Life as a love gangster

Two days ago, I emailed my tutor. I had told her that regardless of today’s outcome, I will always be grateful to her for keeping me on this programme during the time I was in a coma. She believed in me; even at this early and uncertain stage, she believed I would survive and go on to continue with my studies. Whatever happens today’s outcome will never impune or influence the gratitude I have towards her in any way whatsoever.

 

Today’s events will determine the direction my life will be heading towards, it will determine the route my life will follow. It is arguably the most important day of my professional career, if not then it’s certainly the most profoundest.

I feel grateful to have be given this opportunity. I feel lucky, because I believe it is only by having our spirit pushed to the limit that we find out who we really are. If this experience has taught me anything, it has made me realise who I am again. After four arduous years this; you might say, has been long overdue.

I have spent the last month living like a monk. Every morning I get up; and with every step I say the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’. I leave the TV alone. I eat my breakfast and then I meditate. I sit in meditation for 3 times a day. I’ve spent most of my time in solitude, reflecting on who I really am and what direction I am heading towards. I have worked my bum off.

I understand that in order to do this, I need a miracle. I realised this fact when the whole thing began, so that is what I asked for.  I knew the only way I could beat this is by searching for my true self, and listening to what I found.

This might all sound a bit namby pamby; a bit over the top, but I’m just being honest about the direction my life needs to take.

Regardless of today’s outcome, I need to find peace again. I need to find my TRUE self and stop acting on external stimuli and responding to the effect of what is happening around me, and ignoring my ‘inner being’. And I think I’ve found it.

I see life as a journey, one that we are not in total control of. Finding peace is allowing the driver of your life to do what they need to; steer the wheel when they need to and you need to allow yourself to deal with what see out the passenger window.

 

‘I don’t know about you, but my heart is pounding for you!’ My tutor had admitted to me.

I stepped calmly into building 67, accompanied by my representative who has been advising me over the last month and my tutor. I am totally focused at this point; no raised heartbeat and no butterflies in my stomach. I know what is required of me, I know what I need to do.

As I am waiting to enter the meeting room, one of the lecturers approached me and put her hand on my shoulder, looking  sympathetic, but encouraging, like she wanted me to win. ‘You’ll be ok. you can do this Mikey’.

That meant a lot to me.

 

 

 

I entered the offices where the meeting was to be held and noticed a few faces look up from their desks towards my direction, smiling encouragingly. I know what I have to do. It feels like my whole life has come down to this moment actually. I felt like Martin Luther King or something. Except I’m not black and I grow a shit moustache.

 

He has the same nose as me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My tutor had come out to greet me before we had entered the offices. 

‘It was amazing to see what your peers and colleagues wrote about you in their character references’ she had said.

‘It means more to me than they’ll ever realise’ I had replied,meaning every word.

 

In the meeting room I was greeted by and seated in front of 7 medical professionals; a mixture of doctors, nurses and deans of medicine. They asked me questions and I answered them. I listened to the case being presented; the falsehoods, the lies and deceitful comments that had brought me here, the long list of inaccuracies that had been presented to the faculty.

I remained calm and remembered who I was, the person I have been spending so much time searching for this past month. I answered all questions candidly and openly, I had nothing to hide.

Afterwards my tutor told me that I couldn’t have done a better job, that I was a credit to the profession and that she was so proud of me. These words touched me and I greatly appreciated them. So I bought her a coffee; and she helped discuss how the meeting went with my parents, who had come along for moral support.

 

My tutor knows what we’ve all been through. How much the nursing means to us all, how much we’ve had to go through to get here. I was never supposed to make it this far.  

 

Somewhere out there; at this very moment, around 7/8 people know my future. They know where I will be heading this year. But I must wait 5 working days to hear the news myself.

Fair is fair. After all, I am grateful to have been given this opportunity to explain my situation and respond to the issues raised. I am so proud to be part of a profession with such high standards, that you will need to answer to a reputable panel if there is ANY concern of your conduct, professionally or privately.

I was asked what advice I would give to future students who find themselves in this position. My answer was

‘Understand that regardless of your actions in your private life; you must be seen to uphold the reputation and privilege of being a nurse, and know that you will be questioned if there was ever any doubt of this. Being a nurse means handing over your life to the profession, and that is something to feel honoured and privileged about. It’s worth every sacrifice’.

How amazing to be part of something so special, where we can help influence people’s lives when they need us and we are totally accountable for everything we do.

I have learned many things from this experience.But I do believe that whatever happens, I have stayed true to myself and spent enough time searching that I  have find my real self again. What an incredible privilege.

Regardless of what happens; there has been one person at the forefront of my mind during this entire ordeal, every breath I’ve taken, every step, every blink of my eye, every moment I wanted to give up, every time I doubted or questioned myself, she’s been there. 

Despite my imperfections; my talent for attracting unfortunate events in the past, I know I have behaved in a way I know that she’ll respect. I know that Reese will be proud of this one day. She will know that today I handed my heart back to the real Mikey and stood up for what I believed in. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Do you like my nails?’ the little girl proudly asked.

‘They’re very pretty nails! I Like them a lot, my daughter would like them too’ I’d said excitedly.

“I want to do some threading. Can you do some threading with me?’ The little girl had asked.

‘Of course. But only if you paint my nails like yours!’

