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.
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