My life before change (part 1)

(dodgy picture of me as a 26 year old)

Think of me as your run of the mill nice guy that everyone loves, had lots of friends, that very few people had anything bad to say about, or at least not that I knew of.

I was an enthusiastic young man in my twenties seeking a new lease of life. The last three years had been extremely traumatic. Previously, I had worked in a small town and was well known for the job that I held. I worked in a government office and my position was one of the central connecting points in town. It was where most people networked with one another at some point in their life. I was semi in the public eye for at least a year of my tenure there. It was quite a nice job at first; the hours were promising and the management were very forward thinking, but as events began to unfold in my personal life later that year, things, they took a nasty turn and it all became too much for me to bare.

To cut a very long story short I began to run away from the pain of my life by dousing my stomach in copious amount of alcohol, and, I ended up in Psychiatric Hospital for six months and spent a further two years convalescing at my Mums house. Something broke that year inside me and I've never been able to get it back. There was a raw enthusiasm inside me, a sparkle in my eyes that was bright and naive and ready to grab the world screaming. It was snuffed out that year; snuffed out by the bad decisions of a grieving boy, too torn between the issues in his personal life to think clearly. It hadn't helped that I had been given the diagnosis of Paranoid Schizophrenia either, it was a lesson I had to learn the very, very hard way.

I suffered from both anxiety and depression. An unhealthy mix that I assume was fuelled by drinking too much and spending too many days alone without seeing anyone. Not the faintest hint of another human being. My Mum was now living with her soon-to-be-husband and she had let me use her house as I relaxed and tried to recover from the daily trauma that were my thoughts and feelings. I hadn't taken my medication in several years either. In my head, all my medication were placebos to keep me thinking that I was unwell, which of course, in my mind I wasn't. The entire experience was a government coverup. I can't remember my reasoning but I just know it was extremely flawed. Any attempt from the doctor to talk about my medication and I would just pay him or her lip service just to keep them happy.

Women for me had always been a lost cause. Think of me as someone that had many, many friends that were girls but no-one of the intimate variety. A great part of that was because I was extremely shy, and my experiences with trying to flirt with women hadn't been the best in high school when most of us learned that stuff. I remember watching in awe as it seemed to come so natural to some men, weaving in and out of women and having them eat out of the palm of their hands, and then there was me; someone that turned beetroot red and ran away. It became easier to talk to them as I aged, sometimes because they would just approach me and force me into a discussion. Yet I was never ever able to close the deal. Risk with women was something that I was extremely averse to. I hated rejection. I hated it with a vengeance. To be rejected was to dislike my core; the real me. I guarded that with my life. In my life, I've had about a grand total of four sexual partners.

Safe to say that I had a long and hard time coming to terms with the fact that I'd never be the same again. But I reached that summit in the end; there was a point in my life that I just needed to take another step forward.

And there was me three years later sat at Edinburgh airport with quite a bit of renewed enthusiasm, ready to sort-of take on the world again. My friend had promised me a new-lease of life, a new direction. I was travelling back to the town that I had created my dynasty in; my friends were still there and most of them were waiting for my return. It was exciting. I was on the cusp of something great and I could feel it in my bones. I don't know if that's a natural feeling but I really did feel like this was a new beginning. I was moving on. The last three years had been hell for me. I had to come to terms with the fact that I'd never be the same again, never. And that wasn't an easy feat, considering I was always trying to do the things I could do but couldn't now.

Within a week of moving back I had already secured a house to rent through my friend. He knew a local landlord and he was someone that was prepared to house me with no deposit for a bit of extra work here and there on the rent. I was happy, he was happy, everyone was happy. I was secure, with friends, and happy for the foreseeable future.

Life sort of stagnated from there. I was still drinking heavily, and occasionally dabbling in a bit of drugs from my local dealer. I had no job at the time and absolutely no incentive to get one, in part because I was still convalescing. Anyone that thinks you can get straight back to work after a major intervention is sorely mistaken. I tried it and lasted barely a month, and this is someone who previously had three jobs and worked sometimes a 17-hour day. My life wasn't ideal but it was a grand site better than living with my Mum, alone, and having no friends and nothing to do. Loneliness kills.

I had made a habit and addiction of the Internet by then. Back with my Mum it was my only release. On the Internet I could be incredibly popular without anyone having to meet or understand the real me. I could be honest and lovely as always but no-one needed to get close to me and that's the way I truly liked it. I would go for meetups with people all over the country; meet new friends and connect in new ways. It was an amazing experience and something all of us ‘internetters’ had in common: We all loved the internet. But we all had homes to go to. Having the internet where I was living now was a must. I couldn't survive without it. It helped on the alone days when my friends were working. It just helped in general.

It wasn't until I was in full flow with my Internet addiction that life had changed somewhat for me slightly. My Mum had sold my Grandparents house that had died a couple of years earlier. Mum, in her grand wisdom, decided to give me a nice kickback on the proceeds from the sale, and I had always wanted to go to America because I had Internet friends over there that I wanted to meet. And off I went to America. Ohio to be exact.

America was awesome, and the people I went to see there were lovely. They took me all over their state and had me camping in Pennsylvania. It was quite an experience. The husband of the couple that I met was in the Army reserves and I experienced first-hand a lot of the patriotic culture America had to offer. It was a mind-blowing experience to be fair and it's certainly something I'd love to repeat again.

Something stirred deep inside of me on that trip. It was a great movement of sorts in my mindset. I'm not sure what happened but my thinking shifted from relaxing and experiencing the slow life to really wanting to power home a high-flying career. I was always career driven in my youth but that had abruptly ended when I became unwell. I blame experiencing the inexpensive food, tobacco and living, in comparison to their good earnings. I knew it could be counterbalanced with costly healthcare, but still, viewing the comfortable life in America stirred me into doing something with myself in England.