I am so happy and grateful for enjoying being at school and even a little disappointed that I’m not teaching today. But that is good too. Tomorrow I have to teach a lot!
To-do list
Awards x3
Compliments x3
Listen….speak (if necessary)
Now it’s the 15th of August and this journal has gone by the wayside for no real good reason that I can discern. It feels like it’s a time issue. Now that I am teaching on a more proper schedule maybe things feel a little more secure. I’ve not had or made time to think too much about things so some of the habits I’ve been trying to forge haven’t quite stuck yet – such as the awards.
I do find myself reminding myself about complimenting and I have been doing well with morning routines. One thing of concern is that though I have mostly been feeling extremely happy there have been a couple of occasions that I have felt extremely down too. I can think of specific incidents that caused that feeling but frustrated that I understand that they are minor and not in my control but I’ve been unable to control my own reaction and behaviour.
The plus on this is that I am well aware of my feelings and though I might tell myself that living is pointless, I know that these feelings will pass soon enough – and they always do.
I’ve moved this journal back to the bedroom in the hope I will write more often again – even if the entries are briefer. I know doing this practice is helpful.
I am so happy and grateful that even when my favourite coffee shop is closed I can find good coffee. I am so happy and grateful that I can afford to go out and buy good coffee.
The last few days have been not so good. This weekend spoiled by bad mood and depression. I have felt inadequate and undermine all my good points. I have wondered what I’m doing here. What is my purpose and what is the point of me? Ugh.
I think I got sick again and a couple of classes really got me down.
Gratitude Journal
I am so happy and grateful for my coat, which is keeping me warm. For my books, which fill my mind with wonder. And for my wife and cats who fill me with laughter.
I dreamt about fire…and friends. We did our best to keep each other safe.
I still wake up during the night thinking about working with kids and how to get my mojo back and get rid of this dark cloud. It’s slowly lifting but I still need to do something to move it along. I want to learn to deal with this kind of feeling better.
Gratitude Journal
I smiled today when a P1 student came and gave me a hug.
15th Feb 2021 – Kids can be so perceptive sometimes. I obviously needed a hug.
Three things I am grateful for:
My friends who can show me support and the positive way. They make things feel better. My wife who is a strong independent woman with a beautiful heart. My cats who make me smile every day!
We’re taking an overnight flight to the UK and of course, I slept a lot already. It’s only in more recent years that I’ve been able to even sleep a little bit on planes. Except for that one time out of Guangzhou, I was lucky enough to start talking to a girl as we were waiting for departure. Just by chance, she knew the staff working the counter and wrangled an upgrade to business class for herself. She was kind enough to come back down to cattle and tell me to follow her back to business class, where there was a spare seat. Best sleep on a plane ever, and probably the last time I’ll enjoy that too.
Our plane in and out of London is the new A380 and it is huge. Even for the likes of us paupers, it feels like there is a little more room to breathe at least. I barely manage to sleep though.
We arrive in London around 6am and the weather has me instantly cold and chilled (not in the relaxed sense at all). We pick up a hire car, which is amazing but I keep forgetting that it is manual and stall it at every roundabout. Then we take the wrong lane and exit off the motorway and the sky is grey and the rain is drizzling just that annoying amount to make the wipers screech. I am thoroughly depressed already.
Somehow the shitty English coffee manages to take off the edge at least for a while. Just remember not to watch what the barista actually does and just go by taste. I think I had one half-decent coffee this trip – which is one more than last time I visited the UK.
As we arrive in Brighton the sun very occasionally decides to show itself. We’re staying at Amy’s university friend’s house and she just happens to live herself on Brighton Marina. Sometimes I feel especially lucky to find myself in such beautiful places just through the people that I know.
It’s a great little house, and when I say little, I always forget just how tiny and compact English houses are. And doors – always doors. Gotta keep that heat in.
Amy has decided that we must eat Indian food on this trip and, as they are everywhere, it’s only a short walk to our lunch. It’s cold and even the slightest breeze is enough to make us shudder. We have prepared appropriate coats but there’s still the other bits turning blue. Luckily the sun decides to stay for a long while and the sky turns blue. Wait, are we still in England, in February?
Amy’s friend, Bookie, speaks with the typical American accent of her tutors from years ago. Something that I (or Australia) have managed to change with Amy over the years. She doesn’t sound English and not really Aussie but at least it’s not American.
Bookie is married to an airline pilot and he is away 20 days a month and he’s away now, arriving back in the following couple of days for his birthday. They have a five-year-old son called Kyle and when he comes home from school I’m tasked with keeping him entertained whilst food is prepared. We have fun playing Star Wars action figures and making up stories.
