Me

I’ll make no apologies for the following, I suppose if I want this to be a true reflection of me then it should be 'warts and all' as they say.

If you're expecting some attempt at humour then please read one of the earlier pieces where I have a go at Paul Hollywood and Greg Wallace. Or the time I beat a 70 year old in the Dad’s race at sports day. Things were definitely a lot simpler back then.

Some would call these pieces I write a journey, I fucking hate that phrase ‘a journey’ everybody on TV these days has to have a journey. People can’t just sing or bake without coming from somewhere or be heading to somewhere else. I reckon life would be far easier if we all stayed where the fuck we were.

So this isn’t my journey it’s just me, yes I may embellish the events and play up the Larry David persona a little but essentially what you see is what you get. 

I do worry sometimes that people don’t see the humour and think that I really am that much of a tool.

Earlier in the week I wrote about the horror of a family holiday. People may have read that and thought what a spoilt wanker, moaning about going on holiday, have a word with yourself.

The problem obviously wasn’t the holiday or the family, it was me. It’s always me. I know this.

I’m mental yes, stupid no.

I found it difficult being on holiday and subsequently my mood and behavior changed. I can spot the obvious signs but miss the more subtle ones. That’s the problem with my depression I get caught up in my own head and then stick two fingers up to the world around me.

I find it tough to be around people, especially those I haven’t seen for some time. I wait for the inevitable questions – How are you? Are you better? What’s happening with the business? What are you going to do in the future? What’s with the beard?

For some reason my beard seems to be a signal of some existential crisis, to me I simply don’t want to look like the person I was. Shit maybe they’re right!

I realise that people don’t ask out of malice but these aren’t conversations I relish, probably because I have no answers as yet. 

It’s weird I have no issue writing about it, I guess it’s because there’s a degree of anonymity and also I don’t think anyone really reads this anyway.

So to the holiday.

As the week progressed my sleeping deteriorated, lying awake from 2am with my brain shouting at me. I find that the hardest thing to cope with, it has such a negative impact on the next day but also gives me the fear of going to bed in the first place.

It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, if you go to bed thinking about not sleeping you can pretty much guarantee you’ll be staring at the clock in the early hours.

Anyway the point of this piece isn’t about me; it’s about the people who have to deal with me. I think the negative effect it has on them gets lost.

As I say no apologies for this.

Yesterday was the last day of the holiday, it should’ve been today but to be honest I’d had enough. So I manufactured our early exit by conforming that it was going to rain all day, there were road works and therefore the journey would be awful.

The girls wanted to spend the last day on the beach so off we went. I was in a foul mood, snappy, irritable and edgy. I wanted to be on my own.

It was a beautiful day, the tide was out and there was a huge expanse of beach to walk along. I put my headphones in and off I went. I had said where I was going so it didn’t seem like an issue. 

There was a pier in the distance so I had it in my mind that’s where I’d walk. Practicing my mindfulness techniques as I walked along.

It probably took 45 minutes to walk there and then I set off back, my mood having improved considerably, I was actually enjoying myself. After about 20 minutes I saw a figure walking toward me sobbing uncontrollably.

You see that’s the point, all week I’d been wrapped up in my head, blind to my actions and the signs.

Mrs.L had seen them, when I hadn’t returned after 45 minutes she set off to look for me. I had wanted to be on my own. She thought I’d gone to kill myself.

Personally depression is a horrible debilitating illness but worse than that it impacts the people around me and I just don’t see it.

Please don’t think I’m trying to be some kind of poster boy for depression, I’m not. Though if I could ask one thing it would be to check on the people who live with someone with depression, it really is shit for them.

I’m not looking for personal sympathy. Though it would be disrespectful not to mention the people who have shown me more kindness and support than I could ever imagine. 

Some are old friends who are stuck with me, many I hardly know but would now call friends. Whichever category you fall into I will always be grateful.

For the record I wasn’t contemplating it, I’m different to the person who thought about it earlier in the year.