Monthly Musings: December 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Content Consumption 2012

Those of you who know me well enough already know that 2012 has been a big year for me. It's involved overcoming the deaths of a close friend, Anthony Mansell, and my brother in law, Ricky Lewis. It's involved overcoming a bad cocaine addiction, and finally getting my finances in order. I started back the gym in August, and began taking better care of my health again. I've changed jobs to be an I.T. Technician and website developer as opposed to a call centre slave. I've cut away a fuckload of dead wood, burned bridges with wankers and learned the value of true friendships. I've got my creativity back, and recorded almost 100 songs in the last 12 months.

And most notably of all, I became a Daddy to a beautiful daughter, Ilysha Jade ♥ - I can finally say now, that after battling through so much drama, grief and heartbreak, I am looking forward to 2013 and whatever it brings.

I've come too far and overcome too many obstacles for this next year to not be easier. So thank you to all of those who stuck by me through all the shit I've fought through, and fuck you to all those who didn't.

Here's to 2013, let's make it a fucking good one!

Samaritans #6

My current emotional instability isn't my Godson's fault so I try to shelter him from any negative energy; it isn't fair for him to be subjected to a fragmented Xmas experience with me being depressed in his presence.

Regarding the gym, it's something for me to focus on that isn't detrimental - it's naturally better for me than drinking/abusing drugs. I see the gym as a way to keep in shape, to spend quality time with my brother and also as a social experience as I know quite a lot of people who go there. I usually play football on Thurs nights too, but due to the weather it's been cancelled a lot lately. I keep myself busy, I work through the week etc, so I can't really accommodate frequenting the gym anymore than I already do.

I'm feeling a lot better just from getting stuff off my chest talking with yourselves, you truly are a blessing in these times.

__________________________

You are obviously making a great effort over Christmas for the sake of your Godson at some cost to yourself and the way you are feeling at the moment.I hope it proves to be a reasonable time for you.

Your time spent at the gym seems to be a very positive experience all round.Your determination to grapple with all your many issues is admirable.

We are here if you need us at this difficult time.

Jo

Anotha B: Something More

Samaritans #5

To date I haven't self harmed besides perhaps venting frustration at inanimate objects at times, and subsequently injuring my hands in the process; I've never been a "cutter", and I don't anticipate that I would disfigure myself in such a way that would beckon explanations in due course; how would I ever explain to my daughter that Daddy maimed himself as a coping mechanism? That would not be a positive example to set for my child whatsoever. My music is sufficient for channeling my darkest thoughts, which are then shared with online forums where I can discuss the content and lyrical influences with strangers, behind the anonymity of a moniker.

You are correct regarding Christmas, I've reluctantly decorated my home albeit sparsely, only for the benefit of my Godson. He is too young to comprehend why I would elect to overlook the festivities, since everything is still magical during those years of naivety and innocence. I intend to spend much of Christmas, including the 25th with my Mother at her residence, in hopes this can at least serve to distract me to some extent, however I remain doubtful and pessimistic. I am declining the invitations to go out celebrating, for I feel I have nothing to celebrate; given my state of mind, I don't feel comfortable with drinking through fear of the consequences. I'm aware that alcohol is a depressant, and the last thing I need to compete with when I'm already depressed is lowered inhibitions and the potential to act irresponsibly as a result, be that relapsing or misdirected aggression/violence.

__________________________

We are pleased that you are making an effort on behalf of your godson, this Christmas.

Although it will be difficult for you not being with your daughter, hopefully you can put a lot of effort into making your godson's Christmas memorable for him.

In an earlier email you state that you enjoy going to the gym with your brother. Is this something that helps you to let off steam and cope with your pent up frustration? Is it possible for you to do more physical activity, either at the gym or just jogging, with or without your brother?

Remember that we are here for you whilst you need our support.

Jo

Samaritans #4

I write and record music; I pour all my darkest and truest thoughts into it and at least that way I can process them to some extent. My daughter means too much for me to ever jeopardise losing her over rash emotional actions; violence is not becoming of me, and as much as I may fantasize about revenge, I know deep down that it will not bring me any happiness in the long term. The only way I can find inner peace and happiness is by fighting for my daughter the approved way, through legal channels. I am more likely to self harm behind closed doors than I am to reveal my anger in public - secretly harming myself will not hinder my court proceedings, even if publicised it would not be as much of an issue as acting on violent fantasies.

I have a close relationship with my Godson, my sister and one of my brothers also with whom I go the gym 3x a week. I manage to maintain a level head in company and to focus on the endgame, it's purely in solitude where I dwell and over think, allowing myself to get caught up in an emotional whirlpool which then consumes me. I live alone, and due to my drug debts and solicitor costs I don't have the financial capacity to accommodate a social lifestyle that would keep me occupied for greater periods of time than at present, meaning there are frequent long periods where I am alone with my thoughts.

I am already aware Christmas will be a very difficult time, since it's my daughters first, and it is a unique occasion that I can never get the chance to repeat - yet through no fault of my own, I'm excluded. If it wasn't for my Godson, I would likely shut myself away for the duration and have no active involvement in any festivities. I am incapable of complete enjoyment at present, nothing I do can ever bring me true happiness because I forever have the knowledge of my daughters absence preying on my conscience.

__________________________

Thank you for sharing your feelings with us. It sounds as if you are managing to channel your darkest thoughts into your music. You mention that you self harm.

Are you able to talk about this a little more?

You mention that if it were not for your godson, you would not be getting involved in any of the Christmas festivities. Would I be right in guessing that you will be putting on a brave face for his sake, and joining in the celebrations with him, your mum and her partner?

Do keep in touch for as long as you find it is helping to talk with us.

Jo

Samaritans #3

I don't frequently feel suicidal, it crosses my mind occasionally albeit briefly. I only view it as a means to an end when I allow myself to get emotionally run down, but I can usually shake the thoughts after a short while because I focus on my Godson and my other family, especially my sister - I couldn't bare to be responsible for hurting them with bereavement and grieving.

It's hardest knowing that this is my daughters first Christmas, and I'm not going to get to spend it with her. This feeling of helplessness is what makes me emotionally weak. I either get depressed and can't sleep/eat/concentrate, or I get excessively angry with the Mother who I hold solely responsible for the fact I am being prevented access. I must stress however, I have never publicised my anger, I do not show any sign of aggression or resentment towards the Mother besides behind closed doors to myself. I hate how she is making me feel, I have never wished death on anyone, or brought harm to anybody, but at present my honest thought is that I wish she had died in labour. I wish the Mother of my child wasn't here to stop me seeing my daughter.

Closure would help, but there is no justification for what she is putting me through; if I was still abusing drugs or if I was violent or irresponsible then I could at least see a little method in the madness. As it stands, I have changed everything to be there for my daughter, and yet here I am facing a future of uncertainty and doubt with the potential of not ever knowing my own child.

__________________________

It's good to hear that you are managing to control your occasional suicidal thoughts. It sounds as though your relationship with your Godson and with your sister helps to see you through the dark times.

You say that you only show your anger behind closed doors to yourself. What is your release for this? Do you feel you will be able to continue to control it this way?

We understand that Christmas might be difficult for you. You can continue to email us if you need to. We'll be here.

Jo

Samaritans #2

I'm glad you can empathise, it's hard discussing my deepest darkest thoughts and experiences with those close, I don't get a genuine unbiased response - I feel like every reply is sugar coated because those I trust enough to divulge too are the people who I hold dearest. At the same time I don't feel comfortable burdening them with my concerns, it's not fair to give them something else to worry about.

I considered speaking to a counselor but dismissed the idea because I feel it would serve to work against me in trying to secure access to my child; almost as though if I'm really as depressed as I feel, then nobody would feel comfortable leaving me with a child if that makes sense?

The suicide thing works both ways; on one hand it has shown how easy it would be to just exit stage left, to finally just close the door on everything and escape from all the drama. On the other hand I have always been close to my family, I have a lot of siblings who mean the world to me, and especially after seeing my sister suffer following the loss of her husband, I couldn't bare to be responsible for putting her through that again. I also have a 3yr old Godson who is being raised with my Mum and her partner who is also female, and I see him twice a week; he idolises me, I'm like the Father he doesn't have. A long story short, he suffered neglect and Social Services awarded my Mum full custody through court, my Godson has nothing to do with his biological parents so I feel an obligation to be a strong male role model for him. I feel like I am letting him down constantly and failing him massively by being so depressed and withdrawn.

