AndyBlog

I Still Love You

I think I'm fairly safe in saying that I am presently going through a very difficult time in my life. This has kinda paralysed me and prevented me from blogging. For those of you who used to like keeping up with my wibblings, I am very sorry.

I do not intend to promise a full return to normal blogging levels as of now, because I'd hate to set myself up to fail. I do have some ideas - quite a lot of ideas that I had hoped to share with you all. I would like to think that I can now start to poke my head over the parapet at a more manageable level of regularity.

Be well blogland. I think I still love you.

The Crying Boy

I remember sitting there at the end of my drive, trying to work out why I could not go on the bike ride with my sister and father. I had a bike, I wanted a ride - why exclude me? It was all so unfair. I cried buckets that night, although I was not really sure what the immense outpouring of grief was about. Deep down I knew the reasons I was excluded. I was only five years old, whereas my sister was eight. I only had a little tricycle - whereas she had a proper two-wheeled bike. So why the sadness? Even as I wondered this, I felt a kind of warmth come over me. I thought it must be God come to comfort me - finally I slept.

All I can say here is that there were reasons. There always are. They were the same reasons when three years later I again cried and cried. We were home after a long trip away and I was unwell. Instead of just going to bed and dealing with it - I sat on the toilet and cried loudly. This was the first time since the last time I spoke of. I didn't cry often in a load and attention grabbing way. I was going full bore - deep guttural screams and cries from a child who was in despair. Once again, finally, the warmth came - like an angel to console me. I crept through to my bedroom and enjoyed the virus more conventionally from then onwards.

On both these occasions it was as if all the sadness of all the years ran right through me. I cried inconsolably, as if the world would end if I stopped crying. I also cried in the hope my parents would see what was wrong and set it right. As it was, well... that was not going to happen. I felt so dirty, like it was all my fault as well - I had wanted to let it all out in one massive sorrowful and regretful cry. Maybe God would hear me and forgive me, at least. I knew I was not fit to be the Christian I was told I had to be.

I think of him often these days - that sad and frightened little boy. It's not difficult, because he still lives deep inside me. Still sad - still scared of what the world might do to him. Scared to truly exercise his power lest he lose those he loves, or who he thinks he loves. Unsure of what love truly means, because those who say they love him the most, do him the worst harm.

Now, all that is gone now. My sick and unstable family unit has been shut down for good, but somehow the damage remains for us all. We try to see each other sometimes and be polite - try to show we care, and we do... It just never really works out. I probably sound like I am all grounded and sorted now - that I have worked through my demons. I tell you the truth, if anyone with big issues truly looks inside themselves and tries to sort things out, all it does for a very long time is make things worse. The lid is taken off the raging furnace and we glance down as our eyebrows are singed clean off. Shut down? As a unit maybe, but the memories remain. The feeling of being misdirected, cheated and interfered with never quite goes away.

I watched Ashes to Ashes today - 3 episodes. All set in the 1980s. My time. The time when I was young and when I had options. A time when I could have prevented the worst things that happened in my life. I could have waited before getting married - avoided my first big life hurdle. Who knows what else might have changed then?

Then I realised how stupid such talk is - and it is as stupid for you as it is for me. We cannot change ourselves by changing events. The cast of characters might have been different, but we would have affected them and they us in similar ways. What really counts is what we do NOW. This is our big chance. It is never all lost - never all bleak. Goodness, the memories hurt and the strains tell, but right now we can actually tinker with history, even if it is just a little bit. As soon as now passes, our chance is gone.

For myself, I can go back in my mind to 1970 and hear myself crying those awful tears. I never realised this before but someone /can/ hear them - echoing through the years. Me. Again in 1973, I can hear them again, just as clearly. I can listen to what my own younger self is trying so desperately to tell me and yes, I can offer him some comfort. In my wildest dreams, I would like to believe that the beautiful warmth I felt back then was me eventually realising my own needs and taking steps to meet them. Caring for myself at last.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, apart from this being a blog, and it's kinda my call how emotionally indulgent I am, there is a more altruistic reason. Is there a message you left yourself in your own memories? What did you do, what happened? What can you do now to meet the needs of your own frightened youngster. They may need your help. Maybe then your memories will subtly change and you, too, with have a memory of a beautiful warmth coming to you at your bleakest moments.

