Next steps

          As I mentioned previously I was going to start off with a gentle walk to start to regain my fitness and sense of adventure, this was put off by the warning of a tidal surge and bad weather, however this weekend the weather didn`t look too bad and there was no warning of any tidal surges so I decided to put my delayed plan into action.

today`s equipment

as today`s walk was going to be longer than the previous one I had to take a few more bits and pieces with me.

Asolo Piuma mid boots

Seal Skins waterproof socks

hat and gloves (stored in the yellow dry sack)

spare fleece (stored in the red sack)

water bottle

2 eat natural bars

waterproof trouser and jacket

Osprey flare backpack

          I caught the 9.04 train to Wrabness, it was only a 5 minute train ride so I didn`t really have time to get comfortable, I crossed the tracks and headed down to the foreshore and the Essex way, this would be the route I would be following for today, looking at the map revealed that I had no more than 8 Kilometers to walk and a reasonable pace would see me back home in about 2 hours, I have followed this path before several times and knew what to expect, the first part of this walk followed the shore line very closely and was only barely above sea level.

as you can see being this close to an estuary is not really conclusive to a good day if there`s a tidal surge, 

          after a while the path turns in land and uphill, this being a steady climb along a fairly well maintained track was conquered in no time. Of course Wrabness being its own Parish has its own church, this one is slightly unusual in that it has no tower, this is because it collapsed in the seventeenth century, the bell was moved "temporarily" moved to a bell cage in the grounds 

shortly after this the way turns back into fields and towards the coast, this part of the path follows boundaries between two fields and creates an avenue of trees almost like a hidden path, I have actually walked this part at night and there is a slightly creepy feeling as your not really sure when the avenue is going to end

at the end of this path is a nature reserve right on the edge of estuary which brought the path even closer to the river, fortunately this stretch isn`t very long and I soon turned back inland. Of course being January meant that the fields were little more than mud and I`d soon built up a good layer of the stuff on my boots, as I reached the road into Bradfield my mind started telling me to quit and that it was too hard, I managed to ignore it, the next half kilometer or so was following sealed roads so the going was good and I managed to get rid of most of field off my boots, however it wasn`t long before I was back in the fields and the mud started gathering on the bottom of my boots again

once again my mind started telling me that it was too hard and that I should just give up, at which point this quote came to mind.

I`d made it 6 kilometers why couldn`t I make it the next 2? anyway with my mind dealt with I carried on, the way got steadily easier as i got further away from the river, I started reflecting on the walk and how much I had actually enjoyed it, ok it was cold and the wind was high but I was beginning to feel that call again, 2 hours in the "wilderness" and I could feel my old self coming back, then in the distance I saw the wood that marked the end of the trail for me.

yes at this point I was tired and suffering sore feet but I knew it was all for a good cause. 

with boots drying and equipment put away I turned my attention to the next thing I could do, waiting for my attention was a leaflet from St Helena`s hospice detailing a number of charity walks coming up this year.....

total distance walked: 8km

total time: 2 (and a bit) hours

number of people with me: 0

Fighting back: baby steps

          As I mentioned in the first blog, the reason I am writing these is to chart the progress of the return to my adventurous spirit, as it has been quite a few years since I have done anything adventurous I knew I would have to start small to regain my fitness without pushing myself to the point where I would likely give up. I had originally planned to walk from where I live to Wrabness train station, not a long walk by any means but long enough, the walk would have seen me use the Essex way, the part I had intended to use however runs along the shoreline of the river Stour and local weather and flood alerts meant that it would probably not be such a good idea, so I had to change my route to a much more local one.

Today`s equipment

As this was going to be a short walk I didn`t want to overburden myself with things I really didn`t need.

so all I took was my Osprey Flare 25 rucksack

Montane waterproof jacket and trousers

Mountain Hardwear gloves

Windstopper neck gaiter 

Asolo Piuma Mid boots

and Seal Skins waterproof sock (the boots aren`t waterproof)

I started out just before 10 am and started down the hill towards the maltings in bright sunshine, 

Although the Victorian buildings have been replaced with much more efficient methods of malting barley, it is said that the Victorian method produces a much better flavor, from a personal point of view the smell from the Victorian is far more evocative than the modern building.