I hold down a good job as a Computer Technician and a Website Developer, well paid and local to my residence which serves to help me as an escape for a while since it's very hands on and engaging which keeps me occupied. Given my drugs history, I opted to ostracise myself socially from the majority of my peers since they embrace the very lifestyle I am now avoiding. Unfortunately, with cutting off so many friends, I am left with only a handful, none of who can relate to what I've been through since they've not been there to witness it - this puts me in a catch 22, because the only people I can turn too in reality are those I know I need to steer clear of for my own good.

The nightmares are sickening, but worse than the graphicness of the recall, is how justified they seem? I begin to almost believe that any subsequent actions on my behalf could be considered reasonable given my circumstances? That's what scares me most; the fear that I don't have control, the fear that someday when I'm feeling significantly weak and provoked, that I may act on what I almost romanticise in my vividest dreams. It is a constant battle to keep up my mask, bottle up my emotions, and convince the world that behind my broken smile isn't a monster who is falling apart at the seams.

__________________________

Your situation must be very difficult to work through. It is good to know that there is your Godson around and that you relate well to each other.

It may need more time before you feel comfortable to open up to some of your friends. Then you could find a greater degree of support from them, and strength through them.

Are you feeling suicidal right now?

This is a safe place to explore your feelings in confidence.

We are not here to judge you.

Jo

Samaritans #1

 I'm a 25yr old male, and in short, I feel like just giving up.

I was with my ex-fiance for 4yrs, we got engaged 3yrs in - during this time she cheated on me repeatedly although I never found out until afterwards. We had a heated breakup during which her sister slit her own wrist no more than half a metre in front of my face, and my ex ran me over in a car I'd bought her as a gift previously. I discovered she'd slept with my best friend, and a couple of days after we separated, she and him became an item. I struggled to cope with this and became a regular marijuana user, and a heavy drinker, simply to subdue everything and to fill the empty void my ex had once filled.

02/08/11 a close friend of mine committed suicide, leaving behind his 2 children, a daughter and a son whom I'd seen raised from birth. The reason for his suicide was due to lack of access to his children, although he never openly admitted it during life, it was documented in the letter he left behind. The bereavement hit me really hard and I turned to cocaine to suppress everything. I was beginning to come to terms with this loss, when on 07/10/11 a girl I had once been very close and intimate with died off an epileptic fit in her bath, leaving behind her 6 children. This again hit me hard, leaving me relying on the cocaine to cope. Just when I thought it was all done and I could start picking up the pieces of my life, my brother in law committed suicide on 10/11/11 leaving behind his 2 children from his previous relationship prior to being married to my sister. During this period I amassed a £16,000 debt from cocaine, something that I will be paying back for a very long time.

I got back in touch with a girl I had always been close during this period and she helped me to fight back the darkness. I quit the drug abuse and focused on getting my life back on track; she was aware of everything, the loss, the drugs, my insecurities. She split up with me at the end of January saying she wasn't ready for a relationship. Ironically a week later she told me that she was pregnant.

For the duration of the pregnancy I focused on trying to better myself, to be the best Father I could for my child, even contributing financially throughout the second and third trimesters. I'd always sworn to never fail as a parent. The Mother pushed me away during the pregnancy, refused to let me attend scans, then never advised msyelf she was in labour knowing how much I wanted to cut the umbilical cord. This hurt me a lot. We had been amicable during the third trimester of the pregnancy after a few heated debates prior to that regarding access, and due to my own Mother questioning the child's paternity since myself and the Mother separated a week prior to discovering she was pregnant and we hadn't been settled for a couple of weeks before the separation.

Following the birth of my daughter on 18/10/12 the Mother delighted in telling me that I would be allowed a mere 1hr access a week, which would be supervised by her immediate family at her Mother's address and my own family would not be allowed to meet my child. She followed this up by leaving me off the birth certificate with a smug smile, and telling me I had no rights as a result. She attempted to threaten me out of court action saying I would not have a leg to stand on given my drugs history. I was not satisfied with this and sought legal advice, who advised me that they would write to my ex in order to arrange mediation, and if applicable court proceedings to resolve this. My ex became enraged upon receiving the letter from my solicitors, her own Mother verbally abused me calling me a sperm donor, and even threatened to assault me, before demanding I leave her house and never return. I was also informed that I would no longer be allowed to see my daughter whatsoever until the court forced otherwise. That was 3wks ago.

I struggle to sleep, feel constantly depressed, and can't concentrate. I've had nightmares where I've murdered the Mother of my child, and nightmares where I've committed suicide leaving behind notes blaming the Mother. I feel like I'm sinking into a really dark place from which there is no escape. I have fought tooth and nail to overcome everything, to come to terms with the loss of 3 people, to get through my drug problems, and now I feel it's worth was naught, because despite everything, I'm still crying myself to sleep at night. I know that deep down I will win the court proceedings, but everything I read or hear indicates this will be a very lengthy and drawn out process, during which I cannot see my daughter, and it breaks my heart too pieces every waking minute of every day. All articles online also advise that Mothers frequently breach court orders for access, because courts do not like enforcing punishments as the child is directly affected if the Mother is imprisoned or fined.

I feel like all that I do is pointless, that pushing through and paying for court will ultimately serve to be pointless, and that the rest of my life will be a constant battle to keep my daughter in my life whilst the Mother just willfully attempts to prevent it. The Mother will poison my child against me, and through no fault of my own, I'll have to live with a huge chasm in my life where my daughter should be.

I really don't know what to do anymore. I just feeling like shutting myself away and waiting until I'm too numb and withdrawn to care anymore.

I need to escape.

__________________________

Thanks for contacting Samaritans.

Life can be very unfair sometimes, and it sounds as though you have had a lot more than your fair share of troubles to deal with. You have showed great courage and strength in breaking your drug habit - and in fighting to maintain contact with your baby daughter, although this is so painful, slow and frustrating. You write clearly and vividly about your experiences. It seems that you take life and its decisions very seriously.

All things considered, it is not surprising that you are feeling battered by everything that has been thrown at you. The nightmares sound very disturbing and it sounds as though you feel you are losing control of things. Are you working, and do you have friends who you can talk to, or just spend time with - anything to give you a bit of relief or distraction, if only for short while?

You've had a tragically broad direct experience of suicide. How has that made you feel about suicide yourself?

Of course, Samaritans cannot solve any of the problems that you are faced with, but I hope that being able to unburden yourself and talk things through with us will help a bit.

We'll be rooting for you - and we'll be here for as long as you find it's helpful.

Jo

Whiplash: The End of an Era

Whiplash wasn’t even in the majority of peoples vocabulary a decade ago, and now it’s on the lips of a significant and rising number of motorists following a vehicle accident or bump. Claimants often overlook the knock on effect and causality of their decision to proceed with fraudulent or exaggerated whiplash claims – this isn’t a victimless crime, it’s all the honest drivers who resultantly suffer.

Fraud of Choice

James Dalton, the head of Motor and Liability at the ABI (Association of British Insurers) has recently advised that “for too long, whiplash has been seen as the fraud of choice”, referring to those who knowingly claim for exaggerated or fraudulent injuries as “cheats” who are increasing insurance premiums around £90 every year for honest motorists.

Mr. Dalton also indicated that there was flawed correlation in data, where UK roads are becoming safer, yet whiplash claims continue to average around 1,500 per day.¹ This statistic is a reflection on 2011, with over 550,000 claims made for whiplash injuries in the UK alone², gaining us the title of “Whiplash Capital of Europe” to quote Graeme Trudgill, the head of Corporate Affairs for BIBA (British Insurance Brokers’ Association). Figures support that since 2006 we have witnessed a 60% increase in personal injury claims resulting from motoring accidents, which contrasts very heavily against the 20% decrease in reported accidents during the same period.³

Numbers Don’t Lie

Statistics for whiplash can be very alarming, but at the same time very concrete in supporting accusations that we are witnessing an increase in exaggerated or fraudulent claims; these same statistics are also very supportive when explaining increase in premiums year on year for motorists.

