davidchill

[davidchill]

This Is My Truth - The Final Blog (For Now)

After over ten years of writing a personal blog I feel that now would be a good time to wrap things up. I’m sure I’ll still write blogs from time-to-time, but they’ll be a completely different animal to this curious beast.

Social media has changed an awful lot over the years. As I scroll through my timeline this morning all I see are snappy memes, gifs, people arguing with strangers about the perils of Brexit, and sponsored posts based on my browsing habits.

Another thing that’s changed is how people engage and interact with others. Over the years I’ve seen friends who appeared to be warm and affable suddenly go stone cold and aloof, virtually overnight. Typed communication can often be misinterpreted or misconstrued, and I have, on a few occasions, tried to strike up friendships with people who I’ve genuinely liked, only for their shields to go up - and I watch them vanish at warp speed.

The truth has always been important to me - so when people lie in order to make their lives easier I find myself distancing myself from them so they don’t need to lie anymore. But I can’t judge anyone. Lying is easy. Anyone can lie. How many lies have got people out of awkward social situations without damaging the friendship? Thousands, I would imagine. The truth is much harder to swallow at times. So if you’ve found this blog to be a difficult read then that’s certainly not a bad thing.

Of course, a few “friends” haven’t stayed the course, and opted to “unfriend” or “unfollow” me on social media for posting “too many dog photos” or “too many blogs on mental health”. Well… all I can offer here is my “sperm” analogy…

“Out of the approximately 1,000 sperm that enter the fallopian tube, only about 200 reach the egg. The rest get attached to the lining of the oviduct, or just give out and die. Out of the approximately 200 sperm that reach the egg, only one fertilizes the egg.”

If you’ve stuck by me on Facebook during the most turbulent period of my life (between 2014 and the present day) then consider yourself a healthy sperm. The others might resurface in a few years when everything in my life is hunky-dory and say “Is it safe to be your friend again?” but they have no chance of reaching the egg.

In this case the “egg” is a metaphor for my “circle of trust”.

Friends don’t fall off the radar when you struggle with your mental health, and nor do they sit back and watch you struggle financially when they *could* throw you a bone. Oh, and they certainly don’t walk away when you share anecdotes about your dog.

So if you are still with me - thank you. And if you’re sitting comfortably then let’s begin...

Keeping the Faith

For much of my adult life I never had a huge amount of faith in myself. Too many crushing doubts played on my mind as to what role I had in this world - or even if I had a part to play. My creative abilities were certainly brought into question, as I lie awake at night wondering when people would wake up and give me the same amount of judgement and scrutiny that I subjected myself to on a daily basis.

Despite a very happy home life I was a prime target for the school bullies - thanks to a winning combination of ginger hair and small, round head - so it’s hardly surprising that I entered adulthood with several insecurities and a huge chip on my shoulder. Children can be cruel and wretched creatures at times. Snotty-nosed brats.

Throughout college I drew comic strips at every available opportunity and was always genuinely flabbergasted when my peers told me how talented and gifted I was - and how much they loved my sense of humour. Well, my written word - as I was practically mute in those days. “You’d be funny if you spoke!” commented one guy.

While most of the students gallivanted off to university I chose not to pursue further education and opted to get a “real” job in order to feed my comic book addiction. So for the next six or seven years I took on a variety of roles… packing plastic, kennel hand, factory worker.

I’m not sure what my parents thought of me coming home covered in dog poo and toner dust - but my duties were the perfect cover for an artistic creative soul who had zero faith in his abilities. I couldn’t fail.

Unfortunately my cover was blown in 1998 when my line manager insisted on promoting me to “champion operator” - a job that involved assembly work, but also gave me the opportunity to walk around with a bit of paper and use the new fangled “e-mail” system that was becoming popular in the workplace. “What is this wizardry?” I asked myself, as I bluffed my way through the job.

It was during this time that I was asked to give a PowerPoint presentation to an office full of co-workers and the type of senior management you’d cross the street to avoid if you saw them out shopping on a Saturday morning. When the CEO gave his feedback on the presentations he threw the spotlight on me and said; “David, I thought you were excellent.”

Swine. “I’m a fraud I tell you!” (I didn’t actually say that out loud)

Thankfully, just before my head expanded to dangerous levels of self belief I was made redundant from the position. This was no reflection on me - the whole company went under. Nothing to do with my “excellent” presentation skills or the time I spent walking around with a bit of paper.

The following year I was inflicted with a condition called spasmodic torticollis and forced to take three months off work. In English; I suffered with a severe muscle spasm in my neck. As a result, my chin was permanently touching my shoulder and only lying down made me feel “normal”. We didn’t have box sets to lift the mood in those days, so it was an extremely dark chapter in my life. I was pumped full of valium, I couldn’t drive or walk the dog, and my mother had to chop my food up for me.

Eventually, after a series of tests, the consultant told me I’d have to have injections in my neck - but this wouldn’t guarantee success. Truth be told I became very low and depressed - but, with the support of my friends and family, I got through each day. One of my church friends even picked me up, took me to church, and prayed for me. This wasn’t like my “last rites” or anything, I hasten to add.

One day, as I walked into town, all hunched up and averting eye contact - something very peculiar happened. My head wasn’t tilting to one side anymore and I found myself walking in a STRAIGHT line. “What is this hogwashery?!” I thought to myself. “I’m walking with my head in an upright position!”

The specialist who mooted the idea of injections then examined me, scratched his head, and concluded that I was some kind of weird “enigma”. Yes, it took three months of pain, frustration and fear to reach the conclusion that I was a bit odd. Blimey, I didn’t need to go through all that to work that one out.

The Slippery Slope

Several years later, and after being made redundant three times between 1998 and 2003, I was beginning to think I was cursed.

In 2006 I quit full-time employment and went down the “self-employed” route - mostly focusing on wedding websites for the subsequent eight years. On reflection that was far too long to spend on one endeavour, and a few close friends urged me to expand my portfolio. Again, I felt “safe” doing wedding websites, the money was coming in, and I didn’t want to run the risk of straying too far. However, I should have taken the advice given to Peter Davison when Patrick Troughton advised him to only play the Doctor for three years. Eight years is a very long time in the world of technological advances, and I became the Ken Barlow of wedding websites.

Looking back, it’s not surprising the work had a detrimental impact on my mental health. I poured my heart and soul into those blasted websites, and sometimes sat up until 3am to please my transatlantic Bridezillas. Sometimes Groomzillas. No, I didn’t *have* to, but when I take on a role I like to give it my all.

Unfortunately because my “office” was then based in my bedroom I could never “switch off” and those sites consumed me to a point where my anxiety and depression deepened. The line between business and pleasure just became far too blurred and it became a seven day week thing.

After all the stress of moving into my maisonette (and then buying the maisonette) I still found the websites to be an extremely negative factor in my mental health. Things got on top of me and I’d begin to procrastinate… put off tasks, until, eventually, I hit my brick wall. My dark place.

Enter Luna, the Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita, who took a lot of stick for being the author of my demise. No, she was merely the straw that broke the camels back.

Before I knew it, I lost my regular income after being told that my services were no longer required. Sadly, despite being told that my salary would be safe until January 2014, it was then slashed by £500 for two months on the trot. November and December, respectively.

Suddenly, I had this huge financial hole to fill… and a mortgage to pay. When you lose £1000 without sufficient forewarning then what do you do? No money from extra part-time work would have reached me in time - even if my mind had been “fit” to work. The anxiety just consumed me, and the mind starts imagining these highly unlikely scenarios… My neck condition might flare up again… I might lose the dog… I might lose my home.

Okay, that last one actually happened.

People often tell me that debt is a slippery slope that should be avoided at all costs. People who’ve never experienced debt to the extent that I did. My friends, I’ve taken to that slope. I’m the Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards of the slippery slope.

So yes, I know that debt begins very slowly... and it gradually creeps up on you… the £5 penalty charge on your emergency borrowing becomes £10, £15, £20… and then you’re late with the gas and electric bill… and then BOOM! You’ve lost your home and overzealous cleaners are pulling things off your wall as you struggle to pack everything into boxes.

I lost more that day than I can ever put into words, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since.

Yes, people made my life more difficult than it needed to be, and some people could have helped more - rather than just telling me it’d all be okay. But I lost everything because I lost faith in myself.

There’s No Guarantors

Today, eighteen months after losing my home, I’m sat here writing a business plan - and I find myself in this role reversal. Almost like a weird mirror universe from Star Trek. Suddenly, for perhaps the first time in my life, I have faith in myself - but others are doubting my judgement, or have very little faith in my abilities.

Whenever I hear that someone has been awarded a business loan I punch the air [on their behalf]. Even if it’s someone on Twitter who I don’t know very well - I always make a point of congratulating them and wishing them well in their new endeavour. Or endeavor if they’re American.

With me, I expect a few would question if I knew what I was doing.

Not that I was awarded a business loan, but I came very close. Honestly, my heart sank when Eugene (the guy from the bank) uttered the words “We just need your guarantor…”

Guarantor? Me? Find a guarantor? He might as well have asked me to find the hair of a Sasquatch, a stool sample of a dodo, and the DNA of William the Conqueror.

“Hey, dear,” says a friend, turning to his partner. “David C. Hill is looking for a guarantor for his business loan. You in?” “The same David C. Hill with the anxiety issues?” “Yep.” “The same David C. Hill who had 5,000 comic books printed without testing the market?” “Yep.” “The same David C. Hill who lost his home after falling into a horrifying amount of debt?” “Yes, dear. You in?”

Yes, I had to ask… but of course I can’t blame anyone for not rising to the challenge.

My new bank friend, Eugene, then followed up with a phone call to assure me that the £10,000 funding would be granted if I could give him a name. So I looked at Luna, and for that brief moment her eyes just said “Don’t look at me!”

The “Homer Simpson” in me thought about seeing how far I could go with this guarantor lark. “John. My guarantor’s name is John. John Smith. His address? 12… Evergreen Terrace.”

Sadly, it’s going to be almost impossible for me to come back from that defeat of losing my home. That sort of thing sticks. It’s like I have “not good with money” or “dog who returns to his vomit” scrawled on my forehead. It’s akin to someone on a dodgy register trying to acquire a job as a school caretaker.

No, to paraphrase Tiffany, the pop goddess of 1987… “I think I’m alone now.”

