I would like to start with how pleased and proud I am of myself, without trying to sound too big-headed, at the progress I have made. From the outside, the view you get is of a layabout, without a job or working towards a degree, thus making me lazy and automatically a dole chaser. Of course, people are going to make assumptions, because that is human nature. Subconsciously, people judge a book by it's cover without reading the blurb first. Not on purpose, people judge others by what is put in front of them. You cannot see an invisible illness, so people judge by what they see on the outside. A normal person, throwing away his life.
I can certainly understand the viewpoint. So much so, that I sometimes walk along the streets of Bedford, on my way to the town centre most probably, trying to work out if a person walking in the opposite direction has any internal problems. Of course, it's impossible. You cannot tell. I end up concluding that very few people have the perfect life, so the vast majority of people put on an act.
I know. Sometimes, I even scare myself with the things I write in this thing.
I think there are a lot more people out there living with evils inside them. Evils that they are trying to ignore, hoping they'll go away. I have even noticed some grievances in close friends of mine, and have often wondered whether they have or still do experience similar feelings that I do. For, despite the so far successful treatment, I still get lapses. I try to fight them, telling myself that things will get better once the opportunity arises, and once I become more mature and grown-up, using techniques I have learnt recently to combat the darkness. Sometimes its impossible. But sometimes it isn't.
Take today for example. I had not wanted to wake up at 10am, as I had not slept very well so gave myself the reward of an extra couple of hours sleep, before complimenting that reward with hard work*. Midday came, and I felt exactly the same as I had a couple of hours earlier, yet forced myself to get going. Dragging my feet along the carpeted floor of the upstairs landing towards the bathroom, was so draining and exhausting, that it seemed the only possible solution was more sleep, thus sleeping deep into the afternoon. This is the effect that depression can have. Zero energy, zero motivation to do the most simple of tasks, like walking, it can be soul destroying. The first hour this afternoon was hellish. All I could think about was sleep and more sleep, never waking up, never having to face the day. I didn't have any lunch, for I had lost my appetite, before a dimly-lit bulb appeared above my head, telling me that getting outside would fix things. Grabbing the classic combo of keys, wallet and phone, I went outside to grab my bike, with the buckled back wheel, and went on my way. 5 minutes into the journey, I could not continue. Cycling was impossible, my lack of energy being very palpable. I could not give up though. So I walked the rest of the journey to town, with my bike in tow, feeling horribly dizzy and light-headed. I was in a rough place.
On arrival in town, I locked my bike up, although I would have been very pleased if someone had stolen it if I'm honest, and went to the bank. I had promised Father Mitten I would put his money in his football club account, so that was one errand to do. For the rest of the time, I grabbed a chocolate bar and a bottle of Vimto, and walked the familiar route to the Job Centre. The machines were still down, as they had been the day before. My head still hurt, and walking was very difficult. I ended up sitting down on a bench for half an hour, observing passers by as they went about their daily lives. How many of these people are living with what I've got? After a bit more walking around, I stopped to observe the unfortunate events in the hub of the town centre, where there was a blaze surrounded by a large number of emergency services, before walking back to my bike and begrudgingly cycling home. For some reason, this was slightly easier than the outward journey, despite being uphill.
Upon getting home, I physically threw my god-awful bike into the garage and went and collapsed on my bed. Falling asleep was not an option, so went downstairs to watch TV, still dragging my feet on the carpet, as I had done 5 hours previously. Breathing heavily as I got downstairs, I sat and watched Come Dine With Me, the news, (which is mostly negative these days), and endured 10 minutes of Hollyoaks before deciding that food was needed. I have since spent the rest of the evening dossing on this very laptop.
Do you understand where I'm coming from? That was a very frank and honest account of my day, and what did I do? I woke up at midday, cycled to town, walked around a bit, cycled back and dossed. Yet the effort to do so was so huge, so monumental, so colossal, that it left me drained of all energy. Despite feeling rather tired, I know I won't get to sleep before 2am, so won't even try. This is every day. This is my life at the moment, and despite trying anything and everything to look for work, most of the time, I wonder how the hell I'm going to cope with the demands and pressures of a job, when I can hardly muster a trip to town without feeling completely exhausted.
I can do all I can to change the way I think, of which I have made a decent start, but I feel I can't change a single thing to how I react to events. Maybe a routine will help this, but when the time comes that I have to settle down and go to bed at the same time, every night, waking up at the same time, every morning, I'll have lost the ability to enjoy life. Which is what I should be doing right now, but can't. In all honesty, I feel like I'm lost in a huge jungle, trying to fight my way out with a machete. I have tried being rescued by someone else. I have tried creeping out, hoping no one will notice. Now, I'm battering my way out. Slowly but surely.
At least I have a weekend of football to referee, with the good news coming this evening that I have received a County Cup Semi-Final that is to take place next Sunday. A good end to what has been a tough day fighting the illness that has plagued the best years of my life. I won't give up.
*You're wondering when the "hard work" occured? The whole day was hard work. My point exactly.
Saturday 21 January 2012
Wednesday 18 January 2012
Let's Have a Chat
After the kick and hurry weekend I faced, with a poor refereeing performance followed by a day of complete and utter laziness as my Sunday game was postponed, my latest session of CBT nearly passed me by with the blink of an eye. Only a few hours earlier, I was sat at home, reading the first of what will be many refereeing biographies that were kindly donated to me, when it dawned on me that I was due at Queens Park Neighbourhood Centre at 6pm on Monday for the first of 5 sessions of 'Group CBT'. All of a sudden, I became quite apprehensive and nervous. I had found it a challenge to talk to a therapist one-on-one, but to other people? I'm not so sure...
5.30pm came alarmingly fast and we were ready for the off. I sat in the passenger seat of Mother Mitten's Peugeot 306, in light blue, terrified out of my skin. I had been absolutely fine for a couple of weeks now, without the need to call anyone or talk things through, but as soon as the therapy that was designed to help had come, I was in bits. Almost to the point where I nearly snapped at Mother Mitten as we struggled to find the venue, something that is completely out of my nature. I don't get angry, so why am I acting angrily?
Upon entry, wondering whether or not I was in the right place, I was greeted by a camp sounding young man called Lawrence, who shook my hand. I used to be great at meeting new people. A confident persona, solid posture and a strong handshake however, was replaced by a barely recognisable figure, a stuttering voice and a handshake that seemed to suggest I had never shaken someone's hand before. What was happening to me? The air had a feeling of negativity in it, and the surroundings almost resembled a care home, as I was invited to make myself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Even remembering how to make a cuppa was difficult, as by now my thoughts had developed and spiralled and the rational thinking that had made the last fortnight an unfounded success had unravelled in front of my very eyes and lay in a metaphorical mess in front of me. I didn't want to be there. Judging by the last two weeks I had had, I didn't need to be there. But clearly, given I was falling apart somewhat, there was obviously a reason I was there.
