I discovered very quickly, that once you spend a modest amount of time away from Harrogate, you realise what a paradox it really is. A beautiful town where you dream of setting up home and raising a family, where the people are hostile, ignorant, arrogant, money-centric, and largely superficial. Of course there are people who don’t share these traits, but not enough to create balance.
I don’t want to leave the impression that Harrogate didn’t offer me a lot. It is truly a beautiful place to live, and many of the friendships I made whilst living there will last well beyond my retirement, but sadly, the negatives began to outweigh the positives.
When I started socialising in Leeds, I found a large circle of people who were interested in meeting new people with different interests, where people weren’t bothered about your past, your wallet, or the scars on your head. Finally a place where you weren’t made to feel weird for smiling at a stranger, or daring to make small talk with a neighbour. The things that made me feel isolated in Harrogate, became the reasons for meeting people in Leeds. I had found a new home.
My concerns about the effect of psychological scars from my ordeal on new relationships, the fears of others about my suitability as a potential long-term prospect vaporised quickly, as I felt the general acceptance of the people I met.
I had been in Harrogate too long. I soon discovered that orange was not in the normal range of skin tones, and that there were t-shirts available where the ‘v’ did not necessarily reveal chest hair and moobs. I realised that I had left a town that relied on a veneer of perfection and appearance, and found a place where substance was key, and unconventional was conventional.
This was fine by me.
Sunday 8 March 2015
34. Refilling the void…
My knots were untangled. I felt a freedom that I had not experienced for a number of years. My over-riding feeling was that I had to re-find myself, and I wanted to do it quickly. I felt a significant amount of uncertainty about my life, and felt that I needed to re-establish some things.
Whereas everyone’s reaction to me was very positive, I had doubts over whether I was now ‘damaged goods’. The effect on my self confidence wasn’t devastating, but it was there, and was proving difficult to shake. The only way I would discover the truth about future prospective partners was to experience the act of dating, forming bonds with new people, and see how I was received. Would there be reluctance to be with someone who had undergone brain surgery? Would there be reluctance to be with someone with a slightly misshapen skull? Would a dotted line of scars across my head be a turn-off? This was all to find out. What I knew, was that I had work to do on a personal level before I was ready to get involved in another serious relationship.
The whole ordeal had made me realise that having children was a must. I had come to realise that the reality is that life can come to an abrupt end, and that the ‘element of surprise’ was clearly one of life’s tactics. I’ve long suspected that there is a greater presence than us, that the coincidences that we see every day signify something much larger, that deja vu is nothing more than laziness by the people writing our story, but I hadn’t anticipated how quickly the rug could be pulled from under our feet (yes, my imagination is over-active). Be it the feeling of everything ending without a legacy, vanity, not fulfilling my very basic primal purpose on this world? I like to think it was more to with creating a brand new shiny life and nurturing and loving something in a way I had never experienced before. I’m not sure.
What was apparent was that I now had certainty where I had lacked it before. For this reason, I knew I had to be prepared for ‘Life: Part Two’, but had some scores to settle first.
I had never been comfortable eating in a restaurant on my own. Tick. I had never been to the cinema on my own. Tick. I had never travelled alone. Tick. I have to say, I make an excellent and cheap dinner / cinema date, and I think I’d struggle to find someone I would rather spend five days in New York with. I started ticking things off a list far more important than a bucket list. I was finding my self-confidence again, I was being reliant on my own mental and physical facets. I was spending time with my own thoughts, feelings, instincts, and it felt amazing. There was an element of danger too though. I’m sure you’ve met solitary people who live alone (or with cats), who struggle to align themselves with other human beings, or are disinclined to compromise with others in favour of their own agenda. I could quite easily have slipped into that way of life. Sadly, that existence is not conducive to family life!
I had briefly flirted with a couple of relationships, but my need to spend time alone had won. The time where I was alone (albeit sharing someone else’s house) had an immensely positive effect on me, and will go down as one of my favourite periods of adult life. I felt ready to move on, and needed a fresh start.
I decided to distance myself from Harrogate. In an incredibly (and uncomfortably) close-knit town, I was the guy who’d had a brain tumour, I was the guy who got divorced under strange circumstances (by strange, we just didn’t publicise the details), people were well meaning, but generally not able to see past the two latest aspects of my life. Maybe it was self-consciousness on my part, or a figment of my imagination, but I felt like it was time to move to pastures new. I thought Leeds would present itself with an appropriate level of anonymity, and easier cliques to break in to.
