blue shirt, waistcoat, white belt (only one I had) and black shoes. Topped off with a long navy Crombie. I was pretty sure it don't go but I thought if anyone was going to pull it off I could. I checked the mirror and thought to myself, "Twat, but cool twat." It was time to go.
I popped into the gym on the way over to said girlfriend's, did a workout and got changed. The changing rooms were packed full of massive muscle dudes. More cortisone than chromosone. I put on my new strides and caught site in the mirror, I was suddenly gripped with terrible doubt, insecurity and self consciousness about these ridiculous pantaloons. All I could see was Red Fucking Trousers. I could almost feel the stifled laughs in the room.
At this stage I definitely thought, "Twat" leaving out the cool bit after. It was time to get the real acid test at my bird's.
I walked in and shouted "Red Fucking Trousers". She stopped, stared and remarkably said, "I like them". Holy fuck. Bingo!!! Strike one. Trouble is she backed it up with, "But they don't go with what you're wearing." So sweet and tactful. What she could have said you have all the style of a tramp. Go and get changed.
I needed a second opinion so who better then a 17 year old urban kid who knows what is going on in music, fashion and modern trends. Her daughter.
I sat her down and said, "I'm going to ask a really important question." She looked worried. "I want you to be totally honest and not hold back. OK?", Now she looked really worried. "OK" she mumbled.
"Do I Look like a twat in these red strides?"
She looked them up and down, then again before saying ever so sweetly, "Do you have any other trousers with you?"
BOOM. The killer blow. Yes I did look a twat. They clearly didn't hit the mark and I changed into the trusted jeans. It was a failed experiment. Clearly it needs rethinking. Still I reckon I deserve points for effort and courage. If a man walks into a packed male gym changing room looking camper than Graham Norton he deserves respect.
It's going to be a while before the world sees my Red Fucking Trousers. But they will be back. I can assure you of that. Evans' doesn't give up that easily. I've a mid life crisis to prolong for Christs sake. Just not with that outfit.............
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Red Fucking Trousers? Yes. Red fucking Trousers.
Not jeans, chinos, slacks, cords, stay-press, Farah's or combats. They were trousers. Not just any old trousers. Red Fucking Trousers.
I can't quite believe it myself. I was down to go out for dinner with the girlfriend, so I thought I would surprise her. I'm sure she would probably have preferred flowers, chocolates or a Hermes scarf. Instead she got this little gay Boy in Red Fucking Trousers.
Because I don't have any idea what you wear with RFT's I cobbled together and outfit that was risky to say the least. I consider myself a man of unique style and good fashion taste. Yes I verge into the world of camp Bee Gee but I figure only a man in total touch with true masculinity can do that. I'm comfortable with my Man Camp look.
However I was in new territory here. Sailing in fresh waters. I didn't have any idea what co-ordinated, so i went with a sky blue shirt, waistcoat, white belt (only one I had) and black shoes. Topped off with a long navy Crombie. I was pretty sure it don't go but I thought if anyone was going to pull it off I could. I checked the mirror and thought to myself, "Twat, but cool twat." It was time to go.
I popped into the gym on the way over to said girlfriend's, did a workout and got changed. The changing rooms were packed full of massive muscle dudes. More cortisone than chromosone. I put on my new strides and caught site in the mirror, I was suddenly gripped with terrible doubt, insecurity and self consciousness about these ridiculous pantaloons. All I could see was Red Fucking Trousers. I could almost feel the stifled laughs in the room.
At this stage I definitely thought, "Twat" leaving out the cool bit after. It was time to get the real acid test at my bird's.
I walked in and shouted "Red Fucking Trousers". She stopped, stared and remarkably said, "I like them". Holy fuck. Bingo!!! Strike one. Trouble is she backed it up with, "But they don't go with what you're wearing." So sweet and tactful. What she could have said you have all the style of a tramp. Go and get changed.