In the 15 minutes between my arrival and the start of the session I had composed myself a little. The arrival of the other "patients", for want of a better word, seemed to calm me down. Each as quiet and reserved as the next one, the people that filed in through the door came from all walks of life. Mothers, fathers, businessmen, foreigners, but I was probably the youngest in the group of roughly 20. Lawrence then invited us into the next room, where 3 rows of 7 seats were set out in front a projector and a whiteboard. On the seats, lay a monstrous folder with a million pieces of paper in. The slides for the next 2 hours, including a couple of forms and questions to answer, I almost felt like I was in a University lecture, (not that I know what that feels like of course!) Then a woman walked in, resembling River Song in the Doctor Who series, and she began talking. The first 10 minutes were a blur, as she spoke about how this wasn't "counselling" but "therapy". Why she needed 10 minutes to explain the difference was quite frankly, bizarre, but then we moved on to finding out a little bit more about a few people in the group. She said she would write down 2 words on the whiteboard, and invite us to talk to the person next to us, which word we preferred. What I was expecting were words of emotion, like 'Happy' or 'Fulfilled'.
I was quite surprised then when the first couple of words were written down, and as she stepped back, I saw the words, 'Football' or 'Tennis' written down. Excuse me? How is this helping? I got the feeling the rest of the group was wondering what on Earth was going on aswell, however, with bemusement, I turned to my left to speak to the middle-aged man next to me, who looked horribly nervous, and asked what he preferred. His thoughts shall remain private.
Other combinations included, Cat vs Dog (neither), Chinese vs Indian (Indian all day long), and Beach Holidays vs Activity Holidays (a bit of both) and after 15 minutes or so, I suppose I knew a few people around me a bit better than I did at 6pm. The rest of the session passed by, with Lawrence and Sue swapping at different intervals, with me trying not to fall asleep as I realised Lawrence had the serious voice of a monotoned statue. His campness had somewhat disappeared, and he had turned into a bog-standard politician. 8pm came around eventually, and after waiting for a while to sign for a couple of brochures to take home, I rushed out of the building to be greeted by both Mother and Father Mitten. Strange. They don't usually come together to come and pick me up from things, but this time they had. Despite their claims that they had come to help each other navigate, I got the feeling they had come to show that they were both there for me, and to support me through this. I was touched, but still a little discontent as we drove home. I had been as positive as I have ever have in the last 3 years that afternoon, and in the space of 3 hours, I had changed from happy to irrational and thought-provoking madness. Why is my brain such a complicated place?
I went to sleep fairly late last night aswell, although I blame that more on Jeff Winter's journey from boot boy to Premiership referee, but as I woke up, later than usual, today, I just didn't feel right. That feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that just screams, "Why am I doing this?" In the past, I'd have just stayed asleep, wishing for it to go away, but at least today, I physically fell out of bed, landing on the assortment of plugs on the floor once more and tried to fill the day. What happened was a lot more book reading, a lot of laptop dossing and a half-hearted attempt at a bike ride, but also a lot more clock watching. I suppose I should have learnt my lesson by now. Being busy equals busy mind. A busy mind cannot think about problems, and "stuff" seems fine.
The one thought I just cannot get out of my head though, is that this latest stage of the blues, was triggered by a session that is designed to get rid of them. The very thing that is supposed to fight these thoughts, create them in the first place. Surely there's something not right about that?
5.30pm came alarmingly fast and we were ready for the off. I sat in the passenger seat of Mother Mitten's Peugeot 306, in light blue, terrified out of my skin. I had been absolutely fine for a couple of weeks now, without the need to call anyone or talk things through, but as soon as the therapy that was designed to help had come, I was in bits. Almost to the point where I nearly snapped at Mother Mitten as we struggled to find the venue, something that is completely out of my nature. I don't get angry, so why am I acting angrily?
Upon entry, wondering whether or not I was in the right place, I was greeted by a camp sounding young man called Lawrence, who shook my hand. I used to be great at meeting new people. A confident persona, solid posture and a strong handshake however, was replaced by a barely recognisable figure, a stuttering voice and a handshake that seemed to suggest I had never shaken someone's hand before. What was happening to me? The air had a feeling of negativity in it, and the surroundings almost resembled a care home, as I was invited to make myself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Even remembering how to make a cuppa was difficult, as by now my thoughts had developed and spiralled and the rational thinking that had made the last fortnight an unfounded success had unravelled in front of my very eyes and lay in a metaphorical mess in front of me. I didn't want to be there. Judging by the last two weeks I had had, I didn't need to be there. But clearly, given I was falling apart somewhat, there was obviously a reason I was there.
In the 15 minutes between my arrival and the start of the session I had composed myself a little. The arrival of the other "patients", for want of a better word, seemed to calm me down. Each as quiet and reserved as the next one, the people that filed in through the door came from all walks of life. Mothers, fathers, businessmen, foreigners, but I was probably the youngest in the group of roughly 20. Lawrence then invited us into the next room, where 3 rows of 7 seats were set out in front a projector and a whiteboard. On the seats, lay a monstrous folder with a million pieces of paper in. The slides for the next 2 hours, including a couple of forms and questions to answer, I almost felt like I was in a University lecture, (not that I know what that feels like of course!) Then a woman walked in, resembling River Song in the Doctor Who series, and she began talking. The first 10 minutes were a blur, as she spoke about how this wasn't "counselling" but "therapy". Why she needed 10 minutes to explain the difference was quite frankly, bizarre, but then we moved on to finding out a little bit more about a few people in the group. She said she would write down 2 words on the whiteboard, and invite us to talk to the person next to us, which word we preferred. What I was expecting were words of emotion, like 'Happy' or 'Fulfilled'.
I was quite surprised then when the first couple of words were written down, and as she stepped back, I saw the words, 'Football' or 'Tennis' written down. Excuse me? How is this helping? I got the feeling the rest of the group was wondering what on Earth was going on aswell, however, with bemusement, I turned to my left to speak to the middle-aged man next to me, who looked horribly nervous, and asked what he preferred. His thoughts shall remain private.
Other combinations included, Cat vs Dog (neither), Chinese vs Indian (Indian all day long), and Beach Holidays vs Activity Holidays (a bit of both) and after 15 minutes or so, I suppose I knew a few people around me a bit better than I did at 6pm. The rest of the session passed by, with Lawrence and Sue swapping at different intervals, with me trying not to fall asleep as I realised Lawrence had the serious voice of a monotoned statue. His campness had somewhat disappeared, and he had turned into a bog-standard politician. 8pm came around eventually, and after waiting for a while to sign for a couple of brochures to take home, I rushed out of the building to be greeted by both Mother and Father Mitten. Strange. They don't usually come together to come and pick me up from things, but this time they had. Despite their claims that they had come to help each other navigate, I got the feeling they had come to show that they were both there for me, and to support me through this. I was touched, but still a little discontent as we drove home. I had been as positive as I have ever have in the last 3 years that afternoon, and in the space of 3 hours, I had changed from happy to irrational and thought-provoking madness. Why is my brain such a complicated place?
