Alone in my head.
If you ever see me talking to myself, it's OK I'm asking expert advice.
If you’re reading this, welcome. Maybe you’re bored, curious, or just looking for something to do. I hope that when you’re done, you feel your time was well spent. If it wasn’t, don’t come whinging to me; you chose to read it; I didn’t twist your arm.
I suppose this part of the site is where I’m supposed to offer words of wisdom and sagely advice. You can forget that I’ve got enough shit going around in my head; you don’t want any of that. Whatever I do write here will be honest, to the point, and hopefully a little bit funny. Sadly, not everything in life turns out the way we want it to.
What am I going to write here? Good question, and your guess is as good as mine. I’m not a writer; I’m definitely not a blogger. I’m a guy with a camera and a sick sense of humour to go with being a bit sick in the head. I’m bipolar. There I said it!
For years I was ashamed of saying that. I hid that from everyone - my family and friends. I hid that for 46 years. All those years pretending to be OK when I wasn’t- that is such hard work. It’s tiring not only mentally but physically; you’ve no idea just how tiring it is. It is really knackering battling your mind day in day out, year after year.
How am I still here? I’m bloody stubborn; that’s how. When my first wife kicked the bucket, I so wanted to follow her, but I couldn’t; I had two kids who needed me, and I couldn’t do it to them. So I made a promise: ‘I promised them that I would not do anything to end my life, that I would always be around for them.’ I don’t make promises that I can’t keep. It’s been hard keeping this one, but I am determinded to keep it.
That’s not to say I haven’t come close in the past. Many years ago, before marriage and kids- it has to be nearly 38 years ago- I came close. I stood on top of the wall of a railway bridge and said to myself, ‘The next train, I’m jumping!’ I meant every word of it. I stood there for what felt like a lifetime, then a voice in my head said, ‘Knowing your luck, you’ll bloody miss and end up breaking your leg, you dickhead.’ I got down, not before nearly falling off the wall because I was laughing.
The thoughts don’t go away; I’ve learnt to live with them, either that or I went over that wall that night, and this isn’t real, and I’m living in some sick sort of reality.
I promise you, if there is anyone reading this, my posts will not always be doom and gloom. I will post about photoshoots; well, I might. I will always be blunt and to the point, so if I feel like shit, you'll know about it.
That's all for now
Charlie