I needed a second opinion so who better then a 17 year old urban kid who knows what is going on in music, fashion and modern trends. Her daughter.
I sat her down and said, "I'm going to ask a really important question." She looked worried. "I want you to be totally honest and not hold back. OK?", Now she looked really worried. "OK" she mumbled.
"Do I Look like a twat in these red strides?"
She looked them up and down, then again before saying ever so sweetly, "Do you have any other trousers with you?"
BOOM. The killer blow. Yes I did look a twat. They clearly didn't hit the mark and I changed into the trusted jeans. It was a failed experiment. Clearly it needs rethinking. Still I reckon I deserve points for effort and courage. If a man walks into a packed male gym changing room looking camper than Graham Norton he deserves respect.
It's going to be a while before the world sees my Red Fucking Trousers. But they will be back. I can assure you of that. Evans' doesn't give up that easily. I've a mid life crisis to prolong for Christs sake. Just not with that outfit.............
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Day 29 - Mashed Potato
"When are you going to get sick of yesterday's mashed potato."
Anonymous
I heard someone say that phrase today and really liked it. It's sufficiently silly and profound and made sense to me.
What's your mashed potato? What is it that you can't stop doing every day? Patterns of behaviour? Habits? Addictions? Lifestyle? Thinking? Job? Relationship? Anything you feel powerless to change?
I've had so many periods of my life when I've been trapped in the mash even though I'm sick of it. You can't stop eating it every day. Sick of the white carby fog it makes you feel but unable to stop chowing down on it. What a frustrating place to be but so common in many of our lives.
It's usually taken some kind of bottom in order to contemplate changing. Usually carb overload. There needs to be some shift in order for change to happen. In whichever form.
Although there are many things I'd like to/need to change, today (and it's just for today) I can honestly say I don't have a taste for yesterday's mash. No matter how much butter, cream and cheddar cheese you bung in it. Today I don't want the mash, but I know I will at some point.
**Did you get confused what the hell I was on about there? Me too, and I wrote the sodding thing. Some days I know what I mean even if it can't express it very well. Mash metaphor over. Thank God.
******************************************************
I got a great email today from someone who reads the blog. I won't embarrass him by naming him but you know who you are. He wrote the following;
"Hey Nick! I love the blog. Relate so much to all of it (what even the eating pork scratchings at a girl in the cinema? - I added that in) I look forward to reading it each night when I go to bed. It's on the money and you are right to share it. It's so helpful."
What a top email to wake up to. So nice to be of service. So nice to be of use, to connect with people. To identify. To be together in this human experience. Not everyone is an addict. It occurred to me that not everyone has the kind of head/inner voice/inner chimp/ego I do. But we all have our own doubts, insecurities, frustrations and it's great to keep connected with you all and to try and laugh at this insanity called life along the way. We're all trying to get on the best we can and it was very kind for someone to take the trouble to email such kind words.
The only hope I have is that he's not knocking one out in bed as he reads my blog. That's genuinely scary.
******************************************************************
My Eastern European Man Hands Chiropractor gave me a good going over today. I swear she has the hands the size of Peter Schmichael. Real Shovel hands. My lower back is still bad but my neck has got a lot worse over the past few weeks. I'm in constant low grade pain.
When I told her she made what I could only make out to be a slight grunt, and small shake of the head. I could tell she was thinking, 'pussy, man up'. Anyway she contorted me into positions people in Cirque De Solie shouldn't be in and attempted to crack my neck.
I swear she was trying to twist it off it's hinges. At one point I think it did a 360 degree rotation. I thought this may change my perception totally. Unfortunately when I got up, she asked me how it was. I said 'no change'. She grunted, shook her head and sent me packing. Like it was my fault. Perhaps I need to find another treatment? Part of me quite likes the rejection though. it's like seeing a dominatrix but in a healthy way. Perhaps I need a shrink instead?
