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It's Friday, not a day I usually blog, because I am normally beavering away at work by now, however this week, once again, I am self Isolating. Yesterday I received yet another message from 'Track and Trace,' to isolate, after coming into contact with someone who has reported they have Coronavirus symptoms. I've lost count how many times I have had to do this now, but it must be about three or four. Yes it is tiresome, inconvenient and exasperating, but unlike others, I understand the importance of doing it. It was interesting to see on the news last night, that around twenty-eight thousand people are actually ignoring the notifications and carrying on as normal. Why, just why would you? If you have the app on your phone, follow it and do the right thing for Christ’s sake, it is your civic duty.
As usual, I have no idea how or why I came into contact with whoever this person is, but I have a good idea. When I am working, I am protected from the general public by a perspex shield, so there is no need to have my 'Track and Trace' app turned on. In fact the service have told me to turn it off. Nevertheless, I did have a Hospital Appointment on the day I would have been exposed, so this could be the reason why I am isolating yet again. Like everyone else I will never know who gave my details and I will remain in the dark, which is probably a good thing.
I do have concern about the timings involved. I received a message yesterday to isolate for five days, which means If I did have COVID-19, I would have been walking around for five days, following my usual routine, not knowing I could have been passing on this deadly virus. One can only assume the person who reported symptoms, didn't do so soon enough or the results of the test came through later than one would have expected. It is so important people are notified quickly, to stop the spread; this is the second time I have had a very short quarantine period, which says something is going wrong with the system. Let's hope that the Government gets its act together and of course the public actually follow the rules and report symptoms as soon as they get them!
On a positive note, it is great to see the UK's vaccination programme really ramping up. When I listened to the news yesterday, ten and a half million people had already received their first dose of the vaccine. This is great news; the sooner all of us are immunised, the quicker we will get back to normal. The crucial thing is, everyone who is offered a jab, takes the jab. I am sick and tired of the conspiracy theories and the anti-vaxxers. These people know nothing about this virus and its impact on families and need to take a long hard look at themselves. Their views are abhorrent and wrong and deserve no air time. Shocking scenes of these people storming hospital wards, accusing health care professionals of 'murder' is beyond comprehension, It highlights the odious lack of understanding and education. It is an appalling indictment on a small, yet vocal minority of the population, that mistakenly believe this virus is a hoax, it just makes me want to cry!
One piece of news I did find a little hard to stomach this week, was Europe's reaction to our Vaccination programme. Predictably, they slammed our efforts, implying we were taking risks with peoples lives, having not tested the vaccines properly. At one stage they threatened Britain with a hard Northern Irish border, trying to divert valuable medicines to the European Union. The vindictive nature of their behaviour, trying to restrict the amount of vaccine made in the EU, travelling to the UK, because we had actually ordered and secured batches three months before, beggars belief. They were willing to disrupt supply to those who needed it most, in order to save face. It is their bureaucracy that has delayed their immunisation programme; it has nothing to do with us. Luckily they backed down at the last minute as Europe invariably does. My love hate relationship with Europe has once again been tested. Having reversed my stance on Brexit, I was once again brought to boiling point, by Europe's actions. Their conduct is the reason I voted to leave, this just creates more negativity, when we should all be working together.
This week we saw the death of a hero, the superstar of this pandemic, an ex serviceman, Knight of the Realm and champion of the National Health Service. Sadly Captain Sir Tom Moore, who raised thirty-nine million pounds for NHS charities died of Pneumonia and Coronavirus, succumbing to the disease, he had fought against throughout 2020. This man, who in his 99th year, walked a hundred laps of his garden, raising millions, was a loss that's hard to countenance.
Sir Tom was the constant in all our lives last year; his positive outlook, cheerful disposition and stoicism in the face of tragedy carried all of us through the worst of the pandemic. This national treasure was an inspiration during dark times, a man who encouraged many to raise yet more money for charities up and down the country and was known throughout the World for his efforts. Losing this gentle soul in his 100th year, was a tragic day for everyone with an ounce of empathy and compassion. His loss will be felt by all of us, especially his family and those who knew him best.
I would like to offer my sincere condolences to Sir Toms family at this sad time and hope his legacy will live on, long after the pandemic has gone. It is people like him that epitomise the plucky British spirit, sense of duty and strength in the face of adversity. A man unknown just a year ago, rose to the challenges of a virus, that could have taken his life at any stage and became a living, breathing hero, who none of us will forget. The man of the moment will forever live in the hearts of a nation who needed his courage, in order to face the challenges ahead. His achievements will always be remembered, in death as they were in life.