** A fit of laughter that sounded more like an evil cackle**

“I don’t know about much about much but I do know you’ve got the best laugh I’ve ever heard’ I told her, and I meant it. She sounded like an evil Bond villain plotting murder or something.

This scene occurred while I was attending the local children’s hospice I regularly volunteer at. She was a lovely girl, made my stoney heart melt she did. Something happened while I was speaking to this girl that was so profound for me it felt like another life altering moment. I’ve only had a few of these moments in my life, which were as follows –

2007.

He put his foot to my neck and told me that if he ever saw me in Croydon again, he would kill me.

‘Right O mate’ I’d said. His mate had booted me in the jaw for that.

‘He’s had enough. Wait 10 minutes and then leave’ he told me. Bit Dramatic I’d remembered thinking.

So I left, after gathering what was left of my belongings off the floor of the dark, wet alleyway.

Boom. I knew I then that  had to make something of myself and get out this shitty existence. So I did.

Summer 2008

‘I’ve just been sacked. My mum told me to come and talk to you before I come home’ I’d said.

‘Ok, what is it you want to do?’ the careers advice lady at the job centre had said.

“I want to make a difference. I’m not interested in money. I want to help people.’

‘Have you thought about some sort of caring job, maybe as a healthcare assistant?’

Switch. A switch was pressed in my head telling me I needed to do that. So I did.

December 2008

‘Do you mind passing me that urine bottle, I can’t reach’ a patient had asked me during my first day as a healthcare assistant.

Switch. I decided I needed to become a qualified nurse and do this for the rest of my life.

Sometime in 2010  

I visited a friend of Dani’s who has a child with cerebral palsy. His movement is restricted and his breathing is compromised. I did something (can’t remember what) and it made him laugh, and I’ll never forget the eye contact and the smile he gave me.

Switch. I knew that I wanted to work with children. So I did.

Summer of 2015

‘This is where the lady at Julia’s house keeps her toys. Her job is to go in and play with the  children when they’re in their last few stages of life’ the floor manager of the charity shop had explained to me.

Switch. That is what I am doing for a job. No matter what.

Present Day

I keep harping on about it, but the lady who attacked me felt like she wanted to ruin my life so she decided to tell my university I am aggressive when I don’t take valium and I am a threat to children etc.

Which the university believed. Smashing.

This woman is not happy that I did not simply let her attack me. I pushed her away from me on the night and that is the reason for her malice. Had I of pressed charges she would have lost her daughter.

That is the reasoning for them trying to be seen as the victims. I hope no one from social services is reading this (as unbeknownst to me, they are known by social services) or I don’t wake up one day and decide to want to tell them.

Is it really worth all this? All the stress and devastation, the impact its having on me and my family?

 

 

Today something happened to me. These ‘light bulb’ moments I mentioned earlier are things that have altered my path each time and led me to where I am today.

I would sooner die trying than live one day ignoring them. 

Around 2pm on Friday 19th February 

‘I made you this bracelet’ the little girl told me, handing me the string with beads that she had made.

‘Smashing! It looks better than the one I made you’ I said, handing her my poor attempt at the same. ‘Good grief’ I said pretending to fall off my chair.

Another fit of laughter.

‘I like you. You make me laugh.’She giggled.

Switch. She made me realise there’s something in my life other than Reese thats worth living and fighting for. She reminded me why I need to stay strong. She reminded me why I need to get out of my bed every single day and fight until I collapse.

She made me realise that I can only stop fighting  when I’m dead, I wont and can’t ever stop until then.  Simple.  Even if it means re enrolling at uni at the age of 70 then I will.

Because in that brief moment of laughter; if only for a few seconds, regardless of shitty life, she forgot. 

 

 

 

 

We all have our funny moments. Moments when; in hindsight, we wondered what on earth we were thinking of at the time.

I had a few of these moments recently following on from my last two blog posts. I had to grip myself afterwards. 

If I only ever wrote about ‘inspirational’ and ‘happy’ moments in my life and denied what I was really feeling, then they wouldn’t be very honest accounts of my life now would they?

I think that I occasionally take my eye off the ball and might make myself out to be some sort of victim on those pathetic rants I go on, even though I don’t mean to.

Maybe I’m just scared of being portrayed like that because  to me there is nothing worse than being the ‘patient’ or ‘victim’ – I’ve always hated it.

Every decision I’ve made is my own. Nothing happens by luck or by chance. Not even the accident.

Think about it. I chose to go to Mexico. I chose to swim with Dolphins, fate or bad luck had nothing to do with it. Just like all of my decisions, they were mine, not gods (TBT elephant man or bearded) or anyone else’s.

I won’t lie, the prospect of getting kicked off my university course is a terrifying one. But I also know that with the above understanding of accountability there never has to be an ending. Qualifying as a nurse is in MY hands, not the panels’.

 

 

It’s not in fate’s hands. Not in God’s hands, it’s not destiny. It will be my attitude when faced with the outcome that will determine my future.

My first ever blog post finished with the sentence ‘Strap in, it’s going to a heck of a journey’, so I knew I might have a turbulent time ahead. I knew that I may find myself in similar positions to the ones I find myself in today.

It’s hard to explain, but I have something to live for. I’m doing stuff. I’m fighting for my nursing, on the 25th a panel will want to speak to me, It’s my moment to demonstrate everything I’ve fought for to get where I am today. I was never meant to get this far!

