Purposely chose mighty ducks over road to damascus. It's much more relevant to me

I think I have a fairly good idea now of how Gordon Bombay might have been feeling before he met those mighty ducks. Outwardly stable, inwardly tormented. Carrying around a personal sense of failure and hopelessness. Unable to avoid the self-destructive behaviour that I'm getting a little too old for. Abusing the medication that I should be submitting everything to. But like Gordon, I'm just not happy.

 I really am rather lonely at this point. Partly from my own designed isolation, partly because people I want to spend time with don't want to spend time with me. Perhaps it is more to do with being in the wrong time and place. If I'm not thinking about smashing the people I live with in the face with a hammer I am completely apathetic of any relationship with them at all. I'm the last single man standing now and it's magnifying the impression I have of myself as intrinsically unlovable, desperately condemned to my own company. I realise I don't want a girlfriend but I doubt whether I'd be capable of having one.  

I am having a heart attack now. I've been having this heart attack for some time now. 

I have to be one of the stupidest people I know. I do things that are severely damaging myself just because I can't resist for a few hours. I continue to do things I don't enjoy because I am too lazy to change. I am so stupid I was staring at a kitchen knife briefly last night before realizing that I didn't want to die, I simply wanted a different kind of pain. Something to distract me. Well they do say a change is as good as a rest.

I think sometimes that the realisation and diagnosis of my depression leads me to an expectation that it doesn't require constant treatment. That it can look after itself for the most part. Would I have the same careless disrespect for cancer? Would I continue to eat a side of bacon with every meal after a massive heart attack?

Here I am standing in the wrong clothes for the context or standing in the wrong context for the clothes. I'm a square peg and home is a round hole here. I always have been. Pressure is building with hideous subtlety for me to make something of myself but even static pressure causes opposition to weaken over time. I shouldn't be here, never should have been. 

So I went out last night and had some drinks. Had a look around, saw one thing that I like and a whole lot of shit I didn't.

Off Monday, must drink Sunday excitement! The Dj was playing this set-list in here when I was nineteen and it wasn't good then. Fat bald men throwing punches because of their paranoid perceptions. I doubt anyone was giving your missus the eyes mate. Drunken girls showering the ground with spilt super chips. Checked shirts that were out of fashion before the Apaches had their first glance at John Wayne's unsteady strut. Is this where Romeo first saw Juliet? I doubt he would have wanted her so much laid out on Monaghan street, fake tan mud-slide dressed up in yesterdays sale. Extreme emotions, we all love or hate each other that bit more at night, intoxicated.

In the middle of all this a friend of mine suggested to me that my standards are too high. My expectations of myself are too high, leading to disappointment. My expectations of a girlfriend are too high, leading too a lonely life. My expectations for life are too high, leading to depression. He thinks I would be better off doing what he has done, take a fairly average girl that I share almost no common interests with and whom I have no exceptional chemistry with and "give it a go". When I replied that there was a word I could use to describe what he was saying, he wasn't unhappy with being told I considered that settling.

I won't ever apologise for having this idealistic streak inside me. More than any other character trait I possess it's the one that make me what I am. Believe me when I say it makes me a more sensitive person, a more caring friend, a more hopeful human being. It's what induces me to pine for people and things I can't have because ideally I can have it all. But it is also what makes particularly susceptible to severe life-threatening depression. It is going to kill me or make me stronger. Unfortunately, it probably won't ever be able to make me happy.

So nothings changed has it? I say one thing and do another. I can't protect myself from restlessness. The consequences remain the same. The needy sadness, the pathetic hopelessness, the kitchen knife and the office scissors. I'm a selfish cunt really! Some people have made the effort for me when I won't do it myself. It'd be rather nice to have my might ducks moment

Imagine my face in the first 5 seconds of a bungee jump

I want to do things. Somethings and nothings. Good things and bad things. Important things and damn stupid things. Everything really. So why is that I'm sitting here feeling like I've done absolutely nothing at all. Procrastination has become a lifetime habit I'm going to attempt to assail.

Today I have that massively overused quote in my head. The one that says life is what happens when you're busy making plans. Actually, I think it's time somebody came up with a new quotation to get the point across. Anyway, it does sound a lot like the title of my autobiography. But then everybody does it. Nobody more than me. I love to dream. All the extraordinary things I am going to do when...