          At the bottom of the hill are two local landmarks, the swan fountain and the Thorn, with the weather being as it was the swan wasn`t working today, normally water comes from the beak

opposite the swan and with a far more interesting history is the Thorn, this was once owned by the self appointed "Witchfinder General" Matthew Hopkins, who used to regularly use the basement to imprison and torture those women accused of witchcraft before sending them for execution.

slightly further on from here is the Mistley towers, these were once part of a church until the centre portion was condemned and pulled down, the church itself was replaced by St Mary`s and St Michael further up the road.

          From here I turned towards St Mary`s and up the very gradual incline, by this point my back was hurting and my hips were straining but I ignored it and carried on and I`m glad I did as I got to the top of the hill it was like my body suddenly realized that it remembered what it was doing, the pain went and I felt my pace increase, oxygen was flowing and I was starting to feel good about the day. I turned onto Green lane feeling much better and started letting my legs carry me at a pace I knew suited them.

being an un-tarmacked road meant that there were puddles everywhere, with water in them, water that had frozen over, I couldn`t help myself and let the kid in me break the ice on the surface , watching the ice crack underfoot. one last obstacle lay before me, a steep but short climb uphill before the gentle run back home.

total distance walked: 4 km

total time:45 mins

number of people with me: 0

What caused my depression, part two

At the end of the last blog I had flown away to Australia to continue my career in outdoor education, a year later I was back....well not quite, because I had arranged to stay with my parents when I first came back from Australia I had to meet up with them in Holland, reuniting with my parents was a bittersweet one, once again I was told that it wasn`t good enough that I was back and that I should still be out there (I had to come back as my visa ran out and no company could afford at the time to sponsor me)
            When we finally got home I was informed by my father that he was going to start the process for claiming benefits in my name (which he would keep for himself) and that I was to agree with everything that he was writing or else, the fact that he lied on pretty much every part of the form and I felt that I had no way to disagree with him left me feeling trapped, after all this was the man who knew everything (despite being wrong half the time, which again I was not allowed to challenge him on) and did what he though was best for me, including scrutinising and nitpicking every one of my friends to the point that I felt I couldn`t even talk to them, I was becoming more and more trapped and isolated, the control over me was growing bigger until he started asking for my bank cards and PIN numbers, he didn`t like it when I said no and refused, I went to the bank for advice on this matter and they suggested that if he insisted that I give them to him and report them stolen, it didn`t though thankfully and I managed to keep hold of my cards,
          Eventually the benefits people came back to us requesting an interview with myself and my parents, I was told not to speak to the interviewer or to only answer yes and no questions and to not jeopardise the process, so like a good little boy (I was 26 at the time!) I sat there and said nothing, a few weeks later a letter came through saying that the claim had been rejected and to essentially not try again, as you can imagine that went down like a lead balloon with my father, I was accused of saying something to the benefits office, of contacting them somehow, sending a letter, calling them, anything to put the blame on me for his fraudulent claim being found out.
          His foul mood didn`t change at all for weeks, I had "denied him money" I started fearing for my safety and decided to move away but where and how? I was talking on the phone to my Gran explaining what was happening at home when she said that I could move in with her, I leapt at the chance and it just so happened that their was a outdoor education vacancy near where she lived, which would make the perfect excuse to go, I packed my stuff into my car and started the process of moving, I couldn`t take everything and had to leave most of it behind which by now has either been sold or destroyed (this was in 2009), I finally felt free of him.
          The first year living with my Gran was great, I finally had freedom, although I didn`t use it that much because of the respect I had for her, in March of 2010 I started a new job at a sort of outdoor centre, as the summer came on and work picked up I decided to move my caravan across to save me from having to drive 50 miles everyday, this ended up being a mixed bag of good and bad, good in that I had a little bit of independence bad in that even though I was only a few minutes from where I worked, friends still didn`t visit me regularly and once again I became isolated and lonely.
