I generally have a sleep on a Thursday afternoon after my counselling session as they are quite draining. No session this Thursday due to Laura being on holiday but my little brain was still asking me to lay down so I obliged and had a couple of hours rest.

When I awoke in the early evening I felt quite claustrophobic and trapped in my bedroom which also doubles for my living quarters at the moment. I don’t have claustrophobia at all but the walls and room were closing in a bit on me and I put my trainers on and I went out for a “well-being” walk.

I had no route in mind and I didn’t have any objective but to get out into the open and just walk. I wanted to get away from the imprisonment of my room and feel a bit more positive about life again.

As I set off I began to think of where I would like to be right here and now, and one place came to mind. On the Island, my family with me, the peace and tranquility, the water lapping on the shore, the sun preparing to set, hanging in a gorgeous fiery orange sky.

That’s where I chose to be. I’m not going to say where the Island is, but just it’s a magical and wonderful place.


For a fleeting moment I am there, or at least I felt emotionally there. A very calming and safe feeling had enveloped me as I pictured my children running along the beach edge and throwing stones into the water, I held my wife’s hand and we stared out over the sea to distant Islands, we listened to the tide gently rolling in and our children’s laughter as they played together as safe and happy as anyone can be.

And then in one deflating instant I was back to normal life. I was alone, back somewhere I didn’t want to be. I was stood outside the old terraced house staring at it, my brain confused with some happy memories and some terrible memories. The house was looking almost abandoned, the front door had been boarded up, dirty net curtains hung in the windows as if to hide terrible secrets from within, the front garden was massively overgrown and the path to the front door was crooked and broken.


The house looked totally helpless and lost and as I looked on I felt like it was a perfect mirror image of how I was feeling right now; abandoned and useless, hiding secrets and storing terrible broken memories.

But people, just like old houses, can hopefully be repaired. They can be worked on and restored and made to feel loved again.