Do we all live in glass houses?

I find myself arriving at this page every so often, be it via my iPhone or the rare chance I get to spend some time in the office in front of the computer, when the mood takes me to write. Sometimes I feel compelled to convey emotions, opinions or present a tale of general malaise. A vast proportion of these visits result in the inevitable retraction of thoughts, deeming them too personal or confessional than is good for me. However, I hold close to the adage that a problem shared is a problem halved. By the very nature of that aphorism, the said problem should be granulated to such a degree it becomes non existent if shared enough times. What better way to do it than a blog. I'm unsure as I write this if the publish button will be clicked, if the thoughts will be shared, but I gain solace in the fact that perhaps by just writing them I will have halved the problem.

Those who know me well, and perhaps those that don't, will probably be aware of the fact I very much wear my heart on my sleeve. But the truth is, I don't. I developed from a very young age the ability to create a sort of pseudo candor, a trick to make it appear I was bearing all when in fact, I was doing nothing of the sort. I grew up in an environment where strength was a necessity, a requirement to support those around me. The notion of showing weakness, sadness, an inability to cope, was simply not in the option list. However, beneath this affectation I suffered in a world of deep depression. Where there appeared strength, there was weakness. As my life progressed I settled into this semblance, allowing how I wanted people to see me to take over how I was actually feeling. In truth, I maintain this dissimilation to this day, and still suffer depression to a great degree. It writhes me with guilt to feel the way I do because I have so much good in my life; so many aspects of positivity. But that's where rational thought prevails, and anyone that has suffered with depression knows that rational thought may as well be pieces of string for all good it does. It's painstakingly difficult to remove ones self from the irate, irrational, borderline paranoid thought process. I live a life of almost incessant worrying that I have upset someone, or done something to incite disapproval from them. I end most days wishing I hadn't said half of the things I said and often feel that as a result of my daily words or actions, the people close to me will want nothing more to do with me. Self-loathing is very symptomatic of depression and it's something I pursue a daily battle with. And the problem with self-loathing is that it becomes an endless spiral of feeling bad about how you are as a person, act, look, and how people perceive you and then feeling bad for feeling bad, and so forth.

This year has seen nothing but positivity in terms of my surroundings and I am working hard on a clarity of focus on these things, and I have set myself as many attainable goals as I can think of. I just hope I can reach them...

La vita nova

It was once said that life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. Tonight was one of those life changing moments that took my breath away to as prodigious a degree as the announcement that I was to be a father. Two of my dearest friends sat before Suzanne and I and confessed something they had been hiding for a number of weeks; that they were to bring a newborn into this world in little over 6 months. The news was completely, totally and utterly unexpected. Hearing this news took me back to the elation I experienced some 15 months ago. I felt a warmness in my heart and a realisation that this news was to spell out, I hope, a future carved out in a stone shared by all of us for many years to come.

To Si and Jo - congratulations to you both. I can't wait to meet Baby Tate.