Either that, or you missed the start of your favourite program through reading this. Sorry.

Cold Comfort Shirt

I'm wearing my comfort shirt today - you know the one. It has holes in it, and it's way too big, even for me. Over the years it has gotten thin, and it seems to offer little warmth to me today. Inside it, I can feel myself trembling as I face the reality of the time ahead.

The last three weeks have been a time of heaven - of haven - for me. It has been a time of hope, of healing and of self discovery. An important time on every level I can think of, and probably every level that I can't. It's like the scales have fallen from my eyes and I have finally seen something that I should have seen years ago. Many years ago.

In short, it has been fantastic - I would struggle to conjure up sufficient superlatives to fully satisfy the feeling in my heart - either for the wonderfulness of her being here, or for the devastatingness of her being gone. My spell checker tells me that there is no such word as ”devastatingness“ - well, there should be, and there is now. It's as if my happiness is encased in a massive chunk of ice in front of me. I can see it, and observe it in almost every way - I just can't touch it and properly engage with it again.

I'm wearing my comfort shirt today, but it is not working. Maybe I'm spelling it wrong. Here, let me try again:

”chert“

...well, nearly.

Evaporated Milk and Mandarins

I've just had something to eat that I have not had for years. I wonder if you can guess what it is?

It brought back memories of early childhood tea-time's - Sunday evenings and one very naughty Monday morning. Smashing.

Thank you Carnation - and thank you to hat we used to lovingly call “Evap”. I just /know/ that if I had to explain it to someone who knew not of it, I would gross them out.

Food really does bring back memories...very vividly.

Divorcee

To be fair, I did toy briefly with “Bachelor” and, for an even more briefly'er moment “Gay Divorcee” - but I decided that for overall honesty and to avoid possible misconceptions “Divorcee” was very much the way to go here.

I make this post in order to state the blindingly obvious - so obvious is it that you may well groan - but I say it because the reality of it is what has become true to me over the past few weeks.

It is simply this - when one is on one's own, noting happens unless one, one's-self, does it.

Obvious, yes?

Yet I wonder... how many husbands are used to quietly taking credit for a house presented by their wives. How many spouse's quietly take credit for a meal cooked by their opposite number. It is the “family unit” that takes the plaudits. When that family unit is just one - and the one is a woman, a fairly high standard of cleanliness and tidiness is assumed. When that one is a man - no matter how hard he tries, he is judged by how different it is to how a woman might keep hers. I have even heard it said that this place now lacks “a woman's touch”. Frankly, I resent that - because I'm practically gay, apart from the sexuality thing.

I know exactly what I want to do with the place - I am just too poor and too darned lazy to do it. These are the real facts. Nothing happens unless I make it happen. No washing is done, no pots are cleaned, no surfaces are wiped.

I may never rise to “He keeps his place nice!” - but I am becoming aware that “He hasn't let it slide too bad...” is just about on the cards.

I shall get used to it eventually.

Into every rain, a little life must fall

Probably the easiest way to return to blogging after a long'ish gap is just to dive right in with little apology. That said, I do need to utter a word of thanks to you. Yes, you. You know who you are. You have checked this blog every day for months now. You're sick of those silly chinese letters - sick of wondering what they mean, and if they carry some secret message which may, in some way, explain the lack of blog entries here for the last few months.

The simple answer is that I don't remember what they mean either. I did know at one time, but I have forgotten. I'm pretty sure it was a cynical thing - and that they may stand for happiness or some such. The truth is that I have been more depressed in recent months than ever before.

No doubt you have noticed- those of you that know me - that it has been hard to get through to me on the phone, or to get through to me using any method. Even talking directly to my face wasn't always a guarantee of success.