Research by major UK insurer Axa recently revealed that 7% of UK doctors surveyed has been offered money if they would refer patients with whiplash for the purpose of claims. The same study also concluded that on average, doctors believe that 37% of whiplash claims are fraudulent, with as high as 1/3 of the doctors believing there are more fake claims made than genuine.⁴

Other statistics suggest that just over 0.7% of the UK’s total population claim for whiplash related injuries every year; although less than 1%, considering that the UK’s population is roughly 63 million people, that 0.7% equates to around half a million whiplash claims. The cost for whiplash related treatment through the NHS is estimated at £8 million a year, and for the insurers involved, a sickening £2 billion in pay-out’s for the same period.⁵

It may seem like easy money to claim for whiplash when you are involved in a bump, but not only does every other driver suffer as a result, you are also risking prosecution for fraud.
_________________________

¹ http://www.insuranceage.co.uk/insurance-age/news/2231053/mixed-reaction-to-government-proposals-on-whiplash
² http://www.insurancedaily.co.uk/2012/11/10/abi-impatient-over-whiplash-consultation/
³ http://www.insuranceage.co.uk/insurance-age/news/2231196/biba-supports-mojs-whiplash-consultation
⁴ http://www.insurancedaily.co.uk/2012/09/20/axa-doctors-call-for-whiplash-control-measures/
⁵ http://www.insurancedaily.co.uk/2011/05/19/abi-calls-for-end-to-uks-pain-in-the-neck-culture/

I’m Dreaming of a No Claims Christmas

When we think of Christmas, we tend to envisage the snow falling enchantingly, presents wrapped up beneath the ambient glow of an elegantly decorated tree, the smell of turkey decorating every room of the house, and of course celebrating festivities with the family. What we overlook however, is that Christmas brings with it the need for heightened awareness and precautions.

Recent studies have shown that over Christmas and New Year, claims figures rise somewhat dramatically, and companies nationwide are offering advice on how to minimise the risks for yourself.

Motor Accident Claims

The week leading up to Christmas is often plagued with motor accidents as the weather conditions deteriorate, icy roads become frequent, and more importantly, drivers rush desperately to finish up with their shopping. Leading UK insurer Aviva reports that there is a 25% increase in motor accidents the week leading up to Christmas, whilst Virgin Money Car Insurance advises around a 40% increase in motor claims on the final Saturday before Christmas. The big day itself, Christmas Day, sees a 55% decline in motor claims, and the week between then and New Year is surprisingly the safest of the year for car accidents research has proven.¹ Also figures from Axa clearly support Aviva, with their own statistics reflecting a concerning 200% increase in single vehicle incidents such as skidding on ice into walls during December.²

Household Claims

More worrying than Motor Accident Claims during the festive periods are household claims. Statistics from recent studies by companies indicate that burglary is unfortunately common during the festive period; Christmas Day and Boxing Day are relatively safe advises Aviva, with a distinct 55% decrease on the big day itself as the thieves also take a break to enjoy the festivities. This doesn’t mean you’re safe on Christmas Day however, although there is a decrease in vehicle accidents and burglary claims, there is a 110% increase in fire claims, often as a result of candles, decoration lights and cooking.¹ Boxing Day saw a whopping 12% of total claims in December for Sainsbury’s Home Insurance, many for product breakages whilst people let their hair down to celebrate and relax.³

Research provided by specialist home insurance underwriter Hiscox advised that almost 10% of people they surveyed had been burgled during the Christmas period ⁴ and a survey by Abbey Insurance revealed that 16% of homeowners, an overwhelming 7.4 million, will stay in over the period simply through fear of being burgled.⁵ Statistics prove that New Years Eve is the night where you’re most at risk, with 10yrs of data from Aviva reporting a 20% increase in burglaries when compared to the rest of the Christmas period; nationwide statistics reflect up to 1.1 million break-ins on NYE alone.⁶ Also New Year’s Eve is another day to ensure you’re fire safe, as there is again a spike in fire claims with a 45% increase, often due to the use of fireworks in celebrations.¹

Make sure you are safe this Christmas, keep a note of the above information and protect yourself from being a victim over this festive period.


¹ http://www.aviva.co.uk/help-and-advice/home-advice/useful-articles/apples-not-satsumas.html
² http://www.postonline.co.uk/post/news/2133602/insurers-warn-christmas-car-crashes
³ http://www.bestdealinsurance.co.uk/sainsburys-home-insurance-boxing-day-sees-most
⁴ http://www.insurancedaily.co.uk/2010/12/15/hiscox-emphasises-home-security-at-christmas
⁵ http://www.insurance-business-review.com/news/three_quarters_of_brits_worried_about_new_years_eve_burglaries_says_abbey
⁶ http://www.insurancedaily.co.uk/2007/12/31/boxing-day-for-breakages-new-years-eve-for-burglaries/ 

Drink Driving: Don’t Get Stung This Xmas!

Liverpool Victoria, a leading UK underwriter, has published a press release revealing a staggering nationwide ignorance to the reality of drink driving, and regarding how many units of alcohol can be consumed before getting behind the wheel.

Between the 2nd and the 4th of November 2012, a total of 2028 adults aged 18+ in Great Britain were surveyed online regarding drink driving.

Statistics provided in the report claimed that 80% of the drivers surveyed underestimated the units of alcohol in a pint of lager, 55% mistakenly believed a 250ml glass of wine contained 2 units or less of alcohol when it’s actually 3 units, and 1/5 of the drivers failed to name the correct number of units for any alcoholic beverage. The statistics are even more concerning when you consider that despite this ignorance, 15% of the drivers admitted that they have driven under the influence whilst knowingly over the legal alcohol limit, and an overwhelming 88% admitted they were aware it negatively affected their driving and reactions.
The ignorance unfortunately did not stop at being uneducated on the amount of units per alcoholic drink, a whopping 66% of those surveyed did not even know what the legal limits are!

- 80mg of alcohol per 100ml of blood
- 35mg of alcohol per 100ml of breath
- 107mg of alcohol per 100ml of urine

Due to factors including, but not limited to, age, gender and metabolism, tolerance to alcohol varies, meaning it may be difficult to judge whether you are over the limit purely by judging how inebriated you feel. As a general rule of thumb:

- Approximately 4 units for the average Male
- Approximately 2.5 units for the average Female
Do yourself a favour this Xmas, don’t get yourself arrested and banned from driving. Official Police Data made available to LV= confirmed nationwide suspicions that December is the month where arrests for drink driving peak, as there are publicised crackdowns annually over the festive period. Greater Manchester Police hold the current record for the number of drivers caught under the influence over the last 3 years, averaging over 360 per month; this is almost double that of runners up Hampshire Police with 7006 drivers caught over the same period.

If you’re going to take one piece of advice this year, listen to John O’Roarke the Managing Director of LV= car insurance.

“The only way to be certain of being under the limit is to completely abstain from alcohol before driving. The key to enjoying the festive season is to plan ahead and don’t drive if you’ve had a drink.”

_______________________________________________________

Source: http://www.lv.com/media_centre/press_releases/drivers-clueless-about-drink-drive-limits 

You Should Know

It's been a hard twelve months,
Story of my life, but I ain't lied once,
And I won't start now - God as my judge,
I stay honest with the facts like a real man should.

I'll take it from the top, let you hear the lot,
From the love your Mum forgot, to her cutting me off,
My name is Ben Scott but you can call me Dad,
I'm the Father you're Mother never wanted you to have.

Let's take it back, December twenty-eleven,
Me and Mummy opted for an Angel sent from Heaven,
We made changes to accommodate you in our world,
Planned out a future with our own baby girl,
But something must've changed, Mummy acting strange,
End of January came left Daddy alone again,
Mummy cut the ties, called it damage limitation,
A week later saw Daddy waiting round impatient,
The clearblue test came back with a plus,
You had been conceived, Daddy quit the drugs,
From that moment you affected, everything he does,
Changed for the better just for you, out of love.

But it didn't seem enough, so Daddy tried harder,
Tried to sort it out so I could be the perfect Father,
We went to the doctors for the confirmation,
Informed you were real after sitting and waiting,
Mummy suggested that me and her should live together,
So we could raise you right and you're life could be better,
First saw your heartbeat at the eight week scan,
And inside I knew that I would do anything I can,
Me and Mummy were okay but far from perfect,
In Chester for her birthday made Daddy feel worthless,
Arguments and distance, suspicions and doubt,
Ended up with your Mummy and your Daddy falling out.

