As part of my therapy, it has been suggested that I write more about my experiences and so I thought I would use one example of a CBT method in this latest post.

So what's CBT?

Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) is a psychotherapeutic approach that addresses dysfunctional emotions, maladaptive behaviors and cognitive processes and contents through a number of goal-oriented, explicit systematic procedures. The name refers to behavior therapy, cognitive therapy, and to therapy based upon a combination of basic behavioral and cognitive principles and research.

- Wikipedia

I have to admit up-front that I was initially sceptical about how CBT would help me in my fight back to "normality" (whatever the hell "normality" actually is).

I'm now 5 weeks into my therapy, and by putting some strategic methods into practice, I am finding that I am now able to manage some of those instances whereby I feel anxious (like on a packed train), angry (like when I'm dealing with idiots) or worried to the extreme.


So if you were asked to imagine mentally placing some (or all) of your problems somewhere out of harms way, where would that be?

I'm told that a good example and a popular method is to imagine placing your troubles into a black bag and throwing it out with the rubbish. Now there's a bit more to it than that, but essentially you have to initially perform the actual act of writing down your problem onto a piece of paper, going out to the bin, putting it in the bin and physically "take the trash out".

I didn't think this particular method was that original, nor very interesting.

So what's MY method, I don't hear you cry...

I imagine placing mine into a glass bottle, throwing it into the ocean, gradually watching it as the tide washes it out to sea. That's the old romantic in me, I guess...

To blog or not to blog....THAT is the question

Well, well, well (3 holes in the ground)...It's been years since I last updated this blog. During this time, my career as a contractor was cut short by the market crash (that's what happens when you line up your market stalls like dominoes), I now have a cat called Ellie, a kitchen that crosses two international time zones, and a mollusc called Dave. (Ok, so I lied about that last bit...his name is Geoff)

During this time, I have discovered the wonders of marriage, kids, cider (and, as a consequence. my ever expanding waistline). The past few years seem to have become shorter as each year has passed, and death seems to feature more prominently in dreams nowadays then it did back then as I enter "middle age". And how is it that you can be happy in your marriage, happy in your social life and yet feel SO unfulfilled? Is this just unique to me, or do other people go through the same?

This blog was supposed to be my attempt at writing an interesting interlude with a view of perhaps doing some creative writing and maybe taking my career on an alternative path. It didn't work, obviously, and yet here I am years later and older, bashing away (at the keyboard, not physically), closer to the end of my journey (I knew I got the wrong bus!), closer to my closest friends and yet none the wiser as to what to do to fix the mess that is the gaping ache that lies just beneath the surface. Whatever happens, will I EVER feel truly "happy", or is THIS what "happy" IS and I just wasn't listening in class when I was 10 years old!

All of this leads nicely into what has occurred between February 2012 and the present. During February, I found myself walking over London Bridge on my way home from work. Now this wasn't the unusual thing, this was a relatively normal process and a route that I followed pretty much every day. what WAS unusual, was finding myself stopping around half-way across the bridge, peering over the side and looking into the murky water thinking "Yeap - that'll do it". Now this was when I realised that I needed help. I had come down with a rather nasty bout of depression, and this has been pretty much my "journey" since.

A lot of good has come out of seeking help, but I wanted to concentrate initially more on the evils. Having found myself write this poem, I was rather shocked at reading it back afterwards:

Depression - fuck depression,
Has no lifestyle or profession,
Drink cheap beer whilst on a session,
Stuck in my own private recession

Depression - fuck depression,
Lightning bolt - devil's possession
Doesn't hide - has no discretion
And each day passes - no progression

Depression - fuck depression,
Comes to rape me with aggression,
Want to die - helpless expression
Suicide is my confession.

Is that how I REALLY felt, or was I throwing in some imagination into the bargain bucket? The journey has begun...

It's all Going West I tell you!

Recently I gave an opinion on the Go West Forum:

http://gowest.yuku.com

My opinion was about their latest album "futurenow". I was a little negative about it and explained why I felt that it was an average album at best. Boy oh boy, little did I know what I was letting myself in for!

Now it would seem that I have got it wrong after all these years. If you are a "fan" of a particular band, then it is COMPULSORY to like absolutely EVERYTHING that the band do or say from that moment on. It was my understanding that you could have an opinion of your own that wasn't necessarily based on those of other similar like-minded individuals - apparently not.

Once I had been suitably chastised, the thread was locked so that I could speak no more!

And so, to those mad Go West fans that insisted I not only had it wrong, but that I would also burn in hell - I say this:

YOU are part of the reason this country is in the state its in today. How do you sleep at night?

It's Late In The Evening....