Later, Amy and I enjoy the comforts of a nice soft bed and perfect pillows. Back at Amy’s parent’s house, the bed we are sleeping on may as well be a block of concrete – it’s good for learning to sleep on a tiled floor though. The only downside of the night is I wake up having a coughing fit and end up in the living room for a spell. Amy is starting to catch it too and her voice is starting to crack.
We wake up again to brilliant sunshine and coffee’d up (instant) we hit the road, passing Arundel castle and some other Olde Worlde buildings. The history and mystery of England is a little bit magical for me if only the temperature was more appealing.
Heading along the coast we get back into very familiar territory for me, with roads I travelled repeatedly in other glory days. We soon arrive at my cousin’s house and are treated to a warm welcome of food and central heating, along with discussions about details for my mother’s funeral and some other minor details that need to be sorted whilst I’m here.
My cousin, Sharon and her husband Ken have been doing all the hard graft for my mother and for me, of course, over the last 18 months or so. I’m so lucky that she has been here and willing to assist with everything.
It still doesn’t seem real that my mother isn’t here to talk to, to show pictures and to keep updated on the minutiae of everyday life. I feel sad about that but not overly emotional. I keep wondering if I’m going to sit down one day and have a big cry. Maybe. I’ve upped my dose of antidepressants recently, in preparation for my big life move and it’s likely they are helping keep things smooth for me emotionally.
Another coughing fit just after going to bed sees me again relocating to the living room until I’m on the verge of sleep when I return to bed and later Amy wakes me with coughing of her own.
The weather is excellent again and even though it’s cold there’s little wind to bring in the chill. We drive back to my hometown and go to the bank where my mum and I have a joint account and sort out access for Sharon to deal with expenses etc. Amy and I spend a little more time walking around, returning again for pizza at Piccolo Mondo, once my favourite pizza ever, not so much these days though, it’s still good though.
We take ourselves on a country drive as I search out Bulbarrow Hill. I love this place. It sparks that mystical quality of olden days more than some of the other places scattered around the south, even more than Stonehenge. It’s a fabulous view and the sun’s rays break through the scattering of clouds.
I have time to scoff down some more home cooked food, that Sharon says isn’t to her usual quality but it tastes great to me. Bring on the cheese, potato, garlic and butter anytime!
I’m off for a quick catch-up with old school friends Rupert and Murray, though we barely have time with our busy schedules. A quick couple of pints and it’s time to head off on our merry ways, and I am feeling quite tipsy. That is until I open the pub door and the cold wind blast instantly sobers me. This forces me to reminisce quite clearly the many many nights spent walking home from the pub, or the local football club, or the school field where we huddled around a couple of cans of beer and maybe a fire. Those days were either hell fun or hell shit depending on my mood and what was going on around me. I miss the good bits. A lot.
It’s been a long time between drinks. Around 23 years or so. 1994 was a life-changing time and then life took over and now I’m looking at another transitional period.
Life changes daily though. It seems slow but every detail matters somewhat, and if you care to remember it.
Right now I’m sitting in an office, getting paid and doing very little work of reward. The kind that is emotionally unfulfilling. But right now, I’ll take the money, thank you very much.
Somehow, over time, you learn that working for ‘the man’, as opposed to working for yourself, is something that must be exploited to the full. I managed to get myself into a position at one point of not doing any work-related activities at my job and started doing my own hobbies in company time. Somehow I was also well paid for this. It was always slightly precarious and eventually, it came to an end. Then it happened again – and with the same company to boot. I do thank you, although I wish it could’ve been more rewarding for both of us, to our mutual benefits. Perhaps I feel guilty. I know I would sometimes get annoyed when I actually had work to do that was interrupting my personal time and that’s not a good place to be.
The more depressing it became, the more I strove to distraction. I ended up being very productive. I could never make that jump though, to make money from doing the things I enjoyed. I am envious of people who have been able to position themselves in this way. I’m lacking in artistic talent, not through want of trying. Often lacking in concentration, born on the cusp of distraction entertainment as I was. The advent of new technologies only makes this worse and now that even they have surpassed my knowledge and I am like the old man programming his first VCR with only a 3-button remote, I sometimes pine for those days again.
My nostalgia is aligned with depression. I was deeply unhappy for periods of time that I now reminisce. That depression was an artistic motivation, a driving force. The actions often more thrilling than the results.
Right now, I am biding time again. In this strange period of inertia, the feeling of anticipation is immense and I am highly conscious of the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence. Hence to take time enjoying the moment, the present, the now. I visualise vividly a relaxing future whilst aware of the constant need for ‘work’ whether in some paid variety or just the work of remaining alive and managing the mundanities of life. I hope to derive great pleasures from the digging of weeds or painting of walls but worry that I will start to ignore the dust that settled in the corners many years before.