People will argue that if my business plan was that convincing then I wouldn’t need a guarantor. However, these days banks are far more guarded when it comes to funding businesses. I don’t have any assets therefore I need someone with assets to have my back. My 27” iMac won’t cut the mustard as an asset.

Anyway, I’m sure most people can find a guarantor with relative ease. If a guarantor was such a ridiculous concept then requiring a guarantor wouldn’t even be a thing. According to the website, 98% of businesses are successfully funded. So I guess that places me in the 2% camp.

It’s been a week of bad news, and it would be so easy for me to slip into a depression and consume my body weight in wine gums. My car payment has just bounced and I have more rent due in ten days, and now I’m telling people that without funding my business can’t move forward.

I know the rich frown upon those who have to take out loans, and in the last few years I’ve seen the rich grow considerably richer. But I don’t think some people realise how rich they are, and how, if they need something, they can just go out and buy it - or ask their rich family to chip in. Of course most people have worked very hard for their wealth - but the majority of people do work very hard. I know at least two nurses who work for the NHS and they work exceptionally gruelling shifts. So one should never judge the rich - or the poor.

Yes, some people do inherit wealth or marry into rich families, so not all the rich work hard - and not everyone who’s poor works hard either. Sometimes ill-health doesn’t permit you to work long hours - and yes, lazy work shy fops do exist.

If I have to calumniate £5,000 or £10,000 worth of debt in order to make £20k then I’ll do it. All businesses need funding and we don’t all have savings to inject into our cashflow. People who don’t have debt a get bit sniffy about it, but there’s no shame in having manageable debt - and sometimes it’s a necessary evil.

Final Words

There’s always a way forward. Sometimes its not about working harder - it’s about working smarter. And I have enough faith in myself to know that I can work smarter. I’ll find a way forward, even if I do have to accrue debt - even if I have to march into hell for a heavenly cause. People will call me batcrap crazy, and people will cast doubt on me, but that’s to be expected. Life is very short, memories are very precious, and sometimes those of us who want to achieve our goals need to take calculated risks.

My greatest fear is losing faith in myself - because that will be the day that I die. But that’s never going to happen. I mean losing faith in myself - I fully except to die one day! I’m not Connor MacLeod, Mister Immortal, or Captain Jack Harkness.

Thank you to those who have helped me over the last few years - and those who continue to support my work. Make no mistake, when I’m rich I’m not going to live in a huge castle, pull up the drawbridge and yell “Let them eat cake!”. I’m going to live in a modest dwelling and help those who have helped me in the past.

That’s my guarantee.

[davidchill]

The Quality of Life

Now that my book is days [rather than weeks, months, years] from completion [pending all the behind-the-scenes stuff] I wanted to take a moment to write a short blog post to apologise for any ‘aloofness’ people may have experienced from me in recent months. I’ve been so preoccupied with book-writing, my extreme maintenance pooch, and trying to keep on top of paying the bills, etc, that I feel I’ve neglected ‘real’ friends and family. Obviously book-writing doesn’t come before friends and family, but as friends and family contributed to the cost of getting the book printed, then the least I can do is finish the thing. Had this been a self-funded venture then you wouldn’t see it for another five or ten years, because there’d be no pressure. But despite not seeing most of my friends for about a year, I do still care.

I was prompted to write this blog after hearing (only in the last week) that someone who has been very kind and supportive to me over the years is terminally ill. This news made me sad, but it also made me feel like a terrible human being. I felt bad for not getting in touch with this person sooner, when she’d been so encouraging and kind about every blog post I’ve ever written - and she also holds the record for liking most of my dog photos. In fact, she was one of the few people who got in touch with me when I took a break from Facebook earlier in the year. “I miss pics of Luna” she added, which made me smile. So I’m hoping that a card I’ve just posted, featuring Luna’s feral face, will make her smile.

Not only did she check-up on my well-being on Facebook, but she’s also extended me the courtesy of birthday cards and ‘new home’ cards over the years. And in the cold climate of social media, where people often ignore you or brush you to one side, I have to say that I greatly appreciate such thoughtful acts. 

I’ve learned a great deal about friendships over the last few years - particularly in the last year, since moving to Cambridgeshire. A question once posed by The Smiths has often sprung to mind; “Why do I give valuable time to people who don’t care if I live or die?” as I’ve been guilty of giving more time to people who don’t give a monkey’s, and less time to people who genuinely care. When people struggle to give you their time (despite affording time for others) you do need to step back and focus on the kinder souls who actually seem to enjoy your company.

Especially now, when my time is so precious, I need to focus on family (including Luna), close friends, and my work. I’m so woefully tired of not having the money to do anything apart from paying the bills, that I’m going to push myself harder to generate a decent income. Thankfully I’m getting better at not underselling myself, so if you’re looking for a website for £7.50 and a packet of dog biscuits - you can jog on.

This is not a case of ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ as I don’t give a toss about the Joneses - or the Kardashians. All I care about is a better quality of life for me and my pooch, and being in a position to help out close friends and family, should the need arise.

Who knows, maybe the book will break even. Maybe it will break me. The important thing is that I tried.

And yes, to those who enjoy reminding me of the time I had 5,000 comic books printed… the book will be strictly ‘print to order’.

Anyone who knows me will also know that I like to be brutally honest, and that’s why I think the book might ruffle some feathers… but I’ve had words bouncing around in my head for a while, and those words were… “The truth will set you free” and I believe it does. So beneath all the ridiculous humour, you might find some cold, hard truths in my writing. So maybe it will help separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak.

I don’t believe you ever lose true friends, but you do lose people who come into your life for other reasons. Sometimes, when your friendship is clearly one-sided, you have to think; “If I never contact this person again, would they ever get in touch?” and, from past experience, the answer is usually “No.”

So I’m going to endeavour to be a better ‘friend’ to people who appear to like me, and expend less time on people who can take me or leave me. Not because I want kindness in return for my kindness, but because I think I deserve better than that.

Besides, if you surround yourself with people who constantly push you away and treat you with standoffish cold indifference, then you’re in danger of treating others with the same nonchalant rudeness. People who deserve better than that.

As an introvert with social anxiety, I’m never going to be that person who has a hectic social diary. Given the choice, I’d rather sit indoors with a gin and a plate of scampi and chips than attend a party. But that’s no reflection on the people attending that party. Well, it might be. Send me an invitation to your wedding and I might think of 101 reasons to get out of it - but that’d also be largely due to not having the money to buy a suit, and turning up looking like a tramp who’d spent the night dossing in a dog kennel.

Anyway, I shall endeavour to spend my time more wisely, and spend more time with the people who care - while still affording the time to watch Homes Under the Hammer, and post the occasional blog.

My dream is to one day own a small place equidistant to the sea and my family, or even a plot of land that I can stick a caravan on. Yes, I’m happy to live like Alan Partridge if it makes life more affordable.

When all is said and done, I’d rather live in a modest static home and have a handful of friends, than live in a large house without a friend in the world. Although, for as long as I have my pooch, I know I’m guaranteed one best friend. 

My closing ‘pearl of wisdom’ is; never disregard the kind, caring souls, because the world needs more of them. 

[davidchill]

One book, 101 Lessons Learned, and A Five-Year Plan

Over the last three or four years I’ve seen the rich get richer and the poor get poorer… and I know this to be true because I became one of the poor. It’s amazing how a “small” debt, unkept promises, and an over-reliance on credit cards can do... So I know what it’s like to not have enough money to buy a loaf of bread, skip meals, wrap parcel tape around your DM’s to keep the water out… and turn down meetings because you don’t have the petrol to drive five miles.

Therefore, if you’re out there and you’re struggling… don’t brush it to one side or let other people say “There’s people worse off than you” because, although that may be true, that doesn’t invalidate your problem - or make you feel any better. And although I can’t help you financially, I do know organisations that can help. They don’t say “How did you get in so much debt?” or “Why didn’t you…” or “Sell the dog!” because these guys are pros.

Or maybe I can offer advice on your unruly pooch? Don’t worry, if you tell me you’re struggling with a Yorkshire Terrier I’m not going to say “Try a Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita” because a part of me would crawl off and die in shame. If you’re struggling, you’re struggling… I don’t care if it’s a gerbil (I’m sure some are very hard work).

To be honest, the past few years have been my worst… but I see finishing the book as closing a chapter. It might be well received or very badly received, but I’ve given it everything and that’s all I can do.

I’ve learnt a tremendous amount too. Not just about dogs but also about human beings. Oh, and hedgehogs. Not only that, but it’s also given me a few dreams and aspirations.

Lunakita: A Dog Log will be my first and last book - while I have a dog. “Never again!” as a mother once said, after giving birth to her first child (of three).

Luna will undoubtedly be my last dog. Love her to bits, but, in the future… there’s the fostering route (dogs, cats, rats…) but no full-time dogs.

I have a five-year plan to move to a nice house near the coast. So Luna can enjoy her retirement. I’m not entirely sure what sure’s retiring from… “being ridiculous” hopefully.

To paraphrase The Smiths… Don’t give so much valuable time to those people who don’t care if you live or die. Believe it or not, the kind, warm souls deserve your kindness too. If you invest too much time in cold people who don’t give a crap then the warm people who care will soon grow cold. Most people are kind, but if people frequently make time for others and constantly brush you aside then, to be frank, they’re not worthy of your friendship.

If you’re in a position to help someone then - please - help them… and don’t just shrug and say “Not my problem!”

Anxiety and depression are very real monsters - brush them aside (and people suffering) at your peril. Telling someone to go away and think of a calm blue ocean just doesn’t cut the mustard.

Not having any savings to dip into cost me my home - my five-year-plan involves saving £5,000.

Beneath the comedic veil of my book lies some very serious messages. And I don’t pull punches.

I still believe everything happens for a reason, but sometimes that reason is people only giving 10%. For the record, I’m a 100% kinda guy. Not 110% because it’s mathematically impossible to give more than 100%. Ask Martin Lewis, the money expert.

In five years I’ll also beat my problem of writing uneven numbered lists.

[davidchill]

Luna’s Holiday, That Book, and Davina McCall.

I’ve been without my pooch for almost a week - but I’m looking forward to our reunion on Friday. In her absence, I’m rattling around in this house with nobody to talk to, so I’m taking a breather from my work and my book to write an important blog. Yes, that’s allowed. And I’ll come back to That Book in a moment.