          In September of 2010 Gran had a stoke, thankfully I was home at the time and managed to get her to the hospital fairly quickly, the stroke still affects her to this day, the left side of her body is significantly weaker than her right, although that is also partly down to the fact that she won`t use the left side of her body in particular her left arm/hand and so it is slowly deteriorating , despite me constantly nagging her to use it when she can!
          At this point my mother and my uncle stepped in, they told me I couldn`t stay in the house while gran was in hospital and that I had to go and live in the caravan, because of the shock of seeing Gran in a stroke I stupidly agreed, that winter was one of the coldest I`d known and I was regularly frozen into my caravan, no literally frozen in, moisture formed around the door and then froze in the cold temperatures, Gran spent until early December in hospital and had carers come to the house every day for a couple of months afterwards. After Christmas was out of the way a "family meeting" was called to discuss what was to happen with Gran, my Mother and Uncle were pushing for us to sell the house and put her in a home, the rest of the family, myself, Gran`s three sisters and (one) brother said no, the majority won and both my Uncle and Mother backed down but they insisted on having control of Gran`s finances, nobody had a problem with this, I was still working at the "outdoor centre" and went back there for intermittent work that I could get.
          Things at the outdoor centre started getting beyond a joke for me, corners were being cut everywhere and the boss didn`t really seem to care as long as the money was coming in, along with myself there were several other qualified and experienced outdoor instructors at the site but our concerns about safety were constantly dismissed and all because the bosses husband had been in charge of an outdoor centre in the past, this was true but that centre was a water sports centre and this one was a high ropes centre, 2 completely disciplines when it came to safety, at one point the staff burned a harness that was so frayed and damaged that it was dangerous, yet before this the boss insisted on keeping it in rotation by cutting the frays off and hammering the buckles back into shape! with the constant undermining from both the management and most (but not all) of the staff I finally had enough and quit.
          I left and came home, Gran seemed to be slowly getting better over time, every week my Mother would come across and give her a weekly "allowance" for shopping and such, although there never seemed to be anything in the cupboards or fridge, I found out that this was because Gran`s allowance was £30, my Mother was trying to exert control over my Gran for what reason I still don`t know, it took the threat of all the family to get my Mother to give up control of Gran`s bank card and even then she did begrudgingly.
          I started caring for Gran full time from then on and once again became isolated from everyone, only Gran`s friends came to see her and if any family came across and spoke to me it was to criticise what I was doing "can`t you keep the house clean? can`t you find something proper to cook, why is the kitchen a mess? (this was after someone found 1 mug in the bowl) you should be spending two hours a day cleaning the house" I got (and still get) very little help or support from family, I was, to them at least, nothing but a servant for my Gran.
          2012 came along and with it  hip replacement for Gran, at last I had a few days off from looking after her, she would be in hospital for a week or so, at this point I had also found myself a part time job in the local town so I had a small income to supplement the money I was getting from the government for looking after Gran. Gran came home and for the first couple of weeks I was busier than ever looking after her as she was obviously week on her leg, I didn`t mind though each day she got stronger and more steady on her legs.
        2012 also saw a new venture for me as I started my own business and as such was off trying to drum up business for myself, one of these days I went off to a local business fair full of other local businesses, when I came home I had a nasty shock, Gran was on the floor of the bathroom, she had slipped coming out of the shower and had broken her arm, after the trip to hospital for setting and plastering came the inevitable third degree from the family, "where were you?" "why didn`t you take care of her?" "why did she go for a shower?" "how long did it take to get to hospital?" the fact that Gran deciding to have a shower was nothing to do with me didn`t seem to enter their minds, it wouldn`t be the last time Gran slipped out of the shower either and more incidents would follow.
