Battle in the mind: Fear. Very fitting for me this week.


It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Do you find some days everything just gets to you? You just are having “one of those days”? I’ve been sat for the last 2 hours researching every possible way I could try and blag my way into the army. It’s not going to happen, unless I can somehow blag to be the first test case for someone with an ostomy and crohn’s to try and join. What do you do when your told the one job you have wanted to do all your life is now off the table? Ever since I was a kid all I wanted to do was join up, the only reason I went to uni was to join as an officer. I don’t know. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

Some days it just really gets to me. I fucking hate this disease with every fibre of my being, I resent the fact I’m being forced to have surgery at 24 fucking years old! I know that it’s not the end of the world and that it could be a shit lot worse but some days I get fed up with smiling, joking and accepting it. I fucking hate this illness, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even my worst enemy. Sat on my bed at 24 years old, not able to work, get out of breath walking 2 minutes round the corner, waiting for an operation that might be in 6 weeks if I’m lucky. I did not picture my life turning out like this. All it has done is cripple me. I’m not the same person I was 7 years ago. I look at these people that hammer on with their illnesses and do amazing things and get on with life, but I physically cannot do that. THAT is what I hate more than anything!

On the one had I want this surgery over and done with because hopefully it should give me some semblance of a normal life back, however at the same time, I’m still furious I even have to have it in the first place. So fucked off with life. To top it all off I have run out some medication, my own fault not being organised. It’s not going to be ready till Saturday so I have another 2 days on top of the last 2 of withdrawal, meaning the most horrendous nightmares every night waking up caked in sweat. My own fault though. You would think I’d learn but this is about the 4th or 5th time I’ve done it.

Tomorrow I should be back to my perky cheerful self, but every now and then you have days like these. Got to keep soldiering on.

Babies Big Day Out

About 2 days ago, I had what I would class as a brilliant day health wise. I didn’t have to go to the loo once, I went out and enjoyed myself and had no anxiety attacks at all. I can count days like that on one hand. I know that I didn’t go to the loo a lot due to a raging 2 day hangover during which I ate nothing. So it appears alcohol does have some benefits then! I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a day like that. I went down to my mate Jamie’s house in Wraysbury. Generally chilled out and relaxed, he has a pool there which is a massive bonus. We did intend to go down and work, well I was going to do some writing, but I saw that going out the window as I packed an x box and an air rifle into the back of his car.

So we got down there and off the bat decided to make ample use of his large garden and sunshine by breaking out the air rifle. We dotted some targets around the garden, zeroed the sights and cracked off some pellets. It wasn’t long before we decided to search around for some more “interesting” targets. A quick scout round the shed came up trumps with about 10 aerosols of varying sizes. It was at this point I caught Jamie’s eye and instantly recognised that childish look of mischief, you could practically hear the cogs turning in his head and to be fair I was well on his wavelength. We also then found some sections of steel tubing that some of the cans fit snugly into. Homemade mortar attempt, round 1. We built a small fire with the tube in the middle, with the can inside the tube. It took its sweet time to warm up but there was a more than satisfying bang and can went into orbit. It was probably a bad idea to do this under the Heathrow flight path, but I didn’t hear of any crashes so I guess we’re ok. The masterpiece though was 4 large cans gaffa taped together, a liberal sprinkling of petrol, stand back, light and fire. There was a very impressive fireball and a hefty bang and we narrowly avoided burning down his shed.

So now we had nothing to blow up. So again we had always talked about making a zip line from one of the tall trees. So we recovered some old rope from an attempt at a swing and started to test how much weight it could hold. I snapped it rapidly. At this point Jamie’s next door neighbour, Theo, pops his head over the fence and enquires as to what we’re doing, so we tell him and replied “Hold on a minute I’ve got loads of proper climbing gear and rope you can use.” JACKPOT

We get about anchoring the rope in the tree which Jamie climbed like a monkey on a speed then set about anchoring it to a tree near the ground, Theo pops back over to assist us in rigging up a system of about 3 or 4 pulleys so we could tighten the rope up so it wasn’t slack. Then all that was needed was the addition of a safety line to act as a brake and the knowledge of the nearest A+E. We were ready to rock and roll.