It’s mental health awareness week, so I wanted to share my two penneth. In the hope that it might help someone… and maybe even help people to understand.

People often scoff when I tell them that I let Luna watch Coronation Street, but, truth be told, that’s one of the few shows that raise awareness of mental health. Also, Luna absolutely loves the meerkats. And the cat in the opening titles. Quite recently a popular male character took his own life, but the story was handled in a very sensitive way. Some people lambasted the storyline, saying that he’d not exhibited “signs” of being depressed - but that’s exactly what the story was trying to highlight. A lot of people with depression don’t wear their feelings on their sleeve. They’re not going to come into work every day and start sobbing at their desk, they’re more likely to be quiet, affable - and crack the occasional joke. To the outside world they’re as happy as the infamous Larry, without a care in the world - because they can’t talk about their problems or bring themselves to talk. It’s STILL a huge stigma in men of a certain age, and it really shouldn’t be. We’re told to “man up” or “cheer up” or “shut up and get on with it” when that’s the last thing one should do. A gentleman of a bygone era might tell you they cycled fifty miles to work every day, in a blizzard, with a broken leg - therefore people of today should do the same thing.

Back to Corrie; I always identify with characters who suffer with anxiety and depression. Yes, I saw the signs in the weeks leading up to the character’s suicide. The crestfallen stares into the middle distance… hiding away in the house… putting bills to one side in the hope they’ll go away…

Thankfully, I’ve not lost any friends as a direct result of depression - but a few friends have gone off the radar over the years. Especially in the past year. One minute you’re exchanging messages or amiable chat and then, suddenly, it’s almost like a switch goes and no matter how much you try and reach out or attempt to be affable, they become very standoffish and matter-of-fact. It would be easy to file such people under “rude” or “cold” but so many people are fighting private battles that we know nothing about.

For the record, if I’ve ever been aloof with anyone I can only apologise. And if anyone ever wants to open up about their struggles then I am always here to lend an ear. Social media can be a very cold place at times, and it’s easy to simply ignore people  - but I think it’s important to think how you’d feel if you were constantly ignored by someone who cares for you and only wants to be kind.

In the past few years a couple of things have consumed my life. My dog and my book about my dog. The eagle-eyed amongst you might spot a link there...

In 2016, when I set up my crowdfunding page, the plan was to write a book based on life with my dog. Now this isn’t an excuse, because I don’t need an excuse... but sometimes in life things don’t go to plan. I had absolutely no idea that I’d be forced to sell my home the following year, and all the palaver that entailed. Let’s be honest... most days I could barely afford to eat properly and I owed family/friends around £5,000 so when my bank loan fell through, the only possible way of getting people off my back (and enjoying an occasional meal) was to sell my home. But that was my own fault for spending too many years working for a pittance and spending beyond my means. It’s important to have a “nest egg” and now, if I fell into financial hardship again, I wouldn’t have that “safety net” and it’d be game over.

In the days after I emerged from that gruelling home sale and being “between homes” my anxiety had reached dizzy new heights... I was being asked “Where’s this book?” Or “How’s this book coming along?” And I tried to explain that things had gone off the rails…

Until this very day, and despite sending a number of updates out to the backers - I don’t hear from someone for months and then they pop up with “How’s the book?” Or “This book better be good!” or “Yawn! Still waiting for this book!”

Such pressure always works wonders for my anxiety.

No, I can’t blame people for being curious or even vexed, but my mental well being had to come first. The book is already way over budget, so to those who donated less than £20 - you’re getting an absolute bargain. Perhaps I should split the book into two books (it’s big enough) but I simply can’t afford to publish two editions, so people will get one lengthy book.

I’m not J.K Rowling, or someone who’s being paid to write novels. So I don’t have the luxury of saying; “Today I can sit in my office and write for 10 hours.” Last week I had to juggle the book with Luna, two websites, two logo designs and delivering 800 magazines in four days.

If I was constantly popping up on social media, posting photos of my lunch, I’d understand people getting rattled about me not writing the book. It’s just irksome when, after getting up in the morning and working through until 2 or 3am, I post something [unrelated to the book] on Twitter or Facebook only to receive a dig about not writing the book. Yes, I know it’s probably “banter” but at times it comes across as passive aggression.

Yes, I’m on it. The book consumes me 24/7.

Luna’s been in Southwold since last Friday (at least one of us gets a holiday) as I found juggling the book, the dog, and multiple work deadlines was probably going to drive me to a breakdown.

Taking Luna to Southwold for a holiday while I remain home in Cambridgeshire might sound excessive. But there are few places I trust with my dog… and it actually worked out less expensive (plus I get a very brief bit of sea air too). There’s no way I can afford a holiday myself - so this was the best compromise.

Also, when I get comments like; “Try having kids!” or the extended remix… “Try two kids, three dogs, and the ex wife!” I generally shake my head.

Guys, this isn’t Top Trumps.

Anxiety and depression is utterly exhausting, and when you’re alone with a high maintenance dog, people constantly on your back about something and work deadlines then, at times, things can just get a bit much.

For years I’ve had “Where’s my money?” and now it’s “Where’s my book?” so, rest assured, there’s not a soul on this Earth who wants this book out sooner than me. It’s not going to be out in time for Comic Con on the 25th, but I still have high hopes for going to print at the end of May/ early June.

If often feels like I’ve become second to the book. I’m sure if I was hospitalised, I’d wake up in my bed to hear someone say; “Right, time to crack on with that book!” God forbid anything should happen to Luna. “At least now you can focus on the book...”

So please, before you feel the need to give me stick about the book, ask yourself a question; Is this comment really necessary?

I’ve reached a point now where I don’t actually care if this book is loved or loathed. I’ve poured my heart and soul into it, and that’s really all I can do.

I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s just trusted me enough to get on with it in peace. Even if it receives negative feedback, it’s been the most therapeutic endeavour of my life, and has, quite possibly, saved my mind. Perhaps my life. Every day I thank God for blessing me with a sense of humour.

Oh, and please spare me any complaints about the language. There’s nothing in there that the average 12-year-old hasn’t heard in the playground. I never, ever, swear on social media, and if a word is used (very sparingly) it’s only for comedic effect.

Finally, Davina McCall…

Early last year I was asked to appear on This Time Next Year, with Davina McCall. To this day I don’t know why, but I was selected from hundreds of people… application form, telephone interview, Skype meeting that was recorded and sent to the bigwigs at ITV… and suddenly I was sitting on the sofa, in front of a live studio audience, with Davina McCall.

The second series has just aired on ITV, but I filmed for the third series, which is presumably coming later this year. However, my interview isn’t being broadcast. They film around 100, but with only six episodes per series they can only broadcast around 30 interviews.

Davina’s lovely, and we chatted a bit about Luna and how my anxiety has held me back in life. Although coming through those doors to face the live studio audience was perhaps the most terrifying experience of my life. I was on last too - so I sat in the green room for about five hours before walking out to meet Davina. At the time I was battling to clear my debt while wishing to keep my home, get the book out, etc… but from the beginning the producers wanted to focus more on my [lack of] love life. In the end it became something that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with… and I think me finding a girlfriend within the year would have been a very tall order. What with everything else. Also, on reflection, I hope looking back at the interview wasn’t awkward for Davina, because she told me how she met her husband on a dog walk… and at the time they were still together. Like I said earlier; sometimes “life” just takes us to places that we never expect. Still, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I’m thankful for the opportunity.  

In summery; Please try to reach out to someone today. It’s especially easy for single people to fall off the radar and be forgotten about. Talk to them. Invite them for coffee. Go on a dog walk together. They won’t bite! Unless they have a particularly “bitey” dog.

Something as simple as sending a message saying “How are you?” takes seconds (unless you have particularly large fingers) and could even save a life. Sure, you could say “It’s not my problem” or “Someone else will do it” but if everyone took that stance then the suicide rate would go through the roof.

Above all; be kind. It won’t cost you anything.

[davidchill]

Half A Year Away

It’s been seven months (yikes!) since I moved to Cambridgeshire, and I have no idea where the time has gone. Into the past, probably - that’s where time usually goes. I actually left my home in Stanstead Abbotts eight months ago, but there was a lot of faffing around between moving out and moving in. And that moving out day still haunts me [shudder].

A few people have noticed that I’ve been quieter on social media lately, and compared to the days when I’d post 20 dog photos a day, then yes, I’ll accept that I use the medium a lot less. I believe I went 7 or 8 weeks without posting anything, which was my longest Facebook hiatus of all time.

You can also thank the Facebook “On this Day” feature, that reminded me that I’ve posted a lot of crap that nobody really cares about over the years. “David, Facebook cares about you, so we’d just like to remind you that you’re not as nauseating as you used to be...”

I don’t want anyone to think that I’m ignoring them or that I’m being distant, rude or aloof. The truth is, I often feel like I’m bothering people - so I tend to send less messages than I used to. Also, Luna and I have yet to receive our first visitors (apart from immediate family and people I’ve paid to be here) so we’ve not had a housewarming party that you’ve not been invited to. Parties aren’t really my bag. Although I’m rather partial to a party bag.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to shut myself away, but the time has just passed at an astonishing rate. Luna’s also been hard work, and the only time I really get my own “headspace” (i.e. time to breathe and work uninterrupted is between 9pm and 2am, and I get more done in this five-hour timeframe than I do in the other 19 hours of the day. Besides, everyone is insanely busy pre-Christmas and the weather since hasn’t been very enticing. Also, people don’t appreciate being leaped on by a feral creature and slobbered all over upon their arrival. But can I just say that, in my defence, my manners have improved considerably.

Luna’s also much more reserved when it comes to greeting guests. Although, having said that, she explodes with excitement when Clare, the dog day carer visits, and on her first visit Luna knocked the glasses from her face and stole something out of her bag.

The occasional day care has been a godsend as Clare lives just a short walk away. Sadly, Luna being Luna, the bitch recently got herself barred from spending time in the paddock with other dogs. Apparently she doesn’t like to share the toys, but Clare’s still kindly offered to take her out for 3 hours occasionally (when she doesn’t have other dogs). Luna is actually great with other dogs - when she’s not in an enclosed field with toys… or food. Oh, and her recall has vastly improved.