Then was the twelve week scan where we saw you again,
Even though things were rocky even way back then,
It was April, we bought you a car seat and a pram,
And Daddy paid for a private 16 week scan,
Daddy switched jobs so he could see you more,
Mummy saw this as a chance for war,
Bought you a cot then asked Daddy for some cash,
Daddy didn't have at the time your Mummy asked,
Said it left her skint, made me feel a failure,
Then went out and bought a car two days later,
Told Dad he wasn't welcome at the 20 week scan,
Claimed that this was always part of the plan,
Threatened to break in Daddys house just because,
He refused to take all her stuff 4 miles on a bus.

I saw you again when you were 16 weeks,
And got footage of you moving on a DVD,
I uploaded it on Facebook which gave an excuse...
For your Mummy and her friend to give your Daddy abuse,
Said that you were never planned, that Daddy was a liar,
But Daddy had the evidence to make that backfire...
So her friend backed off, and so did your Mummy,
Then 5 days later asked Daddy for some money,
I paid £130 although I couldn't afford too,
I knew you were worth it so it's something I fought through.

A few days later your Mum was back to pick a fight,
Because I'd made a song about you staying in my life,
Demanded that I never mentioned you to the world,
To pretend I wasn't happy about my own baby girl,
Your Nana questioned Mummy if she was sure you were mine,
Because your Mummy was trying to cut me off all the time,
Mummy threatened Daddy that he'd never get to see you,
And said that your Nana would never ever get to meet you,
Daddy chose your name, you're my Ilysha Jade,
Spelt I.L.Y. - because I Love You babe,
Mummy asked Daddy not to let the world know your name,
But a few weeks later she went and told them all the same.

Mummy came to Daddy's house so he could feel you kick,
Then laughed afterwards that you'd slept through it,
I was called a sperm donor and your Mother agreed,
Then she took you off to Turkey flying overseas,
Whilst you were abroad Daddy learned those truths,
Educated the world about the lies and abuse,
So when Mummy returned she was not best pleased,
I could be at the birth though she still agreed,
Said that Daddy could see you all Paternity leave,
And pretty much every night, it was hard to believe,
It had truly seemed that we'd finally buried the hatchet,
And the reassurances? Nothing else could match it.

We were close through July, everything seemed okay,
I had Mummy's bank details so I could transfer my pay,
Paid her £180 so she could buy you nice stuff,
And sent laminated copies of your scans to put up,
In August your Daddy made your Mummy a picture,
It was a timeline of your growth that Mummy took with her,
When she came to see Daddy for a chat and a drink,
We discussed your birth plans and everything.

Mummy sent Daddy a link so he could see you kick,
Whilst hearing my song - you danced along to it,
We discussed delayed cord clamping, because Mummy knew,
That Daddy wanted to be there to cut the cord for you,
Confirmed that I would be there to see you into the world,
To bear witness to the birth of my baby girl,
Mummy was moving house at the end of September,
She invited Daddy round to take photo's to remember,
I went to Mummys old flat to get pictures of your bump,
Daddy stayed for 3hrs, and we never argued once,
I took a photo in her house as a memory that day,
Shared it with the world to show that we were both okay.

Mid September, still everything was going fine,
Then Mummy texted Daddy saying that she had changed her mind,
Daddy was no longer welcome to be at your birth,
This upset Daddy but he tried to make it work,
Agreed he could still cut the cord as anticipated,
But he would only be informed at 5cm dilated,
Daddy was concerned that he would miss the opportunity,
But Mummy said tough which left your Daddy losing sleep,
He tried to argue but your Mummy wouldn't budge,
Then she made an issue out of anything she could.

The picture at her flat where she no longer lived,
Was made into an excuse that she couldn't forgive,
Used it as a reason to question the trust,
And then as ammunition to justify what she does,
Said Daddy would never be allowed to take your picture,
He couldn't know the address where she moved to with ya,
To expect not to see you the week after your birth,
I tried to contest but that just made it worse.

Daddy backed off to give your Mummy some space,
Then you were born at 43 minutes past eight,
Your Daddy got a call around half past nine,
Saying that you'd been born and everything was fine,
I was welcome to come to the maternity ward,
But I'd missed the opportunity to cut your cord,
Mum said it wasn't her fault, she didn't intend,
Yet during the labour she'd been texting her friend,
I held you for an hour, too overwhelmed to weep,
I silenced you crying and I rocked you to sleep.

After your birth I asked daily to see you,
But Mummy refused - wouldn't let Daddy near you,
You came my house for an hour finally 4 days later,
But I couldn't hold you on the off chance I would wake ya,
I kept asking to see you, but talking to walls,
Mummy told me just one hour a week or nothing at all,
Told not to show you off, my own baby girl,
Whilst Mummy's friend shared your photo with the world.

Another 4 days passed before I saw you again,
I had to come to your Nanas and sit with them,
I was subjected to abuse and told not to fight,
Because when it came to you - Daddy has no right,
So he went to a solicitors to fight for you,
He wanted to be there and do right by you,
Once more Mummy decided to go behind his back,
Left Daddy off your birth certificate and laughed,
So that was that... Daddy pushed ahead with court,
The solicitor offered him her full support,
They arranged mediation to try to talk it through.
Mummy and Daddy could discuss their support for you.

Then Daddy came to see you for the final time,
And your Mummy and her family crossed the final line,
Your Nana threatened your Daddy, shouting harsh abuse,
For the things that she said there is no excuse,
Called Daddy a sperm donor, that's all he'd ever be,
That your birth certificate he had no right to see,
Said that cause your Daddy had chose to fight for you,
That he can't see you until the courts are through.

Monthly Musings: November 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Monthly Musings: October 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Whatever Is Necessary

Monthly Musings: September 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Monthly Musings: August 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Monthly Musings: July 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Nicotine Dreams: Jobs and Buses

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams.

During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

No nicotine patch.

I was laying on my bed, looking at a shift rota; my brother Terry was sat my computer chair. The bedroom was laid out how mine used to be in the past. Me and Terry both had gotten jobs at a Co-op on Hamil Road, though I don’t actually think there even is one?? I was working 3 days in a row, Terry too, though our shifts overlapped with me finishing at 7pm and him at 10pm, varying between the days. I was debating whether to even go, since it would affect my tax bracket my usual job.

Then Me and JB were catching a bus together down Smallthorne bank; some overweight, elder redhead woman was making comments to her daughter about JB’s appearance saying it was due to him not having his fix of MCAT. I asked her what she’d said, and she muttered under her breath and looked intimidated. We got on the bus and JB asked what was said but I kept it a secret because I felt JB would kick off.

Next I’m walking around my Dad’s house naked? Maria Walsh is sat at a PC in the small box room, and I’m stood peering round the door talking to her so she can’t see anything beside my head, but she is flirting with me. Then I make a comment about a TV in the room being out of place, that it doesn’t belong there, and then I awoke.

Anotha B: I'm Not Okay

Nicotine Dreams: Toilets and Fairgrounds

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg patch.

I was on a farm that begins with “W” though I cannot recall it’s full name; there is a fairground beside it, and the farm is a sort of resort? I am in a bar area and Dave Mackenzie is there, he offers to get me a drink, but I have to pay for it? I don’t even remember having the drink, or even seeing what it was, though I gave him the money for it?

I go into the toilets and am stood by a urinal but struggling to urinate for some reason? Two girls approach from behind me and start pressing themselves against me, biting my ear and licking my neck, asking why I can’t urinate and if it’s because I’m shy. There is a blonde to my left, and a brunette to my right; I tell them I am not shy. I lean behind me, and myself and the blonde flick tongues together, and then I bite the brunettes bottom lip. I suddenly notice three twenty pence pieces in the urinal beside the standard yellow fragranced block. The girls vanish.

Suddenly I notice Tom Walker staggering about smiling too himself, blatantly hammered. He is stood by a cubicle door but failing to open it, then slips on urine and faceplants in it. He is struggling to get up, slipping about like he is breakdancing, laughing all the while amused at his inability to return to his feet. A small child is stood nearby crying because he needs the toilet but is intimidated by Tom.

I am outside now, walking through a field alongside some trees; I am with another couple of people but I cannot recall who? We walk across a really busy road, and I am nearly hit by a car twice. We reach the otherside and it is like a promenade overlooking the sea. I realise I have left my drink at the bar, so say I’m going back to get it. I cross over and pass through an arcade back out into the fields. I am walking past lots of people, and I tap someone on the arm because I think it’s my friend Gary Hughes; the lad turns around and looks nothing like him, notably because he has ginger hair. His friends are laughing at my case of mistaken identity. 