It's late in the evening, I can't get it right
had a little row with the wife tonight
Now it's late - its late in the evening
It's late in the evening and I ain't got nothing but the blu-ooh-ooes...

I went down the pub to buy me something to drink...
The barman said to me - hey, boy you sure look pink!
I said "I don't see Strongbow on the menu!"
It's late in the evening and I ain't got nothing but the blu-ooh-ooes...

I went down to the Chinese but hey, it was it shut
I went knocking on the door and then they began to shout:
"Get away from there, boy - don't you know that we're closed?"
It's late in the evening and I ain't got nothing but the blu-ooh-ooes...

Because I had a lot of money when I started out
But some dead beat turned and said that I should spend it on snout
It's late - it's late in the evening....
It's late in the evening and I ain't got nothing but the blu-ooh-ooes...

If Someone went and asked me - what are you gonna do?
I will end up shouting "By christ, I need a poo"...
It's late - it's late in the evening....
It's late in the evening and I ain't got nothing but the blu-ooh-ooes...

Bank Holiday Blues

Has it really been that long since I typed away aimlessly at this blog?. Actually, that's a pretty bloody stupid question, as the answer is so obviously yes, so I was wrong to ask in the first place! Forgive me!

Well, it's Bank Holiday Monday which means that the Banks have an official "holiday" and have to close. What that means for the rest of us sorry bunch is that we get a day off work. "Great" I hear you say. Actually, I don't, nor have I ever heard you say "Great" - that would be a little bit spooky!
It's all very well for those of you in full-time employement, but some of us are CONTRACTORS! (Boo, Hiss!)...Yes, I realise that for some of you, this is a swear word, but some of us ARE contracors, so you better get used to it! And that means we have a FORCED day off work (whether we want one or not!), which means that we DON'T get paid!

So, whilst you whinging permies are supping away on your Pimms enjoying your Bank Holiday, spare a thought for the scumbag contractors - yes, we may be rich, but 500 notes is a lot of money for ANYONE!

A Long time ago in a cinema not so far away...

The Star Wars hype hadn’t quite built up just yet around our area, we were always the last to find out about the latest blockbusters. (The ABC in Romford was hardly in the same realm as the Empire Leicester Square). I really had no idea about what was about unfold in front of very eyes.

I was a scared young lad (I was only 6!) and when the lights went out, I cried my eyes out. My father didn't take well to this, and whacked me and then dragged me into the toilets. Presumably, I felt, to give me a good ticking down. However, he just just whacked me, and my ice lolly felt into the urinal as I cried even more.

Eventually, we made our way back to our seats. When the curtain opened and the 20^th Century Fox Fanfare blasted into play, I knew I was in for something special. The Star Wars theme burst into my ears for the very first time. There was an amazing tingling feeling in my arms and I shuddered with excitement. The “Sense-Surround” sound had magnified the volume somewhat, and I very nearly jumped out of my seat – both scared and excited about what was to happen next. Some people had taken the trouble to actually leave the theatre, as they couldn’t stand the volume. I remember reading some years later that people actually had physical damage done to their ears as a result of this new technological wonder of sound. “Sense-Surround” didn’t hang around in that cinema for very long, but it was great while it lasted!

Once the film was over, I cried again. I wanted to see it again, I just had to take it all in once more. In those days, you used to be able to hang around after a film and see the next showing for free. For some reason or another, the ushers never seemed to be in such a rush to clean up the floors as they are nowadays. My dad wasn’t prepared to hang around though, and he dragged me back outside and walloped me as I cried louder.

That was my very first trip to the pictures with my dad.

Many years later, in my thirties when the Special Editions were released in the cinema, I went to see Star Wars again with my wife. Once the lights went down, and the fanfare started, I found myself back in the Romford ABC, 1977. I had to get out. I managed to last about 10 minutes before I felt almost claustrophobic. The dark was overwhelming and closing in on me. It was a very strange feeling and I couldn’t handle it.

In writing this, it’s immediately apparent that it is difficult to understand what someone can learn from all of this. It was my first furore into the cinema, and to this day I still get a kick out of seeing a film on the big screen. These days though, it’s usually me taking my kids to see the latest animated 3D film. We always stock up on Maltesers, Minstrels and a drink before we see the film.

I never buy them ice lollies though….

Welcome

All events in this blog are true...

This may appear to some to be a somewhat bold statement, and I realise that I am asking a lot by expecting you to believe this. After all, I haven’t even introduced myself yet and I am asking for you to believe that this blog is true, except that I haven’t actually asked you that yet, but let’s just assume that I have. You don’t believe me, do you?. Well, stick with me and trust me on this one...