Allow me to wander through a small sample of the things I've always said I would like to do. Learn a second language. Alternately Spanish, Polish and Italian. Start a band. Visit every country in Europe. Travel the the rest of the world(except Australia). Become a genuine PUA. Reach my peak fitness. Start speaking my mind, regardless. Finish reading every single word on my bookshelf. Bungee jump or skydive. Start volunteering some place where I can at least try to help other people.

That last paragraph is less than a drop in the ocean. Sure I have made attempts to start some of the things I want to do. Have a few European countries ticked off and even began learning some languages. The problem is the amount of time I have spent trying to make these things happen is nothing in comparison to the time spent talking about it, thinking about it or imagining it. It's obvious that I spend too much time thinking and reflecting on things. That is a big part of it but not the whole story. It's the sheer lack of action that is really hurting. If you don't go for the things you want you just end up with what falls your way. So don't complain when it's not what you thought it might be.

Thinking about all the things holding me back I wonder if they're not all excuses. I feel like I have always struggled under the burden of being the youngest child. People who aren't the baby of the family won't get this. Carrying around this guilt that if I leave the house for good I would be signalling the beginning of the end for my parents. I left the house. I came back. I felt guilty for leading my own life. But really, was that not an excuse so I could slip back to my comfort zone with no pressure to do things for myself. It seems likely to me now.

Money or lack of it could be used as a reason not to have done some of the things I wanted to. Travelling costs money. Looking at that and being honest though, I would say I could easily find the money if I tried to save properly and stopped spending on random nonsense like a book on how to save that turned out to be another terrific waste of money. Another excuse.

I use my family, my depression, my romantic interests and fear of disapointment to retreat from endeavor. Why try anything when I have all these other things to deal with? Wouldn't it be better to wait until my life is absolutely perfect before I start shooting for the stars?

You may have guessed that the above was a rhetorical question. Or you may not. Anyway, it is pretty clear to me right now that waiting for the right time is absolutely the wrong thing to do. I need to go out and really struggle for the things I want. Otherwise I'm just wasting time and not really having fun wasting it. Sometimes I think about using depression as a catalyst. What I mean is I know I'm going to sink into a severe depression once more in the future. It's odds on. I'm looking at that and telling myself that it is all the more reason to do the things that I want to now, when I have the capability.

When it comes to those last few days when I can write the school report on this lifetime it  would be nice if I could say I at least tried to do all the things I wanted to. Regret the things you haven't done, not the the things you wish you hadn't. Up until now almost all my regrets are for the things I haven't done. Oh well, can't go back now but maybe I can start doing the things instead of just thinking about things.

The foot in my ass needs to be my own

I woke up this morning like everyone else in Ireland. With the sun illuminating my bedroom, stirring up a heatwave that we all long for eleven months of the year. I can do anything I want today. Anything!

The thing is though, I just want to close the blinds, crawl under the sheets and disappear from it all. Depression has washed over my entire body. I feel sick to the stomach. Helpless. Hopeless. Not in depair yet but it is going to take work to hold it back. Where has this come from? It's been maybe the worst year of my life but I've been pretty happy for the last month or so. Even if I didn't believe that myself, there are enough other people telling me I'm my old self again to make it true. It was good while it lasted.

I'm lying there in bed with two choices. Retreat or attack. Surrender or fight. One means doing what I've always done and let the depression own me again. It means giving myself an excuse to fail. A reason to stay in bed and avoid reality. A chance to imagine what I could do instead of having a go. To be honest, that's what I want to do. Reach for the cigarettes, sleep and sad songs.

The second option is a little harder to define. Obviously if I'm to stay and fight It's going to take some constructive action on my part. Trying to figure out what that is makes staying in bed today seem like the only realistic way to proceed. But I'm trying to change that negative pattern of thinking. I've been going to see a mental health nurse for the past two months because I was so under the influence of depression it was making me climb dangerously close to the ledge and jumping. I'm not there today. She's been trying to put it into my head that when I wake  up feeling like I do today that I just have to do something. Anything that isn't what I've always done. It will probably be painful but it's the only way to keep me from getting back up on that ledge.