I went to sleep fairly late last night aswell, although I blame that more on Jeff Winter's journey from boot boy to Premiership referee, but as I woke up, later than usual, today, I just didn't feel right. That feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that just screams, "Why am I doing this?" In the past, I'd have just stayed asleep, wishing for it to go away, but at least today, I physically fell out of bed, landing on the assortment of plugs on the floor once more and tried to fill the day. What happened was a lot more book reading, a lot of laptop dossing and a half-hearted attempt at a bike ride, but also a lot more clock watching. I suppose I should have learnt my lesson by now. Being busy equals busy mind. A busy mind cannot think about problems, and "stuff" seems fine.
The one thought I just cannot get out of my head though, is that this latest stage of the blues, was triggered by a session that is designed to get rid of them. The very thing that is supposed to fight these thoughts, create them in the first place. Surely there's something not right about that?
Sunday 15 January 2012
Confidence or Arrogance?
There is a big difference. Confidence suggests you know what you're doing, how you're going to do it and what the end result will be. Arrogance is all of these things, put on in a brash act. Most people can notice the difference, yet some people walk around as if they own the planet. Do they not know that we think they are idiotic imbesiles? Discuss.
Anyway. I only begin like this, because I have noticed a distinct difference between the two this weekend, with examples. I like confident people. Being confident doesn't mean you have to go round and shout about it, and I am beginning to reach this stage myself. I've had stages where I've thought I was confident but wasn't really, making me look arrogant to some people. I don't like arrogance. And I don't think I am at all arrogant, definitely not on purpose at least.
This weekend has been slightly more difficult than the rest of the week, which is a strict role reversal. Usually the "working week", (I know, don't comment!), is more effort than the weekend, but I presume Week 2 of 52 wants to be different. I have been out pretty much every day, walking and cycling in the sun, avoiding patches of frost that have built up in the overnight arctic conditions. I worked out that I had travelled a total of 33.2 miles this week, (including a Thursday where 0 miles were achieved), which is quite incredible by my standards. Despite my attitude of the past stating that the myth that "exercise helps the mind" being particularly prevelant, I have to say, it really does. Really, really does. More than anything else, it tires you out, meaning sleep is much easier to come by as midnight comes and goes.
To this particularly drab weekend then, and waking up on Saturday morning(ish) was difficult. For some reason, I didn't really want to get up and referee a poor Division 4 game, in the fresh conditions that this weekend brought, but I thought that getting up and at it might help. The game itself wasn't great, and neither was I, as my positioning was atrocious and I was wrong in law on one occasion although I have since been told that it wasn't really THAT important... Hmm... I was pleased to go home though, if I'm honest, and stewed around my mistakes for a while before stamping them out of my brain. I've got to learn to appreciate that mistakes happen, and you learn from them. It happens, get on with it. Move on to the next adventure. Saturday night was cool, as I chilled out downstairs watching 'Take Me Out' with the family, which is also an event I am trying to do more. My game today was called off due to a frozen pitch, thankfully, as I was even less motivated than yesterday to go out and referee, and we decided to go to the cinema instead. Which was a laugh!
Now it's 9.30pm, and I've got to get back on it again for tomorrow. The start to another week and the assault must continue. More exercise, more productiveness, more happiness. Let's do it.
Anyway. I only begin like this, because I have noticed a distinct difference between the two this weekend, with examples. I like confident people. Being confident doesn't mean you have to go round and shout about it, and I am beginning to reach this stage myself. I've had stages where I've thought I was confident but wasn't really, making me look arrogant to some people. I don't like arrogance. And I don't think I am at all arrogant, definitely not on purpose at least.
This weekend has been slightly more difficult than the rest of the week, which is a strict role reversal. Usually the "working week", (I know, don't comment!), is more effort than the weekend, but I presume Week 2 of 52 wants to be different. I have been out pretty much every day, walking and cycling in the sun, avoiding patches of frost that have built up in the overnight arctic conditions. I worked out that I had travelled a total of 33.2 miles this week, (including a Thursday where 0 miles were achieved), which is quite incredible by my standards. Despite my attitude of the past stating that the myth that "exercise helps the mind" being particularly prevelant, I have to say, it really does. Really, really does. More than anything else, it tires you out, meaning sleep is much easier to come by as midnight comes and goes.
To this particularly drab weekend then, and waking up on Saturday morning(ish) was difficult. For some reason, I didn't really want to get up and referee a poor Division 4 game, in the fresh conditions that this weekend brought, but I thought that getting up and at it might help. The game itself wasn't great, and neither was I, as my positioning was atrocious and I was wrong in law on one occasion although I have since been told that it wasn't really THAT important... Hmm... I was pleased to go home though, if I'm honest, and stewed around my mistakes for a while before stamping them out of my brain. I've got to learn to appreciate that mistakes happen, and you learn from them. It happens, get on with it. Move on to the next adventure. Saturday night was cool, as I chilled out downstairs watching 'Take Me Out' with the family, which is also an event I am trying to do more. My game today was called off due to a frozen pitch, thankfully, as I was even less motivated than yesterday to go out and referee, and we decided to go to the cinema instead. Which was a laugh!
Now it's 9.30pm, and I've got to get back on it again for tomorrow. The start to another week and the assault must continue. More exercise, more productiveness, more happiness. Let's do it.
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Making A Difference
1.30am seems a good a time as any to update this thing, and although it's quite obviously going to be along the same lines as the other posts since my comeback, I think it's important to tell others of my feelings, my story and my goals with healthy regularity.
A couple of days ago, I received a text message. Nothing unusual there, but it was a little out of the blue from a very good friend who complimented me on a successful comeback on here, and told me she would use it to follow my example in thinking more positively and found these very words an inspiration. I was shocked. Humbled, but shocked. I really didn't think that the words in here made a difference to anyone but me, as selfish as it sounds, but to hear from not just her, but a couple of people now, really does make me feel like I'm making a difference to not just me, but others also.
I am not very good at receiving praise. Almost as bad as I am at receiving criticism in fact, because I am outrageously modest. I usually take praise as a sort of fake attempt to make me feel better. Almost as if the person saying the words are just saying them to avoid criticising, and it's yet another thing I am trying to change about how my brain functions. Take criticism constructively, and praise as just that. I do tend to feel quite embarrassed when praise of this nature turns up aswell. I mean, I do enjoy receiving compliments, (who doesn't), but especially when it comes to an art form, I am quite shy in accepting praise. For that is what I think this writing malarky is. An art form.