          Between 2012 and 2014 Gran dislocated her artificial hip a total of 6 times resulting in stays at hospital for between a week and 24 hours and each time I got the third degree and the same questions as if I could prevent her from dislocating it. slowly the questions started turning towards my suitability and state of mind for looking after Gran and my Mother took great pleasure in trying to convince everyone that I was popping Gran`s hip out myself, fortunately no one believed her, but still no one asked how I was, no one asked if I needed help I was just left to cope on my own whilst fending off accusations of neglect, abuse and theft, the person I was neglecting most at the time was myself, the only thing being abused was caffeine and the only thing I was robbing was my sleep state, I was growing more and more unhappy with each day, I`d been here now for five years and things were slowly starting to get to me, 2014 would end up being the year from hell for me.
          After the forth or fifth time of Gran dislocating her hip the question started being asked again, should we put her into a home and sell the house? the resolute answer was no but it would be one that persisted throughout the year. October 2014 was Gran`s 75th birthday and I was determined to do something memorable for her, so I took her for tea at the Ritz, no expense spared, 1st class train ticket there and back, taxi`s to and from the train stations, in the end the day cost me nearly £300 but it didn`t matter to me but still I got the third degree, "where did the money come from?" I`d saved it from my wages, "how did you afford first class train tickets?" I bought them three months in advance when they were £40 each, I couldn`t do something nice without being accused.
          At this point I must backtrack a little bit to June as this puts the "year of hell" into a more appropriate context, whilst I was doing a charity walk between London and Brighton, which I didn`t complete (not good enough, not good enough) I found out that my stepmother was pregnant, I must say at the time I was a little surprised but not overly fussed, my parents didn`t have much to do with me or I them, anyway fast forward back to October and when we got home from the Ritz there was a letter waiting for me from my step mum, she had lost the baby in August, of course I felt upset for her after all I had just found out that I had lost my sister, then 2 weeks later Gran fell down the stairs and broke her leg putting her back in hospital where she would stay for 6 months, my Mother once again tried convincing the family that I had pushed Gran down the stairs, again thankfully the family didn`t buy it, but once again questions were asked about my suitability, putting Gran in a home and what the hell was she doing climbing stairs in the first place? then two days after Gran as admitted to hospital a friend of mine just dropped dead in the street outside her house, she was only 25, what made this worse for me was that for weeks before she had been telling me she thought she was going to die and I had reassured her that she still had at least sixty years left , the guilt was unbearable, two deaths and the pressure of looking after Gran was starting to tell, it was at this point that the voices in my head started.
          For the next six months I was physically on my own, no one came to see me, suicide crossed my mind, after all what had I to live for? what had I done with my life. (at this point.....Gotten 5 GCSE`s, an AVCE, a University Degree, Duke of Edinburgh Bronze Award, Mountain Leader Summer Award, Single Pitch Award [climbing qualification], Archery leader award, Fencing leader award, Orienteering award, Australian Bushwalk Award, Australian Canoe Award, Australian Cycling Award, Australian High Ropes Award, Wilderness first aid, Advanced Wilderness First Aid, Been to France, Spain, Denmark, Belgium, Holland, Czech Republic, Morocco, USA, Australia [and technically Thailand although I don`t count that as it was a over night layover] learnt to drive, learnt to ride motorbikes, learnt to drive with a trailer [its a separate licence to tow a trailer in the UK] and had knowledge of so many other things but no I`d done nothing) and well if you`ve read the first part of this blog you`ll know what happened next.
          So that`s it, the past, hopefully you`ll understand why I slipped into the deep depression I did and why its taken me so long to start fighting back but fight back I will, with the help and support I get now (although still not from family!) this is a fight I`m determined to win.