Today doing something or anything means I dragged myself out of bed. Had breakfast. Took my bike out for a cycle. Avoiding going to the shop for cigarettes. Getting on here to write this. I'll go to work later and talk to people and laugh. I am going to finish a book I've been reading. I know it doesn't seem like much but when one day in bed can turn into two months of avoidance and desperation it could be a small step to saving my life.
I'm always clinically depressed, even when I'm laughing and joking. Even when I'm focused and determined. Even when I'm so outwardly confident that picking up girls in nightclubs is the easiest thing in the world again. I'm only a mishap away from falling back again. You can forget how bad the depression can get. Like today, most people would find it difficult to remember just how cold it can get in Ireland in winter. With me in good spirits, it's very hard to look back and feel empathy with the way I felt when all I could think about was dying. I have to keep reminding myself to remind myself to be careful.

I was writing something the other day about needing someones foot in my ass to keep me moving in the right direction. It's true. I do. I went for three days at the weekend without feeding any of my prescribed anti-depressants into my body while I absolutely saturated it with alcohol, a depressant. So, I really can't crawl around in bed all day wallowing in self pity anymore. It was my own choice. It seems the foot in my ass really needs to be my own.

Change a habit

Disregard the soliloquy in the paragragh below. I think it is mainly for myself.

 What are you waiting for? Real change isn't going to come along and shake you from the outside while you've been making no effort to do it for yourself. I hope you're not sitting back with your arms folded, content to see it through to your own version of the afterlife without giving it your best shot. If you are, stop and think for a minute. Please. Really there isn't any evidence that there is any eternal existence. It is okay to go with the facts and use logic to your advantage. This is it. This is your five minutes. You're taking to the stage on Broadway for one night only so give it everything you've got to make it worthwhile.

People think I'm comparatively intelligent but I'm convinced that we are all quite similarly gifted it's just that we all have different interests and are engaged in habits we don't even realize are controlling us.. I've read some of the classics. Books on history and every possible area of self-help too. Taught myself some instruments and at least tried to learn a few languages. Minor achievements I must concede but the point is that anyone can do these things and more if they could just allow themselves to believe they can. I'm not saying that everybody can do anything and everything. Clearly that is not true. In my minds eye I want to complete the Tour de France one day when I can't even convince myself to do a 10km cycle because it is too cold. So I wouldn't say anything is possible. But I know that absolutely anyone can excel. Anyone can focus on some things they really want to do, believe they can do it and convert that belief into hard work. It's all you. Just you.

 For the most part I think it is habit that holds most people back. We program our brains to do the same thing day in day out and it takes a significant effort to make changes but it can be done. For myself, my biggest habit is depression. All it takes is a few small cues to set me off and I lay down and let it wash over me. And that is what I need to work on. Understanding what those cues are and changing my reactions to them and I hope to eventually form new habits, positive ones. For instance, a cue for me might be someone walking within five meters of me. Presently my habit is probably to go into a bit of a shell, close my body off and avoid eye contact. My little self-improvement project for this week is to recognize the cues and use them to start making eye contact and convert that into a habit.

If I'm hearing myself right I'm attempting to inspire everyone to grasp the things that are likely to make them happy now, instead of waiting for them to hit you. It's so clear in my mind right now that we are all capable of doing so many things but not that many of us really believe we can. So try and change one habit this week if you think it's resulting in a negative behavior or try to do something you've always wanted but where too afraid to try. Change is only good. Oh yeah and if anyone is judging you for doing what you need to do just remember that you aren't even remotely doing it for them. Your happiness has to be internal. I write that without having read any books on Eastern Philosophy recently. Just got drunk and had fun. I'm aware this blog was begun by me stating my desire to change my habit of quitting alcohol but I don't quite believe in that one just yet.

 If it's going to make you happy, DO IT. And do it with conviction.

I'm just fucking waffling now

Twenty-five. The number of days since I last allowed myself to have a drink. Jesus, I make myself sound like a park bench alcoholic on the run from years of special brew and cheap cider. I'm not by the way but I'm nowhere near ready to finish just yet.

I hate to admit it, but it is fair to say that those days added together see me in a better place than I was before. Not that they were twenty-five consecutive steps to where I am either. I've been riding on a high frequency sine wave of moods in that time and it only feels as if it's starting to flatline now.

There are definitely some serious benefits to this not drinking carry-on. I suppose most people would assume the obvious benefit would be improved physical fitness. Especially for a pints drinker. But for me up to this been point I haven't noticed significant gains. Then again I have been smoking quit a lot recently as a part of a coping mechanism but that's just a passing phase for me. Anyway the cigarettes are primarily used as an accessory for my leather jacket.

