This was the tattoo that I had done, just in memory of my brother. Although, he shall never be forgotten....
Rest In Peace Little Man, will always love you.... xxxxxxx
Sunday 26 June 2011
Tattoo
This was the tattoo that I had done, just in memory of my brother. Although, he shall never be forgotten....
Rest In Peace Little Man, will always love you.... xxxxxxx
A Mild August/September
Part 8
Well this will be the final installment of this blog, which will give you in the insight of what actually caused me to break down, and inevitably down the slope to depression.
On my brother’s 5th anniversary I had a tattoo done, which has his name, and the relevant dates, in the meantime I shall provide a picture of the tattooist’s handy work.
It was not long after I had my tattoo done, had a week off of work I believe, then I was back at work one Saturday evening, don’t quote me on that! It was around August/September time.
In the evening I ended up working on my own, as the lad I was supposed to be working with pulled a sicky. Then all of a sudden from the that point onwards, I was a wreck, I couldn’t hold back the emotions at all, a few hours this went on for, it was just unbearable. I wasn't upset by the fact I was working my own, it was something, something else...
I phoned my area manager, and low and be-fucking-hold it went to voice-mail, I tried so hard, so damned hard to hold myself together. To describe the feeling is so heart wrenchingly hard. I suppose it’s like butterflies in your tummy all the time and increasing and increasing with anxiety and a willingness to cry. I was trying so hard to hold back the tears; I did well at that point, I’m very, very good at hiding emotions I might add.
I then messaged the other half of what was going on and she was there to console me, sending me funny pictures of Barbie and one of her cats, jokes, you name it, unfortunately neither had worked, I was still a mess. I managed to keep myself sane for the next few hours till she could come and get me all the way from London.
I’m not sure whether we went back to mine or not to pick up a few things but the next minute I was heading to London, my safe haven I suppose, where no one or nothing can hurt me otherwise, I was away from all the demise of the past and this was a “fresh start”.
My emotions were running rampant, affecting my social life, and my private life, I just couldn’t figure out the reason of trying to “get over it....” it was useless trying to help myself, this was going nowhere. I had been given a month off of work to sort my fucked up head out and charged straight in to it head on.
I just couldn’t help myself anymore, something needed to be done, and one the other halves’ friends recommended a place for counselling, which isn’t private nor NHS, but a charity. What had I to lose? Not a lot.
So we or more or less I had agreed to go for a consultation, I told her how I had been feeling, my emotions and all that jazz. We then decided that I was inevitably suffering from depression, I had to lay out my deepest darkest secrets all on the table, this was extremely difficult considering I keep such a tight lid on this sort of behaviour.
I reckon I only had about 3 or 4 weeks’ worth of counselling in the end, but afterwards, I felt great, well, it won’t bring him back but it’s a start.
I wasn’t gonna be letting anything get me down, no matter how trivial, this was my time, my time to build myself back to what I was before, a confident, chatty and outgoing person, this was the new me, this IS the new me.
Well this will be the final installment of this blog, which will give you in the insight of what actually caused me to break down, and inevitably down the slope to depression.
On my brother’s 5th anniversary I had a tattoo done, which has his name, and the relevant dates, in the meantime I shall provide a picture of the tattooist’s handy work.
It was not long after I had my tattoo done, had a week off of work I believe, then I was back at work one Saturday evening, don’t quote me on that! It was around August/September time.
In the evening I ended up working on my own, as the lad I was supposed to be working with pulled a sicky. Then all of a sudden from the that point onwards, I was a wreck, I couldn’t hold back the emotions at all, a few hours this went on for, it was just unbearable. I wasn't upset by the fact I was working my own, it was something, something else...
I phoned my area manager, and low and be-fucking-hold it went to voice-mail, I tried so hard, so damned hard to hold myself together. To describe the feeling is so heart wrenchingly hard. I suppose it’s like butterflies in your tummy all the time and increasing and increasing with anxiety and a willingness to cry. I was trying so hard to hold back the tears; I did well at that point, I’m very, very good at hiding emotions I might add.
I then messaged the other half of what was going on and she was there to console me, sending me funny pictures of Barbie and one of her cats, jokes, you name it, unfortunately neither had worked, I was still a mess. I managed to keep myself sane for the next few hours till she could come and get me all the way from London.
I’m not sure whether we went back to mine or not to pick up a few things but the next minute I was heading to London, my safe haven I suppose, where no one or nothing can hurt me otherwise, I was away from all the demise of the past and this was a “fresh start”.
My emotions were running rampant, affecting my social life, and my private life, I just couldn’t figure out the reason of trying to “get over it....” it was useless trying to help myself, this was going nowhere. I had been given a month off of work to sort my fucked up head out and charged straight in to it head on.
I just couldn’t help myself anymore, something needed to be done, and one the other halves’ friends recommended a place for counselling, which isn’t private nor NHS, but a charity. What had I to lose? Not a lot.
So we or more or less I had agreed to go for a consultation, I told her how I had been feeling, my emotions and all that jazz. We then decided that I was inevitably suffering from depression, I had to lay out my deepest darkest secrets all on the table, this was extremely difficult considering I keep such a tight lid on this sort of behaviour.
I reckon I only had about 3 or 4 weeks’ worth of counselling in the end, but afterwards, I felt great, well, it won’t bring him back but it’s a start.
I wasn’t gonna be letting anything get me down, no matter how trivial, this was my time, my time to build myself back to what I was before, a confident, chatty and outgoing person, this was the new me, this IS the new me.
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