****************************************************************
Have you ever felt there is a bigger plan for you? I'm not sure what I mean but recently with job/investment/coaching/recovery etc, it feels like things are falling into line as they are supposed to happen. I feel very grateful that I have opportunities. It's hard when you re wading through the shit to believe in a higher power, a plan or a role that's mapped out for you. far easier when the good stuff is happening.
I just get the feeling at the moment that I am being looked after, that things are mapped out. My job is not get in the way and let my ego fuck them up. I have a superb recovery. The only problem is that sometimes I'm in it!
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
Anonymous
I heard someone say that phrase today and really liked it. It's sufficiently silly and profound and made sense to me.
What's your mashed potato? What is it that you can't stop doing every day? Patterns of behaviour? Habits? Addictions? Lifestyle? Thinking? Job? Relationship? Anything you feel powerless to change?
I've had so many periods of my life when I've been trapped in the mash even though I'm sick of it. You can't stop eating it every day. Sick of the white carby fog it makes you feel but unable to stop chowing down on it. What a frustrating place to be but so common in many of our lives.
It's usually taken some kind of bottom in order to contemplate changing. Usually carb overload. There needs to be some shift in order for change to happen. In whichever form.
Although there are many things I'd like to/need to change, today (and it's just for today) I can honestly say I don't have a taste for yesterday's mash. No matter how much butter, cream and cheddar cheese you bung in it. Today I don't want the mash, but I know I will at some point.
**Did you get confused what the hell I was on about there? Me too, and I wrote the sodding thing. Some days I know what I mean even if it can't express it very well. Mash metaphor over. Thank God.
******************************************************
I got a great email today from someone who reads the blog. I won't embarrass him by naming him but you know who you are. He wrote the following;
"Hey Nick! I love the blog. Relate so much to all of it (what even the eating pork scratchings at a girl in the cinema? - I added that in) I look forward to reading it each night when I go to bed. It's on the money and you are right to share it. It's so helpful."
What a top email to wake up to. So nice to be of service. So nice to be of use, to connect with people. To identify. To be together in this human experience. Not everyone is an addict. It occurred to me that not everyone has the kind of head/inner voice/inner chimp/ego I do. But we all have our own doubts, insecurities, frustrations and it's great to keep connected with you all and to try and laugh at this insanity called life along the way. We're all trying to get on the best we can and it was very kind for someone to take the trouble to email such kind words.
The only hope I have is that he's not knocking one out in bed as he reads my blog. That's genuinely scary.
******************************************************************
My Eastern European Man Hands Chiropractor gave me a good going over today. I swear she has the hands the size of Peter Schmichael. Real Shovel hands. My lower back is still bad but my neck has got a lot worse over the past few weeks. I'm in constant low grade pain.
When I told her she made what I could only make out to be a slight grunt, and small shake of the head. I could tell she was thinking, 'pussy, man up'. Anyway she contorted me into positions people in Cirque De Solie shouldn't be in and attempted to crack my neck.
I swear she was trying to twist it off it's hinges. At one point I think it did a 360 degree rotation. I thought this may change my perception totally. Unfortunately when I got up, she asked me how it was. I said 'no change'. She grunted, shook her head and sent me packing. Like it was my fault. Perhaps I need to find another treatment? Part of me quite likes the rejection though. it's like seeing a dominatrix but in a healthy way. Perhaps I need a shrink instead?
****************************************************************
Have you ever felt there is a bigger plan for you? I'm not sure what I mean but recently with job/investment/coaching/recovery etc, it feels like things are falling into line as they are supposed to happen. I feel very grateful that I have opportunities. It's hard when you re wading through the shit to believe in a higher power, a plan or a role that's mapped out for you. far easier when the good stuff is happening.
I just get the feeling at the moment that I am being looked after, that things are mapped out. My job is not get in the way and let my ego fuck them up. I have a superb recovery. The only problem is that sometimes I'm in it!
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
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