Intention of the Reinvention!

It may sound a little egotistical, I but I really like myself as a person. I mean, that's a sentence which shouldn't really have a negative connotation, but it does. The world certainly would be a better place if more people liked themselves! So the idea of reinventing oneself is a tad extreme for my liking. I see it as... working on a custom car in your garage. You've got a great old car, but you tinker away on it, restoring it, improving it, making it into the work of art you really want to cruise around the coast on, top down and music up. I rarely think that you're so fundamentally flawed that the only way to move forward is to completely reject the majority of things about yourself and start afresh.

Other than periods I've had of major improvement in my life, there has only really been a single time where I can honestly say I've 'reinvented' myself that I remember. It must be noted also, that I don't mean in any way I'm perfect or beyond major improvement - in fact I'm a wholly flawed individual who could probably do with a bunch of serious life changes - and it comes back to my perception that to like yourself and state so, can be seen as a tad egotistical. Maybe it's the ol' New Zealand tall-poppy syndrome? Who knows...

When I was a kid, I was amazingly shy. I had few friends (I would probably say I only really had one, best friend, until I was a teenager) and was bullied seemingly everywhere I went. It sounds dramatic, but I really did have a hard time at most schools I went to; this led to the often bewailing of "Why does everyone hate me?". I had low self-esteem, was overweight and to cap it off, I started going bald at 14 and growing a full beard at 12. I loved myself as a person, but as a kid, it's hard to like yourself when no one else seems to. You even get settled into the role of "I'm here to be the unpopular guy" and you find yourself falling into the similar traps, actions and habits of someone who is seen as annoying and disliked. This, of course, perpetuates the problem and you soon devolve into a never-ending cycle of adolescent misery.

Cue art school. I was fresh from high school, and the brochure for the school made it sound as if it were speaking to me. Individual creativity. Friendly environment. The first week of art school I'll always count as one of the best of my life. I can't remember a huge amount of it now - it was nearly a decade ago - but I'll always remember the first course. It was in a giant theatre, and there were long tables along it, packed with new people. I knew no one, and I could feel the fear growing inside me. There was a girl next to me, who smiled, before returning to her work. I said nothing.

Then, without warning, something clicked in my brain. I still don't know where the clarity came from, or how it came to be in my young, muddled head, but it told me to stop. Stop being shy, stop continuing this isolated path. I remember looking at the girl next to me. I didn't know who she was. She didn't know who I was. I could be anyone. I can be anyone. I could, even if it were fake for now, be the person I knew I wanted to be. My voice was trembling, but after a few moments, I said hello to her. Her name was Hannah. Then I asked another person their name. His was Charlie. By the end of the week, I was no longer shy. I was the (mostly) confident, well-liked guy I wanted to be. Just like that. It doesn't seem like much, but looking back on it now, it still completely boggles me how something so simple as saying hello to someone, could change my life so dramatically. Just a change of thought to the cliche 'new place, fresh start'. I faked it for a while - and even afterwards struggled with reconciling what was more real, my old shy self, or my new confident self - but over the years, I grew with confidence, to the point, where I am no longer gripped with fear in new situations or when faced with new social encounters.

I'm still an introvert at heart. I don't think I'll ever be that guy who loves public speaking or feeding off peoples' energy at parties. But that simple reinvention of my thinking was undoubtedly one of the more profound moments of my life. I'm still fairly chuffed my younger self was able to come up with such a monumental decision! Without it, I wouldn't be the man I am today.

Your Best Friend

As I sat here, bleary-eyed at 2am from a full day of cricket, frisbee and adventure, I was pleasantly surprised to see that a new Blog Roll topic had been posted - A letter to yourself 10 years ago or 10 years in the future. It's been a long time, no write, so despite the late hour, and my body's inside voice whispering "Sleep! Sleep time!", I think there isn't any time better than the present to get stuck in to it.

However, it's probably not advisable. 10 years ago... phew, that would make me nearly 12. There's a lot of dark memories and emotions that lurk back there. Most have been captured and placed carefully in a chest, buried somewhere deep in the sandpit of my mind, nary to be looked at except for the odd peek or prod over the years. A couple of you may know the reasons, most probably won't, but my early teen years weren't the happiest nor the fondest to look back on.

