Another Year Older

If you follow me on Facebook then you may have noticed that it was my Birthday yesterday. It wasn’t an important one, not one of the biggies. I turned 37 yesterday and I woke up thankful for waking up.

I don’t have masses of things to be thankful for, my family, my friends and my Doctor Who DVD collection, but getting another year older was a bit of a stepping stone. You see, up until the day I turned 28 I didn’t think I would make it to 28 let alone 37. I had this morbid feeling that I would join the 27 club and go out in a blaze of mid twenties angst.

The 27 Club is a group of famous people who died during their 27th year on earth. Jim Morrison Janis Joplin and Kurt Cobain all being members. Possibly the biggest difference between me an the rest of those mentioned are they had taken a flame thrower to their life candle and instead of burning the candle at both ends they just melted the bloody thing in a short space of time. I had my periods where I threw a little to much heat at my candle but I always stuck it in the fridge to solidify once my body started screaming to slow down.

Once I reached 28 I knew I was safe. I knew that the danger was over. I know had the grandiose vision that I would live forever. One extreme to the other. I had done quite a bit by the time I was 28… I had taken myself off to America and met my wife and gotten married. I had acted in the play I said I would do one way or another (The Bouncers by John Godber.) I had worked in a top London Theatre venue (The Royal Albert Hall) and I had settled into life after the Theatre without to much remorse. To this day I harbour no will or intentions of ever working in the Theatre or Entertainment business again. I have been there got several T Shirts and had my fun.

These days I am more interested in getting through the day in one piece. After my Diagnosis at around Thirty I had a bigger battle on my hands than I ever thought possible. The Blackness was calling on regular occasions and life was the hardest it had ever been. My moods and reactions to daily life were slowly eating away at my self worth and I was even making my families life hard. I was impacting my troubles on those all around me.

At first I didn’t know how to handle this big change… I expected the world around me to change and to meet my needs. I wanted my work to instantly ease the pressure on me and to still accommodate me in every which way possible without me having to put the work in. They put up with my bullshit for over three years and as each episode got worse I could tell that I was just one inch away from losing everything. IN truth when the “temporary” end of my working life happened it was a relief. Once that final meeting was over I knew I was finally free to try and make myself better with the help of my medical team. I imagined a year maybe 18 months of work and then I would be fit enough to find a job that was less demanding but would still pay the bills. I am still waiting for that reality to happen. But I am not bitter about it. We just about get by with a wing and a prayer.

I do hope that in the not to distant future with the help of the new medical team I have to be able to get at least a part time job to give me some kind of decent self worth again.

I am glad I made it to 37, to be able to go out for lunch with Mum and Linda. To be able to have a good old English tea party with my brother and his family. It was for once a good day that didn’t require any extra medication or for that matter much thought on how am I going to manage to get through the next hour. My biggest stress was how the hell am I going to blow out all those fucking candles on my cake.

As you can see, It took quite a bit of effort to get them blown out. We had the fire brigade on speed dial if needed.

So overall I had a great day yesterday, just by being with family and lots of food (and they wonder why Psychotropic drugs make you add weight.)

Until Next Time…