I did manage to speak to Darrell briefly over the last few days and he is phoning me every day whilst I am self isolating. To be honest it is the only time we actually get to talk more often. Having to lock myself away for a week isn't ideal, but it does give me a little bit of 'me' time that I wouldn't otherwise have.
Darrell has also been isolating this week, not because of possible contact with someone who has tested positive for COVID, but because Western Australia entered a brief total lockdown. A security guard, tested positive for the more deadly UK strain and had been working several jobs, bringing him into contact with many different people. The authorities there were understandably concerned about a potential outbreak and immediately did the right thing, closing the state.
Darrell was unsurprisingly frustrated; unlike us Brits, he isn't used to the mandatory mask wearing and rule adherence. When I phoned him today, he told me they had come out of lockdown, after everyone who had come into contact with the virus had tested negative. Once again I can't fault Australia for their quick reaction to a situation, that could have so quickly got out of hand and once again Darrell and Mum can breathe a sigh of relief.
Bush fires have also been raging in Western Australia, just 2 km from where we used to live in Ellenbrook. Of course this isn't entirely unusual, but their proximity to the city is and is also a concern for Darrell and the residents who live there.
Wherever you are in the World at the moment, there does seem to be an overbearing number of problems and disturbances to deal with - COVID, wildfires, political unrest in Burma, famine in Africa and the after effects of Brexit. All of these issues seem to indicate a time of turbulence, that I haven't really witnessed in my lifetime. As a planet we have enjoyed prosperity and progress up to now and enjoyed a relatively peaceful period, free from the unrest and turmoil of the past. 2020 has shown us, fate is always round the corner waiting to rear its ugly head and all of us should prepare for the worst. My generation had become too complacent, it's time all of us woke up to the challenges, that will dominate all our lives from now on.So, I have another four days of self-isolation to go before I can get back to work, which is going to drive me bonkers once again. I am taking the opportunity to catch up on some reading, blogging and sorting out by IBS symptoms. Today I am fasting for twenty-four hours, which always helps to reset my stomach. Already the pain has subsided, as I just drink green tea and water, and although I am feeling a bit dizzy and tired, I am at least enjoying the benefits of a pain free day.
I'm not really sure why fasting helps, but from what I believe it is about giving the stomach time to rest, without having to process any food; whatever the reasons, it seems to work for me. At a time when all of us should be thinking about our own personal well-being, exercising, eating healthily and doing whatever we can to avoid the terrible effects of Coronavirus, should we be unfortunate to contract it, it is important for me at least to look after my digestive system. When my tummy feels good, so do I. If I can only lower my stress levels as well, I should hopefully weather the storm until it is my turn to be vaccinated, until then it will be more of the same - isolating, mask wearing, social distancing and sanitizing one's hands. Nothing lasts forever and like all of you, I long for the day life returns to normal; stay safe everyone, stay safe!
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Do you believe in fate? Do you believe in serendipitous events/encounters? That everything happens for a reason. I believe fate was the reason I met my husband. I'd been in a horrendous relationship and left my home town with my ex to go to work at Butlins. Whilst my ex was sacked for hospitalising me, I stayed. My husband came to Butlins a few months later. He was on his way home from work and walked past a job centre in London where he lived. It had a board outside advertising work on the South Coast, with accommodation provided. He told me he didn't know why he went inside as he had a really good job as a Carpenter and Joiner, but he was feeling very disillusioned with London and within 2 days he packed his belongings and moved to the sunny South Coast. We consequently met and he never moved back.
Had I not have been with the person I was with, however bad it was, I would never have met my husband. I would never have had my children. I've always struggled to find a reason as to how fate resulted in my husband being taken from us too soon. The disease that killed him (Mesothelioma) was a result of work he did with asbestos some 15 years before we met. It laid dormant until 2016. A couple of days before he passed away he said to me that he bet I regretted him turning up at Butlins as I was about to be made a widow at 41. I didn't and don't ever regret meeting him.
