Tuesday, 3 July 2018

What I really wanted to say three years ago

Note to all: This is a long, self-indulgent post aimed at only a few people (forgive the length it's been a long time). I'm aware that life is short, so I've included a tldr at the bottom. Please forgive any spelling, typos and punctuation mistakes.

Like a Poundland Lazarus or that hippy bloke with the beard who got nailed to a bit of wood, I’m returning back to the land of people and hopefully will stick around for a while.

Already known as the quiet sort, over the past 3 years I’ve managed to take the art of silence to levels that would make Stephen Hawking green with envy (note: this was written pre-Hawking doing a dead, which indicates just how long these words have been stewing).

First, let me start by addressing a couple of scandalous rumours. Concerning the rumour, I was kidnapped by two hot, nubile Scandinavian blonde chicks and forced to have vigorous sexy time on an almost bi-weekly basis. That definitely never happened although if you did want to start that rumour I wouldn't object. I can also confirm that my anus has not felt the warm tingle from the long arm of the law. My sphincter is as tight and puckered as it ever was. As to whether I lopped off little Steve, donned a frock and now go by the name of big sweet Sapphire, I can neither confirm nor deny.

It would give me immense pleasure to be writing to tell you that I've been far too busy embarking on dangerous life-affirming adventures, pondering deep philosophical views and occasionally getting laid to contact you. Unfortunately, that would be a lie. The truth is I've been hiding from you guys because I've been battling depression and anxiety for a long time. It was easier to hide rather than face the shame I felt in telling you guys what I've been suffering.

Social anxiety and depression have long been a part of my life. Even going back to when I was at Newport I struggled to cope with it. It led me to stop attending lectures, make very few friends and choose to only work on my own. I can’t help but feel guilty about how I attained my degree and how I wasted my time at University.

I’ve always managed to just about stay in control, however, things began to escalate whilst I was doing my Masters degree. Although it was only a yearlong course it was an incredibly intense period with little downtime to relax. I was growing increasingly anxious and began finding myself having to allow extra time in the mornings to build up enough courage to open my front door and step out. I began having a beer with my breakfast to dampen the encroaching fear but quickly realised this could only lead me down an even darker path so stopped. A good day would be spent in the computer room unnoticed. A bad day would be spent in bed; staring at the ceiling, unable to get up.

I kid myself I’m at my happiest when I’m on my own, but after a year of actually living on my own, I felt deflated, unbearably lonely and utterly defeated. By the time I was meant to begin my final project I was really struggling to cope and would have given anything to give up. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of my devastated parents. Their belief in me has never wavered, even if at times it may be unjustified. I spent weeks putting off coursework, telling myself that tomorrow would be a better day and I’d start it then. Sometimes it did feel better and I was productive, sometimes I was engulfed by the shadows (not the 50's rock and roll group led by Hank Marvin).

I was getting very behind on my coursework so I attempted to get an extension. I lied to my lecturers that I'd had a sudden death in my family. It's a complex minefield choosing which beloved family member to kill off (pretend kill of course). Offing the wrong granny who proceeds to turn up at your graduation can cause all sorts of awkward situations. Pretending your hamster snuffed it and you’re too upset to work doesn't cut the mustard with those heartless fat cat university administrators. You don't want to jinx death on any old aunt or uncle who is healthily nimble. I chose to resurrect my poor cousin John, he had died several years earlier so I felt I was safe in killing him off again (poor guy couldn’t catch a break even in death). My genius ruse was scuppered early however upon learning I’d have to provide a death certificate to be granted an extension. I actually spent more time looking to see how easy it would be to fake a death certificate than I had worked on my project. I quietly, what else, dropped the family death ruse and accepted I'd have to begin work.

It came as no surprise when I failed the course and would have to resubmit my work. Being back at home with family support helped control my depression somewhat, I was able to focus long enough to produce a better final project and gained my Master's degree. I now had two degrees and felt no pride in achieving either.

Around this time I was still in contact with you guys (my pre-hidden days). I'd promised I was going make an animated infographic about the process of brewing beer for a friend. I struggled to achieve anything productive and never made the video. I'd just sit in front of my computer and zone out, choosing anything but work whilst pretending to everyone that I was super busy.

I attempted to help another friend by providing a walking animation for a game he was making. I did a terrible job and although he was too polite to say it (yes I'm really talking about Ollie), it was fucking awful.