I feel at this point I should mention, I fucking HATE heights! They are one of the few things that genuinely scare the life out of me. So Jamie is back off up the tree like a monkey making it look like a decrepit old woman could do it. Puts his hand through the strap, holds onto it grabs onto it with his other hand and then falls out of the tree and flies down the line. Actually looks pretty cool me thinks.

Balls. My Turn. So I climb up the worlds ricketiest ladder and gradually manage to scramble up the tree avoiding a trip to the hospital so far. I put my hand through the loop of material, held onto it and grabbed it with the other hand. At this point my bum was making noises that only certain breeds of bats can hear. “Just fall out the tree nice and easy” something about that sentence didn’t quite fill me with confidence. Fuck it. I held on for dear life and dropped. Bugger me it was quick. I looked back and realised it was probably only about 25 foot tall at the most. We then changed the pulley we slid on to a faster one and the second time climbing the tree was worse. My legs went to jelly and my arms and hands cramped up but I soldiered on for another go. After that I was done though.

Hadn’t had such a good day in ages

Religious Ponderings

I have been pondering life lately, quite deeply and how unfair and unjust it seems to be.

I promise all of you, when I do die, if and when I meet the powers that be, I am going to knock the cunts out. There is no reason that any person, young, old, male or female should have to go through what any of us have been through, are going through or are going to go through. I have never been a particularly religious person. I went to church as a kid even though in hindsight my parents aren’t religious really, it was more just to get me into the local good church of England school. In fact I find it particularly hilarious how my dad must have begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed early on a Sunday morning probably hung over to go and listen to what must have amounted to an hour of crap in his eyes. I like to believe in the idea of some kind of higher power but I just think there are too many things that don’t make sense about the ideas of most organised religions.

For example take Christianity. God supposedly created me in his image, so in saying that, how can I be more forgiving than god? So if we go by religion, If I sin, I am going to hell FOREVER, but if I had a son for example and he does something bad I punish him until he has learnt his lesson, I don’t chain him up in the basement and torture him for the rest of his days, it makes the idea of hell redundant surely? And that fact that you look at how many times the bible has been translated through different languages across different generations there must be errors and if you look at the fact the some books of the bible were just left out because early popes didn’t like their content. The new testament was passed over orally for hundreds of years before it was written down and a lot of it was other peoples accounts. I mean come on, you must have played Chinese whispers and seen how the end turns out very different to the beginning.

Now I’m not knocking peoples decisions to be religious or not. That’s the path they’ve chosen, I’ve just gone down a different one. Another factor is I just cannot fathom how so many good people have to go through so much shit, and scum get all the breaks. I’m a bit of a believer in karma though so really I am due a big euro millions win soon, either that or I was a total cunt and secret mass murderer as a child. I’ve seen good, hard working people go through a lot of shit and I can’t think of a good reason for it other than life is just ballbag then you die. Ah well, it’s all about playing the hand your dealt and making the best of it while you have it because you never know when you are going to have the rug pulled clean from under your feet and suddenly wish you could live your life over again.

“So live your life so the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their views, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and of service to your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or sign of salute when meeting or passing a stranger if in a lonely place. Show respect to all people, but grovel to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. Touch not the poisonous firewater that makes wise ones turn to fools and robs them of their visions. When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.”

If only people could live their lives by the above quote, then we would all be fine. We’ll we may have to scrap the no alcohol bit though 😛

I HATE the dentist

How very strange, a good day for once (bodily function wise). Although I’m pretty sure it’s because I was hung-over all day the day before and ate jack all alas there is nothing that needs to leave my body today. Hence a good day be default. I actually don’t even remember going to the loo once today, very rare for a day like this. I struggle to remember when everyday was like this, normality. It seems so long ago and I suppose at the time I took it for granted. I seem to be spiralling into deep and morbid thought this evening after watching part of a documentary about a man who had and died from motor neurone disease. You can find his story here