What caused my depression, part one

       

          As I stated in my previous blog I have had depression most if not all my adult life and to some extent my childhood, it is kind of a typical story, parents always seemed to be arguing and fighting about everything ad then divorced when I was 11, I stayed with my mother which was a mistake, she wasn`t exactly an outwardly loving mother, either because she didn`t want to or didn`t know how to, meals consisted of the same thing every night, pie, mash and green beans, I had to be home from school no later 3.15 in the afternoon and if wanted to go out afterwards there was no chance.
           Because she no longer had my father to argue with she turned on me, every little thing was annoying to her and would cause an argument which being the age I was I couldn`t exactly win, then the unfair punishments started, ask a question she couldn`t answer "go to your room", ask for help with something "go away and find someone else", late home from school by a minute "no dinner" or worst of interrupt her TV program have my Lego taken off of me and/or the fuse removed from my radio and then when I got one TV too, after a while that became her favorite and go to punishment, I`m not saying I was the perfect child far from it but you do start wondering what the hell is going on at times, 2 punishments in particular stand out, one of them well not exactly a punishment because it didn`t actually happen was enough for me to finally leave and live with my father.
            one day at primary school I lost my house keys, to most people this would have been a "oh well, it happens lets go and have another one cut" not to my mother, me loosing the house key led to a massive argument about my lack of responsibility, I was 11, how she would be forced to change the locks because of robbers, because robbers would find the key and know exactly which house in a 500 house estate it had come from, and that I would have to search the field every day after school until I found the key and I would only be getting beans on toast for dinner until I found them (which I never did).
I can`t remember the cause if the second punishment which goes to show how trivial a matter it was, however the outcome was that my mother was going to throw my pet hamster out of the window and if it survived drown it in the toilet, I managed to get to my room before my mother and jammed the door shut, she called my father screaming down the phone at him to come and get me, that night I moved across to live my father and his partner who would later become my step mother.
          living with my Father was in some ways worse than my Mother, he`d destroy my confidence in subtle ways and over a long period of time, about 15 years or so, I was diagnosed in my early teens as having Aspergers syndrome, which is a form of Autism, something widely known about now but not really back then, my step mum told her brother who went to same school as me at the same time thinking he would keep an eye out for me, unfortunately for her it didn`t work out like that and when her brother told everyone at school, the bullying I was already suffering became infinitely worse, I was a drug taker because I ate "hash burgers" or only ate burned food such as "ash burgers", I`d go home to find parents that didn`t understand what I was going through or would say "tell the teachers" but what could the teachers do?
           then the confidence breaking started, being a teenager I had arguments with my parents, what teenager doesn`t? I started being accused of things I didn`t do or if I had done some thing being told it wasn`t good enough, it was never good enough, school work not good enough, home work not good enough, anything outside school not good enough, a prime example of this was maths coursework, at the time the highest mark any student could achieve was 99% this was because the theory went that 100% meant that the work was perfect and no more could be done to it, however if another examiner found that something more COULD be done to it then it was not perfect and therefore didn`t deserve full marks, every student knew and understood this, when I tried explaining this to my father he wouldn`t or couldn`t except it and said I was making it up for the abysmal 94% I`d got.
          The school I attended ran the Duke of Edinburgh award scheme, something which I was more than keen to join, on my 14th birthday I put in for the book and all the documentation required, within 8 months I had completed bronze and was looking forward to silver, the rules at the time stated that I couldn`t apply for the silver stage of the scheme until I was 15, once again this led to an argument with my father,
          "you`re just making excuses for not doing it now",
          "how can I be when the rule book says 15?"
          "doesn`t mean you cant put the paperwork forward now"
          "I`ve spoken to the coordinator and even he has said no"
          "well what does he know"
          "he`s the coordinator, I think he knows what he`s taking about"
as you can imagine this didn`t go down too well and I ended up with a few bruises on my body, not for the last time.
          I eventually gave up the Duke of Edinburgh as my GCSE`s took priority, first came my predicted grades 5B`s 5C`s
          "is that it? why aren`t you getting A`s?"
          "they`re predicted grades, not actual grades"
          "predicted, so a guess then?"
          "yes"
          "so you should get higher?"
          "I don`t know"
          "well you`d better"
mock tests came back as 5C`s 5D`s
          "why the f*ck have your grades gone down? you had B`s 6 months ago, its because of those people you hang around with isn`t it? you think being dumb is popular so thats why you`ve dropped your grades on purpose to fit in" this wasn`t the first or last time he made up stuff about me that he then convinced himself was true and no matter what I said or did it wasn`t good enough, the phrase "not good enough" was to haunt me for a very long time and still to a small amount does (Atelophobia)
