Time, it's a strange old thing.

Time, the ticking clock of life, never stopping til our final breath. Constant in rhythm, but not in its direction.
I have had a lot of time recently to look back at my life, and make comparisons of then and now on many fronts. The deeper I have dug, the more I have realised about myself, and if I am honest, the more I have grown confused about who I am now. The thought process isn't a controlled one, nor a voluntary one. More something that imposes itself upon me at the most inopportune moments possible. Like when trying to relax or get some sleep.

Anger. That is the first thing I realise that has changed about me. People use the term "he has mellowed with age", and while it seems a bit cheesy, I have to say it is the case with me. I can look back and remember times when anger got the better of me, for the right and wrong reasons. Kicking a moving car as it jumped a red light almost hitting my new born daughters buggy, then chasing the driver down, who turned out to be huge, but not backing down. Punching through a panel in a door after a very emotional conversation with my daughters mum, telling me I couldn't see my daughter. Which resulted in slicing through my hand, gushing with blood, and having to call my heavily pregnant sister at work to ask her to come and help stop the bleeding.
The last true episode of frustration and anger I recall is when I had my Golf, back in about 2006, getting frustrated with the rear wiper I was trying to fix, knocking a few tools out of the toolbox, and losing it, and emptying the contents out, causing my then girlfriend to get very upset.

There have been many examples before that, but time has indeed mellowed me, or something has. While I still shout abuse when frustrated, and occasionally get mad at others on the road, the bulk of the anger is all in the past. Or should I say, the bulk of all irrational behaviour is history.

Then there is sadness to the point of crying. One of the emotions I really wish I hadn't lost, but went a long long time ago. The pressure valve that is crying, is a helpful one in life. When it all gets too much, it's nice (from what I recall) to just let it all go, and feel a bit better without all that emotion clogging you up inside. My last recollection of crying was around 2002, and if I recall correctly Simon Watts was the poor sod who had to listen to me blubbering on the phone for ages. But remembering back to then, I actually can, I remember by the end of the conversation feeling relieved. If you compare the need to crying to the need to pee, once it starts relief begins, and by the end of it, all is much better. Strange comparison, forgive me.

There have been lots of times in the past 13 years where crying probably would have really helped me out, but alas it doesn't happen. I get choked up, I get teary eyed, but that's as far as it goes. The death of loved ones, sad news shared with others, hell even emotional endings to films. Nothing sets the tear ducts in full motion these days, and quite frankly it sucks. I know people say some people cry too much, and I'm sure it's a chore to cry at everything, but bottling it up for years and years... That really isn't nice. If I ever do cry again, I might actually need to be put on a drip to keep me hydrated.

Other needs and emotions seem to have changed too. Like I would kill for a no strings cuddle up on the sofa with a take away and a movie, over a crazy lust filled chase for gratuitous sex. (NO, I am not saying I don't like sex anymore lol). I guess as you experience things in life, you learn what matters and what doesn't. The past decade has taught me some very valuable lessons in that department, including what physical acts are important to me over others. I know this is all a bit strange to share, but it's never stopped me in the past, so why get shy now eh.
I read an article this morning actually saying that five good long hugs a day are good for you, and it stimulates certain centres in the brain. The article is here... http://time.com/4042834/neuroscience-happy-rituals/

The content I refer to here is this part.

So hug someone today. And do not accept little, quick hugs. No, no, no. Tell them your neuroscientist recommended long hugs.
Via The Upward Spiral:
A hug, especially a long one, releases a neurotransmitter and hormone oxytocin, which reduces the reactivity of the amygdala.
Research shows getting five hugs a day for four weeks increases happiness big time.

So any offers from any of my cute female friends to help me out with this one is appreciated. Til then, it's just me an my Primark pillow :'(
But seriously, of the few I have had over recent times, it is somewhat true. A hug can feel so warm and reassuring. Hence sofa snuffle over bedroom fumble.