Since I was a child I have kept things that hold memories for me. Little trinkets and notes that I've bought or been given over the years that have sentimental value. I even have my school-leavers books signed by everyone from that year. To outsiders, it would be junk, to me incredibly precious. I have a box with cards, obituary notice, order of service and candle from my husband's funeral. The one and only letter he wrote me, our first valentines and Christmas cards. Other personal effects. Last year I took down most of the photos as it felt right to do so and they are safely in the box. I haven't been into the box other than adding the photos. That was until the day after I wrote my last post.
I was feeling very low. I sat at the PC when a large bang behind me made me jump out of my skin. I looked to see the box had fallen from where it always sits. I have no idea what caused it, but it landed with the lid open. I could see the pictures on the top were not damaged. I went to close the lid and put the box away but for some reason I had a sudden urge to go through it. Under the photos was a memory stick. I knew this held over 50 or so photos of my husband. I haven't looked at it since it was played at his funeral 4 years ago, afraid of how I would feel. I decided to play it.
I sat laughing as each image filled my TV screen. Smiling at the memories. I didn't cry once watching. I then carried on looking through the box and came across a disc. It was a recording of the coroner's court that I had to attend and give evidence at 2 months after he died. It was a blur at the time as I was still in shock. As he had passed away due to an industrial disease this was necessary but incredibly painful. I had to fight to stop an autopsy being performed as he had been through so much already. That may seem bizarre to some, but he had endured so many biopsies and procedures before he died I didn't want his body being cut any more. I won my fight and the coroner agreed biopsy results would be sufficient along with my evidence.
I have never listened to the recording and other than my dad, the coroner, the recorder and a journalist that was allowed to be present I actually have no memory of what was said. I decided to play that too. It was so difficult to listen to. I didn't sound like me. The pain in my voice came across so loudly. I did cry listening to it, but I am glad I did.
I put everything back in the box, but it got me thinking. Looking at the photos and memories were happy. The recording was hard to listen to but after doing so I felt calm and peaceful. I started to remember other conversations I'd had with my husband in the days before his death. Some were very amusing, others very deep. The last conversation we had he told me to go and live my life. Be happy. Find another love and that he had always loved me. He was unable to speak again after this due to sedation. At the time I really did not want to hear that, but I thought long and hard about that conversation.
I took a call a couple of hours later from a lady I have got to know over the past few months. She said she had a weird feeling and felt she needed to call me and was I OK. I told her what had happened with the box and what I had done. She said "that is serendipity". Serendipity is an unplanned fortunate discovery. We talked at length about it and how I believed fate bought my husband into my life, but I could not justify it taking him away. She went on to say that she believes people are brought to us for a reason. That every person we meet teaches us something whether that be a good, fun, sad, learning, loving or bad experience. She went on that my husband was a gift to me and that after 7 years of abuse I needed him and that he had done what he needed to by showing me how to love and be loved. Now whether you believe in that or not I felt for the first time since his death totally at peace with that. I do believe my husband was bought into my life by fate. I was lucky enough to have loved and been loved by him for 22 years.
My low mood I'd been having that day lifted after my call with her. I started to think of other people who have been in my life in the past 4 years and left an impact on it in some way. Every person I thought of I have learned from. Whether it be through inspiring me, educating me, introducing me to new experiences or opening my eyes to things I wanted to try but never had the courage too. Every person I thought of no matter if they are still in my life now or not I am grateful for what I have learnt and believe it was meant to be.
I slept really well that night. I woke the following morning feeling refreshed and determined. Determined to do what my husband had said. To live my life and be happy.
I have created a kind of bucket list. I've always had so many things in my head I want to do or experience but actually putting them into black and white, gives me something to aim for. I listed my career goals. I've always wanted to learn to play the drums. Places I want to travel to. New things I want to experience and much much more. I've already looked into drum lessons for when lockdown is over. Later that day my son told me of his plans to go travelling after college. A possibility of living abroad. He has a list too it would seem.
This announcement from him got me thinking again. I've toyed with the idea of selling up on and off for a couple of years now but always decided against it as it's my children's home. They have grown now. My daughter left home 18 months ago and is happy and settled with her partner. My son will carry out his plans as he is a focused and determined young man. So that leaves me no excuses. I have spoken to an estate agent and will be having a valuation carried out when allowed. There is nothing or no one currently in my life that warrants me needing to be in my house or even in the UK once my son goes in just over a year.