Everything you’re going through is preparing you for what you asked for.

I asked for this.  I know I have what it takes to do it, otherwise I never would have started.

People email me. People ask how I am feeling.   I am being faced with challenges that force me to learn a lot about myself. My daughter laughs when I make a joke.  All of these things are proof that I am alive and living a life that has some sort of meaning. Especially the bit about my jokes. Its a shame no other sod laughs at them.

It might be challenging; it might hurt sometimes, it might be difficult but I am alive right this second. Although it’s not always fun, there is meaning to my existence.

When I wrote the words ‘strap in its gonna be a ride’ in my first blog I remember feeling my heart skip a beat with excitement.

At that point I knew what it was like to feel meaningless and have no point to your life, just recovering and needing to lie down 3 times a day, in between being  sat in front of the TV watching loose women. I reached an all time low there.  With loose women, I mean.

 

Everyone has their hardships to deal with, many more a lot worse than mine. Everyone gets tested at some point in their life in many different ways.

I reckon I don’t always need to extrapolate any hidden messages behind what’s happening to me during these challenging times. I think I just need to dig a bit deeper when the occasion calls for it.

I believe it doesn’t matter why certain things happen to us, I think they just happen.  The simple truth is that we all know Life is  a big challenge;  we just don’t always know why. But it turns out I love a challenge. And I’ll be taking accountability for what I’m about to do.

 

 

NB

I recently went to see ‘The Danish Girl’ at the pictures. This is the closest film or story I’ve seen where I could say ‘that is exactly like living with a brain injury’.

Living trapped in a body thats not yours, needing to conform to the expectations of society and pretend to be something your not.

If anyone is interested in seeing how it could compare to brain injured life I would recommend it!

 

 

Of all the titles I have ever chosen for my blogs this has to be the best one yet. I am so proud of myself because I bet you were all looking forward to shouting ‘OMG YES! I KNEW IT! HE”S FLUNG THOSE CLOSET DOORS OPEN AND JUMPED RIGHT OUT!’

I have absolutely no desire to dress as a woman.  I just wanted to mess with you all.  Although I meant what I said: this is the closest story I’ve ever come across that is similar to living with a brain injury.

If anyone decides to see it, remember that when you see the ending this is what I have said about it –

‘That is exactly what will happen to me. The moment I get somewhere and finally become happy, this will happen -‘ (Whitehead M 2016).

 

Now back to the good stuff. 

I recently summarised my life to my parents.

Even after nearly 5 years, every day you still think you’re going to wake up. You don’t really believe what’s happening can be real, it can’t be surely? How can there be no hope? There is not a single person alive that will ever know what this is like. It is a living, breathing nightmare.

Please do not think I am being dramatic, or seeking sympathy. I have no interest in either. I am writing these words with honesty, although they can’t really explain what it is like.

So I put on a brave face, that’s what I have to do, right?

On the 25th February, my university will be holding a fitness to practice panel to decide whether I will remain on the course.

Sorry I’m not explaining that a bit more but I really can’t be bothered at the moment. I’m so tired of everything, sometimes I feel like it’s choking me. And I’ve got a dizzy head today.

• April 5th 2012 – Brain injury
• May 2nd 2013 – Nursing Times Awards’ disaster.
• September 2013 – Return to uni!
• September 2013 – withdrawal from uni
• January 2015 – My mother in law Julie passed away tragically.
• August 2015 – My grandma dies with us all by her bed.
• August 2015 – My marriage falls apart for good.
• December 2015 – I am attacked and questioned under caution at the police station.

(There is loads more but it’s nearly bed time for me).

 

I always wanted a family. I used to look forward to having my own kids one day and have them run up to greet me when I returned home from work, like I used to do with my old man (mainly because ‘sweety’ day was on a Thursday. Every other day was just a ‘buttering him up’ ploy in the hope we’d get another day of sweets. The Tight arse never caved in though).

I loved the idea of having that one person who you loved and cherished, no one else. I liked the idea of family life, and I got to enjoy a whole 6 months of being married before Mexico.

Every day is like a living hell. Not many people know this about me, but I suffer with pretty severe anxiety. My coping strategy is to make jokes and laugh it off, to keep it hidden. And I do a kick ass job of that.

Yesterday I attended university as usual. My anxiety was so bad that I had to go outside in between lectures to take some deep breaths and do some mini meditations in the toilet. I couldn’t for the life of me stop my hands from trembling. I took a video of it, just to prove to myself I can actually see something with my eyes and I don’t need an X-ray to prove that something is wrong.  

My leg is constantly bopping up and down. My hands and legs shake pretty bad, so bad lately that I’ve had to start taking propranolol again in the hope it will calm my heart down. I need to wolf my food down because of my suppressed appetite, and with bodybuilding you really can’t have a suppressed appetite.

Don’t judge me for this

Here’s a good one. I returned home from the gym after uni yesterday and hopped into the shower. I use ‘Wright’s coal tar soap’ because I’m a loser, and I put it on the floor of the shower while I shampooed my hair (cue sexy shampoo advert with Barry White music).

Like everyone does in the shower, I started to have a little wee. However, because I’d just put the soap on the floor I had to stop while I picked it up. I needed to wash my face with soap and wanted to avoid micturated facial cleansing at the time.

I’ll just give you a minute to let that sink in. No pun intended. 