Right now my priority is to get the book finished and out by May. It’s nice to have an occasional “breather” from that too, but I won’t be relaxed until it’s printed. Not that I’m ever relaxed. It’s hard taking the worst four years of your life (so far) and trying to make it “an enjoyable read” but I think I’ve nailed it. Some will find the humour difficult to digest, but if I can laugh at my own misfortunes then I’m sure others will too. I’m not just talking about dog struggles, but also anxiety, losing my home, etc.

On reflection, selling my home and leaving the village would have been the biggest mistake of my life. Every day I wake up and think of the place, and wonder how things could have been. Yet I take solace in the fact it was forced upon me and therefore it wasn’t a decision for me to make. Sadly, debt forces you down some pretty dimly lit corridors. I found myself between the devil and the deep blue sea, and I’ll never forgot the day I went to the bank about a small loan that would have saved my bacon (and my home). At the time I couldn’t even afford to buy bacon!

Thinking about the whole thing makes me a bit crestfallen, so I try not to dwell. I’m not sure how long we’ll remain in Cambridgeshire, as that depends on various factors like work, etc. The soaring cost of property in our former village makes it impossible for us to return to Hertfordshire or Essex. So we’ll just take each day as it comes…

Despite all the debt, depression, anxiety, rudeness and ignorance I’ve faced, I’ve found that writing about it always takes me to my “happy” place, and as long as I continue to visit that place then I know everything will be okay.

Anyway, unless I make a pig’s ear of editing this book then I’m really delighted with how it’s turned out. It sails pretty close to the wind and certain bits are constantly being removed and reinstated (depending on my mood). I’m confident that some people will hate this book, while others will love it. My skin is a lot thicker than it used to be, so even if it’s torn to pieces I’ll know I gave it everything I possibly could. 

That’s really all you can do in life.

[davidchill]

The Lifetime Commitment

As a dog lover of 40 years, and having a dog in my life for a total of almost 30 years, it’s safe to say that I know a bit about dogs. [That’s a combined total of 30 years, covering three dogs, not one exceptionally old dog who’s defying nature.] Max (Alsatian), Ben (Labrador X), and finally, Luna (Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita). If we’re comparing these dog’s temperaments to beverages then Max was Evian mineral water, Ben was Dr. Pepper, and Luna is Red Bull Extreme.

Therefore, I hope that you can take what I’m saying onboard, and not dismiss it as pure hokum.

If you’re thinking about bringing a dog into your life this Christmas, then good for you. I personally don’t believe that any home should be dog free at Christmas. Unless you have an acute allergy to the creatures, and in that case you should probably give them a wide berth. Perhaps think about a cat, gerbil, rat, guinea pig. There’s a plethora of furries out there who are seeking a loving home.

I’d urge you to visit your local rescue shelter to discuss your options, and they’d be able to advise you, better than I could, on what’s best for you and the animal in question. Just don’t expect to view the dogs if you’re not serious about adopting. Many shelters now prohibit members of the public (who have no real intention to adopt) from “just looking” at dogs. Not only does a constant stream of visitors unsettle the dogs, it’s a rescue shelter, not a zoo.

If you want my advice, I would exercise caution before you consider a dog, as exercise is something you’ll be doing a lot of, once this pooch comes into your life.

Come the new year, who’ll be walking the dog? How many times a day? Is the garden an ample size if you can’t manage long walks? Can you afford food, flea treatment, worming tablets, insurance, treats and toys? Will you have enough money for kennels or day care should the need arise?

I’m sure some people get a dog with the best of intentions, like an exercise bike, but after a few weeks the novelty wears off and that “good intention” becomes an expensive clothes horse, or worse, a neglected animal.

I say this because, when I adopted my dog (in June 2014), I didn’t think it through. Not nearly enough. Both the time I’ve had to commit and the money I’ve had to spend have really taken their toll, and now, over three years later, she’s still with me, but I’ve paid a very high price.

If you’re eating your lunch then you may wish to move your plate to one side for a second.

As I write, there’s multiple patches of this brown substance on the rug, carpet, duvet, and sofa. Luna has an abscess on her anal gland that has burst, and is now discharging fluid. She has a seven day course of antibiotic and anti-inflammatory tablets that should hopefully clear this up, but failing that she’ll need minor surgery. The initial vet visit cost £75, but thankfully I have insurance, as I can’t imagine what potential surgery could cost me.

If you’re thinking “Too much information!”, or you’ve had to spit out your lunch (I did warn you), then perhaps dog parenthood isn’t for you. It’s not for the faint hearted, because you need to be prepared for all the crap that comes with it. Often literally. I’d occasionally have to get up at 3am and clean up a mess that my elderly dog, Ben, left on the landing, as he started to lose control of some bodily functions.

My experience is an extreme example, and my anxiety hasn’t helped, but in three years I’ve lost my job, my home, my mind, and probably damaged several friendships. Oh, and most recently I’ve lost my support network, by relocating 50 miles away from my closest friends and family (as a result of losing my home).

No, the dog wasn’t the catalyst, despite what anyone might believe… but having her did make my life a whole lot harder. Sure, I could have given her up after six months, just like her first family, but then what? She goes to her third, fourth, fifth home? You might say “That’s not your problem!”, but this world is a mess because too many people go around saying “It’s not my problem” instead of giving 100% to something they give 50% and then hope someone else comes along to pick up the baton.

Just because a dog doesn’t talk, or sit in their bedroom, pulling duck faces for their Instagram selfies, they should still be treated like children. Some people have said to me; “Try having children!”, but they have absolutely no idea of the demands that an anxious, extreme energy dog brings into one’s life. Especially when you’re trying to raise that pooch alone.

Sadly, people can be extremely self-centred when it comes to spending money. I’ve had people recoil and say “Oh, I couldn’t afford day care for my dog!”, or “Blimey, £15 for a dog training class!? We couldn’t afford that!” Then there’s the people who won’t take their dog to the vet because it might set them back £70, that they could spend on several posh bottles of vino.

On at least two occasions I’ve almost laughed out loud, because I know full well that if they got their priorities in order then they could easily afford both. I couldn’t afford foreign holidays, fancy restaurants, or trips to the cinema… but each to their own. The point is that when we have a dog, we have to make some sacrifices, because life is often about give and take, and compromise.

Do I have days when I think to myself; “Why did I get a dog?” Yes. It’s a question that often pops up, especially when I’m alone and feeling reflective… which is practically every day. I no longer have freedom or flexibility, and a perfect example of that is being invited to a family meal in Essex at the weekend. “Pre-dog” me could have gone at the drop of a hat, but now I have to think about who’s going to have Luna, and I certainly can’t leave her home alone while she’s poorly. 

I’m sometimes envious of friends with these really low-maintenance dogs that they can just leave with friends or family for a few days without any trouble at all. Luna’s size, strength, and boundless energy have made such scenarios impossible. I’ve grown accustomed to her “quirks” but nobody can simply take her for a walk, without perusing a training manual. 

In the absence of my “support network” I can take Luna to the nearby day care centre if I have a particularly pressing deadline, and I occasionally employ the services of a dog walker. Both have helped a lot, but it’s all extra money that adds up, and I need to use such services sparingly or I’ll be in danger of financial struggle again. That simply can’t happen, but I’ll still put Luna before holidays, eating out and trips to the cinema (on my own).

Did I want to remember Luna as the only life I ever gave up on, or the biggest challenge of my life that I had to see through until completion, or maybe the friend and companion who had a lot of issues, but I never gave up on her and she became my world?

Dogs are called “man’s best friend” for a very good reason. They’re not mercurial, standoffish or inconsistent like some human beings, and this is why they make such good friends and companions. I believe they’re a gift to humanity in their own right, and therefore they shouldn’t be given as gifts or “purchased” willy nilly.

One day, Luna won’t be such hard work (I tell myself that everyday because it keeps me going) and that’s when I’ll really start to “enjoy” life with her, knowing that all the time and commitment I’ve devoted to her paid off in the end.

Don’t let my experiences put you off, as, like I said, Luna is an extreme example. There’s plenty of much easier pooches out there, and if you want to dip your toes in the water before taking on the commitment of a dog then please consider fostering. The shelter will provide food (and veterinary treatment) so all you need to throw into the mix is TLC (and exercise).

#dogs dog staffordshirebullterrier akita

[davidchill]

Logistics Problems

I recently ordered a new sofa on eBay, and timed it so it would arrive just before my old one was collected. The seller, with 100% positive feedback, seemed reputable enough, but these messages lead me to suspect that something wasn’t quite right... Also, his replies have been copied and pasted, and I’ve not corrected the typos. I think he’s Greek.

September 18th 2017 Paid for item

September 20th 2017 Message from seller: "Due to a logistic problem to our warehouse your order will be delay for a few days. We will dispatch it on Saturday 23/09”

September 27th 2017 Message from seller: "Do to a logistic problem, the tracking details are not available i am affraid. Hopefully this will be resolved on the next days, really sorry i cannot confirm delivery today since i do not have the tracking details”

September 27th  Message from seller: "I just been informed by parcelforce that your order remaining on the parcelforce depot by mistake all those days!I told them that this is really unacceptable(i will call the manager later) and they assured me that they are going to dispatch your order tomorrow 28/09 for delivery next week! I will send you tracking details once available.”

September 29th Message from seller: “I managed it. I have asked my warehouse for the tracking details to be sent and once i will take it i will forward it to you.”

October 2nd 2017 Message from seller: "I just been informed from Gls the this item retured back to our premisis as there was some logistic problem!" That’s three times he used the words “logistic problem” and was always very evasive when asked for tracking details.

He’s now sent me a refund, but according to PayPal it could take up to 30 days to show up in my bank account. So I’m now left without any sofa...

I can’t prove he was lying, but I put an offer in on this sofa, that the seller accepted, but it was below the “buy it now” price... so it’s possible he sold it for a higher price.

My question is, should I leave negative or neutral feedback? He’s already left me positive (for quick payment) but I think buyers need to be warned that he has logistic problems. That was a darn nice looking sofa too.

[davidchill]

Ghosting, friending, and defence mechanisms

I’ve been feeling quite introspective lately, especially since moving into my new abode. Much has changed, so there’s undoubtedly going to be a period of instability and transition. The house doesn’t quite feel “homely” yet, possibly because I’m still perusing a popular online auction website for items of furniture, and I haven’t had an influx of guests like I had when I first moved into my flat. Although that’s what happens when you move away from the vast majority of your friends.