          my final grades were eventually C`s and D`s which was enough to get me into further education, again this wasn`t "good enough" as I should have been I higher graded student, obviously the work got harder but I managed to maintain my grades and even at one point improved to a B- average, however "not good enough", what didn`t help was around this time the government were messing around with further education courses, I`d started out on a GNVQ course, which changed to A levels, then Advanced studies, then A2`s, then NVQ`s, then VCE`s....I eventually left with an AVCE, the only person in the class to have one, the rest of the class has a mixture of the above, it was enough to apply for university, I had to choose between 5, my first choice said no, but that didn`t bother me as they rejected virtually everyone that applied, the second and third were happy to accept me, my forth choice was also happy to accept me however I didn`t feel I would get the best from that one and the fifth wasn`t entertained in the end.
          University, I gotten further in terms of education than any of my branch of my family had before,
          "not good enough, why didn`t you get your first choice?"
          "because they only have 12 places so they can afford to be very very picky"
          "its because your grades weren`t good enough"
          "this coming from someone who didn`t leave school with one `O` level?"
because of his jealousy he decided to interfere with my university application, the uni was also a college for under 18`s and had accommodation for them, while I was filling out the forms he got hold of the form asking if I would require "supervised accommodation" or "unsupervised accommodation" he filled in supervised, which when I got there meant I was separated from everyone else on my course and so ended up alone most of the time, even worse the accommodation block was across from the student bar do for the first few weeks I couldn`t even get a drink!
          University was not as easy for myself as everyone else, I had to find my own way through everything, others got their loans and went out spending it on brand new equipment, mine went on rent and fees, others went out playing all the time (this was the Lake District after all) and I was forgotten about, left alone in my room with no one to talk to began to upset me, uni life got worse, one day I was told to report to student services, when I got there I was told that workmen had discovered "drugs" in my room and that my place on the course was about to be terminated, the "drugs" that had been found were antidepressants, primarily to help tackle my Aspergers, these tablets were in a blister pack in a box with my name and daily dosage, my doctors name, the pharmacists address and issued in a standard NHS paper bag.....but no I was taking illicit drugs, this not only made me angry but made me question the university intelligence, eventually this was sorted out but I`m still waiting for the apology from the university (side note, I wont get it as the uni merged and no longer exists as its own entity), this was compounded by the fact that lecturers lost my work, my dyslexia wasn`t "discovered" until the last term of the last year, despite having told the uni from the very beginning I was dyslexic, with everything that went on at that place I was surprised I managed to leave with a degree but I did.
         During my time at uni I`d managed to get myself a girlfriend, everyone was happy for me....actually no one was, my father`s response "you could have done better" my mother....said nothing, her mother...didn`t exactly like me, the 2 years I was with her I was actually happy, I`d not only got myself a girlfriend but I was in a job I enjoyed, ok it was only for the summer but you can`t have everything. inevitably we broke up, I did and still do blame myself for this although I don`t exactly know why,
          I left Cumbria and have as yet to return there, I moved back home for what I thought would be a temporary amount of time, straight back into the clutches of my father who once again took great joy in belittling me every chance he got, "university educated and cant get a job, can`t move out, can`t cook, can`t do anything but sit on your fat lazy arse" every time i felt i achieved something it was put down, learning to tow a trailer "not good enough, you skidded" climbing my first severe grade climb "not good enough I was on HVS (hard very severe) by the time I was your age" when I finally did get a job it was a part time one and that was only because they didn`t have any full time positions going at the time, even though I was part time I was doing 4 days a week, the maximum that any part timer could do at that job "not good enough" I gained qualifications including expert boot fitter, winter boot fitter, Gore-Tex consultant, and ended up being trusted with presenting to audiences about the equipment they would need for expeditions away, "not good enough"  always "not good enough"
          One day I saw an advert on the Internet advertising for instructors in Australia, I thought what the hell I`ll try, I probably wont get it but I`ll try anyway, I didn`t tell my parents because they would ridicule me straight away for even trying, I got the email back......they wanted to telephone interview me! we arranged date and time, which worked out about 7 am UK time, I had to tell them now, my Father looked for something to use against me, anything, the only thing he could come up with was "they probably won`t take you, you know" I dismissed it and waited for the phone call.
          the next three months was all about gearing up to get me out to Australia, for once my father seemed happy for me even going so far as to offer help and advice, yes there was an ulterior motive but I didn`t find out until later. so here I was about to start a new adventure the other side of the world would I finally be happy.......