I started to feel the most excruciating pain, one that I hadn’t felt before in the old testicular region. Good grief it was so painful I can’t even tell you; I thought I was going to start seeing blood, it was that bad.

Then I had a depressing thought. Right there and then; standing in the shower, for a split second I thought it could be some sort of testicular cancer. Bit dramatic but very common.

But the thing that made me realise I may be in a spot of bother, was that I thought to myself the only person I could give a shit about if I died is Reese. For a split second I actually thought to myself ‘If this is something serious, I couldn’t give a shit’. At that thought I even mumbled aloud ‘oh well’. I talk to myself often, no other fucker will listen.

No more failures. No more inadequacy. No more loneliness. No more isolation. No more constant fear. No more heartache and sadness. No more tears. No more pain. No more putting up with a life where your dad only ever gave you sweets on one day of the sodding week.

I’m drenched in despair and pure sadness. I am so lost. I feel like I’m going to cry every 20 minutes. I just want to do a good job helping people. I only wanted a family, It has all come at such a cost.

PEOPLE COME AND PEOPLE GO. 

The group of friends I have at uni are probably the most understanding people I’ve had the good fortune of knowing. They’re the nicest and unjudgiest people. Leaving them next month won’t be easy.

I made a pledge to help make a difference to the NHS a long time ago because I know I can do it. I believe it’s right that I try because everyone deserves to be really well looked after when they’re unwell.

Even if someone is dying of cancer; if all their relatives were killed in a car accident, it doesn’t matter because if you can stop and make them truly laugh just for a moment you can win. Think about it, during the time they’re laughing or smiling none of that matters, they forget. Even just for two seconds.  No amount of medicine can do that.

We can’t change how ugly the world is but I reckon we can cope with it by doing this. That’s what I’m fighting for and have been for 8 years anyway.

I would say to my therapists and doctors in Cambridge that ‘I’ll die before I give up’.

Unfortunately I really meant it. I won’t stop. I’m already living with a myriad of pain so I have to keep fighting. Reese needs to know that you can’t give up, regardless.

Before you pursue anything in life you need to ask yourself how much pain can you live with. 

I’ll just keep going.The fact is; that unless I’m legally restricted from doing it, I will never stop fighting until I get there. Maybe thats not the right decision, add it to the long list of shitty decisions that make up my life choices.

Maybe my life is just a big pile of rubbish choices. A big pile of shit. But if I eventually become a nurse at least I might be able to get to sit on top of the pile for a bit. 

 

 

 

 

I’m freestyling again here, something I find myself doing when I’m in crisis mode.

Without going into too much detail, instead of moving on from the horrible incident that occurred over christmas the people involved have now contacted my university to try and get me in trouble.

 

I’m sitting here in my hotel room; with the outside light in the car park spilling over the carpet of my room as the curtains do not seem to shut.

This is largely down to the fact I ripped the curtain rail out of it’s hinges and broke it when I was asleep. The joy of night terrors never ceases to amaze me with their creativity when it comes to finding new ways of making life that bit trickier for yours truly.

Let’s hope the diazepam works tonight. Don’t fancy going down to reception and admitting that I’ve pooed in the corridor or something.

Thank god I have people like Dani and my family. They are helping me find the help I need for something I have not been treated for even once during my whole career as a brain injured.

When I was making a statement in the police station, the sergeant brushed past me to take his seat. I instantly clocked the odour that came from his jacket, and I was warped back four years where I smelled the same scent (mixed with the smell of very poor body hygiene) on the paramedic’s jacket in Mexico. Not sure if this was the same guy who had resuscitated me or wiped my arse in hospital, but the principal is the same.

Some of you may be thinking, “Oh get on with your life. It was four years ago. We know it was hard – just be grateful!’

And I am. 

But when you are transported back in time in your mind; but you are in public and must act as thought nothing is the matter time and time again, it kind of gets to you. Makes you go a bit mad I reckon, which would explain a hell of a lot.

I never realised until recently just how bad my PTSD is. It is unresolved, and I’ve tried to bury it. I never realised just how much courage it takes for me to walk into an unfamiliar hospital. Or how scary red jelly is (they fed this to me in critical care in the UK). Or how Spanish accents transports me into a zone where my body is on constant red terror alert.

I hate chaos. This is largely down to my injury, but another part of this is down to how I remember all the medics around me in Mexico being so chaotic running around trying to help keep me alive.

Spending 17 hours strapped down to a stretcher on a leer jet was not a good day out for me. Burning up from sepsis is the reason I panic when I start to get so warm now. If I start getting warm; I get all claustrophobic, this is undoubtedly because my brain likens that to being back on that plane burning alive with my head only centimetres from the ceiling of the aircraft.

I know I go on about it, but it’s like I’m living in hell, constant torment with everything. I try to laugh it off daily, thats my coping mechanism. But thanks to Dani; I have realised that now may be the time to get professional help and work through it all again, despite how terrifying and horrifying that sounds to me.

I said to someone today that If I was hit by a car, I would have been gutted about this years ago. But now it would be a release, an end to this nightmare. 

These false allegations are threatening to ruin my chances of becoming a nurse (again) which I know is not helping. But these memories come back to me on days that I’m relatively content (not happy. I have not experienced happiness in four years. I mean, come on).

I did nothing wrong on the night of that incident over christmas. I didn’t nothing wrong (that I know of) on my ‘honeymoon’. Maybe the two are inextricably linked and I don’t even realise it.