Fortunately, I’ve been doing a lot of writing, and I use the word “fortunately” because it’s been tremendous therapy. I’m not sure how my brain would cope if I couldn’t let things out, either in written or spoken form. Although I’m not sharing the writing just yet as it’s taking the form of a long-awaited book called “Lunakita”. I’m absolutely determined to nail this baby within the next few weeks, so if that means little contact with the outside world then so be it.

The book was originally about my struggles with Luna, but the more I write it’s becoming clear that it’s equally about my struggles with human beings - including myself. It’s had me reading quite a lot of articles on psychology, particularly on coping mechanisms and how they manifest in individuals. Avoidance, denial, displacement, humour (nailed that one).

Although my humour is really an acquired taste. Like Marmite, blue cheese, or gin. So not for everyone. I think this brings me to ‘avoidance’, where I’m actually dreading the idea of sharing my book. Deep down I know some people will hate it, but I also know others will love it.

For me, I suppose my worry is “What if people hate the one thing I think I’m any good at?” Yes, it could be universally lambasted, but we’ll cross that bridge if or when we come to it…

As I’ve been reading, one particular psychological phenomenon caught my eye, and that was “ghosting”. For those not familiar with the term, it basically means “the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly, and without explanation, withdrawing from all communication”.

It sounds harsh, and extremely unkind, but apparently it’s quite a common occurrence in this day and age. I have to say that I’ve never been in a “relationship” only to be “ghosted” but you’d be surprised at how many of my “friends” have gone off the radar over the last few years, and up until very recently. Well, maybe that doesn’t surprise you, and in which case you’re probably reaching for the plug…

I first noticed this shortly after I got a dog (and if you didn’t know I had a dog then you probably unfollowed me on social media a very long time ago) and then posted a blog about my anxiety and depression. Although at first there was a steady stream of supportive messages, after a while things petered out and went a bit peculiar…

A couple of people who regularly “liked” and commented on my posts suddenly stopped “liking” them... and as the silence grew more obvious I thought to myself… “I wonder how X is doing?” “Oh, they’ve unfriended me…” “Nice”

One prime example is a guy who sent me a message informing me that he was about to unfriend me on Facebook because I shared too many photos of my dog.

Yes, that actually happened.

At the time he said I should “mix things up a bit”, and used these exact words; “Give me the zest that you used to have!” “Where is the spark nowadays?”

I tried to explain that I’d actually been suffering with a bit of depression, and wasn’t really at my creative peak. Also, I didn’t mention this (because he clearly disliked Luna) but I’d actually just returned from a dog walk where some ignorant, screaming woman threatened to call the police because Luna pawed her border collie. So, to be blunt, I wasn’t in the mood for this crap.

Anyway, he “kindly” gave me a “stay of execution” (again, his exact words) whereby he’d monitor my antics to see if I “cheered up” a bit. I started to wonder if anyone actually cared about me as a human being, or if they were my Facebook friend because they wanted to be “entertained” by my status updates.

That particular Facebook friendship continued for a while, but it slowly ebbed away, and, quite recently, he finally pressed the button to terminate the “friendship”. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the guy as a person, and appreciate his own wit as I’m sure he once appreciated mine… but I certainly won’t be losing any sleep over it.

However, this wasn’t “ghosting” as he gave an explanation, and in all honesty, I have more respect for him than someone who just suddenly stops communicating.

Sadly, he had company. Someone else unfriended me over Luna posts, and I only know that to be true as her partner actually told me she didn’t like dogs. Yet every time I see her she gives me a big smile and enthusiastically asks how Luna is getting on. I do find that the people who moan about me behind my back are usually those who are the most “chirpy” when they see me… possibly because they’re overcompensating for their actual cold indifference against me.

I’m not entirely sure why some people choose to treat me with cold indifference, or whine about me to their spouse/partner. I’d consider myself to be a kind person, but that’s not a boast as kindness isn’t always appreciated. I’m also painfully honest and open, and not everyone appreciates that either.

I think some people, and I include myself in this, don’t believe they deserve kind acts bestowed upon them. It makes them uncomfortable, and they then feel a degree of pressure to return that kindness. It’s a bit like when that “annoying” neighbour slips a Christmas card through your door at 11pm on Christmas Eve… and it didn’t even cross your mind to send them one. I’m sure some people actually end up resenting people who are kind and giving. They end up resenting them so much that they then look for excuses to press the eject button on the friendship.

For the record, I’m never kind to people because I want an act of kindness in return. Yes, it’s nice to know that people care, but I could quite happily continue being the “instigator” when it comes to writing to someone I care about to see how they’re keeping. If you’re kind to someone because you want something in return, then that’s not kindness. That’s more along the lines of manipulation, which is not something I endorse.

I don’t think it’s a crime to want to spend time with people you actually like, but I sense that friendship in 2017 is often measured by how many times we actually “like” their status updates, as opposed to real, quality time, like going for a coffee or taking a dog walk together.

Everyone seems to be so insanely “busy” these days that we don’t make time for small acts of kindness anymore. We become so set in our ways, and engrossed in our daily bubbles and routines that we struggle to actually communicate with people we could really share a quality friendship with. This is why I’m going to make an exerted effort to be more open and affable with people.

The problem is that I can read people like a book. I know exactly when people are being evasive, especially in written form. To be honest, I think people know that… so they probably just find it easier to gradually cease communication, and quietly slip away, rather than be more “direct” (like Luna-hating guy) and risk ending up as a character in one of my books. 

Speaking of books, it’s time for me to get back to the grindstone (book) and also take multiple photos of my pooch to share all over social media. 

[davidchill]

The Last Day

I’ve always been told that moving home is more stressful than divorce, but having never experienced the latter then I couldn’t possibly draw parallels. Although I suspect a lot would depend on the circumstances, and who you were divorcing…

As for moving, up until quite recently I would have never described moving as stressful. My move to Stanstead Abbotts was child’s play, simply because I was moving from my parents home and having all my new furniture delivered. So it can’t be classed as a real move as there was no faffing around with a removal company, or trying to find burly friends who were willing to sacrifice their Saturday afternoon.

However, my final days in Stanstead Abbotts were possibly the most stressful I’ve ever experienced (and I’ve had some belters over the last few years). The sale of my flat had now been dragging on for longer than an ill-conceived soap opera storyline, and the prospect of it falling through at any moment was all too real. Well, maybe that was never going to happen, but my anxiety was now at unprecedented levels, and anxiety thrives on worst case scenarios, like a dog rolling around in fox poo. So with that in mind I did everything in my power to wrap things up, post haste.

After eleven weeks of what should have been a “straightforward, chain free sale”, I still had no idea of when we were exchanging contracts, and with another mortgage payment looming (that I simply couldn’t afford to pay) I didn’t have the luxury of exchanging contracts and then waiting another week or two to complete. I couldn’t even think about looking for anywhere to live until I had money for a deposit, so I needed the money from the sale as soon as humanly possible.

“I’ve not known anything like it” said the estate agent, when asked if it was normal for such a sale to be so excruciatingly painful.

I don’t have the words to describe my conveyancers. They’d ask me for documents that I’d send immediately, and two weeks later they’re asking me for the same documents. There was question after question from the buyer’s solicitor, and the freeholders of my flat were taking a dog’s age to respond. “Is there anything I can do to expedite things?” I asked. Yes, I used the word “expedite” because I thought solicitors used words like that, and I needed to be speaking their language. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help” said a member of the conveyancing team with a great degree of certainty.

I glanced at Luna, and I think all the hope had left my eyes, because she looked back at me, as if to say; “You need to get it together, because if this goes tits up I’m going back to the animal shelter”

They say that if you want a job done properly then you need to do it yourself, so I rummaged through all my paperwork and unearthed invoices sent to me from the freeholders, dating back three years. This was conclusive proof that I’d paid all my ground rent right up until February 2017, and didn’t have any arrears. I knew they’d question my most recent invoice, and in the absence of a receipt I just sent a copy of my bank statement and hoped for the best.

So would this information satisfy the buyer’s solicitor?

Yes. Yes it did. In fact it “expedited” proceedings quite dramatically.

In fact my “meddling” (like one of those pesky kids in Scooby-Doo) meant that we no longer needed to wait countless more days/weeks for this information to come from the freeholders, and before I knew it my estate agent was “hollering” me into the office as I was en route home from the co-op with my beans and bread. “We’re looking at exchange and completion on the same day, so get ready to move on Friday!” He  said, gleefully… on Tuesday afternoon. I now had a couple of days to pack everything and book a removal van. Yet, the seed of doubt in my head remained… “What exactly would happen if this all fell through on Friday, right before we exchanged? On a scale of 1 to 10 how screwed would I be?”

That scale should have really gone up to 11.

As I arrived home, Luna gave me a look, as if she knew something had hit the fan, or something was en route to the fan at very high speed.

A phone call to the removal company assured me that they could help me at short notice, but the move needed to happen on Thursday, one day earlier than exchange and completion, which gave me even less time to pack and make arrangements for Luna to be elsewhere…

I’ve tried to imagine what moving day would have been like with Luna running around, and the images in my head get really, really ugly. I can’t actually process this scenario, but needless to say it would have been absolute bedlam.

I probably managed to get around 70% of my stuff prepared for the removal men in a very short space of time. The rest would have to go into another storage unit on Friday, and I’d need to rope my dad into helping me.

That’s when everything went pear shaped.

On Friday July 21st, prior to exchanging contracts, the buyer sent in two professional “end of tenancy” cleaners at 9:30am. Now I understand that she was a first time buyer, and probably didn’t know how the process worked, but bearing in mind this was still my property I thought that was a rather bold, and somewhat cheeky, move. She’d already sent people round to measure up for a sofa without letting me know, and on that occasion I told them to come back another time. “Just let them get on with it” said the estate agent. “If it doesn’t complete on Friday then you’ll just have a really clean flat!” He chuckled.

Well, I’m not sure if he actually chuckled, but I imagine he cracked a smirk when he sent that e-mail.

In a nutshell; it was absolute chaos.

As I was trying to pack the cleaners were trying to clean around me. I was getting in their way, and they were most certainly getting in my way.

My “happy” veil slipped slightly, when I got a bit irate with one of them and asked who thought this would be a good idea. I was incredibly peeved to return from dumping my mattress to find that things had been removed from my wall, and my landline had been unplugged.