I know everything that happened in this blog actually happened in reality because I was there and you weren’t (unless you are one of the unfortunate few to have been involved in the events here-on in, in which case, Hi! How have you been?). By asking you to believe that I was actually there for all of the events that you haven’t actually read about yet, I am expecting a lot from you, I know. But bear with me.

You should appreciate that I have put a lot of pressure on myself to deliver the goods here, and I won’t let you down. Well, I may let you down. It all depends on your expectations and if you are the sort of person who is easily let down. If massive revelations are your bag, then the rest of this blog may very well be a bit of an anticlimax for you. The thing is, you won’t actually know until you read it will you, so you may as well carry on reading. You never know, you may learn something!

For the sake of argument then, let us assume that you are the bright young individual that you actually resemble (though I’m not too sure that your shirt goes with those shoes), and I can proceed...

Let me start by telling you that anyone who knows me well will say that I’m not into making guarantees. That’s not the first thing that they will tell you, obviously, (that would be ridiculous) but it will be up there with the rest of the revelations about me not liking celery, having a bad taste in ties and the fact that “plop” is my favourite word. I CAN guarantee, however, that you will either like, dislike or have no opinion at all on the rest of this blog. How many other people do you know that can make such a guarantee and mean it?. Go on, think about it for a minute. Nope! Didn’t think so!

I’m guessing by now that you are wondering what the bloody hell this blog is actually about. Well, first of all, allow me introduce myself. My name is Geoff and I am an alcoholic. Actually, my name is NOT Geoff, and I’m not an alcoholic. I just threw that in to make sure that you were still paying attention. Don’t get me wrong though, I like the odd pint of cider occasionally, but I don’t get up in the morning and think “I’d like a pint of cider”. My drinking is done in a controlled fashion - except on those rarest of rare occasions when it isn’t. But I will elaborate on that later in this blog, so that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?.

Ok, so you have already learned something (didn’t I tell you that you would?). Now, I realise that you are probably thinking that learning my fake name, and the fact that I like the odd pint of cider, probably isn’t worth the asking price of this blog. I guess I ought to tell you a bit more about why I am here then, and where this bus ride is taking us. Is it a bus ride?. No, it’s not - I used the wrong phrase completely there - what I meant to say was “journey”, so I wasn’t too far off. (I am actually on a bus journey whilst I am telling you this, which probably explains the confusion).

To start the ball rolling then, I want you to try and understand how we are all different, but also exactly the same. The very same things that happen to you may very well have happened to me as well, and vice-versa. That is rather a bold statement I know, I should explain that I am not talking about meeting your mate down the pub for a quick pint or two - I have never met Dave and probably wouldn’t like him if I had. The kind of situations that I am referring to mainly relate to emotions - love, lust, hatred, depression, loneliness, happiness and the most important one of all - luck.

It’s my belief that luck plays a major part in keeping the balance between positive and negative. If you don’t have any luck, then chances are that the only other emotions you have experienced are the negative ones. The trouble is, I don’t have any luck. I’m convinced of it. If I had any luck, I would have been able to get off with Tessa Green at the school disco, got away with shoplifting when I was 16, and very probably not be stuck in a dead end job as an I.T. specialist. I use the term “specialist” in a very loose way here. I am, in fact, NOT a specialist - certainly not in I.T in any case. I sort of fell into the job much like pussy willow fell into that well in the nursery rhyme, but without the physical act of falling into a well (that would be dangerous). I suspect that the cats name wasn’t “Willow” either, but that’s not important right now - much like this entire cat analogy.

A lot of people don’t believe that luck exists, and if it does exist then we create our own luck. Well, I am here to tell you that’s a load of bollocks. And that’s what this blog is about. No, not a load of bollocks, I am referring to the explanation of those situations where lady luck decided to shine her light on someone else other than me. Hell, the “luck light” (as I don’t hesitate to call it) may even have shone on you at some stage in the past - in which case, give me a break you bastard!. That light was meant for me!.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is how we are all essentially the same. You probably have felt as unlucky as me at times and wanted to throw yourself under something in frustration (and I am not talking about that really annoying board game with that dice stuck in the plastic dome. You wouldn’t fit under that, unless you just placed it on your head, and that would be ridiculous). We are all the same, but it’s what we learn from life that defines us and separates us from others (Unless you were born a Siamese twin or something).

So, friend of mine (do you mind if I call you that? I feel like we have already formed a unique relationship in the short time that I have known you) take a ticket and jump on board the luck bus - the fare is free (aside from the ticket that you have just taken - that’s £3.40 please) and join me in the journey of life. We will be stopping off at such places as my teens, twenties and thirties and I can guarantee (here I go making guarantees again) that the journey will be a fruitful one. Just make sure that you bring plenty of custard........