Whereas everyone’s reaction to me was very positive, I had doubts over whether I was now ‘damaged goods’. The effect on my self confidence wasn’t devastating, but it was there, and was proving difficult to shake. The only way I would discover the truth about future prospective partners was to experience the act of dating, forming bonds with new people, and see how I was received. Would there be reluctance to be with someone who had undergone brain surgery? Would there be reluctance to be with someone with a slightly misshapen skull? Would a dotted line of scars across my head be a turn-off? This was all to find out. What I knew, was that I had work to do on a personal level before I was ready to get involved in another serious relationship.
The whole ordeal had made me realise that having children was a must. I had come to realise that the reality is that life can come to an abrupt end, and that the ‘element of surprise’ was clearly one of life’s tactics. I’ve long suspected that there is a greater presence than us, that the coincidences that we see every day signify something much larger, that deja vu is nothing more than laziness by the people writing our story, but I hadn’t anticipated how quickly the rug could be pulled from under our feet (yes, my imagination is over-active). Be it the feeling of everything ending without a legacy, vanity, not fulfilling my very basic primal purpose on this world? I like to think it was more to with creating a brand new shiny life and nurturing and loving something in a way I had never experienced before. I’m not sure.
What was apparent was that I now had certainty where I had lacked it before. For this reason, I knew I had to be prepared for ‘Life: Part Two’, but had some scores to settle first.
I had never been comfortable eating in a restaurant on my own. Tick. I had never been to the cinema on my own. Tick. I had never travelled alone. Tick. I have to say, I make an excellent and cheap dinner / cinema date, and I think I’d struggle to find someone I would rather spend five days in New York with. I started ticking things off a list far more important than a bucket list. I was finding my self-confidence again, I was being reliant on my own mental and physical facets. I was spending time with my own thoughts, feelings, instincts, and it felt amazing. There was an element of danger too though. I’m sure you’ve met solitary people who live alone (or with cats), who struggle to align themselves with other human beings, or are disinclined to compromise with others in favour of their own agenda. I could quite easily have slipped into that way of life. Sadly, that existence is not conducive to family life!
I had briefly flirted with a couple of relationships, but my need to spend time alone had won. The time where I was alone (albeit sharing someone else’s house) had an immensely positive effect on me, and will go down as one of my favourite periods of adult life. I felt ready to move on, and needed a fresh start.
I decided to distance myself from Harrogate. In an incredibly (and uncomfortably) close-knit town, I was the guy who’d had a brain tumour, I was the guy who got divorced under strange circumstances (by strange, we just didn’t publicise the details), people were well meaning, but generally not able to see past the two latest aspects of my life. Maybe it was self-consciousness on my part, or a figment of my imagination, but I felt like it was time to move to pastures new. I thought Leeds would present itself with an appropriate level of anonymity, and easier cliques to break in to.
Monday 16 February 2015
33. The great unravel...
I had heard that through work, we had access to a counsellor. I contacted the force welfare department, and asked if it was possible to see him. I left my number and eagerly awaited a call. Soon after, in a rare moment of efficiency, I received a call from the counsellor himself (despite mental imagery of a doctor’s office with a long-suffering secretary) - he was keen to arrange an appointment to see me.
As the day approached, I was filled with feeling of anxiousness. Although I’d initiated the appointment, and was certain that I needed the help, I suddenly felt very uncomfortable about two things: 1. Baring my soul to a total stranger. 2. What on earth was I going to talk about?
I was aware of the use of talking therapies, and having studied psychology at A-level, felt that I had a grasp about how these things worked. What I didn’t know (and why I needed the help in the first place) was how do you unpick the last two years of upheaval, fear, catastrophe, life…where do you start?!! Those who know me will know that I don’t really shut up…and the people who see me often will also know that I have little (no) shame, and don’t mind sharing all the gritty details. So why was this bothering me? All I could fathom was that it was fear of the unknown, but this soon faded when I turned up.
The counsellor had a kind face, a kind manner, and a soft Irish accent which I found instantly relaxing. With very little background information to work from, I was amazed how much information he extracted from me in an incredibly short amount of time. He asked questions around the time leading up to diagnosis, the treatment, the recovery, and an area which I was keen to keep separate from this session: my relationship.