Yes, I was well within my right to tell them to go away and come back another day, but if there was even a 0.5% chance that the buyer would get offended and pull out of the sale then that was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take. In the end I just got a bin liner and chucked the contents of the kitchen in there, before dumping everything out in the garden. There was cutlery mixed with rubbish, laundry, and all sorts of junk that I’d not had time to organise.

At around 3pm I made my way to the office of the estate agent to let off some steam, where I was reliably informed that the sale had now completed, and I needed to get everything out of there pretty sharpish as it was no longer my property. I’m not entirely sure when my conveyancers were going to tell me this bit of news, but a phone call merely “expedited” my rage.

Quite simply, yes, the sale had completed a couple of hours previously, and I wasn’t going to see any of my money that day.

That’s usually how it works, right? You sell a property and on completion you get your money. If not immediately then certainly a few hours later?

No, these guys were going to hold my money over the weekend and then transfer it into my account on Monday.

I had no words.

Apparently because I was only a co-owner I had to write a note saying that I was happy for 50% of the money to be paid to the other owner… and I then had to take a photo of that note and send it to them. That’s all fair enough, but I asked why I wasn’t given this handy bit of information weeks previously, when I specifically asked if there was anything they needed from me to avoid such delays.

They had no answers.

So after a really messy/hasty exit, I was happy to see the back of that flat. My home that I loved, that I had so many plans for, had become my prison. When you reach a point when you can no longer afford to feed or clothe yourself, then you know something has to give. Sadly, I just didn’t have enough breathing space to get my finances in order and reboot. The demon of debt had just done too much irreversible damage and, barring a miracle, there was just no other way out.

Thankfully, I finally received my money on the Monday morning, as I’d demanded it reached my account by noon. I’m not sure why I chose noon as the deadline, but I watched a lot of westerns as a child and that always seemed to be the best time for a showdown.

After spending that weekend at my parents, it was now time to look for a new home… but not before a very long-awaited (and much needed) holiday to Southwold.

I’d just had two pretty miserable years battling poverty, depression, and anxiety, which seemed to be going on forever… but then, suddenly, it was all over.

Finally, I was free.

[davidchill]

The Last Days of Poverty

My battle to keep my home may have been thwarted, but misfortune breeds opportunities. I’ll soon be starting a brand new chapter, in a new home and a new community. Yes, as much as I love the village of Stanstead Abbotts, I’m 99% certain that I’ll find myself in a different village/town, and possibly a different county. Although I have no intention of leaving the UK, so I won’t be taking Luna on a long haul flight to Australia anytime soon.

Along with clearing a huge chunk of debt, I’ll also finally be in a position to invest a bit of money in my business. I’ve already been offered a shiny new photography job that I can begin as soon as I have the funds to purchase a shiny new camera, and that will earn me enough to cover most of my living expenses. That, combined with my existing work, and a new part-time job beginning in July, will finally see me free of poverty. No more muffins for dinner, or moving lightbulbs around, or trying to make excuses for not seeing friends because my car is running on petrol fumes. I’ll finally have my freedom, and the ability to pop to the shops for a bottle of wine or treat myself to an occasional meal out, and all the other things that I used to take for granted.

You may think I’m exaggerating the above, but things have been pretty desperate. Having said that, despite the escalating anxiety telling me that everything would end in disaster, or the depression telling me that I’ve become too much of a burden to others, and I should possibly do a disappearing act, I’ve woken each day feeling thankful that I’m in my own bed, with a roof over my head, and I only have to face one more day. #BabySteps

I’ve narrowed my house search down to Hertfordshire, Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and Cambridgeshire… although that’s not in order of merit. The immediate vicinity is simply too expensive, so I’ll undoubtedly be further away from London, but that’s not a bad thing. I’ll be renting, initially, as I’ve been reliably informed that I won’t get a mortgage. My elderly neighbour seems convinced that I’ll be going back to my parents, but this won’t be happening. No offence to my parents, but I passed the point of no return when I left home (for the third time).

Someone recently said; “I hope you can keep Luna”. Well, I can say, with 100% certainty, that Luna will be remaining in my care.

No word of a lie, she looked up at me as I typed that line. I’m not sure if it was a look of sheer relief or “kill me now”… she’s difficult to read sometimes.

Anyway, there’s simply no way that I’d have Luna rehomed. Certainly not at this stage of the game. The only thing that gives me any kind of solace about my forthcoming move is that I can give us both a better quality of life. I don’t need a garden, but she does, and after everything we’ve been through then returning her to the animal shelter is simply unthinkable. Unless I was physically or mentally incapable of looking after her, and in which case it would be in her best interests. I understand that my devotion and commitment to her is alien to those who suggested I had her shipped off when I first started to struggle, but she’s my companion. The Doctor wouldn’t just give away K-9, and I’m certainly not going to abandon Luna.

Actually, he did give away K-9, but that’s besides the point.

“You won’t be able to rent anywhere with a dog” said at least one estate agent naysayer.

Poppycock.

Over the past few weeks I’ve bookmarked a plethora of properties that will happily accept a pet; especially if one pays a higher deposit. My line is usually “I know that this listing says no pets, but…” and this usually works a treat. To be perfectly honest, if I owned a property I’d be much more concerned about children running amok than a lone adult dog. Even if she is a carpet-wetting bitch.

There’s a special place in Room 101 for landlords that don’t accept family members.

My chief concern about the forthcoming move is that I need to lay down a deposit, paying several months rent in advance. My credit report has been shot to pieces, and I have a cat in hell’s chance of finding a willing guarantor. The problem isn’t finding the money, as I’ll receive a lump sum from the sale, it’s finding the money *before* the sale completes, when I then have to vacate my current property. So unless I can pay the deposit and move into my rented accommodation on the same day then I’m going to have a brief period of living in a B&B, with my belongings being held in storage. I’m not going to take umbrage to a holiday when I’m “between homes” it would just be easier to move all my stuff straight into my new home. Still, that’s more an “inconvenience” than a “disaster” so whatever will be will be.

On the whole, I’m optimistic. I’m also exceptionally thankful to anyone who has supported me over the last couple of years. Especially to those who didn’t turn a blind eye, and loaned me a bit of cash to see me through. A couple of people even put their own plans on hold to help me out, and the majority of people simply wouldn’t do that for another human being, no matter how close their friendship. It takes a brave, brave soul to lend money to a friend, especially when it’s safer tucked away in an ISA account. There’s no risk there… no risk of being dragged before Judge Rinder and him shaking his head in disbelief, while chastising you for not putting anything in writing.

That level of faith in me has not gone unnoticed, and suffice to say, you *will* be rewarded.

I appreciate that I’m often regarded as a bit of a fantasist who doesn’t live in the “real world” but when I make a pledge to do something, be that visiting America and leaving home before I’m 40, or running 10k after zero exercise for 20 years… then I’ll commit myself to following that through until completion. People actually laughed in my face at all those things, yet I still achieved those goals.

I have some pretty big projects in the pipeline over the coming year, so if I can get through the next few weeks without being forced to sell my vital organs to pay the bills, then this time next year I’ll be raising a glass to perseverance, commitment, and some faithful friends.

[davidchill]

The Mental Menace

I originally posted this blog on the Anxiety United website, as it focuses on anxiety and bullies... 

I never felt comfortable wearing my P.E. kit at school, and always felt terribly self conscious. There I was, this skinny, pale-skinned ginger boy running around in a white t-shirt and groin-chafing shorts, sporting flame red hair, and resembling a recently ignited matchstick. It’s no wonder I was a magnet for the bullies.

Every school has that poor little kid who’s picked last for every team, and that was me. In fact I was frequently reminded how bad I was at sport, and how my life, post school, would probably amount to nothing.

The humiliation didn’t just come from my fellow pupils. One day my teacher asked me why I had two pieces of string hanging from my shorts. “Oh, sorry, they’re your legs!” he chuckled.

Thirty years later I never did see him on Sunday Night at the Palladium, so maybe he didn’t pursue his dreams to be a comedian…

It’s fair to say that I found school life a struggle. Whether my school bag was being tossed in the shower, my school books scribbled over, or I was being voted the second ugliest child in the class, there were days when I just wanted to be abducted by aliens, like Fallon in The Colbys. I mean who wants to come SECOND in an ugly competition? That was the only thing I was confident of actually winning, so I wasn’t best pleased be honest.

It wasn’t long before my everyday school worries began to escalate, and I’d find myself worrying about everything and anything. So I began to withdraw, and favoured the company of my Star Wars toys and comics. In fact comic books probably saved my life, so I’m very thankful to my parents for giving me enough pocket money to cover Eagle, Transformers, Return of the Jedi, and Spider-Man and Zoids on a weekly basis.

When my anxiety was at its worst I began to worry about death, and losing family members. In fact I vividly recall locking myself in the toilet one day, during an episode of Grange Hill, and crying because my dad was late home from work. My “worst case scenario” was kicking in, so he was probably lying in a ditch, or involved in some kind of traffic accident. This stayed with me for several years as I recall a similar feeling of dread when my sister was late home from work one day. So it followed me into my late teens, but I managed to keep a lid on things throughout much of my adult life.

I’d say that I suffered with social anxiety more than anything. I’d quite happily take a two week holiday to America by myself, but send me a wedding invitation and I’m breaking out into a cold sweat.

In 2014 my mental health reached a bit of a crescendo when my anxiety and depression impeded upon my working life. I could no longer perform to the best of my abilities, and I ultimately lost a regular monthly income as a result.

This was literally an overnight change that blindsided me just a month before Christmas. There was no warning, no period of “working out a way forward” and certainly no time for me to get back on my feet before taking the next step. I still had to pay the bills, so I rushed out a series of ill-conceived business plans and tried to build something from the rubble.

Fingers were pointed at my recently acquired dog, but I knew this anxiety was something I’d been battling throughout my life. Getting rid of my dog would have been another “sticky plaster” solution, possibly making my life “easier” for a short period, but it would have created much bigger problems in the long term.

At the time I felt terrible, and believed I’d let people down who were paying me to do a job. Of course that’s nonsense, because I didn’t deliberately set out to suffer from depression or anxiety. It’d be like coming home with a broken arm and someone saying to you “What did you do that for?”