To be honest, I kinda feel sorry for that kid back then. I think instinctively we all feel sorry for our younger selves. They represent an innocent place. A sweet, pure place before we all grow, lose that magic fervour for life and get corrupted and abused by the world. The innocence and blissful ignorance seems so pitiful, but at the same time wondrously special and unique. It only happens once in your life. Once you are aware of the world, you can never go back. Your younger self is the embodiment of the passage of time and the gift of knowledge, which cuts both ways in giving enlightenment, but also stealing your childhood away. Your younger self is what you've lost.

I feel especially sad for my younger me, because I know what the next few years have in store. And not just that, but because even if I could, I probably wouldn't change the course of the coming years. They hurt. They ushered in the end of my childhood. But they made me who I am today. Looking back writing this, it almost feels like I'm offering him up as a sacrifice while I stand idly by. It's hard, but I know in the end, it all comes right. We can't stay innocent forever, and upsetting as it is, we all must lose our purity in a sense.

I was bullied from a young age. I'd probably even go so far as to say I've been bullied by various people from various vocations to this very present day. It never stops hurting. As a grown man, all my competitive instincts are telling me to write down that it doesn't, but the truth is, it never stops hurting. I've learnt to cope, ignore and grow a thick skin, but it affects you. Maybe you don't get sad or angry any longer, and maybe you even begin to realize that it's not your problem, but the bully's (I indeed spent a good portion of those 10 years blaming myself for the bullying), but it still affects you. I'd say being bullied is like being attacked by shovels. Saying it, it's actually kind of funny, but probably accurate. The shovels dig little holes inside you, taking bits of you out that were good, and replacing them with hurt. Over time, the holes get bigger and bigger until they make a great, deep hole. After that, if you make it that far, the shovels go in but they don't have as much of an effect. But they're still there. They never leave. They're always with you, somehow, some way, even if it's only in how they've altered your life, a sick reminder of how lost little boys and girls can forever brand you with their mark.

For me, being bullied left me with a profound sense of being entirely alone. Even to this very day, I feel that sting often. I remember one instance very clearly. I was sitting at assembly on one of the seats at the back. One of the kids kept looking back and laughing to his friends. He finally turned to me and said I was a loner. Looking back now I almost laugh at how silly it all was, and it's painfully clear why the boy felt the need to degrade others to feel superior - I play in the same cricket league as him now and he barely reaches my armpit. I feel sorry for him just as much as I feel sorry for 12 year old me back then. But the shovel still went in and with it comes a ripple effect. And with a ripple effect comes habits and experiences and deep-rooted emotions that even my now mature and rational brain struggles to root out and placate.

Bullying wasn't the sole part of my struggles as an early teenager, but it was a large part, and not having friends and the feeling of being isolated made the other strifes harder to cope with. So if I were to say anything to an 11 year old me, it wouldn't be long, and it wouldn't ruin all the hurt and joy and adventures and sorrows of the coming years. It would say only one thing: You are not alone.

I had a best friend when I was small, but unfortunately moved away from him, so for the most part, my childhood was friend-less and with none occupying that title of "Best Friend". I still try to this very day to make that connection with someone, perhaps as a way of fulfilling that little boy's dream and showing him he is loveable and worthy, despite the jeers and the bullies. Sometimes when I'm close, the little kid inside stand up and goes "That's not right! You're a loner! You don't have any friends!" and no matter what my rational brain tries to argue, I tend to push more friends away than I'd care. So maybe me in ten years needs to send present me a letter too, because I'd tell that little kid he does have a best friend. One that he'll never lose. One that will never call him a loser or put him down. The one friend who will never abandon him and who will always understand him...

His best friend is himself.

So don't think you're alone. You've had me there the entire time and no matter what, you're gonna turn out great and despite the hate you've shown me over the years, it's not your fault and I still love you. Oh, and you're going to go a family friend's party when you're older. A girl is going to be hitting you; it means she likes you. Then she's going to take you behind the shed and attempt to kiss you. Do NOT run away this time! Geesh...

And that'd be all I'd write. Maybe I'd listen to me. Maybe I'd think I was just B.S.'ing. But at least on those days where it was nearly all too much, maybe I'd know in the back of my head that I had a best friend who was there for me. And maybe it'd make those days just a little bit more bearable.


Phew! That was hard. With that, I think I'll stop prodding the thing in the chest, load the sand back on top of it and leave it until next time.