Unfortunately, there was one thing the counsellor wasn’t going to let me get away with…yes - talking about my relationship. The second half of the session was dedicated to exactly that (despite my best efforts to turn the conversation away). Again, I’m not going to go into the specifics from a relationship point of view, but the counsellor clearly believed he had heard enough to start giving me some advice.
He had clearly been paying attention. The counsellor had skilfully picked apart each of my strands of woe: The symptoms pre-diagnosis, the diagnosis, the treatment, my recovery, the emotions attached to all of these, and then the strand that ran all the way through middle, complicating every step by the addition of another person, their feelings and their actions, and the effect of those on me. I was now able to see each strand for exactly what it was individually.
Who on earth had I been trying to kid? I had undergone one of the most traumatic situations conceivable to a normal bloke, leading to an enormous amount of personal upheaval and baggage. It’d contributed to, if not caused the end of my marriage…it had change my goals, my perceptions…the fabric of who I really was. Of course I was going to have moments of uncontrollable emotion. The counsellor explained that in times of physical and emotional difficulty, the brain will prepare the body for action, park the psychological issues somewhere they are less likely to hamper the physical recovery, then bring them out when you least expect them. In my case, on the bridge over the railway line on Hookstone Road, Harrogate. My brain could have at least saved my moment for somewhere nice!
The counsellor offered a number of other services and therapies, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t need to see him again. In short, he was a magician, and he had done for me exactly what I needed…possibly more.
I didn’t need to see him again.
I had heard that through work, we had access to a counsellor. I contacted the force welfare department, and asked if it was possible to see him. I left my number and eagerly awaited a call. Soon after, in a rare moment of efficiency, I received a call from the counsellor himself (despite mental imagery of a doctor’s office with a long-suffering secretary) - he was keen to arrange an appointment to see me.
As the day approached, I was filled with feeling of anxiousness. Although I’d initiated the appointment, and was certain that I needed the help, I suddenly felt very uncomfortable about two things: 1. Baring my soul to a total stranger. 2. What on earth was I going to talk about?
I was aware of the use of talking therapies, and having studied psychology at A-level, felt that I had a grasp about how these things worked. What I didn’t know (and why I needed the help in the first place) was how do you unpick the last two years of upheaval, fear, catastrophe, life…where do you start?!! Those who know me will know that I don’t really shut up…and the people who see me often will also know that I have little (no) shame, and don’t mind sharing all the gritty details. So why was this bothering me? All I could fathom was that it was fear of the unknown, but this soon faded when I turned up.
The counsellor had a kind face, a kind manner, and a soft Irish accent which I found instantly relaxing. With very little background information to work from, I was amazed how much information he extracted from me in an incredibly short amount of time. He asked questions around the time leading up to diagnosis, the treatment, the recovery, and an area which I was keen to keep separate from this session: my relationship.
Unfortunately, there was one thing the counsellor wasn’t going to let me get away with…yes - talking about my relationship. The second half of the session was dedicated to exactly that (despite my best efforts to turn the conversation away). Again, I’m not going to go into the specifics from a relationship point of view, but the counsellor clearly believed he had heard enough to start giving me some advice.
He had clearly been paying attention. The counsellor had skilfully picked apart each of my strands of woe: The symptoms pre-diagnosis, the diagnosis, the treatment, my recovery, the emotions attached to all of these, and then the strand that ran all the way through middle, complicating every step by the addition of another person, their feelings and their actions, and the effect of those on me. I was now able to see each strand for exactly what it was individually.
Who on earth had I been trying to kid? I had undergone one of the most traumatic situations conceivable to a normal bloke, leading to an enormous amount of personal upheaval and baggage. It’d contributed to, if not caused the end of my marriage…it had change my goals, my perceptions…the fabric of who I really was. Of course I was going to have moments of uncontrollable emotion. The counsellor explained that in times of physical and emotional difficulty, the brain will prepare the body for action, park the psychological issues somewhere they are less likely to hamper the physical recovery, then bring them out when you least expect them. In my case, on the bridge over the railway line on Hookstone Road, Harrogate. My brain could have at least saved my moment for somewhere nice!
The counsellor offered a number of other services and therapies, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t need to see him again. In short, he was a magician, and he had done for me exactly what I needed…possibly more.
I didn’t need to see him again.
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