I'd managed to avoid meeting up with you guys since we'd finished Uni. I always had the excuse that I couldn't afford the travel costs which although slightly true wasn't the proper truth. We’ve shared incredible moments in our lives like that time we queued up on a cold boring November night to buy Modern Warfare 2, or that time Ollie walked into my room whilst I was having a wa.... on second thoughts let's forget about that one. I’ve smelt the hideous results of your previous evening’s meals more times than I care to mention and should have felt happy and excited at the chance to meet up again. I didn't feel happy though, I only felt shame. I was beginning the process of pushing you away.

You threw a Spanner in the works by attending a gaming convention in the lovable shithole known as Coventry. This time I knew I couldn't use my old reliable `too expensive’ excuse, the ticket would only cost a fiver so I agreed to meet up. The week before we were due to meet I could feel my anxiety rising, it only got worse as the week went on. I didn't sleep, barely ate and I knew what I was, or should I say, what I wasn’t going to do. I lied to my family as I feigned excitement that morning, I parted with a `don't wait up for me’ as I left to get the train to Coventry. I spent the next five hours wandering the streets of the future UK city of culture in a daze, feeling utterly hopeless whilst trying to dodge an occasional dollop of dog excrement. That’s the day I switched my phone off and started to hide. I still have Pete’s unopened text from that day on my phone; I keep it as a reminder that one day I’d like to hit reply.

If you're still reading at this point then let me commend you for your perseverance, it's been tough to admit how I feel. You're probably now at the point where you're asking yourself this is all great, but why the flip didn't you just let us know all those years ago you were struggling? It's a very good question and one which I ask myself regularly. The flippant answer would be because I'm a fucking idiot who needs a good slap and to `pull himself together’. I wish it was as simple as that though. I wish I could silence the nagging voice in my head that constantly defeats me and drags me down.

I suffer from a debilitating desire to push away the people who care about me to the point that they give up, find it’s not worth the effort and leave me alone. I’ve always understood negativity much better than positivity.

All too quickly a day turns into a week. A week turns into a month. A month turns into a year until it’s been over three long fucking years. Like that bearded guy that turned a fish into wine (I may have that wrong), I managed to turn a simple message explaining that I wasn't feeling well all those years ago, into the bloated rambling apology you're reading now. Intermittently throughout the last three years, I've attempted to write an explanation of where I've been. Sometimes it never got past the first sentence, sometimes it ran pages deep. All got deleted.

This could very well end up the same way unless you're reading it, in which case I’ve either accidentally hit post instead of delete (in which case please discard this message), or maybe I’ve finally managed to step out from my hiding place.

Depression and anxiety can make you an incredibly selfish person; everything revolves around you and your current mood. It’s ruined jobs for me, relationships, friendships and made me miss monumental moments in the lives of people I care about. You won’t know this and I’ll never admit it to your face, but I think about you guys every day. I really hope you're happy.

I haven’t gone near Facebook for a long time but occasionally I get an email about something I’ve been tagged in. The email never shows the contents of the message but from the title alone I get the general gist of what's happened. I know of at least two major moments in your lives that I’ve missed. I just don’t have the words to say how truly devastated I am that I couldn’t muster up a simple congratulations.

I don’t want it to seem that life is all doom and gloom for me. I can still have fun and have a laugh. I have an amazing family that has put up with my shit for far too long. With their support, I’m finally beginning to open up about my problems. Life is still not where I want it to be, but I'm trying every day to inch it forward. Some days are better than others but that's the same for everyone. Around early 2016 my brother (he’s a solicitor but don't hold that against him), had an idea that we could make an animation explaining the conveyancing process to sell to solicitors. He wrote a script, provided the vocal talents and I began animating the video. For the first time in a long time I felt motivated and together we produced a `not too bad’ video. My days are now spent selling and personalising the video to law firms across the country. It's by no means flying off the shelves but it keeps me busy and the feedback has been very encouraging. I don't earn much from it but it’s my own little business that makes enough to pay my monthly bills with enough left over to save a little for myself.

So what has made me decide that this is the time I’m really going to push post instead of delete? I certainly don't want your sympathy and I’m well aware that I’ve left myself open to ridicule with this post.

It’s simple.

I've missed you guys.

If you read this and send a reply, and I really hope you do. Bear with me as it may take me a few days to gather my courage to send a reply back. I promise I will reply though. My email address is stephenpcraner@gmail.com so you can always send me a private message there.

I'd love to end on some sort of interesting profound message, unfortunately, I'm a twat who's rarely profound and has never been interesting so let's try this. Hi, I’m Steve and I hope we can be friends again (just don't enter the room if I'm masturbating).

(tldr version: Oh BooHoo I’ve been a wee bit sad)

Lots of love, Steve x

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