Stuff like that always makes me think about my own mortality and how you really can’t sit on your arse and let life pass you by. You could wake up tomorrow with a terminal illness or who knows. There is no guarantee that you are going to live to be an old man. Saying that, at the moment I am still quite happy to lie in my bed till ridiculous hours of the day and sleep like some kind of long term coma patient, only because even if I do get up or plan to do something my arse dictates what I can and can’t do so I rarely ever bother to plan anything and when I do, I have to starve myself for at least a day and a half before and live off of lucozade and redbull. Saying that I went to the dentist today for the first time in two and a half years, because honestly, my teeth have not been high on my list of priorities the last few years. I had my check up expecting to be told I need all sorts of horrendous treatments but all I need is one filling and have to stop drinking fizzy drinks. Hrmmmm I’m not going to make unrealistic goals so I’ll try and cut down instead of outright give up.

Did I mention that as a child I feared the dentist more than the blood sucking, animal murdering, hell spawn paedophile demon that I thought lived under my bed? I mean the most embarrassing time was when I must have been about 11 and I decided I am not going to my next dentist appointment with the dentist from hell whose sole purpose in life was, I thought, to inflict pain and suffering on me like some kind of Nazi POW camp guard. I worked out when our next appointment was and came up with a plan. I would hide in my garden until well after the set appointment time, that way there was no way we could go even if we were late. Now problem number one, my garden is not that large, maybe 15-20 meters long and about 3m wide at its widest. Problem number two was that I didn’t have the balls to actually “run away”. So instead I would put on every single piece of camouflage clothing I owned, face paint, scarves and all (remember, I loved the army) and hide in the small number of bushes we had in our garden at the time.

So the day of the appointment came. The appointment was arranged for around 9.30 let’s say. So I was up at 5am, the crack of dawn because I knew my dad got up early for work and I had to beat him out the door. So I got up, camouflage gear on, face paint on, ready to roll. I could have put a royal marines sniper to shame. I crept downstairs, which in my house is no mean feat due to the lack of carpets and ancient floorboards. I used a spare key to open and lock the back door behind me so as not to raise suspicion through missing back door keys. Now where to hide? I picked the bush that was actually closest to the house as it had the best and thickest cover. It was only about a meter tall, wide and deep. The bush was only about 4 meters from the back door. So I got as deep into the bush as I could, got comfortable and settled in for a long wait evading “the enemy”. About 2 hours passed before the first inkling of enemy activity appeared, my dad opened the back door, looked outside and went back in. I then knew then enemy were on alert and I had raised their suspicions. Half an hour or so later, reinforcements arrive, my mum comes out the back door and actively searches around the garden. I held my breath as she rustled the bush I was in but she missed me and returned to the enemy barracks. During the next hour both brothers came out to look for me and they also didn’t see me despite actually looking in the bush I was in. I was a fucking shit hot commando in my eyes, they had been less than a meter from me and none of them had seen me.

The ultimate test was when my dad, the camp komandant, came out to have one last proper root around the garden. I started to shit myself because he was being fucking thorough. Getting properly into bushes and shouting my name. I thought this was it, I’m fucked and going to be in soooo much trouble. He arrived at my hiding spot and leaned into the bush moved the branches about. My bum hole was now making noises that only dogs and certain varieties of bats could hear. and he looked me dead in my face. That’s it. I’m fucked. But he stood up and walked off, apparently not seeing me. SAS? they didn’t have shit on me! I should have been training THEM for escape and evasion. I exhaled after I realised I was still holding my breath for what was a ridiculous amount of time. I left it another 45 minutes as then it would be midday and well past the appointment and we couldn’t go.

I finally emerged from my hide and now in true commando style walked hysterically crying to the back door realising I was in the shit and this tactic would lull the enemy into a false sense of security and gain their sympathy. I entered the kitchen and into my mum’s arms who was moments away from calling the police apparently. She demanded to know why the fuck I had been hiding in the garden. Through my blubbering tears I told her I didn’t want to go to the dentist because I hated it that much.

“Hold on Hastie, what dentists appointment?”

“The one today at 9.30 that we’ve missed”

“No?! That’s Tomorrow…………”


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