The days that followed I have been so busy with work, my group (that now has over 400 members and counting) and looking at my list and planning that I haven't had time to feel low or miserable. I'm sleeping well and have a new energy. Who knows what's ahead. I certainly don't but one thing I do know is I just want to be happy, have fun and live my life because life is short, life is precious and to be enjoyed. I want to make the most of mine not look back in twenty years full of regret. -
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That is the first month of the year done and dusted. I’ve made a good start to the year and am reasonably pleased with what I have achieved in January.
At the start of the year I gave myself 10 targets to achieve to by the end of the year. Added to this are weekly and monthly targets to achieve. I feel I need to do this to keep my focus and stay on track with those 10 targets I have that are to improve mind, body and soul. Every day, I’m doing something that is working towards that improvement in mind, body and soul.
I’m very mindful that a year ago I did dry January with an emphasis on improvement in many areas of my life. The following month or so the plan fell apart somewhat prior to the unforeseen lockdown – a year later, and I’m much wiser, much more driven, feeling mentally stronger and much more determined not to just achieve those 10 targets but to utterly obliterate them. I’ve not made those targets easy either, that would be lazy and a bit of a cop out. These are targets that push me every day and every week.
So reflecting on January. I’ve made a good start, but I know I can do better, much better.
In work, I’m striving for continuous improvement every day, I’m being a lot more subjective and critical about my input – what difference will it make, what impact will it have it and what I need to do to make it better. Forget that it looks good, what I want is that it looks exceptional.
I’ve made a good start to working towards the qualification I’m currently studying for. My end of year appraisal was much better than I anticipated, as someone who doesn’t feel comfortable being complimented on what I have done well it did feel a bit cringy at times, but the feedback was good (especially from a 360 review from colleagues). I’ve identified a few areas I need to work on to improve.
A few things happened in January that would usually have left me feeling a bit down, moody, negative and flat, but I didn’t let those things do it – I either worked through what the actual issue was and come to a workable solution, or I put them into perspective within the bigger picture.
I can spend days without talking to anyone due to the lockdown. The solitude isn’t bothering me at all. I’m keeping myself focused and occupied. I’m reading a lot, in January I finished reading 7 books. I’m more mindful of my moods, more mindful of how positive 'me' achieves much, much more than negative 'me,' every day I’m working on this. Every day, I look at my targets and visualise how I will feel when each of these is achieved, I tell myself why I’m doing it and the long term benefits of why, how it factors into being a better version of myself. Every day when I look at those targets I tell myself I am accountable, and it is down to me and no one else to put the effort in.
Training is going well. I’ve scheduled in 26 training sessions in January and completed them all. I know that I need that consistency and commitment if I’m going to achieve two of my goals this year – not being in the mood to train or rubbish weather is not an excuse for not training. No excuses and completing the sessions no matter how tough they are, ‘harder than you think, it’s a beautiful thing’ as Public Enemy said. My runs are now done early in the morning so that I know they are done, and it isn’t hanging over me for the rest of the day. On Saturday morning I completed the recent virtual challenge I had signed up for, pleased with that, but it is just a small stepping stone in the larger plan.
My diet is improving each week, and I’m looking at what I’m eating and how it can improve my physical and mental health.
January has been a good start, I put down a marker and nothing else, I need to continue to build on this. Build, complete, reflect, plan, build, reflect, develop, improve, push, deliver continuously.
I consider myself as a person with limited talents and resources, but I’m starting to work on how I use these more and more to my advantage to realise my full potential. January set the momentum, nothing else, the momentum needs to be constant and continuous.
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The office, at the top of our crumbling three-story town house in Edelvale Road, which always reminded me of the television programme 'Crapston Villas,' was missing something. There was a fax machine, which worked intermittently, the preferred method of contact in the mid to late nineties, an old rusty imperial 1950s typewriter, that I had acquired from one of the many car boot sales, I used to frequent on a Sunday morning and a 'Canon Starwriter' word processor, my pride and joy. It was slow cumbersome, difficult to navigate, with the smallest screen, but it was perfect for putting thoughts to paper and storing a lifetime of memories. With a pink floral winged back armchair, a huge, bulky wooden cased television and antique leaded glass fronted mahogany bookcase, squeezed next to a rather large overbearing exercise strider, all the rage back then, it was the perfect retreat to escape from the World. Alone with my thoughts I was able to relax and unwind, away from the rest of the house; It was the beginning of my love/hate relationship with technology that still exists today!