I walk around some trees and climb over a small metal railing into the fairground. There are rides spinning around very aggressively and I nearly get hit by one, having to press my back to a metal post. I hear a voice shout my name, telling me to look up at the “dolphin”; I look up instinctively to my right at a rollercoaster and can see my Dad, stepmum Ang and my brother Terry at the top of a drop, waving emphatically. I walk alongside the tracks and stop beside my little sister Laura who is the other side of a railing, right beside the track to the ride. I’m alarmed at first but look past her and see a buggy there too which reassures me for some reason? I walk off and into a nearby building with a reception area to my right, into a bedroom, and then I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Locations and Wallets

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg patch.

I was at my Mum and Dawns house with Terry sat on the settee; Terry does not speak to my Mum and hasn’t in a while. Mark is there too, my sisters fiance, again someone who does not speak to my Mum or Dawn. Anyway, Mark and Dawn go upstairs, so Mark can cut Dawns hair; there is a momentary pause, and they both reappear through the living room door. Dawn has had her hair cut, skinhead on top, with it still long at the sides; they are both laughing hysterically, and as a result me, Terry and Mum also start laughing confused at the situation. What the fuck?

Dawn goes into the kitchen to make a drink, gets a small stool and puts a beaker on it and starts farting into the beaker (don’t ask)!? Terry announces he needs to leave because of working the next day, and I agree that I think I will leave too; I am aware of the time, it’s 3pm though I don’t know the relevance. We both walk outside, but then I go back in because I realise I haven’t said goodbye to anyone; I sit back down and seemingly forget that Terry is waiting in the car. 

Suddenly I’m walking through a hallway that I acknowledge as home, although it is alien to me. I enter a brightly lit lounge, and I find Steph Hand unconscious on a sofa; she is absolutely plastered. I lift her gently off the sofa and carry her out into the street, I don’t know why? I am walking down the street with Steph in my arms, and she is waking up. She looks up at me and asks what is going on, to which I reply that I thought she was going home and coming back because she had to go work. She says that she ended up out drinking with her friends and I explain she was passed out hammered on my sofa. I continue carrying her down the street, down a slight bank, and all the house have my name as the property name; “BEN SCOTT”. 

Next thing I know I am walking into Kirsty’s house; my ex fiancee. Kirsty begins telling me that her Kaz (her Mum), and Peter Teague have been editing photographs of me and renaming the files so that my name as offensive things.

I enter a bar holding a load of paperwork, and my leather wallet and join my younger sister Samantha, and my older sister Stacey at a large round table. I am trying to make sense of the paperwork, and am explaining it to Stacey, but Samantha keeps talking over me finishing my sentences with stupid suggestions which is really infuriating me. The paperwork holds some relevance to my tenancy for my house, and I am convinced it is an eviction notice for some reason? 

I get up from the table and walk to the toilets leaving the paperwork and my wallet there, which is something I’d never do. It dawns on me in the dream that I have left my wallet behind, but I have my other Diesel wallet in my pocket? I hurry back to the bar area, bumping into Lizzy Jones and Leanne Phillips on the way, but just offer passing acknowledgement since I’m in a hurry. I get back near the table, and Ryan Wilson is there talking to a stranger holding my wallet asking if he wants a drink of vodka, indictating he will pay with my money. I reach for my wallet but Ryan pulls away and I catch hold of his little finger; I bend it back and wrest the wallet from him. I check to make sure that all my money is in there and there is around £80, although a single £5 is rolled up which I am conscious to keep secret.

I get back to the table and JB is now there too; there is a plate of waffles, chicken nuggets and beans where I was sat, and my sister Stacey advises me that someone has paid for it with my debit card for a joke so I will need to send it back and get my money back. A pretty blonde waitress appears and offers me £3.80 although the menu says the meal only costs £3. I query the difference in price and the waitress says that the price goes up at times of the day, so because it costs more now than when it was ordered I get a higher refund? Huh? Stacey starts eating some of the food off the plate, even though I’ve had a refund.

And then I awaken.

Nicotine Dreams: Gunplay and Partying

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg Nicotine Patch

I was in a sort of big old warehouse in a snowy field stood in a bar area with seating arrangements etc. My sofa was there. Me, Terry and Chris Clark start moving the sofa so that the area is more accommodating. We are dressed in army clothes and have guns, and we go outside and it’s like Call of Duty and we are shooting attackers who are running through the snow trying to get to our bar.

I flank past some snowy conifers and get into the enemies base which is open topped with lots of cover; I sneak into a small makeshift garage, like a chain-link fence, and metal panels knocked together to form a small outbuilding with a strange armoured car inside. I crouch up the corner in the shadows behind the car and start picking off enemies who can’t tell where I am shooting from. They pick up on my location and start to all come straight for me. I’m killing them, and then a bloke is next to me on the other side of the chain-link; I’m trying to shoot him but can’t? Then another enemy runs in from the side and stabs me in the neck with a sort of dagger?

I respawn in my own base and tell Terry proudly I am on a 12-1 kill to death streak, and then I see an enemy trying to flank our base via a path down a cliff. I hurry through the base telling everyone I have it covered. I go out the back of the building and round a small ledge in the dark, overlooking the underpass. There are a couple here, a man and woman lying down; the woman is on her back with the bloke between her legs. They are scouting; I can only imagine I know this because it’s my dream, and because they seem out of place. I shoot the man in the face and he falls down the cliff. The woman is panicking and trying to wolf whistle to the enemy trying to flank our base; I try to shoot her but have to reload, and by the time I kill her she has already signaled a retreat. I try to shoot the fleeing enemy but he is too far away and due to the distance I have no accuracy. Suddenly the enemy falls to the floor dead, and I turn a corner to see my director from work Bill Gilroy who tells me not to worry, he got him.

Then we are all back inside the base kicking grenades at enemies? We are pulling out the pins and then kicking them like footballs and blowing all the enemies up. I can remember camping overlooking a ramp and shooting enemies and directing my team where to kick the grenades.

Next thing I know I’m down Stoke with Michelle Anchors, we’re walking along London Road towards Sainsburys and she isn’t happy with me? She is trying to hurry away but I’m keeping up with her asking what is up but she won’t tell me, so I’m following her confused. We get closer to a building and she bursts out that it’s all my fault for telling JB mine and her secret? I don’t know what secret. Then she goes inside a building and locks the door; I’m calling out with no response and I can’t get in so I leave.

I’m walking towards the Wheatsheaf, and outside the Blockbuster is a seating area in the road? Rob Lowe and Steve Davies are there having a pint, I walk over and am met with an unexpected response; both of them are really confrontational towards me saying I always find excuses not to hang out, and then expect to just turn up when I choose and everything to be rosy. I walk off into the Blockbuster but it isn’t a Blockbuster if you get how I mean?

I’m with my brother Terry inside a car; it’s the Batmobile out of The Dark Knight. We are in some kind of arena with tall structures, and we are doing laps around the outside, jumping over obstacles really fast with Terry driving. I feel really happy and carefree. Suddenly I’m driving and we pull inside a big elevator inside the car. I am reversing and edging forward impatiently and Terry tells me to stop because it will jam the engine, but not to put the brakes on? There is a random guy in a red shirt complimenting the car, and I’m being really smarmy and arrogant about it, saying it’s the best ever and nobody else deserves one.

Suddenly I’m in a room sniffing cocaine with loads of people I don’t know; except Michelle is here again now? We are planning some sort of rave/party. We are on the Green now, a field by my Mum’s house, but there are lots of tall wooden structures with banners hanging from them. There are shit loads of people here. Me, Michelle and someone else who I cannot recall climb up a sort of wooden scaffold and start dancing at the top.

We look down and Justin Bieber is in the crowd; Michelle starts climbing down and goes over to him whilst we stay dancing. Michelle shouts up that Justin likes her yellow flip-flops and then they disappear into the crowd and leave. I continue dancing, and then I woke up.