Been reading more in the last month. I love to read when I can so it's been a real positive to get back into it. It might be a little hard to see a correlation between drinking and not reading but with me a hangover means not being able to read for a week or more. Even if it's just a newspaper article, not that I read those at all anymore. If you get a chance read some of Richard Dawkins' books. I've just read The Selfish Gene and The God Delusion. Both excellent.
I would never have been the most faithful believer but the argument against a God and religion in The God Delusion is too compelling to ignore. Makes me angry some of the disgusting things done under the banner of religion. It is difficult for me to understand how humanity is so blinded by it all.

Whoa! I'm really leading myself off on a tangent there. It's like the group conversations I have with the boys. Somebody begins telling a story but half an hour later we've gone off in so many directions that we never got anywhere near the end of the original story.

Oh Yeah, so i have not touched a drop of the good stuff in twenty-five days. Now comes the revelation. I'm making a comeback this Friday. In Belfast. Returning to the scene of the crime so to speak. And it cannot come quick enough. I'm going to enjoy this one...

Wasn't all bad

Arctic Monkeys lyric from back in the day:

"Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment in evening entertainment but tonight there'll be some love. tonight there'll be a rawkas yeah, regardless of whats gone before"

There is something in that I think. The anticipation building inside before a big night out, but like a rubber band, the greater the energy of the anticipation the more violent the returning force becomes. It's kind of how I feel about going out now. If I am really excited for it I want to drink. If I drink there is a good chance of the night leading to disappointment and depression.

Reflecting that I might have gone off course a little with the last couple of posts I thought this time I might try to stay on point. So where was I? Ah yes, attempting to drastically reduce my alcohol consumption, hoping that it might stop me feeling like I want to throw myself into carlingford bay.
       Last friday, hungover and on a massive downer, I stood there in Belfast considering whether or not I really do want to live. Like with most of my problems I am aware that the alcohol is a major factor in bringing out these thoughts but just knowing that ain't ever going to be enough to stop them.
       So now, a week later, somewhat refreshed and thinking with more clarity you might think I am certain to never drink again when I know the effects it can have on me. How could I ever want to feel that way again? I don't. Of course I don't. But that's not the reason I drink. When I think of drinking now it is only the good things that come to mind. Intoxication, laughs, confidence. Pure fun. The excitement rising to a crescendo as I enter the nightclub. Legs, breasts and ass. Fake tan and bleached blondes. Shots and cigarettes. Jesus, I'm getting pulling pants on just thinking about it.
       How could anyone not want to feel like that? I could go on feeling like that forever. I just can't continue to withstand the downers and depression and thoughts that I might just end it one day. I've had to grow up a bit I guess. Realise that if I was serious about getting help that I was going to have to put in the work myself. Can't keep doing what you've been doing Ciaran. Well you can but it is not going to be getting any better.
       I'm not angry with myself for drinking last week in the way that I was the next day. If anything it has helped me see once again that I can't keep overdoing it. Look on the bright side. So far I have had three nights out since starting this and I stayed sober twice. Nice one.
       Can't imagine myself ever not wanting to drink. Too many good memories to ignore. A personal favourite of mine was a friday evening pub crawl in Galway  with some of my best friends. I don't know how, but we found ourselves in the backroom of one of the pubs playing a very drunken game of djenga. I'd never played before but on this day that game was the most important thing in the world and it was epic! Following that diversion,Cooney(me), found my way over to a strip club with the help of my friend Barry. Yes, a strip club in Galway, Ireland. Needless to say with a lapdance costing over 100 euros neither of us had enough cash on us for anything like that. That is when the devil climbed up onto my shoulder to remind me of the debit card resting in my pocket. No stopping me now.
       Waking up to find a receipt from a gentlemans club with 120 euro on your bank card isn't as unpleasant as it sounds. Quite funny really. The others had a good chuckle anyways. So did I when I found the jeans I had been wearing the night before were as good as ruined because now they were covered in...fake tan. #WINNING

I think what I am saying is that I wouldn't change any of the stupid drunken things I have done in the past. Most of them were fun. Some are why I am friends with people. Now it's up to me to make some new stories in a different way if I can. Just won't ever forget what went before.