Back when mum was about, I was living as the son role. Even though I was grown up, mentally I still just had fun and didn't care much for the consequences. In later years, looking after her, and having to take responsibility, and get a grip on actual adult living came as quite a shock. No more safety net, and worse still, I had lost my outlet of impartiality. Now and forever more when confiding information, or just blowing off steam, choosing the right person was imperative. Naturally I think at this point I stopped being totally open. And the bottling up of thoughts and emotions begun.
I know I am open on here, but trust me there are so many more things I would not dare share openly, or in fact with another person. Trust for me is hard to find.

And there we have the next thing that time has changed. Trust.
Once upon a time, although I would not open my heart to people, I trusted a few to carry some of my darker secrets. In recent years, there is no other way to say it than I have been betrayed. Hung out to dry and offered for sacrifice, in one case almost to the point of losing my job. Yet the same people who did these things happily speak to me when the mood suits as if there is nothing wrong. Even enquiring about personal matters, like I am going to share anything like that with the backstabbing arseholes. Not just the work issue, but other times when a closely guarded secret has suddenly been discussed with others, putting me in an awkward position.
I like to think I am a pretty open book, and a straight shooter. Want to know how I feel about something? Simple, ask me. You might not like what you hear if the question is about yourself, but I will do my best to convey my feelings on the matter.
So over the years I have learned not to trust people. Sadly that leaves a select few to be burdened with all my inner most thoughts. Sorry about that.

Time changes people, it's true. But more to the point our experiences in life, over time change us, and make us the people we are today. In my case I am not sure that is such a good thing. I would not go as far as to say I am broken, but I certainly feel like some experiences in life have had a negative impact on me.
After my daughter I lost interest in having any more kids, even if the relationship had presented the opportunity, I would shy away for sure. Having been through something so traumatic as to lose contact for so long, 17 years almost now, the thought of taking that chance again scared the shit out of me for years.
That's just one example of how my past has changed me. Before that happened I couldn't wait to be a dad. Sad really.

I will wrap up by saying how I realise how much recent times have again changed me, and when it comes to self confidence, approaching situations where rejection is possible, or just laying myself bare for judgement in any walk of life, I am weak!

Oh well. Time to rebuild I guess eh.

In the blink of an eye...

I have blogged about this quite a lot over the years, but from time to time the urge to try and connect with my true feelings on the matter resurfaces, and eats away at me for a bit. Like now. For some reason, after watching the scene from a TV drama, the matter of death comes flooding back.

February is always a pretty dark month for me anyway, even with the sunshine on top, below the surface bubbles a little anxiety, and I guess a little sadness. For years it was about my daughter. How dare I celebrate a birthday without her in my life. Especially with hers being just a few short days before my own. But as the years have passed, the reasoning has changed, and possibly to more morbid reasoning.

Feb 13th 2008, my mum came to me and told me she thought she might have cancer. My birthday that year (the next day) was spent at the doctors, first getting her an appointment for that day, and then being there while the doctor examined her and confirmed she very much had breast cancer. And a long journey began.
With her 70th birthday just around the corner the appointments started, and a few days after her 70th we went the hospital where I was called in to the consult room and asked to reason with her by the specialist. Having examined her she had cancer in both breasts, and was refusing ANY treatment. By the time we left she was open to the idea.

After a long fight, and some true highs, on August 5th 2011 mum finally passed away. Sitting by her side, watching her breathing become laboured, before finally exhaling for the last time, it was quite a surreal moment to watch your only parent die before your eyes. Thankfully, it was a rare occasion that myself and my sister were with her, with no kids etc. So part of me feels she found peace in that moment, and chose it herself.
Medically the morphine inhibited her breathing, and her already weak body gave out. Either way, she went peacefully and with dignity, just as she would have wanted.

Mum's passing is probably one of the most profound for me, as you would expect, but the list of people I have lost in all manner of ways is just too long, and one that haunts me every time I recall who, how and when.