I remember all the shit after I was hurt. But I want to remember throwing my arms round Dani and telling her it would be fine, as the wheel on the minibus burst and we started to veer off the highway. At least it would give a tiny morsel of meaning to my wonderful life now.  I wonder if you all give Dani enough credit for what she went through out there. Waking up upside down in a minibus with her husband half dead and having severe seizures was not included in the holiday brochure.

I’ve been beaten up; threatened, had a knife put to my throat, lost my old self and lost a marriage. There’s more, but anymore would be overdoing it. And I’m not the only one struggling out there. I’m the lucky one. When all is said and done, what will be will be. Life is out of our control. I draw your attention to the subtitle of this blog, ‘the only control we have over life is whether we are going to hustle hard or not’.

That’s all I can do. These things keep happening to me, I’m not sure why. I don’t care WHY anymore. I only care about showing Reese that you DO have the choice of Hustling Hard. To keep going. One foot forward, keep striving. Despite everything. If what you believe in is strong enough, don’t stop. Life may stop it if it’s in a mood with you, but YOU can carry on regardless.

I hope you will read this one day Reesey. As you are probably aware by now, I’m far from perfect. You’re probably wondering why daddy always needed to lie down, why I was quiet at your birthday parties with so many people and so much happy noise around. You’re probably wondering why I always hold my head, or why I’m always sitting or lying down in the dark. I’m sure you’ve noticed my snappiness and blunt manner, I’m sure it has pissed you off on many occasions too.

I’ll be the first to admit all that. 

But know this; no matter where you are when you’re reading this you are the reason I’m still here. I get out of bed for you, I’m doing all this with you on my shoulder. I fear nothing or no one because I believe in fighting for what’s right for us. At first I was fighting for how much I loved nursing and how good I was at it, but not anymore.

We can’t ever let life, evil or nob heads get in the way of anything.

I’m telling you, you’re the reason I’m still going. I feel nothing for life, just anger and sadness. But you are somehow keeping me alive, so good job with that. I’m also telling you that 100% categorically I will never fucking stop because you’re on my shoulder 24/7.

Just don’t ever choose a dick head for a boyfriend, that would be too much for me.

And there was me thinking I had a nice, relaxing christmas break to look forward to. All my uni work completed, exams done and for the first time in a year I would have a couple of weeks of no worry or problems.

I hadn’t had any time to rest in between placements as everyone else had at the start of the year, because I was frantically finding somewhere to live back then. Surely I’m entitled to a few weeks of respite now, with no one dying or no adverse events to ruin the wonderful spirit of christmas!

Alas, this was not to be. You can’t be surprised though!

So here I am, living out of a suitcase once again. I have my belongings strewn about the place at my parent’s house in boxes and bags, it’s quite a pathetic sight actually. It is times like this my toiletry fetish is a burden, as it takes up a lot of room and box space.

‘Oh god what’s he bloody done now’ I hear you ask. Well grab a pew and your mug of horlicks and sit back.

Being attacked by an alcoholic landlady was pretty much the nail in the coffin for my career as a lodger. If that wasn’t bad enough, having them them call the police and lie by saying I had attacked her would have been  enough for the sufficiently disastrous cliche that defines my life.

And yet the threats still come…

It seems my life is just an ongoing storm of madness. There is no normality. Half of you reading this have probably only known me since I met Dani.

Things were wonderful for me up until the age of 15. But after I was beaten the shit out of on the way home from my sister’s school play things seemed to take a turn for the worst. The scars that cover my body would certainly attest to that. Oh if those scars could talk…

 

If you are a bible basher you would explain my series of unfortunate events  by telling me it is god’s way of testing me. If you are an optimist, you will tell me that things are going to get better, that next year is my year (I heard this for 3 years running, until people finally cottoned on to the fact that my life isn’t a disney film). If you are generally like 99% of the people in my life; you will not see anything for what it really is, so you may just feel the need to give crappy advice that I have no interest in whatsoever.

If you are a realist then you will say, ‘Shit things happen. You’re not living in a mud hut, so fucking get on with it’ – I prefer this approach. 

I am supposed to be resuming university on Monday after a relaxing break away form the stress of work, legal claims and travel. Instead; I have been attacked by an alcoholic woman, physically threatened by her 19 stone partner, endured arduous communication  with the wonderful police staff over the christmas holiday at Poole police station and undergone an interview under caution.

Oh. And now I don’t fucking live anywhere. Again.

So I have a few days to find a flat, get settled and be ready for the start of a new module on Monday. Oh and one more thing I forgot to mention (like every other person on this planet it seems); I have a brain injury as well, the icing on top of my wonderfully sour cake of life.

Have any suggestions? The head of child nursing at my uni didn’t. Nor my disability mentor or tutor. Maybe I’ll ask Francis, my 25 year old stuffed dog that goes with me everywhere.

C’est La Vie. Shit things do happen, but at the end of it all I think there is still only one way to travel (which is forwards for those of you attending Southampton Solent uni).

Obviously I have to be careful what I write about. These evil people who wanted to ruin my career and life by falsely convicting me of something will no doubt find this blog and be scanning through it with a fine tooth comb.

It has been nearly 11 years of living like this. April 2012 was just another event to me. Granted; it certainly wasn’t a good day out, but it is no different to the hundreds of other bad days I’ve had. Although it probably ranks somewhere nearer 1st on the Mikey disaster leaderboard.