Yet some people still made me think it was somehow my own fault, and pointed at other people who were doing a better job then me. This ultimately made me feel a lot worse, and reminded me of the school bullies saying “You’re rubbish, other people are better”. I’m afraid the world just doesn’t understand anxiety or what it does to a person. They don’t see the depression, or the exhaustion, and you’re bombarded by the usual old cliches… “Cheer up”, “smile”, “don’t worry”, “Try having kids” and “Everything's Gonna Be Alright"



Well, thank you Bob Marley.

My sudden loss of employment created a larger problem. It started a chain of events that would lead me to fall into debt and for that debt to snowball beyond my control. Almost two years on I’m still making it through each month by the skin of my teeth. Although July and August this year have seen me earn more than I did when I had a regular salary, I’m still trying to plug that sinkhole of debt. As a result I’m now working long hours 7 days a week to try and keep the wolves from the door.

Money is almost like the lifeblood of the human race. It shouldn’t be, but it has such a huge impact on our daily lives that when you fall down in this department you’re immediately judged, frowned upon, and perceived to be inferior to those who are financially secure. I’ve reached out for help to the banks, but they continue to bury their heads, and you’ll only get help when it’s too late.

Looking on the bright side, this has cured my social anxiety as having no money means you’re seldom invited to social functions. So every cloud…

Don’t get me wrong, I still have some pretty amazing friends, but I’d be naive to deny that a huge gap has grown between our lives. Most of them are settled, with partners and/or children, and have enough of a disposable income to attend social functions, take holidays, or enjoy a weekend off now and again without worrying about the next credit card bill… in fact they have all the stuff I had, but the stuff I took for granted.

I had it all, right before the anxiety came along and stuffed my head down the toilet.

So if you’re suffering from anxiety, or depression, or any kind of mental ailment that you feel is hindering your life, then I would strongly encourage you to open up. I think you’ll be surprised by how many people within your social circle are going through the same experience, or know someone who is suffering. We need to end this stigma, and educate people on mental health issues. It’s something that’s really on my heart now, and I really want to help other people going through the same ordeal.

Yes, people may judge, sneer, bury their head and just say “Worse things happen at sea!” but if your story touches ONE person then that’s enough. Wether they help you or you can help them, it doesn’t matter. It’s just important that YOU don’t bury your head and decide to take on your demons by yourself.

Forget pride. Forgot the idiots who call you “weak” or “needy” or “attention seeker” you need to nip this in the bud.

Still, as they say “everything happens for a reason” and even if all my money is being thrown down the black pit of credit card interest I still have my sense of humour, a better job, and my mature, well balanced dog. Okay, the last one is a work in progress, but I don’t have anxiety attacks when I’m out walking her anymore, so progress…

When you’re struggling to make ends meet and each meal depends on what’s in the bargain bin that day, then that’s when you learn to appreciate all the things that you had, and all the things you once took for granted. Whether that’s the freedom to watch four episodes of Game of Thrones in a row, a bottle of wine on a Friday night, or a two week holiday to Southwold. As much as I loved having all that I now know that I can survive without them.

Yes, anxiety beat me down a hole, but by doing so it’s made me a stronger person. In future I won’t be piling my dinner plate high and going off to sit in the corner. I’ll be taking what I need, not everything I want, and I’d like to be in a position to turn around to the guy in Costa whose credit card has just been declined and say to him “Chill. I’ve got this”. Not in any kind of “Knight in shining armour” way, but those very small acts of kindness often have an enormous, positive impact on someone’s life.

As for the school bullies… well, their curse upon my life may have affected me financially, but FIVE, count them FIVE medals for running five 10k’s in as many years, each time achieving my personal best?

Not bad for two pieces of string.

[davidchill]

Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night

I just wanted to write a short blog while I have a coffee and Luna munches on a spaghetti carton. I don’t actually recall giving her the aforementioned item, so I suspect she’s had her beak in the recycling bin again. Anyway…

If you suffer with any form of anxiety then you might relate to this, but I’ve found that some of the decisions I’ve made over the past 18 months have been based on the fear of that worst case scenario actually unfolding. I’ve been so frantically busy trying to put food on the table and pay the bills that the quality of my work has suffered as a result, and I’ve taken on badly paid work just to keep the wolf from the door. I know if I had a couple of weeks to step away from work (and my computer) then I’d come back fully rejuvenated, as fresh as a daisy, and the newfound ability to make better decisions and judgements with a clear, rested head. In fact I’m rather envious of people who take holidays. The idea of just loading my car and taking off to the land of flaky 3G reception (A.K.A Southwold) and having a pint of Adnams in The Nelly… sheer, luxurious BLISS. A week, four days. Heck, I’d be happy with a three day weekend.

The reality is I can’t do that, but I do live in a nice village with a river, and thankfully dog walking has become more of a pleasure than a stressful ordeal. Luna of old had me coming home and wanting to erase the last hour from my memory. She still has her moments, but Luna sans leash and “adequate recall” is a revelation.

I was a Cub Scout in the Eighties, so I know that if you keep striking those two hard stones together then sooner or later you’re going to get a spark, thus creating fire. There you can toast your marshmallows until they’re fit for consumption. I’m confident that if I keep beavering away then I’ll find that client who truly appreciates my work enough to accept my quote, and not keep haggling, telling me they’re “on a budget”.

This was one of the reasons I was keen to let go of wedding websites. It’s nice to have an occasional site, but brides and grooms-to-be don’t have any money. The budget goes into the important things like the ceremony, reception, dress, cake, honeymoon, et al. From my 10 year experience of working with couples, the website is merely the icing on the cake. In other words, the last thing to be added, if the budget hasn’t already been exhausted. They’re a LOT of work for very little return, and the clients are often suffering with pre-marital stress, which is, quite frankly, exhausting (for me). The last one nearly had me at financial ruin, so I filed for divorce from wedding websites.

By far my best decision of the past 18 months was driving to Newark to take part in a training session for work on school websites. That has been an absolute godsend, and not only do I enjoy the work, I genuinely like the people I deal with on a daily basis. So I’m happy with that, and if I can find another avenue like that then I’ll be laughing.

I just really want to thank people for the support I’ve received in recent months. You know who you are. The doctor and bank have been truly dreadful, coming up with solutions like “Why don’t you sell your dog to pay off your debt?” and “We can’t help you” respectively. The latter wasn’t even a solution. More a very painful meeting at the bank where they made me a cup of coffee, I explained what I needed, and the lady just said “Sorry, we can’t help”. So I just sat there, quickly drinking my coffee and making desperate suggestions like Alan Partridge pitching ideas to the director of programming at the BBC.

The bank that give you extra? That coffee cup was only three quarters full.

I appreciate it’s been a long slog, but stick with me, and keep the faith. Luna has something on the cards that could open all sorts of doors, and I’m not talking about the book, but I can’t say too much about that at this stage. That’s my “dangling carrot” quota used up this month.

The old saying goes… “A change is as good as a rest” so if I can’t take a rest then maybe I should make a change. Be that a subtle change or a far reaching life changing change. I don’t know. I possibly need a rest before I can make that decision, but sooner or later something has to change.

To quote Bon Jovi: “Hey, man, I'm alive, I'm takin' each day and night at a time. I’m feelin' like a Monday but someday I'll be Saturday night”

[davidchill]

A Problem Shared...

“You really shouldn’t talk about your problems on Facebook” said the proud, “old school” man who likes to keep a stiff upper lip. “My gran climbed Mount Everest with two broken legs and an acute case of haemorrhoids, and she didn’t complain about her struggles. She just got on with it!”.

This is a hypothetical event used to illustrate a point. Although it doesn’t quite work, as the gran must have shared that she was suffering with “Farmer Giles” to somebody at some point. Now that’s normally the sort of thing I’d keep firmly under wraps.

We have to remember that every human being is different. Some suffer with emotional overshare, others with complete emotional detachment. Sharing your problems doesn’t make you weak or narcissistic, and even if sharing your struggles doesn’t help YOU, it could very well help others. Also, let’s not confuse “sharing” with “complaining”. I can say, that despite any jocular anecdotes, I have never complained about anything. Except in 1993, when they cancelled Quantum Leap. I was livid.

Far worse than sharing problems on social media is “vague booking” or “dangling carrots” to get attention. Posts like “I’m having the worst day ever!” will only attract comments like “You ok hun?” or “What’s happened?” and telling everyone you’re involved in a huge project that you “can’t tell anyone about” will only create annoyance.

British people are notoriously “proud” and not good at asking for help. We talk about the weather and what other people are getting up to behind closed doors, but we never really expose ourselves. Figuratively speaking. Well, pride comes before a fall, and I speak from experience as I was too proud for too long.

In November 2014 I committed a truly heinous crime. Breaking the laws of social media etiquette I posted an open blog about my struggles with depression, anxiety, and financial hardship. Yes, there were cries of “big baby” and “attention seeker” from the darker corners of the Internet, but I’d reached a point where there were very few avenues left for me to explore. I’d never contemplated the “s” word, but the idea of some kind of “vanishing act” was all too appealing.

So I opened the floodgates and let it all out.

I’ve seen enough episodes of Coronation Street to know that the dark secret you’ve kept hidden will be revealed to all and sundry sooner or later. Probably in the pub. On Christmas Day.

The alarm bells start to ring when you open the fridge at 10am and that cold beer looks deliciously tempting, or you decide to “escape” by binge watching Dexter instead of tackling that pile of work that needs to be done.

I knew I should have been working, but the truth is that the depression was just overwhelming, forcing me to completely shut down. “I’ll make up the hours tomorrow” I told myself on a daily basis, as I stuffed my face with a pipe of Pringles. Yes, I broke the rules of one of my favourite slogans, while totally disregarding another. “Tomorrow is too late” and “Once you pop, you can’t stop” respectively.

The brown stuff hit the fan when my productivity hit the buffers, but by this point it was too late. I felt like I’d been dumped at sea, in shark infested waters, and now I HAD to swim. No pausing for breath, just swim. Quickly.

It’s difficult with a dog on your back, but she gave me a reason to fight on. Well, swim on, in this case.

Why didn’t I reach out for help sooner? Why couldn’t I make amends before it was too late? It’s like putting the recycling out five minutes after the waste collection guy has left. Now it has to sit in your bin for another week!