It used to be the case when it came to brief forays on stage aswell. Audience members would come up to me after the show and congratulate me for a faultless performance, but instead of accepting it and basking in the praise as such, I would tend to think, "Well, surely they must have seen that little slip up just before the interval?" I would presume that people spot the mistakes more than appreciating the good, but it really isn't the case. The human race is really a lovely race to be a part of, don't you think?
The only piece of criticism I've really taken well in recent times was my latest attempt at singing 'I Believe I Can Fly' in an intoxicated state with the help of a karaoke machine, where most people told me I was shit. I'm no singer, I can accept that at least.
I've moved on a lot since the start of this particular episode of my life. At the age of 17, not knowing what on Earth was going on, where most peers were concentrating on getting good A-Levels, I spent most of my time cowered in the corner of my room, crying. Asking myself why I wasn't straight or why I was struggling while others seemed to be coasting through life effortlessly. 3 years on, and I've accepted me for me, even being confident enough to ask a mate on whether he thought a potential guy was good-looking or not, although I suppose he wasn't the right person to ask! Bless him!
Only the past few weeks, I have really appreciated what I've got. A warm bed to sleep in at night, the best friends on the planet, a laptop to type these very words on. Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of what's right in front of your very eyes, and without trying to sound too soppy and Hollywood, I've got it all. Apart from the perfect job of course, or a boyfriend forward slash girlfriend to snuggle up to, but it will come! You see, typing the words, "or a boyfriend to snuggle up to" a few years ago would of been a strict no-no for me. Now? I couldn't care less what anyone thinks, because I'm on the road to happiness.
And for the past few years, I have quite literally dreamed of happiness. And it's on the horizon.
A couple of days ago, I received a text message. Nothing unusual there, but it was a little out of the blue from a very good friend who complimented me on a successful comeback on here, and told me she would use it to follow my example in thinking more positively and found these very words an inspiration. I was shocked. Humbled, but shocked. I really didn't think that the words in here made a difference to anyone but me, as selfish as it sounds, but to hear from not just her, but a couple of people now, really does make me feel like I'm making a difference to not just me, but others also.
I am not very good at receiving praise. Almost as bad as I am at receiving criticism in fact, because I am outrageously modest. I usually take praise as a sort of fake attempt to make me feel better. Almost as if the person saying the words are just saying them to avoid criticising, and it's yet another thing I am trying to change about how my brain functions. Take criticism constructively, and praise as just that. I do tend to feel quite embarrassed when praise of this nature turns up aswell. I mean, I do enjoy receiving compliments, (who doesn't), but especially when it comes to an art form, I am quite shy in accepting praise. For that is what I think this writing malarky is. An art form.
It used to be the case when it came to brief forays on stage aswell. Audience members would come up to me after the show and congratulate me for a faultless performance, but instead of accepting it and basking in the praise as such, I would tend to think, "Well, surely they must have seen that little slip up just before the interval?" I would presume that people spot the mistakes more than appreciating the good, but it really isn't the case. The human race is really a lovely race to be a part of, don't you think?
The only piece of criticism I've really taken well in recent times was my latest attempt at singing 'I Believe I Can Fly' in an intoxicated state with the help of a karaoke machine, where most people told me I was shit. I'm no singer, I can accept that at least.
I've moved on a lot since the start of this particular episode of my life. At the age of 17, not knowing what on Earth was going on, where most peers were concentrating on getting good A-Levels, I spent most of my time cowered in the corner of my room, crying. Asking myself why I wasn't straight or why I was struggling while others seemed to be coasting through life effortlessly. 3 years on, and I've accepted me for me, even being confident enough to ask a mate on whether he thought a potential guy was good-looking or not, although I suppose he wasn't the right person to ask! Bless him!
Only the past few weeks, I have really appreciated what I've got. A warm bed to sleep in at night, the best friends on the planet, a laptop to type these very words on. Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of what's right in front of your very eyes, and without trying to sound too soppy and Hollywood, I've got it all. Apart from the perfect job of course, or a boyfriend forward slash girlfriend to snuggle up to, but it will come! You see, typing the words, "or a boyfriend to snuggle up to" a few years ago would of been a strict no-no for me. Now? I couldn't care less what anyone thinks, because I'm on the road to happiness.
And for the past few years, I have quite literally dreamed of happiness. And it's on the horizon.
Monday 9 January 2012
The Man In The Middle
As promised, an entire post dedicated to my exploits, (or lack of maybe), of refereeing around Bedfordshire. But before I get on to me, I would like to comment on the boys at the top. The guys on the Select Group. The men who take charge of the Premier League games week in, week out.
I have spent most of the season defending them, using lines such as, "they only get one look" and, "most of the people commenting haven't refereed a game in their lives", and although I'm right, it's starting to get ridiculous. So many big decisions are getting called wrong that referees are under the largest amount of scrutiny that I can remember, and even though we are universes apart, it does affect us meer mortals on grass roots football. Today's performance by Chris Foy was the last straw for me. The red card he issued to the Man City captain just encapsulates all that is wrong with the Laws of the Game at the moment. Yes, he went in two-footed and yes, he left the floor but did he actually touch his opponent? He got as much of the ball as you can physically get, and very, very little, (if not, none) of his opponent, yet still got sent off? It was a horrible decision, and it wasn't sold very well either. You could even go so far as to say it wasn't even a foul. There was a long pause by Foy before giving a free kick and only a couple of United players remonstrated. I think everyone was surprised when a red was flashed.
I'm not a huge fan of Chris Foy. He is an average top-flight referee, but the mistakes this season haven't come from the new boys. The likes of Jon Moss and Neil Swarbrick, premier league newcomers they may be, have given good accounts of themselves this season. I can list a fair few high profile mistakes that have come from others though. Martin Atkinson's red card in the Merseyside derby. Phil Dowd's red card for Chris Boyd, (I think) at Aston Villa. The penalty debacle from Mike Jones and his assistant at Old Trafford against Newcastle. Even the best referee in the world at the moment, Howard Webb, gave a penalty to Everton despite the Everton attacker kicking the floor, and not making contact with the defender.
The Webb decision is almost forgiveable, but the one that stands out for me was the red card issued to Gary Cahill by Stuart Attwell. While a whole 45 yards away from goal, Cahill was deemed to be "denying an obvious goal scoring opportunity" for Scott Parker. Stuart Attwell has a history of strange decisions, (remember the 'Ghost Goal' anyone?), and this equally strange decision just proves he shouldn't be in the Select Group.