to be continued.
     

Welcome

Hello and welcome to the first of what I hope will be a series of blogs, first a little background information about myself.
          I`m Brad and at the time of writing I`m 33 years old and I suffer from depression, I wont go into the reasons why I started to suffer from depression and anxiety but i will go into how its affected me.
          I suppose I`ve been suffering from depression my whole adult life, this came to a head in October 2014 when I was briefly admitted to hospital suffering from a panic attack, although the nurses were wonderful and quickly identified it as a panic attack, the doctors not so much, they actually thought I was faking!
          The events leading up to this attack left me broken, I became like a zombie, same thing every day, I stopped talking to work colleagues, friends, everyone I knew, when I did try talking to people I essentially got the response "don`t be stupid, men can`t get depression" or the things that really REALLY shouldn`t say to someone with depression, my self worth plummeted, I started hearing voices (little side note here, when I finally did go to the doctor he was relieved that the voice was my own as it was a sign of depression and not something worse) suicidal thoughts became a daily occurrence, not helped by the voice encouraging me and the fact that everyone else i knew was doing far better than I was, starting new relationships, moving into their own houses, getting much better jobs and yet here I was university educated, experienced, world traveled man unable to find anything more than a crappy minimum wage job that I hated.
          One night in late January 2015 I decided I`d had enough, I left a note and detailed who I wanted to have the things I`d left behind, I had decided to throw myself off of Beachy Head, a kind of poetic justice, a person who enjoys climbing found dead at the bottom of a cliff, if they found me at all, my car however had no petrol in it, not a problem I thought, there`s a petrol station not far from where I live, first of all though I needed to check how much money I had in my bank...the screen flashed up £18.15, i had to laugh at the irony, my shitty crappy job had inadvertently saved my life, I didn`t have the money to get to Beachy head, I turned around and went home, I was such a failure I couldn`t even kill myself properly!
          2015 was hard for me, I lost friends, lost hope, lost myself, I became a walking shell, I stopped doing the things I loved, hiking, rock climbing, canoeing, just generally being outdoors, naturally I put on weight and lost fitness, something else for the voices to feed on, in the end my day consisted of;

Wake up (if I`d slept) voices saying "your fat, your poor, your useless, you`ll never have a girlfriend, you`ll never own a house, you`ll be homeless soon"

Drive to work with the voices "fat, useless, poor, bald, ugly and homeless"

Go through the working day, here at least I got a reprieve as I needed to concentrate on what I was doing

Drive home, voice still going

cook dinner, voice still going

eat half of it, voice still going

          I never had a break from them, what didn`t help was in early 2015 I had nothing but trigger after trigger after trigger, this made my depression so much worse, I tried exercise to help but at this point I was so unfit that I could barely walk around the local field, as you can imagine the voice had a field day with that! I`d hit rock bottom, I`d started drinking heavily...for me, one bottle of wine every two weeks may not seem much but I am a person who buys a six pack every two to three months or so and makes it last six days, so make of that what you will.
          2015 was also the year that I began to seek help with not so gentle persuasion from my friends, 2015 became 2016 I hadn`t noticed any significance improvement, sure I had the voices under control but what about the rest of me? I still held the crippling beliefs about myself, my adventurous spirit was gone, I used to think nothing of packing my bag and going for a long walk, signing up for a charity walk somewhere or calling a friend and saying lets go climbing here or there, now it was just a struggle to get out of bed and go ten miles down the road!
          So why am I writing these blog? 2 reasons, to prove to myself that I can do things and secondly and perhaps more importantly to document me recapturing my adventurous side, I`ve been out of these activities for nearly three years now so it will be slow progress and I`m not expecting to be as good as I was before straight away but I am determined to get back to what I truly love doing.