I struggle to remember a lot about my childhood. Memories of course don't start to stick until you're about 5 or 6, maybe later, but even then I don't remember much.
Racing around a perfectly circular mini go-kart track in Woolacombe, looking at the video camera instead of where I was going and crashing into the barrier. I remember that.
Running down the street in sheer delight as Ole Gunnar Solskjaer poked home a 93rd minute winner in the 1999 Champions League Final. I remember that.
Driving past the junction of Putnoe Street and Bowhill, as my Dad told me to enjoy life while you can because soon all you'll be doing is working and paying bills. I remember that oddly well.
It's extraordinary how much things can change in the blink of an eye. For better or for worse, we simply don't know what tomorrow holds. Last Thursday, I swallowed the last remaining quetiapine tablets I had, knowing that I wouldn't be getting any more. After seven years of taking medication, tomorrow would the first med-free day in over 2,000 days. Tomorrow would be different. I anticipated a difficult weekend as the promised side effects came in, but they never did. Not until Sunday anyway.
Since then, I haven't slept, my stomach has attempted to tear itself away from the rest of my body and even the slightest hint of any food a bit heavy would result in ... Undesired circumstances... Only now am I feeling as if I MAY be on the way back up. It's been brutal.
It was only 17 years ago I was running up that street without a care in the world. Now I've been through what may or may not be the most challenging stage of my life. Yet I still feel like that 8 year old kid, adrenaline fuelled and careless. I know more challenges await, because it wouldn't be life without them. If only I had the presence of mind I have now back in 99... How amazing would that be...
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