It’s times like this that I feel most alone. Once again, I am going through something so far fetched and ridiculous it is hard to discuss it with any sane human being. This is why I talk to Francis. He’s a great listener.

I’ve been knocked down again, like everyone does at some point in life. It’s time to get back up and keep moving forward, keep striving towards my goal of becoming a nurse and doing a good job with my daughter. I’m not lemon about what happened, I’m actually feel sorry for the people who tried to get me convicted. They must be so miserable and life must have been so cruel to them for them to want to act in this way.

Worse things happen to people everyday all over the world. I’m not saying that this is fun in any way, but it is important to put things in perspective. I will always have a bed to go to, I won’t be hungry and I have a daughter that I love more than anything or anyone in life.

I have been in crisis mode before, this isn’t anything  new to me. I focus on the good things I have and enjoy with intense concentration everyday; whether that be eating a meal, lifting weights at the gym, watching films or listening to my audiobooks.

Taking every second of enjoyment and pleasure from these small and  menial tasks can get me through anything. The smell of a certain fragrance or soap in the shower, losing yourself only for a few seconds in the enjoyment of the smell. The sensation of warm water over your body. I milk any little sensation that we as humans can experience and might take for advantage on a normal day, and before I know it: another day is done. 

I believe that making threats back, pumping my chest out and being aggressive doesn’t work. You have to adopt a sense of empathy and god forbid; even forgiveness, in order to win the long term battles of life. I don’t want to take over the world of drug dealing; I don’t want to become a gangster or have a moustache like Hitler, I want to be a children’s nurse.

I have embarked on this route which has sparked one hell of a war that holds so much pain I cannot put it into words.But surely that is what life is all about? Believing in something so much you would happily push yourself to your personal boundaries and limits to achieve the result you want?

And the reason I know I’ll make a good nurse is because someone up there is putting a lot of effort into making sure it doesn’t fucking happen. 

 

I’ll die trying to get to my goal and other than death,  I won’t let any excuse prevail as to why I cannot eventually achieve it.

 

 

 

 

EVERYTHING OR NOTHING 

I am lucky enough to have met some really special people along this rollercoaster of a ride someone has classed as my life. But for many years now I have been constantly fighting the urge to use this old strategy of mine which really does not work for me now.

My best friend in bournemouth moved to Birmingham a while ago. So instead of being really good mates my initial instinct was to just cut him out.

My best friend since I was young; Theo, still lives in South London. But despite all that we’ve been through together I only met up with him for the first time in 5 years a couple of weeks ago.

I was so close to My mother in law; Julie, who did so much for me and loved me. But because I kept making mistakes and not proving to her that I was a good son in law like I was before my accident – I tried to cut her out.

Instead of accepting that I could still be a good son in law and have a great relationship like we used to, I didn’t get my head round it. It hurt me so much that her other son in law was proving everything that I couldn’t be.

Being cranially challenged, I am a very black and white person. I hate this and it often causes me to make the wrong decisions. My brain constantly tricks me into believing that If I can’t see people then they simply do not exist.

My brain also tells me that if something can’t be how I want it to be then I should just cut it out.  Of course this is not what I really want, it is just how my brain works on impulse.

I am determined to not be this way. I hate being like it and I will continue to fight this until I’m old and grey; even if I get dementia, which would certainly be a double whammy. Then again if I got Dementia who the fuck would notice.

I have learned that allowing yourself to be so black and white is disastrous when it comes to relationships and succeeding at anything in life.

The same principal can be applied to my nursing. I wanted to be the best nurse; a known figure who was constantly fighting for improvement and change. I wanted give Florence Nightingale a run for her money, and I wanted it yesterday.

 It will take me longer to qualify; which is fine now Ive got my head round that. I know now that nursing cant be as specific as I wanted it to be before, so I need to accept that and deal with the new hand of cards Ive been dealt.

One day Soon, I have the challenge of watching a very good group of friends I have at university go off to qualify while I stay behind with another group of people for another year or two. My impulse was to my university friends out my life, not attend any events and not meet up or socialise with them.

That is self preservation.

(Actually it’s called just being a cowardly twat).

I’m realising that having special people in your life is just as precious  even if it is not necessarily the relationship you want with them.

When I met with Theo a few weeks ago it was incredibly emotional for me. We have been through so much; so many people have come and gone in our lives, so much has happened to us, but you know what I saw on that evening we met up?

Two people siting together sharing a meal and despite everything, were still close friends. Like brothers.

As with all my symptoms and weird personality traits, this is a  working process. But it is a working process that I cannot allow to stop. I have even been using the ‘acceptance’ meditation pack on my iPhone.

Like other symptoms, it is hard to manage when other factors are thrown into the mix.

• Stress
• Fatigue
• Anger
• Despair
• Frustration
• Sadness
• Greed

These are just some of the little delights that will try their best to mess up your plans.

 

I always wanted to be a great dad. I wanted Reese to see me as invincible and funny all the time with lots of energy, taking her to the park and anywhere else she wanted to go.

 

Accepting things that aren’t quite what you want them to be surely applies to everyone anyway. So this blog is for you ordinary black and white bastards too. 