In fact the above is the reason I am writing this now, as another year ticks around for me, and I turn 42 now, I look back at the long list of friends who have not even made it this far in life. Ill health, accidents, and suicide, has taken some of my closest friends over the years, all my junior. I said many years ago, back in my twenties, that I would be dead before I was 40. However at that time I really don't think I had given the thought of death much real consideration. Greatly unaffected by it at that point, it was just brave to talk trash about death, but as the years have passed by, it means more.

Given it can come in so many ways, never knowing what the cause will be. So many lose their lives at the hands of others, through no fault of their own. Accidents on the UK motorways today are a great example of this.
Take a look at the statistics for a moment. In the last week of January this year, 12,900 people in the UK died. That's 1,842 people a day or 76 people an hour. More than one a minute.
Now of course yes a lot of these are natural causes, illness etc, but what difference does that make? Mum knew she was going for 3 years, but still left 2 kids, 5 grand kids and her sister all with a hole in their lives.

My point is, and its a very vague one, death is all around us, just around the corner, how many people in the UK alone have died in the time you have been reading this. How many families every hour begin the painful journey of letting someone go?

The age old question, are you scared of death? Well are you? I have thought about this over and over for years, and still can't make sense of my conclusions. Death itself is final, once its happened, its done with, for the deceased at least. Fear goes away, pain too, but for the families it is only just starting.
My feelings on it are maybe a little too rational for some to comprehend. In conversations I have had about it in the past, I have come out looking a little strange to say the least.
When I think about death, it makes me sad. I like being a part of peoples lives, I like making a difference, and creating memories with people. When I look back at people I have lost, its the memories which keep the person with us. The thought of that ending is sad for me. Just as it saddens me that I no longer have them in my life to enjoy their company and make more memories.
The cold harsh truth is though, we all move on. While we remember those we have lost, our lives continue and adapt. So to believe that our passing is anything but an event in our friends and loved ones lives, is to me at least, somewhat irrational.
That said, my take on death in general might not be what you would call the average or common perception.

The other part about dying which really sucks, is the future. The crazy and dynamic world we live in is constantly promising and making leaps forward, space travel, technology, health care etc. To think that at some point I will stop seeing these advances is one which actually saddens me deeply. Maybe its my techy geekiness that drives that emotion. Maybe its my detachment from others around me which makes me feel this way. Grasping for something to hold on to and be relevant to me.

So am I scared of death, and the event it is? Hard to say, I have never been close enough to know the answer to that. My rational is simple, I can't control it, I am not the master of my final act, and whatever lifes plan is for me, I have to suck it up. Its nice to imagine it will be painless, but not for me. More for those around me. I don't want a wake of sadness left behind me, and I guess that is one of the reasons I try to be so open about my thoughts and feelings. I can't say another word when I am gone, so would love to think that in my ramblings both verbally and written, that people can find the answers to their questions. Who I care about, love, and my feelings on all aspects of life.

I like to think I am an open book, I encourage those in my life to challenge me, question me, and discover all they want to know on a daily basis. One day, the final day will come, and I hope dearly that I leave no confusion or unanswered questions behind. Until that day, I will keep throwing my thoughts out there, and try and make sure I have it all covered.
I do have a project I really must complete one day, one I have spoken of before. It has had many names, but 'If tomorrow never comes' seems the most prudent.

A frank summary of all things truly meaningful to me. Feelings, memories etc, which I would want those involved in it to know, just to confirm they know, and will forever know how I feel about them and our time together.

So, that's my thoughts for this Valentine's Day 2015, and of course my birthday.

Live every day like your last. Tell people how you really feel about them, and don't try and find the right time for things... It might never come, then it will never happen. Most of all, smile, and enjoy the gift of life you have, and spend it with people you care about.

Thanks for reading, sorry for the downer.

PS, some stats for those interested. A full breakdown of the 491,348 deaths in England and Wales in 2009 (yup almost half a million people in one year)

http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-files/Guardian/documents/2011/01/14/Mortality_England_and_Wales_2009.pdf