Nicotine Dreams: Tower and Falling

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

*Woke up this morning with the nicotine patch nowhere to be seen; presumably if came off during my sleep which explains the lack of recall*

I was in a large tower with a wooden floor. The bricks were large grey concrete blocks, and there were wooden beams and rafters suspended above providing support to the structure. There was some light source, but I don’t recall exactly what it was. I think I was with my brother Terry, but I’m not so sure now as I write this up; there was definitely someone else with me.

We were climbing up the inside of the tower looking for something, but I cannot recall what. We started to get significantly high inside the tower, climbing from beam to beam, and the other male expressed concern that we still hadn’t found what we were searching for and it may make more sense to go “downwards instead of upwards, just like before”. I don’t know what the “just like before” referred too, but I jumped down from what must have been 50ft, and smashed through the wooden flooring, landing on another level of the building made of wood; like platforms around 10ft apart. The other male dropped down from the same sort of height too, breaking the floor on which I was standing, and we both began falling into the darkness, infinitely, endlessly. Then I awoke.

*I also recall a small memory of being stood beside a wall smoking weed with another male, though I cannot recall if/where this fell into this dream, or if it were a sole remembered fragment from another dream this night* 

Nicotine Dreams: Fighting and Floating

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I’m walking around a huge warehouse; I come up a flight of stairs and am stood amongst lots of stacked crates and metal mechanical machinery. I am barefoot. I don’t know why I am here. I seem to be following commands. I walk across a small bridge and there is a small rat following me everywhere, I’m very cautious about it biting my feet so I’m jumping across crates and pipes like Assassins Creed; this is probably the source of this being in my dream since I’ve played the games a lot lately.

I get toward the back of the warehouse, and there is an opening to outside where there is a small swimming pool with a metal pole reaching up into the clouds, with a ladder going up it for about 10ft. I swim across in the water fully clothed and begin climbing the ladder; once I get to the top, I let go of the ladder and begin to float upwards facing the ground, up, up and into the clouds until visibility is almost none existent. Then I drop… I fall fast, complete release and free of cares. I fall all the way back down and land in the water on my back. I recall it feels very refreshing and vitalising.

I go back into the warehouse and I am wearing a white sort of Juggernaut suit off Call of Duty, but still barefoot. I become aware I need to get a key from the garage at the other end of the warehouse, but I don’t know how I know this? I head to the garage, open a silver chest high bolt, and open the door; directly opposite lots of soldiers are entering the room, so I quickly retreat into the dark of the warehouse and hide behind a machine.

The soldiers are entering the room looking frantically for me. I am picking up lots of guns and they vanish as I pick them up. I begin singling out isolated soldiers and beating them up. Then I see Ashley Taylor, and I run over and punch him in the face breaking his jaw. I hear a voice say that he’s going to get knocked out, and as he turns I punch him again in the mouth and he falls to the floor unconscious. Next, Dave Corden appears and I calmly ask if he wishes to try and fight me; he consents and says why not. I begin punching him and then Mariie appears and asks what the hell is going on, and why I am hitting Corden? I explain that he agreed to it, and then everyone else disappears besides me and a pretty stranger, a half cast girl dressed in a light blue top and shorts. I calmly take her by the hand, lead her outside into the sunshine and pin her against a glass door and begin passionately kissing her.

Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: School and Food

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was back in school, my high school James Brindley with Darren Wright, a lad I saw last night which may explain his presence in my dream; he never went to high school with me. I was there for a one hour IT lesson as a reunion.

We were walking through the corridors and I had no footwear on, just socks; I was looking for my trainers but didn’t know where they were. I was glancing into classrooms as we passed and seeing nobody I knew, except for I recall seeing Kirsty Bithell in one of the rooms. Strange since I barely know her and don’t think I’ve thought about her for maybe 6yrs? Forgot she even existed to be honest. I found my trainers in one of the rooms, I spied them beside a table as I walked past so went in to retrieve them and swiftly left the room.

I don’t know where Darren disappeared to at this point; I was sat alone against a wall by the school toilets and a girl approached me and asked if I’d look after her children whilst she nipped somewhere. I agreed, and she left me with 2 kids, a toddler maybe 3yrs old, and a tiny baby; but the baby looked too old to be the size they were, full head of blonde curly hair etc? I just recall them having the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I looked up and the toddler had gone. I didn’t seem to care?

Next I was stood outside the school at the top of some steps holding the baby, with lots of people walking past. My Dad and stepmum Ang walked past me into the school and I said hello to both of them and gave Ang a kiss; a bloke was looking at me strangely, probably confused as to the relationship between me and her. The baby vanished and I was sat at the bottom of the steps with another lad I didn’t know. Three overweight girls were stood nearby, I’d say early twenties, and were discussing lesbianism; a further overweight girl turned up and they all started speaking of a lesbian threesome in which one would be “the fat mess in the middle”. I recall thinking something had hit the back of my head, so I leaned behind me and slapped what I believed to be the lad I didn’t recognise’s head. One of the girls said I’d slapped their arse; I’m not sure what actually happened to be fair?

Then I was walking through the corridors back inside the school, but having to duck to avoid hitting my head; I felt like Gandalf on Lord of the Rings when he is inside Bilbo Baggins house at the Shire. I emerge into the reception area and there is a huge table covered in food, like an open buffet. Darren Wright is back now and tells me you can help yourself to food to take in lesson. I get a small tub and start filling it with onions and cheese. I feel someone slap my arse and turn to the side and there is a pretty young girl there smiling at me. I start talking to her but can’t remember what about? Darren asks me to get him some food whilst he goes the toilet, so I take his plate too. I balance both on my arm and use my other to slap the girls arse as I walk away. I go around the corner and try to tip some of the food into a bin because I’d overfilled the plates but manage to drop both all over the floor. I look for a mop but end up with tissues which I start cleaning up with. A blonde teacher turns up and starts helping me to clean, I can see down the back of her trousers and she is wearing a frilly white thong. She has a weird sort of indent like a semi-sphere in her left bum cheek? I don’t know.

I go into the classroom which used to be for R.E. and sit at a computer. I’m playing a sort of GTA game and flying a plane, but the screen keeps looping. I try to fly out of the area, but I loop back round and turn back up where I started. This happens for what seems a long time. Then Bill, my director from work turns up and asks if I’ve had a productive hour, and I realise I’ve spent the entire last hour flying in loops on the GTA like game. Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Work and Possessions

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I am stood in a cross between a school corridor, and my Dad’s laundry room. There are people walking past casually as if it is a public thoroughfare. Dave Mackenzie is sat on the sideboard talking to me but I cannot recall what about.

For some reason I begin emptying my bag and pockets over the side and organising them all how I usually do due to my OCPD. I turn around for some reason, glance up the corridor and look back at the side and there are lots of additional items amongst my own. I panic and start collecting mine together through fear of losing something. I go to pick up what I believe to be my bus pass and an Asian man begins accusing me of stealing his possessions. I look down and my bus pass is in my hand, so I apologise explaining it was an honest mistake. 

Once the side is clear of all items, I begin frantically checking my pockets aware something is missing but I’m not sure what. I open my wallet and there are loads of photos of me on small credit card sized slips; and there is a photo of Brett Lovatt, one of my friends really prominent, and one of Leone Smith a girl I know. I realise it’s my mobile phone that is missing and begin looking for it. Dave points at a mobile phone laying on the floor implying that it is mine, I look at it and advise it’s not mine. Suddenly Matt Handy appears and claims the phone as his, then vanishes as quickly. I see my phone on the sideboard and pick it up relieved. 

There are two asians beside me now discussing a car claim; the shorter of the two asks my opinion on the situation, I laugh and tell him I ironically work in insurance. Before we can discuss anything further, Viv appears and begins angrily telling me I should not be discussing claims with clients outside of work; I attempt to explain that I haven’t said anything yet but she talks over me saying I could lose my job.

There is a gold pen on the sideboard, presumably one of the asians as it is alongside a claims report. I don’t know why but I decide I am going to steal it, so I slip it up my sleeve and conceal it by holding a red coffee cup with a black lid. The asians give up looking for the pen and leave, so I chuck the coffee cup on the side and go to leave myself in the opposite direction. Dave picks the cup off the side and chucks it in the bin, and looks at me disapprovingly.

Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Pills and Pubs

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was walking through a field with a group of others; I don’t know most of them but there are about 30 of us in total. We are following a guide, I think the easiest comparison I can make would be that it was like we are at paintball and being shown the course for that round, but nobody is in overalls or headguards, and nobody has paintball guns. I only recognise two of the other people here, one is my sister Stacey, and the other is my friend Fat Lee. We keep stopping and talking but I cannot remember what about.