Luckily I have an outside motivation, my wife, Amy. Could I do it without her? Probably, but without so much pleasure, enjoyment and fulfilment.
The bones of the tale are this. In 1994, I relocated from small-town England to small city Australia. Sydney and thereabouts. In 2018, I will relocate from small-city Australia to small-town Thailand. In 1994, I documented my time in transition. I have not looked over those diary entries since, but the intention is to add them here alongside current musings. Let’s see how they compare. Let’s see if I have really gained some wisdom in the intervening years.
Strange weekend – kinda had plans but things went awry! Felt severely down yesterday and freaked out (in my head) at the shops.
Feel better today, though TLJ has been on my mind and that really gets me low. Decided to call her and spoke for a few minutes. Not sure what it achieved. But I realised when I lost her I lost my best friend – I want that back and know I never will. I want so much and try so little sometimes. Yes, I know – I am my own worst critic. I guess I’m still stuck trying to figure out what to do with my life – cos I sure ain’t doing much right now.
25th April 2022 – Living in Chatswood was very convenient as I was a one minute walk from the shops and station. Though, despite there being a large enough Asian population, a mix of all, shops generally all closed by 6pm, except some restaurants. It started to change in my last few years there but it’s still nothing like the vibrant nightlife actually in Asia.
But sometimes the problem with choice is that it can overwhelm and occasionally, disappoint. In the sentence above describing freaking out, I immediately know my feeling. Being so convenient and having enough disposable income meant that I often ate out, though not usually at restaurants.
There were times I would head out without any idea what I wanted to eat and would get frustrated at not being able to choose. I wonder if at those times I wasn’t actually that hungry and was just expecting myself to eat out of habit. The frustrating search and possibly low blood sugar would freak me out and I would go home despondent and depressed.
The realisation of losing a best friend (yet again, though through choice this time) and the confusion and doubt that was causing me was a wake-up call that I was still ignoring, for whatever reason. The deep passion of the relationship with TLJ was replaced with emptiness.
The Dismemberment Plan’s ‘The First Anniversary Of Your Last Phone Call’ still sends shivers down my spine. The minor chord dirge and the chiming-crying chorus get me every time.
I continued trying to fill it by checking the local newspaper lonely hearts and a dating agency, of which my then less than satisfactory girlfriend, Lorraine, knew nothing. Lorraine wasn’t the right one but we gave it a go, somewhat based on our shared personal demons. Whilst staying with her I was always looking for other options.
This down period of time was what I deserved and due and in hindsight I can see that I knew what was going on with me but still didn’t have the skills to get a foot out of the mire. But it was coming.
Some people are up all the time. Others, like myself, have to go down and up again until we learn enough self-respect and self-esteem to gain some stability.
Something is wrong Just so easy for me to get distressed – just some little thing I hate it! Why? Because I didn’t get enough sleep or enough to eat? So I resort to drink – when I know it only makes it worse! It’s just nothing but it changes the whole day.
I love my boy But I can’t do enough. I really really don’t want him to end up like this part of me! I know there is good inside me – how can I give this to him?
I’m drunk I’m gone – it’s just a waste of breath.
25th Feb 2022 – When I look back at this today I can see that I was obviously dejected and glum about my life as it was but it’s noticeable that I’m very aware of it. It was just that I didn’t have the tools to make the positive changes that I needed. It would be at some point in the next year or two that I sought out professional help again.
I was living just a short walk from Macquarie University and occasionally would go and check out the library to find interesting things to read. At some point, I also enrolled in Chinese Language 101 so was around the campus even more often. It was then I discovered that there was a Psychiatry Department and as part of final year student training was 60 hours of real-life consulting. The students got real-life experience and best of all, for patients, was heavily discounted rates. At the time I think it was $20 per hour, where the usual rate could be between $80 and $150 per hour. There was a limit of ten sessions but this was too good an opportunity for me to get some help.
Image is an AI interpretation of the first three lines of text – made at NightCafe
Today I erased my girlfriends from my phone – there’s a sad finality.
Why am I so restless? Why am I so stupid? Gotta go!
28th Nov 2021 – I started some writing again in this beautiful leather-bound book that TLJ brought back from Europe in mid-2001. It’s ironic that this is the first entry in this book as TLJ would have been one of the girlfriends erased.
My head wasn’t in a good place at this time and for quite a while after. I’d managed to fix some things in my life whilst continuing to fuck up a few others. I was a little bit directionless and lacking in self-esteem.
1994ever 