It’s quite simple:

I need to be grateful for what I have got and resist the urge to try and  force something that it can’t be. If I don’t then I will not having anything or anyone in my life. As with other brain injureds, we need to learn to accept the way things are and simply try to make the best of them.

 

The only problem is that accepting things is so difficult. God seemed to leave that little peach out of his ‘manual to life’.

 

 

s

 

 

 

 

I always let me heart/gut dictate when I write and what I write about, not my brain. If I let my brain dictate my life I’d just be a vegetable lying in a bed.

Nearly four years ago; I remember when I came back home after being in hospital, not really realising how much trouble was ahead.

Only a select few people visited me in hospital due to the fact I was in post traumatic amnesia, which meant I pretty much had dementia for a whole month. I thought I was in hospital because I had bumped my head on a dolphin.

When I came out of PTA, my family were not close by and I don’t have any family in Bournemouth. But one thing that will remain important to me is the time and energy my mother in law put in towards looking after me.

I always looked forward to her face appearing at my cell door (it felt like I was in a prison. You should have seen the state of the place. Maybe invest some money in a lick of paint Osborne you dime bar).

She was one of those women that always smelled nice too. So when I got up from my bed to give her a hug I would always inhale deeply; momentarily replacing the noxious smell of plastic and bleach that lived in my cell (every morning the cleaner would come in my room in her buffoonery manner; say the same thing to me ‘Oh hello! You are still here? Soon, Malcolm soon!’,  then proceed to sprinkle bleach EVERYWHERE like it was fucking fairy dust). 

On the day of my discharge I was told Julie broke down in front of a cashier at the checkout in Tesco, saying to them that she was emotional because I was coming out of hospital that day.

When I was discharged from hospital I could barely walk. Any hospital appointments I had Julie was on hand to ensure I got to them and she would always offer to go for coffee or to the park with Ludo on days that I felt up to leaving the house.

I could barely talk for a long while after I was discharged. So Julie found me a private SALT that I could visit, to try and help improve my talking and swallowing.  She insisted on paying until I was back on my feet financially. Maybe she did this because she was sick of me spitting on her and sounding like Bubba with a brain injury in public, but I like to think she did it for entirely different reasons!

Dani used to joke that Julie and I had more in common than me and Dani, this was not untrue! 

On one occasion Dani and I had the carpet fitters come round to smash our floorboards to bits in order to lay some carpet. We thought I would be OK if I stayed out of the way upstairs, but this was far from the case. The noise downstairs made my head thump with pain and I experienced my first real serious fatigue attack.

After phoning Julie she insisted that I came over to her house and have a rest. She had bought me a film not long before that she wanted me to watch too, so I did.

Sitting there in the peace and quiet instantly brought my head back down to earth. I was like magic.

I realised then that to combat fatigue you do not necessarily always need sleep, just real rest, to the point that if you were any more relaxed you would be asleep.

I also realised that the company you keep during this time period plays a pivotal role in whether you can beat an attack or not. That day it felt like my brain was being massaged, or  being given a warm bath! Each minute that went by was like someone giving me another sip of a brain injury antidote.

Other than Julie falling asleep and snoring only 5 minutes into the film, I realised that I hadn’t been able to relax this much since before my honeymoon.

 

 

I am sad about how hour relationship ended.

Each day that goes by; when I am fighting constant exhaustion and fatigue attacks, dizziness, sickness etc In pursuit of my dream I always reflect on the important things and people in my life to help me survive it.

E.G.

When my life is full or extreme  anxiety; worry and stress, to the point I think I would rather die than carry on living, I think of Maino. If I’m weighed down with tiredness when I’m looking after kids at work I think of Reese. When I struggle with assignments and realise I need to produce work to a ridiculously high standard I think of my nan. When the floor moves and sways from the dizziness I get I think of all the people with brain injuries that are in bound to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives.

When I’m worried and stressed beyond belief I think of my friends Johnny Walker and Ron Bacardi.

These are just vague examples (apart from the Walker and Bacardi bit, they are in fact alcoholic beverages).

It’s not set in stone, sometimes they are swapped about a bit. But when I use the law of attraction and daydream about the day that  I finally graduate, everytime  without fail I imagine that Julie will be sat in the front row.

I am quite a dark person, behind all the nonsense. I attract trouble and I have an ugly side (yes. ‘everyone does’ I can hear you mumble). I don’t hold much hope that I’ll ever like the new Mikey (or the ‘transitional Mikey’ as someone recently reminded me); which is fine, I’ve got my head round that now. If I’m angry I say what I feel, this can hurt. If anything positive happens in my life you can bet I will find away of messing it up.

But I will always remember what Julie did for me. It reminds me of what is  important, the things that do matter. What is real.

People like her do not ever go away, they have done too much and leave too much of an impression on the life they led.

Despite all the nonsense, keep on keeping on

 

Every time I am searching the list of names in my head of the people that I can draw something from to help me in that moment, Julie’s name is up there  with the best of them. And it probably always will be. 

 

 

Living with a brain injury; if you have the desire to try and make something of yourself, you need to work 10 times harder than anyone else and expect the same results others work half as hard for. By doing this, you will become susceptible to mistakes and people will judge you for it.

To many who have very little understanding of BI, this will sound like a defeatist comment. This is so far from the truth and needs to be recognised as the reality that many people  face with this injury.

It is not important what your goal is. You could be trying to get a part time job doing something you enjoy, studying at college or simply trying to survive each day with your family.