The World was moving on, the internet was just beginning to bloom and most people I knew had a computer, not something I was particularly interested in, it has to be said. I had heard so many horror stories and after being given a ZX Spectrum 48k for Christmas in the early 1980s, I always said I would 'never go there again.' The screeching of the tape recorder for hours on end, as Daley Thompsons Decathlon loaded, was just too much to bear. I wasn't ready then, and I wasn't sure I was ready now, for that leap into the dark and the purchase of a new desk top computer. Nevertheless, it was time to embrace the new World and bow to modernity, after all this was the way of the future.
In the corner of the office sat a large Argos Catalogue, placed on top of the even larger telephone directory and a bigger still yellow pages. Perched between them all, was a notepad, where each of us would write down the telephone calls we made; all very forward thinking and organised; the reality was, it didn't last long, as the three of us who lived there soon got bored with writing each conversation down. The Argos 'Bible' was an obligatory accessory in the 90s home, and we would often sit down of an evening, flicking through the pages, dreaming of things to buy for the house. There seemed to be an explosion of new technology at the time - the new MP3 player, Sony Discman, portable CD player, mobile phones, the first widescreen televisions and most importantly, affordable desk top PC's.
After a lot of umming and ahing, we finally decided to drive down to Argos and purchase a shiny new computer. This was a task easier said than done. The box was huge and weighed a tonne. In fact, it was so big, we decided to open the contents, so it would fit neatly inside our burgundy Ford escort. Immediately I began to regret my purchase, as I decanted a monitor, CPU, Keyboard and more software than I had ever seen, packaged individually on Compact Disc after bloody Compact Disc. Then there were leads, so many wires, I just couldn't imagine how we would ever connect them all. Bemused, we just shut the boot and drove home, sitting quietly, wondering what on earth we had got ourselves into.
Dragging the heavy contents up three flights of stairs to the study, suitably knackered, sweating profusely, angry and tired, which is never a good start, I sat there, head in my hands, not knowing where to begin. Temper at boiling point, as usual I left Darrell to do the donkey work, I was never any good at technology, it just wasn't part of my psyche and I certainly didn't have the patience; I was more of a paper and pen kind of man, as I probably still am today. With the carpet covered in hardware, software, peripherals, computer manuals and even a plastic cover for the PC, just like the one you used to put on a budgie cage at night, I left the room. We had already had two arguments getting to this point and I didn't want any more!
It must have been the early hours of the following morning when Darrell finally finished putting everything together. It looked presentable enough against the back wall, although the myriad of unseemly wires and extension cables trailing across the floor, were already beginning to irritate my innate sense of order. That was just the beginning of my hatred for this new piece of modern technology, before it was even switched on. The 'dial up' connection, rather like the screeching Spectrum cassette tape loading in 1983, was so disturbing and frustrating in nature, I had to leave the room; there was no turning down the volume; it was just one long squawk fest, from sunrise to sunset!
The internet in 1998 was very different; less of a learning tool, it was more directed towards recreation and risqué material. Loading a picture could take minutes, not milliseconds as it does today. There was no joy sat in front of a screen for hours on end, doing nothing productive. The waiting, queuing, restarting, reloading, dropping of connection, when someone was using the phone and constant annoyance at not being able to finish a task, was just too much to cope with. Within a few short days, I had had enough, phoning Argos demanding a refund. Unsurprisingly, they weren't having any of it, advising me to follow due process and ring the helpline in the literature provided.
By now my mood had turned distinctly sour; indignant, irate with rage, I packed up everything in the oversized box provided and told Darrell to drive me to Argos, where I unloaded the monstrosity in the middle of the shop, refusing to leave until I was reimbursed in full. After an hour of tense exchanges, they finally relented, and we were refunded on the spot. I vowed never to get a computer again, believing they were useless, purposeless and unusable.
This tentative foray into the coincidental world of the future was a step too far, and one I wouldn't repeat for many years, until advancements in technology finally allowed this fully fledged technophobe, the opportunity to embrace destiny and become the amateur computer expert I am contemporarily. Looking back, I should have persevered, but life in 1998 was very different and times didn't reflect my desire to get things done quickly. Computers back then were not for the faint-hearted, they were an uneven stepping stone towards the advancements we enjoy in 2021; they were the ancestors of smartphones and tablets and the forerunner of innovation, development and creativity. As grandparents of the freedoms we enjoy today; the humble Argos computer was the commencement of my journey, as I endeavoured to navigate a World I didn't recognise. This was the first chapter in the life of a blogger, who finally fell in love with the progressive, cutting edge, pioneering present day. This was the end of innocence and the beginning of accomplishment!