We stop by everyones possessions that are heaped in a pile, in a clearing that leads between some trees. Fat Lee is playing comedian and keeps throwing peoples stuff, finally he grabs Stacey’s coat and chucks it past a pile of cutdown tree branches about 20ft away where it lands on top of a grass bank, like a hill. Stacey retaliates by throwing Lee’s white and yellow shell-suit jacket which ends up stuck up a tree. Fat Lee starts kicking off, until someone manages to get it down using a branch.

I get a phone call off Heathy asking if I’m going down “Cyber” to him - I have no idea what cyber is. He advises loads of others are going down. I say I’m not sure because of finances but I’ll let him know. He tries to persuade me saying they’re going to “TGI” after, presumably TGI Fridays? I hang up and get a text off Cunnie saying he’s got something he thinks I’ll like at my house.

Next thing I know I’m at “my house” with no idea how I got there; my house is actually my ex-girlfriend Kirsty’s house in my dream. My bedroom is the front bedroom, and I walk in but there is nothing there that shouldn’t be. This angers me because I’ve come back home for nothing. I walk out my room and hear Cunnie’s voice from what is usually Kaz’s bedroom beckoning me in. I walk in and he’s lying in bed half asleep with his Xoom; he tells me he has an app that senses movement which had woke him up. He produces a huge bag full of cocodamol pills and starts giving me handfuls of them telling me I’ll like them. I start putting them into my adidas bag, but Cunnie says it’s too slow and tips a load of them directly in with some spilling over the floor. I look into the bag and there are already loads of pills in it; red ones, pink ones and white ones. I go back into my bedroom and Craig Ferneo is sat at my computer desk watching a film on my PC. I get into bed like this is normal and go to sleep. When I wake up I try to remember what I dreamt about and get frustrated when I can’t recall anything; Craig has gone by now. 

Suddenly I’m in the White Horse Pub with Tomo and there is a fight kicking off; two blokes who’s faces I never see are heading towards the smoking area aggressively. Me and Tomo leave and as we cross the road to Aldi carpark there are two girls behind us; Tomo starts hurrying because he says he doesn’t want to speak to one of them. We reach Tomo’s car and get in and I show him all the pills in my bag. He starts reversing the car aggressively to impress the girls he tried to avoid and nearly hits a bus stop that is on the car park for some reason? The bus stop is right against the passenger door and Tomo edges back very nearly scraping the car against it; the girls are laughing at him. Tomo pulls off and accelerates away without making contact with the bus stop and as he pulls away definatly announces that nobody else could’ve avoided hitting it how he had. I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Sewers and Searching

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was with another male, I don’t recall who; at the time though I knew him. We were looking down into an open, circular manhole grate, I don’t recall the surrounding area. We didn’t speak, but both agreed somehow that we would go into the sewer.

I entered first, climbing down a rusted steel ladder. The length of the actual cylindrical entrance  was perhaps a couple of meters. The walls were covered with huge woodlice, the size of dvd cases, I kicked most of them away into the sewers, then slid down the remainder of the ladder which stopped level with the ceiling, and dropped down from there into the murky sewage water. The walls were grey stone, slimy and grimy; the air thick and misty. Visibility was low, but I could tell I was in a t-junction section. Metal grates, sort of portcullis’ blocked all exits from my location, and the ladder was too high above me for me to jump and reach it. There’s a strange black plant, kind of like black seaweed draping from the ceiling in the corners of the room.

I could see a closed valve on the floor in the centre of the t-junction intersection that led down into the ground. I never tried to operate it, but strangely for some reason I had a strange feeling that it wouldn’t work anyway, like a deja vu moment, acquired knowledge from where I do not know. I don’t recall the other male coming down into the sewer, but I see him now stood near the valve, and suddenly a huge octopus like tentacle emerged from the sludge around his feet, it’s pink in colour with small yellow sucker pads all over it. The tentacle is around 7 foot in length, and it begins to attempt to restrain the other male, coiling around him. He is crying out, striking at the tentacle with what appears to be a knife. I do not assist, simply observe. The tentacle retreats. I turn away momentarily, and when I look back, the male is gone.

I am looking for something, I do not know what exactly. I see the white wardrobe from my bedroom in an alcove, beside a small square desk with a strange box atop it, covered in odd markings and symbols. I open the wardrobe doors,  in hindsight too easily given that the water level is so high, but I did not pick up on this at the time. There is a chest high shelf inside the wardrobe, and 5 drawers beneath the shelf. I begin pulling piles of neatly folded white and grey clothes from the shelf and chucking them into the sewage, frantically looking for something; I don’t know what. I clear the shelf, and then begin opening and searching the drawers. Each time I feel satisfied that there is nothing of interest amongst the clothes, I tear the entire drawer out and discard it behind me in the sewer water. I get through around 3 of the drawers before turning away for some reason, I think I can just sense a presence?

There behind the valve in the darkness I can make out the face of the octopus, staring at me menacingly. I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Racing and Loss

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was sitting on a motorbike, racing through tight confined streets closely behind my brother in a sports car which I cannot identify now. We were the only one’s there. I don’t know why we were racing, we just were? I was trying to keep up but he was handbraking and drifting around corners effortlessly, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt that obscured my vision, forcing me to slow down until I could see again.

We were darting between buildings, up alleyways, kind of like the Monaco Grand Prix. We emerged from an alleyway into a large arena floor which was marked up as a race track; there were black and white chevron direction signs, orange barricades and smoke beacons for guidance, kind of like light green flares? My brother disappeared into a corner and I pursued. 

I got lost seeking him, everywhere looked the same and I kept taking wrong turns, then having to retrace my path and try a different way. I would move into a dark area of the city I didn’t recognise which would be intimidating and suffocating, then return and try a different route.

Eventually I came around a corner and could see a bright sunny sky filtering down onto a smoke beacon. I raced past it but my brother was nowhere to been seen, and then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Explosives and Value

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was lay on my stomach in a small room, the floor of which was a country. I had partial control over what was happening, like an overseer, a God? The was another like myself there, though he seemed more my opposite, like the devil, Satan?

Toward the far wall was a large pile of gunpowder, explosive, and yet I acknowledged somehow it held great value financially. In comparison to the country, the gunpowder was comparable to an entire mountain range. There was an incomplete train track that resembled that of Duplo when I was a child, that spidered across the majority of the floor between the hills, valleys and towns. A lone train carriage was steadily chugging around the track, slowly meandering towards the gunpowder, intent on destruction. I don’t know why, but I understood that if the train carriage reached the gunpowder, the country over which I was observing would be destroyed.

I was working quickly, attempting to divert the train tracks away from the gunpowder, though simultaenously the other figure was working against me, undoing my will and beckoning the disaster. As fast as my hands placed the sleepers to guide the carriage away, the other figure would replace them provoking carnage. When the train carriage was nearing the gunpowder, the other figure vanished, leaving me alone void of the time or skill to counter the situation.

I surrendered to the knowledge that the explosion was imminent and that I had failed to prevent it sufficiently, and in a bid for damage limitation I lay atop the gunpowder and forcefully kicked the train tracks away from myself, angrily and defiantly. The train carriage fell from the tracks and disappeared from sight before a small explosion was noted away from myself.

The other figure reappeared and questioned my actions without speaking, it was like communication through telepathy? I could not explain why I had done what I did. I sensed that the financial and physical damage caused by my actions was lesser that which would of happened had I not, and this was suitable justification for myself. The other figure disappeared again, and then I too faded from that place, and awoke in my bed.

Abuse

 Anger is not an excuse.

Boredom is not an excuse.

Loneliness is not an excuse.

Stress is not an excuse.

Generosity is not an excuse.

Humiliation is not an excuse.

Choice is not an excuse.

Frustration is not an excuse.

Bereavement is not an excuse.

Celebration is not an excuse.

Peer pressure is not an excuse.

Depression is not an excuse.

Addiction is not an excuse.

Fear is not an excuse.

Curiosity is not an excuse.

Grief is not an excuse.

Experimenting is not an excuse.

Rejection is not an excuse.

Anxiety is not an excuse.

Recreation is not an excuse.

Reminiscing is not an excuse.

