Post #655 - A Life Update

Ladies and Gentleman, we're going old school with the blog post!

I gave up on the daily(ish) blog life a while back, ditching the monotonous for the review and the preview but given I am currently in the midst of a long late shift, I thought I'd provide a little update for those of you who are, like me, beset with the boredom of a Monday.

I mean, work isn't bad. It can be boring, sitting on a reception desk of a hospital ward, especially on a late shift of midday to 8pm, but there is one huge difference now than there ever has been.

I have a plan!

My work history, as detailed within these very pages, has been fractious, fraught with nerves, anxiety mixed with a distinct hatred for working life in general. The problem was that I had no plan; no future goals or any idea where I was heading. In my mind, I was going to be stuck behind this reception desk for the next half a century. It really was that bad, and my mental health issues clouded any reasonable judgment and thinking time.

Whether it be the realisation that I am no longer a young whippersnapper, (young maybe, but certainly no whippersnapper), or whether it was the emergence of a well-timed internship advert, my future prospects just seemed to click into place; the once square-shaped jigsaw piece finally moulding into a circle and slowly slipping towards completion.

Therefore, life behind a reception desk doesn't seem so bad when I know I'm not going to be here forever. I am 6 months into a sports journalist internship and am going through the regular struggle with Student Finance to get funding for a diploma in journalism via the National Council of Training Journalists which, in tandem, will be enough to get me on to the ladder of a journalism career. Even if that finance doesn't come to fruition, I have learnt of a nifty back up plan involving pension payments. At 28 years old! It's the clear thinking you see...

My general outlook has changed as well. These past 18 months have been different, and I no longer think of someone who suffers from a mental illness, but an ordinary bloke who sometimes just can't be arsed. Just like any other member of society. I've relaxed somewhat; probably because of a touch of wisdom on my part and a genuine appreciation that things could be much worse.

I guess it's called "growing up". Although, talking to my sister the other day, she said she doesn't feel 31 at all, but more mid 20s. I'm 28, (30 next year!) and don't feel like I should be. I remember very distinctly being amazed at being allowed to watch Titanic as a 10-year old and me feeling guilty about it as it was a 12 movie... Where did 20 years go?

I've come to a sudden stop in my typing; a sign that there really is very little else to talk about. Stability is the key word here; a word that has not been completely prevalent in the decade of adult life I have behind me, but it sure is welcome.

You see, for all of the counselling and GP appointments and crisis interventions and inpatient stays, some of the advice does stick, even for someone who was as stubborn as I was.

"You cannot live every day as a King, sometimes you have to accept that you are a pawn". Sometimes, merely accepting that coming to work and sitting behind a reception desk for eight hours, as boring as it may be, provides income so I can have a happier life outside of these four walls and away from this mustard-coloured desk. It's all rather simple, but it's better than chaotic.

The big nights out are less common than before, but admittedly no less vanilla; the stories continue to come, along with the hangovers. But these days, they feel earned instead of necessary. I feel less guilty about them than I used to, although my Mother would not be happy if she knew, although I have a fair idea that she does.

And there we have it... I lead a calmer life now, more appreciative of what I have and those around me and more aware of the impact it can have on others. I don't know what triggered it, but I'm all the better for it.