I am happy to report that certainly the worst of it is now over. I feel the life returning into my brain, the heavy cloud lifting a little. I see little chinks of light here and there. It's quite a relief to see that the world is not as my brain was telling me. I bet many of you have dealt with depression in some form or other, so you'll know what I mean. I have to say that it shocked me. I am so used to being able to raise myself and put on a decent front in public. It took this bout of depression to demonstrate to me that sometimes it is impossible to show a cheerful face to the world. Sometimes one is so crushed by a feeling that nothing is possible. Nothing at all. It's been a salutory lesson for me - and one that enables me to understand depression a great deal better, and those of us who suffer it - for I must now count myself amongst that number.

In other news...

I had a birthday. I'm not entirely sure how old I am now, but Liz sometimes reminds me - more out of fun than anything else because I think she knows I will forget almost immediately.

Jason brought me this delightful cake, which I ate almost immediately - chocolates first, of course.

I also received a most amazing present from jason - my very own Ukulele. I am amazed and delighted by this wonderful present. It is, without doubt, the most delightful and sonorous Uke I have ever had the pleasure of owning.

It's a real joy to play and the sound is crisp, offering lots of rich sustain to every note - quite rare in all but the most expensive Ukes. In short, I am bowled over by this expansive gift, and I promise to practice the Uke fairly hard for quite a while as my way of showing how grateful I am. Thank you Jason.

In other gratitude...

My wonderful friends who have graciously given me the space I needed to get through this - yet made it abundantly clear they were there for me at any time. I love you people so much, and I count myself very fortunate to have such sensitive and caring friends.

Massive gratitude to my band “Soul Doubt”. There have been two or three gigs over this period and my leg pain situation has been more pronounced of late, making carrying gear all but impossible - especially whilst walking with a stick most times now. Those guys have helped me so well - they made it possible for me to play gigs that otherwise would have been completely beyond me. Words cannot express my gratitude.

I think I'll leave it there. I'll write some more soon.

Tricky Posting

I've always had a side of me that needs to be public. Right now, that side has deserted me, so I am forcing myself to do this. Big stuff is happening in my life - challenging stuff, on all fronts. Here's what those things are:

1) Health - I'm quite worried. I'm experiencing significant difficulties right now with my leg condition. Probably worse than I have led you to believe. I don't really want to say more than that - except, perhaps, that it has become a big challenge right now.

2) Mental State - I'm more concerned than I have ever been about this. I apologise publicly to all who feel I am shunning them and locking myself away. No, you're not imagining it - I really am doing this. It's not to do with me not liking you any more. It's to do with me being really depressed and going inside myself. At present, the thought of meeting up with anyone, or even going out is a matter of considerable stress. This has big implications, and I need to find a way round it. Regrettably, there are only a very few people I can spend time with right now. Please don't take it personally, I beg you. I will come through this in a little while, I know I will.

3) Divorce - Divorce is never a small issue, and I have had a double dose of it in short order. Arguably, I never properly got over my first divorce before marrying and subsequently being divorced from Liz. I have two pieces of paper that say I am divorced from these people, yet I still care for both, even though I am not in touch with Fiona at all now. Make not mistake - divorce messes with ones head, it is not good. It affects one comprehensively, and rocks everything.

4) Living Alone - I have to figure out how to do this. I have been fortunate in having wives who handled the stuff I struggle with. Being number-phobic is not as funny as some think. Sure, it is funny to laugh at me weeping because I can't handle thinking too much about numbers, but there is a serious side as well. This is just one of the challenges that living alone throws up. The other is managing to have enough money to do it. Another might be physically managing to do all the jobs required. The list gets quite long.

5) There is no five - because I do worry about being lonely. I discover I am just fine on my own and I am not craving companionship. Maybe that will come in time. I'll let you know.