Jealousy is not an excuse.

Betrayal is not an excuse.

Unfaithfulness is not an excuse.

Hurting is not an excuse.

I’ve lied to myself and pretended that all the above are excuses, that they justified foolish choices and stupid mistakes.

I’m stopping lying now, you probably should too.

You are better than that.

Promise

 I have addictions, but they can be overcome.

I have problems, but they can be solved.

I am lonely, but I can find company.

I am weak, but I can find strength.

I am out of shape, but I can train.

I am broken, but I can be fixed.

I am lost, but I can be found.

I do not need cigarettes, they only sedate me.

I do not need drugs, they only subdue me.

I do not need alcohol, it only harms me.

I owe this to my friends.

I owe this to my family.

I owe this to my child.

Most of all though?

I owe this to myself.

I will be better.

The Quit List

This is something SWIM has been doing subconsciously for the last year. SWIM’s been identifying problems systematically in their life and seeking to eradicate them.

So far, SWIM’s list is:

01. Amphetamines

SWIM used to use amphetamines (billy, speed, phet, whizz) in the past during their “off the rails” days. SWIM can happily say, they’ve not had it now since 30/07/11.

02. Ketamine

Ketamine? Just say neigh. Horse tranquilizer; SWIM has dabbled. K-holes are not fun in SWIM’s opinion. SWIM last had this alongside the aforementioned Amphetamines to take the edge off. Not had either since the same night, 30/07/11.

03. MDMA

Obviously, SWIM is aware MDMA is found in ecstasy; the MDMA this refers too is the powder type that SWIM either sniffs/gums. Last encounter was at Creamfields last year 27/08/11, and SWIM won’t be bothering again.

04. Cannabis

SWIM was once a very close friend of cannabis (weed, ganja, pott, green), but they substituted off it for harder stuff. SWIM doesn’t have any interest in it anymore, it really does fuck all for SWIM. Last had it 29/10/11 before SWIM’s works Halloween Party; doubt SWIM will ever have it again.

05. Ecstasy

Ecstasy was a more occasional drug of choice for SWIM, you’re talking raves, gigs and festivals. SWIM had it at DJ Caspa up Keele University back 06/11/10; steered clear until Creamfields 29/08/11, and had their last encounter at SWIM’s works Xmas Party 10/12/11. SWIM is not going back there again.

06. MXE

Methoxetamine was something SWIM only experimented once; and won’t be having again. A designer drug described as “rhino-ketamine”, ‘Mexxy’ was legal when SWIM sampled it. SWIM can’t lie, they describe the feeling as going to Heaven, the most free they’ve ever felt; nirvana. Disassociative and hallucinogenic. SWIM tried it 10/12/11 the night of their works Xmas Party; hoping to never have again, however personal possession and use is still legal.

07. Cocaine

SWIM’s love/hate relationship. Never been easy to avoid, but SWIM is doing well lately. Since SWIM fell hard into the love of white powders, they found coke to consume them. There was once a time SWIM was using this daily. Actually daily too, not even an exaggeration; SWIM spent £8,000 on it in a month. Seriously. SWIM is doing well at avoiding it lately; they slipped up 04/06/12 at a Jubliee Party, but prior to that, it’d been a good couple of months clear for SWIM. Trying with all their strength to avoid this fucker.

08. Mephedrone

This has been a substitute of sorts, SWIM has managed to body swerve cocaine on numerous occasions, by ending up on this. Most will know it as MCAT, a research chemical drug that peaked in popularity in the last couple of years due to it’s legality. It’s not as bad (see classification/price) but again SWIM is attempting to avoid in it’s entirety. SWIM had some of this as recently as 04/07/12 after a having their head fucked over the situation with the Mother of their unborn child. SWIM looks back disgusted the following day every time; SWIM guesses it’s just their coping mechanism after all the shit they’ve come through? But SWIM knows it’s now beyond the time to leave this in the past also and learn to deal with shit like an adult.

09. Cigarettes

Go figure. SWIM has managed to leave hard drugs behind, and yet cigarettes fuck them up. SWIM is now on their third attempt at quitting, but with more determination than ever before. SWIM has had no cigarettes since 06/07/12; they intend to keep it that way.

10. Facebook

This is SWIM’s most publicised addiction. If people know SWIM, people know SWIM lives on Facebook. SWIM used to document every aspect of their life; every bad decision, stupid choice, foolish error… now, in order to better themselves, SWIM is refraining from public eyes. SWIM deleted their profile 08/07/12. 

SWIM is a quitter; but ironically that is what will make SWIM a winner.

SWIM can be a better person.

SWIM will be.

<3 

Wanting

I want to be happy. I want to be wanted. I want to be needed. I want to fall hopelessly in love, and it to be reciprocal. I want to be at peace with my past. I want to accept everything that has happened. I want to make amends for my wrongings. I want to make everyone proud. I want to be the perfect Dad to my daughter. I want to be a good person. I want to change. I want to be different. I want to feel fulfilled, not broken. I want to be successful. I want to be emotionally stable. I want to be helped. I want to be reassured I’m not a failure. I want to be held. I want to be comforted. I want to be in control. I want to be free.

I want to not be ‘me’.

Nicotine Dreams: Hypnagogia and Fear

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I awoke with no real recall of my dream as such, more just a noteworthy experience on waking.

I was lying on my back and the room was pitch black, and I could hear breathing, shuffling, like a small animal against my right arm. It was slowly moving alongside me up towards my face. I couldn’t see that the bedroom door was open, but I could sense it; and I felt there was an evil presence here.

My mind was racing, envisioning a malevolent shadowy figure stood at the foot of my bed. My heart was pounding, racing to the point I felt it was going to explode out of my chest. All I could think was that there was a knife beside my bed that I could use for defence, if only I could reach it. But I was paralysed?

I physically kept attempting to move, but all I could do was look around, the rest of my body was paralysed, not with fear, but with disassociation. I could hear the creature on the bed sniffing, sort of resembling a dog when it’s trying to follow a scent. The figure was still stood watching. I was lay there exposed and vulnerable.

And then it passed. The sounds and feelings of being watched relented. I sat upright aware that the room was empty of life besides myself. And everything was silent and still; as it should be.

And this was my first recalled experience of hypnagogia.

Monthly Musings: June 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Monthly Musings: May 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Not Your Average

Monthly Musings: April 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Dirty Taste

Monthly Musings: March 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Different

Simply Being FRANK

I was a late starter in the drugs scene, not having my first experience until I was 20 years old; I'd always been the clever, strong one who didn't succumb to peer pressure and stayed engrossed in education and studies, avoiding the developing trend between friends.

Following the break down of a 4yr relationship with my fiancee, I found a big space in my life that I couldn't fill and as a result ended up becoming a frequent cannabis user. I constantly reassured myself that I was in control, that I wouldn't ever let it escalate to further despite stories of weed being a gateway drug. After around a year I began to dabble in other illicit substances, from amphetamines and ketamine, to ecstasy and cocaine. It was the latter that proved the problem.

I began to use cocaine increasingly frequently as an escape. At first it was here and there, a cheeky line to get the night going when I went out with like minded friends, a beer and a gram soon became the established norm, but it quickly became the case that one gram wasn't enough and before I knew it I was having 3 or 4 grams most nights. Where I'd once spent nights out dancing and drinking, socialising and flirting, I now spent them phoning dealers all night and ordering taxis left, right and centre to score in the early hours. 

At the time I closed my eyes to the extent of the addiction, but after realising I'd spent £8,000 in a month, I accepted the situation was way out of hand, and I was no longer in control. I swore to myself that was it, I wasn't being that person anymore. That being said, it wasn't that simple with drugs, especially when your circle of friends are reluctant to give up the fast life. I was living like a rock star when I was far from it. Debt was mounting, and I was regularly turning up to work on no sleep, wired and having to battle through the day on a comedown, sometimes even taking a small amount with me so I could get a fix midway through my shift.

I am still battling to knock it all on the head, despite the severity of the damage caused; I guess all drug abusers are self destructive to some extent. It is very rare these days that I allow myself to slip up, but even the isolated incidents serve to prove that drugs have more of a hold than you can ever realise until it's too late.

I know most won't heed my words, but if you don't want to find out for yourself just how difficult it is to stop an addiction, don't tempt it in the first place. Say no to taking drugs, before it gets to the point where you can't say no.