This week two things struck me.
So what has been happening in my life this week?
I have been feeling a little bit sorry for myself, and also getting angry that I am feeling this way. I have these moments from time to time. I feel lethargic and tired and there is no real physical reason why. My liver cleanse diet is going amazingly well and I have been exercising and meditating daily. I am working really hard but I am working on projects that really excite and interest me.
Just one word – four simple letters – but when you open your mouth in preparedness to release them, you feel as if the words of that strange train station in Wales are trying to force their way out… Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch.
For Every Man A Religion – Ian Brown
So what has been going on in the life of the Needy Helper, this past week? I have been recovering from my vacation. That’s right, I am the type of person who needs a vacation to recover from his vacation. I spent a truly wonderful time in Florida, bonding with my son, and have found it somewhat difficult to get back into the swing of things. I also found myself hopelessly addicted to Breaking Bad, and spent far too much time sat in front of the TV screen, but I was comforted by the thought that it was actually homework for a writing project I am in the midst of. Excuses, excuses. But there has been one important happening this week. Someone who is very close to me has been consumed by fear, and so that is my chosen topic.
I have realised that my heart has been closed for a very long time. Encased in a tomb that even Indiana Jones would struggle to find. I am beginning to understand why I am the way that I am. Awareness is showering me with light. I look at myself in the mirror and am more than familiar with the reflection. I have been so unkind, so unloving, so desperate to protect myself that I have failed to allow love to grow. The ground that I have covered has been arid and desolate. The roots of love could not get a grip. Arable land was a dream, a figment of my imagination.
This week has been fantastic in terms of my own personal development. I am really starting to get it. I am only scratching the surface and still have a fair old dig ahead of me, but I really believe I am going to eventually find what I am looking for. It struck me this week that before I can continually improve I need to become more aware. Awareness is the key for me and my radar is well and truly switched on. I am learning so much about the way that I behave, why I behave the way that I do and how it affects those that are important in my life. I am one happy pappy right now.
I must confess that I have been procrastinating on one of my goals. I have a goal to write a book called Lean Life and the progress has not been great. My procrastination comes from my sense of fear. I am scared that my book will not be as great as those that have passed under the scrutiny of my eyelids. I am worried that it won’t gain an audience. That no one will care. It’s time for me to grow a pair. It is time for me to act.
As I walked into the pub last night, it was great to see some old faces. The combination of traveling and my decision to fight alcoholism means I don’t see them as much as I used to; in fact hardly at all. Men are different than women. We don’t just pop around for a cup of tea and a gossip; another of life scripts handed down to us from those that strode the path before us.
I was there to play poker and my conversation was cut short as the table dragged me under like a riptide. Just before I broke free from the man hugs I was invited to go horse racing. There was a time when I would have snapped them up on the offer…no that’s wrong…there was a time I would have just been there with them, pure and simple. We would have gotten drunk, stared at all of the beautiful ladies and won or lost hundreds of pounds. These days I don’t drink, or gamble, so I fail to see the point of the Sport of Kings.
“Maybe you should stop reading those books…maybe you think too much?”
That was my mother talking at the end of an exhausting week, both physically and mentally. In terms of a review, the week has been a great microcosm of life. A life that, this week, has left me tired, angry, upset, happy, thoughtful and focused.
This week my Pick of the Week is centered on alcohol. Last night I was fortunate enough to be invited to one of the best nightclubs in Las Vegas. Everything was free of charge and I imagine, for most people, it would have been a great night. But I view these evenings with different eyes. I don’t see fun and laughter. I just see misery and pain. I wish I was different, I really do. I wish I could enjoy myself like everyone else…but I can’t. I find it very difficult to explain to people why I hate alcohol so much. Why I believe it is the destroyer of lives and how it fools everyone into believing that it is their friend. So over time I am going to slowly share some stories with you and maybe it will make sense. I also hope it will take your focus away, from what you perceive to be the happiness alcohol brings, and instead allow you to focus on what damage it can do as well.
I was vomiting in a bathtub. In fact I wasn’t vomiting because I had already emptied the contents of my stomach several times, but I couldn’t stop the vomiting action. I was hysterical, maybe crying, but certainly flailing around like I was drowning in water despite the bathtub being empty. I didn’t have a t-shirt on and I can only assume it was in a heap and covered in vomit. I distinctly remember the yellow bile that was being regurgitated from my mouth and worrying about the slivers of blood that stained it like a broken birds egg that had not fully matured. I was in the arms of my girlfriends Grandmother and it was the first time she had met me. My girlfriend was crying by my side because she knew her parents were going to find out about the bathtub episode. How would she explain it? I passed out and woke up in the middle of a football field. I remember that I was soaked wet with dew and I had pieces of grass in my mouth. I was fourteen years of age and that is what happens when you fill a green plastic bottle up with various spirits and then drink it.
It seems as if a week does not go by in my life without upsetting somebody. For a person whose life purpose is to help other’s this is a fairly disturbing trend, and one I am desperate to break. I hate it when I am the reason somebody is upset, particularly when I care about that person. So why does it keep happening?