Morning people. I am sat here this morning feeling really grateful for this day. I am sat at my computer in the dining room at the back of the house. The sun is shining and I can hear the waterfall that runs into the koi carp pond on the patio. Life is good when I woke up this morning at 5.30am and got up with my wife and saw her off to her work, the only concern I had was what I was going to write about in this post and would it interest anyone?

I always ask you guys to like and share my posts because I realise how powerful social media is and so when you share the post it could just reach that one person who has his head in his hands just like me in the picture below and I will tell you more bout that in a while. The first photo at the bottom of this post is the last picture taken of my two brothers and I together. Shortly after this photo was taken he was knocked off his bike and killed running an errand for my Mum. His name was Graham and he was two years younger than me and he is the one with blonde hair and glasses. Yes that’s me with the catapult! My Mum, Alan the youngest who is five years younger and my best friend Richard Boyle. That was a great day all the family having a picnic at Crankley Point at our favourite fishing spot on the river Trent. We would all be fishing including my Dad who was taking the photo.

I just remember that our lives were turned upside down after the accident and I can’t remember another day when we were happy. My mum was inconsolable and it felt as if my brother Alan and I were left to fend for ourselves. I was twelve and Alan was seven. I don’t know what happened to me after that time but I can’t remember being asked how I felt or how I was doing, because the truth was I was full of guilt because the reason Graham wasn’t with us fishing that day was because he couldn’t find his fishing reel. When I got to the bank with Richard and Alan, I found Graham’s reel in my basket and didn’t take it back for him. So for that twelve year old it became his fault, and stayed that way with all the other messages that were building up to shape my perception of not who I was but what I was.

I can’t be sure but this is when my behaviours went haywire. I was never a good pupil but now I was in trouble all the time. At thirteen or fourteen me and a couple of friends had found a public house that would serve us beer if we stayed in the back room out of the way. It was shortly after this I was taken to what I can only imagine to be a child psychologist because my behaviour had got so out of hand. I remember standing in front of this desk with my parents either side of me and this guy screaming at me about what I was doing to my parents. My Dad had his own way of trying to get me to be more like so and so’s son down the road. I can see today that “the die was cast” I was on the road to self-destruction and unfortunately it was the 60’s and so it was easy. I picked up my first drug at 16 years old and put them down for the last time at 47years old.

The second photo is about half way through that journey and I kept hold of it to remind myself of where my addiction took me. I don’t know if you can see the eye peering through my fingers but to me I could see the absolute fear in that eye and trying to cover it up with a smile. The bandage on my hand is where I have been injecting and injured it in some way. I was working in a scrap yard at the time and it was one of my lowest points.

Seeing these two photos side by side just show me where unresolved childhood trauma can lead. My story is not extreme and this is just a snip-it of it, I have listened to so many people who have endured so much in their lives and then found peace. I use the same techniques on those I work with that were used on me to find my peace. I started this post taking about how grateful I am. I have now come full circle. From happiness and bliss, through the nightmare and back to happiness and peace. My past is just a story!!

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