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It's funny how one thing can trigger something else. How one thought or action can lead you in one direction, and before you know it you are thinking or doing something completely different. I woke up this morning feeling quite good. I'd had a really positive chat with my boss yesterday. I've also had a few people suggest I write a book (I find that hilarious, but quite flattering). My group is growing rapidly, and I seem to have become a bit of a shoulder for several group members having a tough time. Ironic considering what's been going on with me.
I started work and I put my music on shuffle play. Random songs from my favourite playlist. I've said before I sometimes think my playlist knows my mood or likes to stir up emotions. It did again today. The music had been on for a couple of hours. I had just finished listening to Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel, Don't give up. A beautiful song that when I feel low gives me the kick up the arse I need. Then came another favourite of mine. Hedonism by Skunk Anansie. This song I have loved since it came out over 20 years ago. I've always loved the lyrics but listening to it today I sat and cried. In truth, I sobbed. The words resonated with me more than they ever have before. I packed up work for the day as I couldn't concentrate. I went to bed. I didn't want to deal with what was going on in my head. It didn't work, so I decided to write this.
Hedonism means pleasure and as they say there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. Today this song bought to the surface pain. A pain I've been trying to suppress, ignore, forget about. For the past couple of weeks I have tried really hard not to think about my feelings. I was worried that if I did a pandora's box would be opened, and I would be back to how I was feeling at the beginning of November. That thought scared me. I don't ever want to feel like that again.
Last week I was forced to think about my feelings and whilst I did not revert back to how I was in November I am still quite raw and there is something that is haunting me. Most of what happened in the build up to that point I have reconciled. I've tried many times to put what happened down on paper and each time I've discarded it. Writing my thoughts or ramblings as I like to call it has really helped, but I don't feel it will this time, but I don't know what else will. There is one event that took place at the end of October I still cannot put to rest. This is the one thing in my life I have torn myself apart over in the last few months. This is something I need to but cannot resolve.
I pride myself on having a great memory. Friends joke with me about the things I can recall. Conversations, events, drunken and random things from 30 years ago but for the life of me I have no clue as to what happened one night at the end of October. I have fragments of what happened, mostly what I was told. It's like a jigsaw puzzle with the major pieces missing showing the full picture.
At the end of what had been an awful week personally a friend suggested meeting for a drink after I had finished work. We got to the pub just after 5pm. By 7pm it would seem I was absolutely out of it. I still do not know after 3 glasses of wine how this happened. It has been suggested to me my drink was spiked. I remember feeling strange like I had been out all night on some kind of bender. I remember I just wanted to sleep. I remember bits and pieces of what occurred after I left the pub. I don't remember getting to the train station, but I remember being on the train and a man who had been in the pub talking to me was sitting opposite. I do not remember getting off the train, but I remember talking to a homeless guy by the station and giving him some money for food and the man from the pub and train was still there. I vaguely remember the homeless guy shouting at him, but I do not recall what was said. After that everything is a blur. What I was informed happened next is so unreal, so out of character to me and has caused me a huge amount of shame, embarrassment, hurt and anger. I have physical scars from that night but no understanding of how they got there.
I actually cannot put on paper what happened as it is so disjointed and seems so unreal to me. That night has far-reaching and ongoing consequences. I want to stand and shout from the rooftops that I am not that person. I want to put wrongs right. I want to know what the hell happened. I have never in my life deliberately hurt anyone. I've always put others' feelings and welfare above my own. I'm often told I care too much about others at the detriment to myself. So what happened to me in the space of 2 hours? This one night was the spark to the tinder keg that erupted in November. I don't know how to address this. I don't know how to stop feeling pain from it. I don't know how to move on from something I don't understand.
I've never pretended to be something I'm not. I've always had pride that I am an honest person with a good heart, morals and integrity. That has had a shadow cast over it, it has been questioned and is something I don't know how to live with. I just have to bury that pain again until the next time something triggers it and hope it doesn't drag me back down. In the meantime I'll go back to what I do best. Hide my true feelings and plod on with life and hope tomorrow is a better day.