I mention this simply because a similar situation occurred in my game today. The quick left winger for Blues got past the Whites right-back only to be pulled back, and yes, he would of been away, but no way was it denying an obvious goal scoring opportunity, (otherwise known as DOGSO). Despite the Blues protestations that Gary Cahill was sent off for exactly the same thing, I had to remind the player that that decision was wrong and to "keep his thoughts to himself". Incidentally, the purpitrator got a caution, which was spot on.
I enjoyed my game today. I turned up a full hour before kick-off, (as Father Mitten wanted to get home for the Manchester Derby) and went about my pre-match routine. One of the referees main jobs is to make sure the playing conditions are safe and that everything is ok with the pitch and the players equipment. After all the pre-match jazz was finished, 5 minutes in I get the two assistants in and outline what I want from them. These being "club" assistants, the general instructions go along the lines of, "ball in and out of play and offsides only. No free kicks". I was pleased to see them both be completely honest and non-biased throughout the game, and this helps massively.
The game itself started at 100mph. Despite these two teams only being Under 15, they were very, very good footballers with one team playing in the Eastern Junior Alliance and one in the MK League, two high quality youth leagues. This was a county cup quarter final, so both teams would be putting in 110%. A couple of fiesty early challenges went in and things had to be calmed down pretty swiftly. The first 10 minutes of any game is the stage where a referee establishes what his intentions are with players. I saw that things were happening quickly, with robust challenges going in, so I slowed it down. Blowing up for every little push or pull or trip. It is a skill to control the pace of a game as a referee and you shouldn't feel rushed. My first 2 cautions came as 2 players squared up to each other after another particularly strong challenge. Perfect. It is always good as an official to get a caution for each side as your first cautions. It outlines that you're not going to take any aggressive behaviour, and I think that showed for the duration as the game as there was not a similar situation again. Blues went 1-0 up after about 25 minutes after a good move, and they had deserved it.
That was the score at half-time, where things had settled down somewhat after the two cautions. I was generally content with my first half performance and was particularly pleased that I didn't let too much go, which is often a weakness of mine. This and positioning especially are two areas I need to work on. The actual decision making can only be a success if you are in the right position to make it, so positioning for a referee is one of, if not THE most vital attribute for an official. And seeing as I had the cheek to deny that when I first started out, I should know!
The second half started with as much vigour as the first, as Whites had been sent out by their manager with renewed aggression. I could of had their striker in the book for a late challenge but opted for a bollocking instead, which was probably the best thing in hindsight as it calmed him down for the rest of the game. 10 minutes into the second half was probably my biggest decision of the game. The Blues left-winger, who had pace to burn, careered into the Whites' area and then cut back, and was tripped by the Whites defender. Gut reactions are 95% of a referee's decision making, and my instant reaction was 'Penalty'. I knew I was right, but I was still surrounded by defenders who thought they knew better, naturally. I was tempted to caution one of them, but a loud word with them within the audible circle of the vicinity once again proved enough. So, 2-0 and given that the Blues seemed to be coasting and Whites had seemingly run out of ideas, it's easy as a referee to switch off and coast along with them. This is the worst thing you could do, and I know from experience that I couldn't. Whites however, got a goal back, thanks to a sloppy bit of defending from the Blues and all of a sudden, with 18 minutes left, the game was wide open.
Once again, this is where a good referee is seperated from the fantastic. However, I don't think I managed this passage of play as well as I did in the first 10 minutes. I had lost my concentration slightly, concerned with my lack of fitness, (as I'm still on the recovery road from my groin injury) and tackles that appeared in the first 10 minutes started to creep back in, until the Blues scored a 3rd goal ten minutes from time, which seemingly knocked the final wind out of the Whites' sails. The game coasted to a finish, with me very much not coasting, as anything could happen, of course.
What did I do well today? My communication was fantastic I felt, with a couple of very good advantages, guiding the players well and they seemed to respond well. My whistle tones were good, as players subconsciously don't like hearing a monotoned whistle, as it apparently gets them worked up! My penalty decision was spot on and the 4 cautions, (I had one more towards the end for 'Delaying the Restart' or more commonly known as 'Kicking the Ball Away'), were all correct although one more wouldn't of been a bad thing. What do I need to work on? My positioning has never been a strong point, and although mine was ok today, it could easily be improved. Also, my concentration needs to be worked on, as there were some small stages where my mind wandered a little, and if a major incident happens in this time, I'm not going to be well placed. I do blame this, at the moment, at having little to focus on in life generally, so my brain isn't trained enough to concentrate constantly. Otherwise, it was a solid performance from me and hopefully some good club marks can get me a county cup semi final or maybe yet another final, (which would make it 5 in 6 years), but I won't hold my breath!
Well, I hope that's given some of you some sort of insight into the eyes of a football referee. It is a lot more than running around blowing a whistle occasionally and there are a lot of things that create an excellent referee. Just remember, the next time you're having a go at a referee for not giving that penalty for your team, just think about it from the referee's point of view. It's a shame no one does!
I have spent most of the season defending them, using lines such as, "they only get one look" and, "most of the people commenting haven't refereed a game in their lives", and although I'm right, it's starting to get ridiculous. So many big decisions are getting called wrong that referees are under the largest amount of scrutiny that I can remember, and even though we are universes apart, it does affect us meer mortals on grass roots football. Today's performance by Chris Foy was the last straw for me. The red card he issued to the Man City captain just encapsulates all that is wrong with the Laws of the Game at the moment. Yes, he went in two-footed and yes, he left the floor but did he actually touch his opponent? He got as much of the ball as you can physically get, and very, very little, (if not, none) of his opponent, yet still got sent off? It was a horrible decision, and it wasn't sold very well either. You could even go so far as to say it wasn't even a foul. There was a long pause by Foy before giving a free kick and only a couple of United players remonstrated. I think everyone was surprised when a red was flashed.
I'm not a huge fan of Chris Foy. He is an average top-flight referee, but the mistakes this season haven't come from the new boys. The likes of Jon Moss and Neil Swarbrick, premier league newcomers they may be, have given good accounts of themselves this season. I can list a fair few high profile mistakes that have come from others though. Martin Atkinson's red card in the Merseyside derby. Phil Dowd's red card for Chris Boyd, (I think) at Aston Villa. The penalty debacle from Mike Jones and his assistant at Old Trafford against Newcastle. Even the best referee in the world at the moment, Howard Webb, gave a penalty to Everton despite the Everton attacker kicking the floor, and not making contact with the defender.
The Webb decision is almost forgiveable, but the one that stands out for me was the red card issued to Gary Cahill by Stuart Attwell. While a whole 45 yards away from goal, Cahill was deemed to be "denying an obvious goal scoring opportunity" for Scott Parker. Stuart Attwell has a history of strange decisions, (remember the 'Ghost Goal' anyone?), and this equally strange decision just proves he shouldn't be in the Select Group.