So there it is. A decidedly downbeat posting - but I really did want to mark rock bottom in some way. I value this experience highly, as it gives me a real insight into the feelings surrounding depression. I believe this will aid me very much in getting alongside other people going through similar in the future. For this, I am grateful. For now, I am holding tight.

Things always get better, right?

Fragility

It's almost impossible to follow a post like the last one. I feel the weight of responsibility having said what I said.

I should start by thanking everyone who commented so positively and kindly. I never fail to be touched and delighted by the supportive comments I receive here. You people, who are kind enough to read my blog, are good people, and I am very glad to know you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I was hearing on the radio today that global warming is no longer a theory - it is happening right now. The learned professor was telling us that it is extremely unlikely that anything can be done to stop a significant change in climate till about 2050, when some of the measures we are starting to put in place may have taken effect.

Till then, we must reap the damage already done and concentrate our efforts on minimising the effects. On the plus side, winters are warmer and so we are witnessing less deaths due to cold. On the negative side, there are more floods and we stand a significant risk of a severe heatwave one summer which could kill thousands.

When I look at a picture of the world taken from space at a particular angle, I can just see the glow of our atmosphere. Boy, does it look small. Barely enough to colour in, were the world a colouring book. (which it isn't, but imagine what fun it would be if it was?) Our very existence hangs by a thread, and yet we don't seem to care. Our fragility has little meaning for us.

We could walk out into the street without looking and get hit by speeding gnu, causing our sudden, bloody and furry death. It COULD happen. Yet we feel so safe in the intricate constructs of our lives. We have our rules, our clothes, our houses, our social gatherings, our conventions, our language, our food, our entertainment, and our many and varied jobs. In the peak of life, when we have all these things running smoothly, maybe we dare to feel complete.

I'm not so sure. I think part of us - maybe just a tiny part - but part of us is aware that we are little bundles of skin, bones and water, clinging to a spinning world with a pencil-thin strip of air to keep us alive. I think it is this little part of us - the one that has a clue about our true place in the firmament - which seeks for more meaning to life than is afforded by merely dancing the dance expected of us by society.

Sure, it passes the time, and there is a comforting rhythm to it, but that life which seems so normal literally hangs by a thread for us all. If one person close to us died - if a marriage broke up - if someone became chronically ill - if the waters rose and flooded your home or your town. So many things could upset that delicately poised apple-cart that is our everyday lives.

We are a truly fortunate generation - living after two awful world wars and probably dying shortly before the next, where our enemy is likely to be the elements around us. Our children, and especially our children's children will fight it, and I hope they find ways to equip themselves well for what lies ahead.

So, in the last years of cheerful waste and thoughtless living, how will you choose to live your life? This amazing freedom we have been granted is also a fragile thing. Surely we need to use it wisely and enjoy it thoroughly while we still can.

But what, I hear you ask, about that part of us seeking for more meaning to life? I believe that is our in-built need to find God - and it is interesting to see how different people endeavour to satisfy it - or not. From obsessive hobbies to mystical beliefs of all sorts, people certainly seek high and low in an attempt to scratch their spiritual itch.

Or they just get busy and try to ignore it. It usually works, I'm told. Unless they think too hard. In response, I think I would urge everyone to think too hard. Maybe even harder than that. It's worth it.

Took Woates

"These two quotes are remarkable, and about as true as a true thing is able to be, in my opinion." - Andy Curtis

-=-

"Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved." - Soren Kierkegaard

-=-

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." - M. Scott Peck

-=-

"The Christmas that never was"

Who would have thought that after all these years my dream could have finally come true? I assumed it could never happen, for a whole variety of reasons - but it has!

Of course, it hasn't really and never will - or at least it is very unlikely to - but this is about as close as I am ever likely to get to it happening.

So, I am relaxing into the pleasant notion of Christmas with all the kids and a right old house full. This, of course, casts me in the role of "father". Not quite sure what that means... Something about pipe and slippers, pub at lunch time and...heck, I don't even know what the clichés are.

In the immortal words of Fagin in Oliver! the musical "I think I'd better think it out again".