The goal is not important, the principle is. You must anticipate situations, be prepared and try to ignore the fear that constantly tries to prevent us from living.

When I sit down to write my assignments, I know I have some problems that I can expect to arrive shortly. With reading; all the words jumble together and I find it hard to follow each line in a paragraph. My head starts spinning and the floor starts moving, like I’m trying to walk on  a bouncy castle. Except it hurts if you fall over.

So I get a ruler to help follow the words. Or find some paracetamol!

When I’m typing, I am in no man’s land. My head is like a swamp; slow moving and muddy, word finding is impossible after about half an hour and I forget what I wanted to write about, or the point I wanted to make.

So I use the online thesaurus. I vaguely type in the word I wanted and Lo and behold, I’ve got loads more. This usually triggers it. 

On my last placement on a ward, I was pretty sure at on point I was going to have a seizure. It was at the end of the 8 weeks, and I know I had pushed myself beyond my limits working full time and living out of a suitcase.

And my grandma died too, sitting round her bed with my uncles and dad for days drained the life out of me in between working.

One day towards the end of my placement, staff members insisted that I go and sit down with a cup of coffee. I protested, but eventually succumbed to the fact I had walked into too many objects that day and probably needed a rest. I was talking with a heavy lisp and sounded punch drunk. The whites of my eyes were no longer white. I couldn’t swallow food or talk properly.

In the staff room, I bent down to open the fridge and nearly fell over. I grabbed the counter to stop this from happening as I didn’t fancy a face plant into the floor that could  ruin my good looks. The ground was moving so fast, the walls started spinning and my head felt like a sumo wrestler was grappling with it between his (or her, we’re all equal) legs.

All symptoms are brought to the surface. You need to make the choice of whether or not it is worth putting yourself through this every day in pursuit of what you are trying to achieve, whatever this may be.

There is no shame in saying enough is enough. I think in a way it is foolish to put yourself through something to this extent unless you truly believe in it. That day I didn’t have a seizure, but realised that full time work was no longer an option, but I had given it a try for a whole year before I found this out.

At the same time there would have been no shame in my throwing in the metaphorical towel. But I can hear the comments now – “You gave it your best shot. You know you did well you are such a strong person, but nursing with a brain injury was just too much for you. You can always get a job as a healthcare assistant again to work with children.” – fuck that.  

You need a spark of insanity, the soul of a lion and the will and understanding that you need to work harder than them. I haven’t achieved anything yet, I’m still working on it. It will take nearly 5 years to get my nursing degree, as opposed to 3 for everyone else. This is proof that I have to work harder than them for 5 years in order to achieve what they can in only 3.

 

 

 

He doesn’t know who I am. They might think they do but they definitely do not. She certainly doesn’t know me. 

Whoever you are reading this, one thing is important to know about our relationship. You know what I choose for you to know about me.

I’ve learned living with an invisible illness that the key to ‘living’ (if you can call it that) is using every glycogen molecule in your body to keep your true identity and personality hidden from others.

It sounds negative, but it really isn’t intended to sound this way. Chalk it up however you like, it is the harsh reality of living with a brain injury. Everything is so exhausting; whether it be conversation, socialising or planning anything from buying some milk to going to having a shower.

Some people see a clown. Some people see a ‘bouncer’ looking gym fanatic. Some people see a nurse. Some people see an animal. Some people see an intelligent man (these are the suckers I really love fooling) Some people see a lovely person.. it’s different for everyone!

Every task in your day can potentially reveal your true flaws. The more tired you become undertaking these (what seem to me) menial tasks the greater the likelihood is that you will reveal a chink in your armour.

Thats all the body is. It’s armour that hides the true you. You think because I am young, ‘fit’ and handsome (had to put a compliment in here somewhere) everything is ok? Maybe you’re like 99% of people in the world I live in and actually believe that. Or maybe you are part of the 1% that has a fucking brain cell.

It is important to be aware of this when you have a BI. You must NEVER reveal what is underneath your armour. This will result in a breakdown of relationships and cause pain to others, without you even realising how, when, where or why.

So many different personalities, so many different people that see me differently to what others do as they see a different side to what they see and don’t see the differences.

By playing an acting role so hard for nearly four years I have come detached from any true meaningful relationship. Isn’t that what we, as humans crave, to share our soul with true people? Maybe thats what made me lose my marriage. Who knows, I do what I feel is right to survive. That’s all I’m doing, surviving.

I’m not sure how I’m going to live another 40/50 years playing this acting role. The loneliness is impossible to describe. Why do you think we’re always on our own? We don’t have to put on a show for society when we’re alone. Being around people is a constant reminder of the loneliness and isolation knowing how different we are to ‘normal’ people.

 

Whenever I’m stupid enough to have been too honest or forthcoming with people I regret it straight away afterwards and curse myself for being so stupid. I was too forthcoming recently and had to grip myself for it, it doesn’t happen much but my eye leaves the ball sometimes.

People come and go.

Now I have learned that instead of acting with some people I just go along with what they say, reminding myself that they probably won’t be in my life for long anyway. Thats the other thing, no one seems to stay put long enough for me to want to share anything anyway.

Ending on a positive note, here’s a joke:

It was so cold outside the other day, I thought I saw a politician with his hands join his own pockets!

 

 

P.s. George Osborne is a nob.