I mention this simply because a similar situation occurred in my game today. The quick left winger for Blues got past the Whites right-back only to be pulled back, and yes, he would of been away, but no way was it denying an obvious goal scoring opportunity, (otherwise known as DOGSO). Despite the Blues protestations that Gary Cahill was sent off for exactly the same thing, I had to remind the player that that decision was wrong and to "keep his thoughts to himself". Incidentally, the purpitrator got a caution, which was spot on.
I enjoyed my game today. I turned up a full hour before kick-off, (as Father Mitten wanted to get home for the Manchester Derby) and went about my pre-match routine. One of the referees main jobs is to make sure the playing conditions are safe and that everything is ok with the pitch and the players equipment. After all the pre-match jazz was finished, 5 minutes in I get the two assistants in and outline what I want from them. These being "club" assistants, the general instructions go along the lines of, "ball in and out of play and offsides only. No free kicks". I was pleased to see them both be completely honest and non-biased throughout the game, and this helps massively.
The game itself started at 100mph. Despite these two teams only being Under 15, they were very, very good footballers with one team playing in the Eastern Junior Alliance and one in the MK League, two high quality youth leagues. This was a county cup quarter final, so both teams would be putting in 110%. A couple of fiesty early challenges went in and things had to be calmed down pretty swiftly. The first 10 minutes of any game is the stage where a referee establishes what his intentions are with players. I saw that things were happening quickly, with robust challenges going in, so I slowed it down. Blowing up for every little push or pull or trip. It is a skill to control the pace of a game as a referee and you shouldn't feel rushed. My first 2 cautions came as 2 players squared up to each other after another particularly strong challenge. Perfect. It is always good as an official to get a caution for each side as your first cautions. It outlines that you're not going to take any aggressive behaviour, and I think that showed for the duration as the game as there was not a similar situation again. Blues went 1-0 up after about 25 minutes after a good move, and they had deserved it.
That was the score at half-time, where things had settled down somewhat after the two cautions. I was generally content with my first half performance and was particularly pleased that I didn't let too much go, which is often a weakness of mine. This and positioning especially are two areas I need to work on. The actual decision making can only be a success if you are in the right position to make it, so positioning for a referee is one of, if not THE most vital attribute for an official. And seeing as I had the cheek to deny that when I first started out, I should know!
The second half started with as much vigour as the first, as Whites had been sent out by their manager with renewed aggression. I could of had their striker in the book for a late challenge but opted for a bollocking instead, which was probably the best thing in hindsight as it calmed him down for the rest of the game. 10 minutes into the second half was probably my biggest decision of the game. The Blues left-winger, who had pace to burn, careered into the Whites' area and then cut back, and was tripped by the Whites defender. Gut reactions are 95% of a referee's decision making, and my instant reaction was 'Penalty'. I knew I was right, but I was still surrounded by defenders who thought they knew better, naturally. I was tempted to caution one of them, but a loud word with them within the audible circle of the vicinity once again proved enough. So, 2-0 and given that the Blues seemed to be coasting and Whites had seemingly run out of ideas, it's easy as a referee to switch off and coast along with them. This is the worst thing you could do, and I know from experience that I couldn't. Whites however, got a goal back, thanks to a sloppy bit of defending from the Blues and all of a sudden, with 18 minutes left, the game was wide open.
Once again, this is where a good referee is seperated from the fantastic. However, I don't think I managed this passage of play as well as I did in the first 10 minutes. I had lost my concentration slightly, concerned with my lack of fitness, (as I'm still on the recovery road from my groin injury) and tackles that appeared in the first 10 minutes started to creep back in, until the Blues scored a 3rd goal ten minutes from time, which seemingly knocked the final wind out of the Whites' sails. The game coasted to a finish, with me very much not coasting, as anything could happen, of course.
What did I do well today? My communication was fantastic I felt, with a couple of very good advantages, guiding the players well and they seemed to respond well. My whistle tones were good, as players subconsciously don't like hearing a monotoned whistle, as it apparently gets them worked up! My penalty decision was spot on and the 4 cautions, (I had one more towards the end for 'Delaying the Restart' or more commonly known as 'Kicking the Ball Away'), were all correct although one more wouldn't of been a bad thing. What do I need to work on? My positioning has never been a strong point, and although mine was ok today, it could easily be improved. Also, my concentration needs to be worked on, as there were some small stages where my mind wandered a little, and if a major incident happens in this time, I'm not going to be well placed. I do blame this, at the moment, at having little to focus on in life generally, so my brain isn't trained enough to concentrate constantly. Otherwise, it was a solid performance from me and hopefully some good club marks can get me a county cup semi final or maybe yet another final, (which would make it 5 in 6 years), but I won't hold my breath!
Well, I hope that's given some of you some sort of insight into the eyes of a football referee. It is a lot more than running around blowing a whistle occasionally and there are a lot of things that create an excellent referee. Just remember, the next time you're having a go at a referee for not giving that penalty for your team, just think about it from the referee's point of view. It's a shame no one does!
Sunday 8 January 2012
So Far So Good
January is usually billed by all as the 'Month of Recovery'. Christmas and the New Year celebrations have gone, a lot of money has been spent on food and alcohol and many people feel the need to subscribe to their local gym to work off their quota of turkey, christmas pudding and quality street. Gym memberships, if you're interested, increase 121% in January than in any other time of year. Also 65% of statistics are made up on the spot.
January is a whole different kettle of fish for me though. After what is usually a good Christmas and New Year, with the notable exception of 2010, January is the month when most of my best loved friends go back to their lives being wasters elsewhere in the country and this, mixed with the probable nippy and wet weather, doesn't make a good recipe for my brain. Ever since "this" started, I have never had a good January, as it is always the month where thoughts become more dark and actions become more crazy. I distinctly remember last year, sitting in my car at 3 o'clock in the morning, having just realised that I had no money in my account despite working night shifts for the past 9 months, genuinely considering driving off into the darkness, with nothing whatsoever. Who would care? No one was my answer..
So far though, the 7 and a bit days that 2012 has produced haven't been that bad. I had a bit of a wobble on Thursday, when thoughts multiplied and spiralled but I was forced to walk to town by Mother Mitten and I felt a little bit better later on in the day. Once again, the notion that getting out into the fresh air may seem ridiculous, but it does help. Mother Mitten needs to be thanked on many occasions for just pushing me out the house! Other than that though, days have been filled with reasonable enough happiness, including a rather hot Nando's and a round of golf which was most definitely the opposite...
Cold. If you hadn't already worked that out!
This weekend though has thrown up an interesting variety of activity. Well, maybe not. Friday night was billed as the final night of the Christmas festivities before everyone went back, but it ended earlier than anticipated due to circumstances out of our control! For once, it wasn't my fault, (I hope!), yet the sigh of relief from my bank account was audible, as little money was spent! I woke up at a time more suited to my sleeping habits, where I joined Father Mitten in going to watch a rather fiesty local game before joining Beddoe, Mario and family at the local for a few bevvies and a few games of pool, where experience narrowly beat youth. This time, it was most definitely my fault as I set up Uncle Beddoe with the easiest of final blacks. Never mind! A few failed attempts at the quiz machine, in which our knowledge of random topics was tested to the limit and also a failed return to the fruit machines, (which I have avidly avoided for years!), and it was time to shoot home for dinner.
This is a time of day where I think I have made progress. To most of you reading this, you must be thinking, "How can one improve eating dinner?" No, I am not eating more, but I am treating it as a time I can sit down and feel like part of the family. Just making random conversation, makes you feel better and makes the relationship better. All part of the grand master plan. In the past, I used to grab my plate and make off upstairs, eating on my own, opting for seclusion ahead of company. I am trying to change this, and so far I have largely been successful.
This evening, I have gone back to my old habit of sitting on the laptop, dossing, but I feel that's ok after a day of activity and being out and about and around people. Right now, it is nearest makes no difference, 3am, but that's ok also. I'm awake at 11-12 tomorrow, in time to referee a cup quarter-final and after a probable quiz tomorrow evening, I'll be home by 11 and ready to sleep in time for the weekday slog and the latest of my CBT sessions on monday morning! Progress is slow, but it is certainly being made!
I have an idea for my blog tomorrow, (if I remember), where I will talk you through a game of football from the eyes of a referee. Tomorrow, being a cup quarter final, SHOULD be a good game, so I will attempt to talk you through the thought processes and any major decisions that may crop up. Might interest some people, may bore some others to death, but I want to try and make people understand what it's like to be a football referee. There has been way too much criticism of referees recently, (although, yes, some of it is warranted), but to generalise all referees as, "useless" is going too far in my opinion.
I'm absolutely buzzing for tomorrow's game in fairness, which probably means little sleep for me. But I suppose I'd better give it a go. Night all, and look out for tomorrow!
January is a whole different kettle of fish for me though. After what is usually a good Christmas and New Year, with the notable exception of 2010, January is the month when most of my best loved friends go back to their lives being wasters elsewhere in the country and this, mixed with the probable nippy and wet weather, doesn't make a good recipe for my brain. Ever since "this" started, I have never had a good January, as it is always the month where thoughts become more dark and actions become more crazy. I distinctly remember last year, sitting in my car at 3 o'clock in the morning, having just realised that I had no money in my account despite working night shifts for the past 9 months, genuinely considering driving off into the darkness, with nothing whatsoever. Who would care? No one was my answer..
So far though, the 7 and a bit days that 2012 has produced haven't been that bad. I had a bit of a wobble on Thursday, when thoughts multiplied and spiralled but I was forced to walk to town by Mother Mitten and I felt a little bit better later on in the day. Once again, the notion that getting out into the fresh air may seem ridiculous, but it does help. Mother Mitten needs to be thanked on many occasions for just pushing me out the house! Other than that though, days have been filled with reasonable enough happiness, including a rather hot Nando's and a round of golf which was most definitely the opposite...
Cold. If you hadn't already worked that out!
This weekend though has thrown up an interesting variety of activity. Well, maybe not. Friday night was billed as the final night of the Christmas festivities before everyone went back, but it ended earlier than anticipated due to circumstances out of our control! For once, it wasn't my fault, (I hope!), yet the sigh of relief from my bank account was audible, as little money was spent! I woke up at a time more suited to my sleeping habits, where I joined Father Mitten in going to watch a rather fiesty local game before joining Beddoe, Mario and family at the local for a few bevvies and a few games of pool, where experience narrowly beat youth. This time, it was most definitely my fault as I set up Uncle Beddoe with the easiest of final blacks. Never mind! A few failed attempts at the quiz machine, in which our knowledge of random topics was tested to the limit and also a failed return to the fruit machines, (which I have avidly avoided for years!), and it was time to shoot home for dinner.
This is a time of day where I think I have made progress. To most of you reading this, you must be thinking, "How can one improve eating dinner?" No, I am not eating more, but I am treating it as a time I can sit down and feel like part of the family. Just making random conversation, makes you feel better and makes the relationship better. All part of the grand master plan. In the past, I used to grab my plate and make off upstairs, eating on my own, opting for seclusion ahead of company. I am trying to change this, and so far I have largely been successful.
This evening, I have gone back to my old habit of sitting on the laptop, dossing, but I feel that's ok after a day of activity and being out and about and around people. Right now, it is nearest makes no difference, 3am, but that's ok also. I'm awake at 11-12 tomorrow, in time to referee a cup quarter-final and after a probable quiz tomorrow evening, I'll be home by 11 and ready to sleep in time for the weekday slog and the latest of my CBT sessions on monday morning! Progress is slow, but it is certainly being made!
I have an idea for my blog tomorrow, (if I remember), where I will talk you through a game of football from the eyes of a referee. Tomorrow, being a cup quarter final, SHOULD be a good game, so I will attempt to talk you through the thought processes and any major decisions that may crop up. Might interest some people, may bore some others to death, but I want to try and make people understand what it's like to be a football referee. There has been way too much criticism of referees recently, (although, yes, some of it is warranted), but to generalise all referees as, "useless" is going too far in my opinion.
I'm absolutely buzzing for tomorrow's game in fairness, which probably means little sleep for me. But I suppose I'd better give it a go. Night all, and look out for tomorrow!
Thursday 5 January 2012
Pot, Kettle, Black
Welcome home! Yeah, I've decided to bring back the blog of all blogs, (I'd like to say by popular demand, but I'd be lying, despite some calls!), just because I miss the creative writing side of it all, and generally having something to complain to when my Twitter feed can take no more complaining. A fair bit has changed since my last post, which sounded like the end of the road. However, for the 3rd time, I'm prepared to inundate you all with the incandescent moans and groans from the Life of Mitten!
So, what has changed I hear you ask? The main thing has been the generally successful beginning to my program of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, (or for those of you who are a fan of abbreviations - CBT). I've had 2 sessions so far, with the main focus being concentration on tasks and sleep. Ironically, I find myself typing this at the much more familiar time of 12:50am, despite the plan of going to sleep at 11pm. My therapist, Gemma, said I must try and go to sleep at 11pm and wake up at 9am, every single day. I've managed this twice in 8 days, which is a start I suppose... No? I'm not so worried about going to sleep late if I can wake up early, which has been more of a success than I had first imagined. Waking up the right side of midday has been fairly difficult, as silly as it sounds, but I've been quite good at it. My main tactic in doing so, is physically falling out of bed, bruising my own body on the assortment of plugs that lie on the floor. The chance of an electric shock is enough to make me aware and move on to the next task, thus getting me out of bed, and up and about. I can only presume I cannot carry that on for my whole life, but it will do for now!
Once I wake up enough to become a human being and not one of the zombies out of Shaun of the Dead, I find I have enough time to respectably go about doing what I need to do. Trying to fill up time with tasks I don't even need to do. I find myself going for a walk round Mowsbury Park on most days, as Gemma said that simple acts like walking can improve the mood ten-fold. The job hunt has stepped up pace in the last couple of days aswell, and I even received a rejection e-mail today, which is phenomonal progress! The main 2 things I have noticed though is the state of mind in my own head. I have felt much more content with my own life in the past few weeks, accepting that I am not bound for special things, and learning that this is perfectly alright. Learning that a lot of other people are going through what I'm going through and that my life really isn't that bad. Whether or not there will be a post on here in a few days, saying that isn't the case, I just don't know. Clearly there will be ups and downs, and the road is long, but at the moment, things are just fine and dandy.
I do also have something to concentrate on for the future, as I have been coaxed into securing a place to referee in the Dana Cup 2012, which is an international football tournament hosted in Hjorring, Denmark. Something else I have learnt is that throwing yourself into things can make you feel better, so with a couple of days thinking time, I applied to be part of the tournament and even booked a flight to Aarhus in Denmark with Ryanair, (avoiding Mr.O'Leary's horrific surplus charges). July 21st to July 29th, I will be out of the country, when the rest of the world's eyes will be on it. It is the year of the Olympics remember!
My Christmas and New Year were particularly average. Better than 2010 at least, when I spent most of it couped up in the hole that is BP, which is now a place I realise did more harm than good to me. Working through the night not only screwed up my sleeping habits, but also screwed up my mind and my behaviour, and is DEFINITELY a place I shall be avoiding from now on. (Don't start, I know I said that in January '11...!) The only blip on an otherwise happy festive period came on Boxing Day, when I really, really didn't want to leave my bed. The whole family were due to go down to Portsmouth to see a panto that my cousin was performing in alongside various ex-soap stars. Does anyone remember Maxine Peacock from Corrie? Killed by Richard Hillman? No? Me neither. But she was in it. I had visibly upset the family in not wanting to go, so physically forced myself down the stairs, into the car, and endured a day of panto, that I was too old for. In fairness, it wasn't so bad once we got there. Proof then, that getting up and about really does help.
And that is the message I need to keep telling myself. Even on days that seem particularly difficult or troublesome, I've got to force myself to get going, for my own good.
As for refereeing, things haven't really changed. I've got a busy January ahead, with games on every Sunday and all Saturdays bar one plus a couple of midweek bonuses thrown in for good measure. Keeps me active and provides me with much needed monies.
I can't think of much else I want to say to be honest. Despite me not being the sort of person for the old, "New Year, New Start" rubbish, maybe I can make this an exception? I suppose this is the start of my 3rd stint as a blogger, and I'm pleased to say, it's nice to be back!
So, what has changed I hear you ask? The main thing has been the generally successful beginning to my program of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, (or for those of you who are a fan of abbreviations - CBT). I've had 2 sessions so far, with the main focus being concentration on tasks and sleep. Ironically, I find myself typing this at the much more familiar time of 12:50am, despite the plan of going to sleep at 11pm. My therapist, Gemma, said I must try and go to sleep at 11pm and wake up at 9am, every single day. I've managed this twice in 8 days, which is a start I suppose... No? I'm not so worried about going to sleep late if I can wake up early, which has been more of a success than I had first imagined. Waking up the right side of midday has been fairly difficult, as silly as it sounds, but I've been quite good at it. My main tactic in doing so, is physically falling out of bed, bruising my own body on the assortment of plugs that lie on the floor. The chance of an electric shock is enough to make me aware and move on to the next task, thus getting me out of bed, and up and about. I can only presume I cannot carry that on for my whole life, but it will do for now!
Once I wake up enough to become a human being and not one of the zombies out of Shaun of the Dead, I find I have enough time to respectably go about doing what I need to do. Trying to fill up time with tasks I don't even need to do. I find myself going for a walk round Mowsbury Park on most days, as Gemma said that simple acts like walking can improve the mood ten-fold. The job hunt has stepped up pace in the last couple of days aswell, and I even received a rejection e-mail today, which is phenomonal progress! The main 2 things I have noticed though is the state of mind in my own head. I have felt much more content with my own life in the past few weeks, accepting that I am not bound for special things, and learning that this is perfectly alright. Learning that a lot of other people are going through what I'm going through and that my life really isn't that bad. Whether or not there will be a post on here in a few days, saying that isn't the case, I just don't know. Clearly there will be ups and downs, and the road is long, but at the moment, things are just fine and dandy.
I do also have something to concentrate on for the future, as I have been coaxed into securing a place to referee in the Dana Cup 2012, which is an international football tournament hosted in Hjorring, Denmark. Something else I have learnt is that throwing yourself into things can make you feel better, so with a couple of days thinking time, I applied to be part of the tournament and even booked a flight to Aarhus in Denmark with Ryanair, (avoiding Mr.O'Leary's horrific surplus charges). July 21st to July 29th, I will be out of the country, when the rest of the world's eyes will be on it. It is the year of the Olympics remember!
My Christmas and New Year were particularly average. Better than 2010 at least, when I spent most of it couped up in the hole that is BP, which is now a place I realise did more harm than good to me. Working through the night not only screwed up my sleeping habits, but also screwed up my mind and my behaviour, and is DEFINITELY a place I shall be avoiding from now on. (Don't start, I know I said that in January '11...!) The only blip on an otherwise happy festive period came on Boxing Day, when I really, really didn't want to leave my bed. The whole family were due to go down to Portsmouth to see a panto that my cousin was performing in alongside various ex-soap stars. Does anyone remember Maxine Peacock from Corrie? Killed by Richard Hillman? No? Me neither. But she was in it. I had visibly upset the family in not wanting to go, so physically forced myself down the stairs, into the car, and endured a day of panto, that I was too old for. In fairness, it wasn't so bad once we got there. Proof then, that getting up and about really does help.
And that is the message I need to keep telling myself. Even on days that seem particularly difficult or troublesome, I've got to force myself to get going, for my own good.
As for refereeing, things haven't really changed. I've got a busy January ahead, with games on every Sunday and all Saturdays bar one plus a couple of midweek bonuses thrown in for good measure. Keeps me active and provides me with much needed monies.
I can't think of much else I want to say to be honest. Despite me not being the sort of person for the old, "New Year, New Start" rubbish, maybe I can make this an exception? I suppose this is the start of my 3rd stint as a blogger, and I'm pleased to say, it's nice to be back!
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