There’s still a lot of stigma attached to talking about your problems in a public forum, and more so if you’re struggling with mental health issues or money worries. We’re told to “Just get on with it” or “Cheer up” and sweep it all under the rug, like when you have a friend coming over and you pile all your junk into the bedroom until their departure.

Reaching out for help is often seen as a sign of weakness, and talking about your problems is seen as “attention seeking” but if we can’t talk about our problems, then what’s the alternative? Bury your head in the sand I guess. Move it to the bottom of the pile and hope it all goes away.

“It’s only money!” is an often used response to someone who’s struggling financially. Yes, well tell that to MBNA, Barclays, Halifax, Lloyds, and everyone else who’s chasing you for money and piling on the interest every month.

As my anxiety grew more and more prevalent it became increasingly clear that I was going to be struggling for the foreseeable future. There’s no “magic wand” or “quick fix” so all I could do was throw myself into my work and just think about everything I could lose if I didn’t get it together. Dog, home, car. It’s easy to say “You need to take a long holiday” but holidays don’t pay the bills. I’m all for looking after myself, but at the moment that’s feeding the circling sharks.

The “good” news is that lessons have been learned. I’m no longer this selfish, mass consumerist who sees a boxset and a bottle of wine on a Friday night as an “entitlement”. I have half the possessions I once cherished, and even if I didn’t have anything then I’d cope. If I told that to me in 2013 then I’d probably openly weep.

The downside is I’m probably less comfortable in social situations as I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t afforded the time to watch the latest Game of Thrones, Bates Motel, Captain America, Stranger Things, or whatever else is popular at the moment. I’m the guy who sits at the table with his hands over his ears. “Can we talk about season four yet?” 
“No!”

Although I’m aware that we have a new Prime Minister, we’re departing the EU, a lot of famous people have died, and human beings still seem intent on killing each other. I watch the news, at least I listen to the news. In a funny way just listening makes it more bearable. That’s when I feel bad that I can’t help people who are REALLY struggling. Yes, they’re strangers, or dogs I’ve never met, but I still care. 

I recently started to wake up to find the room spinning, which is an experience usually reserved for several beers the previous night, but I’ve concluded that it’s a lack of sleep and possibly the result of a poor diet. This wasn’t conducive to my 10k training, but I have found that when time permits, I always feel better after a good run. I’m also still enjoying my mother’s cooking on a weekly basis.

The point is that if you’re struggling then talk to someone. Your doctor, baker, candlestick maker. Who cares? You can even talk to me if you think it would help. Unless you need a loan, and I’d truly love to, but come back to me in five years. It doesn’t matter if your problem seems too big to ever vanquish. Telling someone you have a problem will be your biggest step on the road to recovery. After that it’s all baby steps.

I’m certainly not “cured” of my anxiety, and there’s not a day that goes by when I’m not worrying about something, but I have the beast contained… as Bruce Banner once said.

July 2016 has been my most productive month for some time. No, my head isn’t above water and the sharks are still circling, but I don’t feel like I’m shackled to the bottom of the seabed with a jellyfish on my head anymore.

First I’m going to deal with the sharks… and then I’m going to need a bigger boat.

“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” - Winston Churchill

[davidchill]

The Luna Years

It seems hard to believe that I’ll soon be embarking on my third year of dog ownership, as Luna and I celebrate two years together at the end of this month. That’s a lot of baby steps.

I’m not going to lie, as it would defeat the object of my blog being called “This is my Truth”, and it would be accurate to say that it’s probably been the hardest two years of my life. Although that’s obviously not all down to Luna’s antics. That’s like blaming Natalie Portman for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Yes, she played her part, but there are dozens of other, bigger variables to take into account.

It’s common knowledge that I’ve endured a battle with anxiety, depression and financial hardship, which has been the biggest catalyst in all of this, but my problems are “Mickey Mouse problems” compared to what some people go through, so I’m very thankful for everything I have, and even for the things I don’t have.

Just over a year ago things got a bit overwhelming and I was offered a scheme whereby Luna would remain with me until she was rehomed, and that was the moment I realised that giving up my dog would be the biggest mistake of my life. It’s not like giving up your car (which is a possible future scenario) or any kind of possession to help make life easier. A dog may not be human, but it’s a life. A living, breathing creature with feelings, and it always breaks my heart when I hear about someone who’s been forced to rehome their dog because they see no other way out of their predicament.

Losing a dog when they die is one thing, and I know how that feels as I’ve lost two so far, but it’s natural and you go through the grieving process. Yet I can’t imagine my mental state if I ever gave Luna up for adoption. At this stage of the game it would just be unthinkable. People who don’t like dogs, or even some people who have dogs, may not understand, but it’s like having a child. Not that I’ve ever had a human child, but lots of parents/dog owners have told me that this is the case.

I’m not sure if it’s those expressive eyes or her general penchant for mischief, but at times I find Luna more “human” than some humans. She has a sense of humour that I’ve not seen exhibited in a dog before, and we seem to be able to read each other’s mood very well. I know when she needs her playtime or “me” time, and she knows when I find her running around with my underpants “funny” or “distracting”. If I say “Drop” with even a hint of a laugh she’ll ignore me, but if I say it in my forceful “seriously, I’m on deadline” voice then she’ll drop the item.

The point is I can’t abandon Luna for six months while I save up for another Luna. There’s certainly only one Luna. Besides, she doesn’t feature as a recurring payment on my credit report...

The last two years have taught me many lessons, and I certainly don’t take things for granted anymore. I used to consider myself “skint” if I could only afford a one week holiday that year. These days I consider a day off spent cleaning the flat a “luxury” and the very idea of a holiday is the stuff of dreams.

This isn’t the time or the place to analyse where I went wrong, and it’s not something that can be glossed over within the confides of a blog post, but you’ll read all about it in my forthcoming book Lunakita: A Dog Log. It’s probably the most honest, frankest account of anything I’ve ever written. Yes, a huge ingredient of the book is humour, but my struggles with the human race will be clearly evident. The other day I found myself thinking is this *too* honest, but then concluded that one can never be too honest. I’m aware it will ruffle feathers, and maybe even a couple of people won’t speak to me again, but the truth is the truth - and all names/locations have been changed in fear of reprisals/lawsuits.

Thanks again if you backed my book via Kickstarter, and if you didn’t and still want to contribute then by all means get in touch. I found the campaign hard work, not least because it seemed to be largely ignored for the first couple of weeks, but people surprised me. Although only a small percentage of my Facebook friends backed the project, I found that several were people I rarely interact with on social media. People who’ve never “liked” or commented on a single post (and vice versa) were suddenly throwing £20 or more in the pot. So you never know who enjoys your work from afar, and it’s certainly changed my opinion on having a Facebook friend “cull” because you haven’t spoken to that person for several years.

I know a lot of people have been hugely supportive over the past couple of years, and understand that we all have to face naysayers and critics. A few people had doubts about me handling Luna from the beginning, and comments like “You’ll be eating beans on toast!” may have been very, very accurate but they weren’t altogether helpful. Mind you, I had people laugh in my face and say “You trying to kill yourself?!” when I first started running, so negativity isn’t just reserved for dog ownership.

I’m really trying to make more of an effort with people, so if I’ve asked you if you’d like to “hang out” or “meet up” over the last couple of years then I hope you feel truly honoured. If I haven’t then please don’t be offended. Arranging even a couple of hours out can be difficult, especially if I have a sudden work deadline, and I’m not in a position to turn work down, so I just need to learn how to “juggle” for the foreseeable future.  

I haven’t really felt “relaxed” for a long time, so I appreciate I may not be great company anyway. Ideally, Luna and I both need a proper holiday, even if it’s just a weekend break, so I may have to put aside a few quid for the Euro Millions once in a while. You need to be “in it to win it” as they say.

Joking aside, the fact that Luna and I are still together after two years is nothing short of a miracle. I just hope the next two years (or 20 baby steps) are less of a stressfest.

[davidchill]

30 Reasons to Back Lunakita: A Dog Log

There’s just 7 days remaining on my Lunakita: A Dog Log Kickstarter campaign, and with £2,445 still to raise I’d forgive you for thinking that I should “give up” and consign my book publishing venture to history. Except I don’t give up on anything. Well, except judo, scouts, and recorder lessons… but they’re all stories for another time.

If I manage to raise that extraordinary amount in 7 days then my book Lunakita: A Dog Log will be published and available to the masses. If I don’t manage to raise that amount then I’ll lose the £555 already raised and none of my 21 backers will see the book or their rewards. Their credit/debit cards won’t be charged, but I’m sure they’d love to see the finished product, and their names in print.

The largest pledge thus far has been £100 from two individuals, although you can pledge any amount. So if you know an oil baron, or someone who’s just won the EuroMillions then they might be happy to part with a couple of grand.

Here’s the all-important link:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1870936832/lunakita-a-dog-log

Please pledge if you can, or share via one of your social media platforms. Facebook, Twitter and Instagram are all good examples. Or even MySpace if you live in 2006.

Not convinced that it’s worth your time and effort to pledge or even just share? Here’s 30 reasons that might twist your arm. Remember, £5 may not sound a lot, but it could be huge if everyone thinking “It won’t make a difference” actually made a pledge.

1. First and foremost, you’re not just backing a book. You’re backing a human being (me) who is doing everything in their power to turn their life around and begin an illustrious new career as an author.

2. This isn’t just a book about a man and his dog. It’s a story of love, compassion, commitment, heartbreak and sacrifice. Something that everyone can relate to in some way.

3. It’s a humour book, and a funny one to boot.

4. The cover, painted by Manda Wolfe, is a work of art. Literally.

5. I’ve sacrificed more than I care to admit over the past couple of years, so getting this book published would bring balance to The Force, equilibrium, or something. A positive to outweigh the negative.

6. The book will be printed by Lulu Press. That’s a quality book publisher who distributes premium quality books to bookstores all over the world. Lulu was Luna’s original name. It’s clearly a sign.

7. You’d be helping to fulfil a lifetime’s ambition. I’m turning 42 in a few weeks, and life is short. A piano could fall on my head tomorrow.

8. I’m a good writer. That’s probably the hardest four words I’ve ever written as self-appraisal is really not my forte. Although if I thought I was a bad writer then I wouldn’t be inflicting this upon the world. I don’t have delusions of grandeur. Enough people have told me I’m a good writer over the years for me to accept this statement. Unless they’re all barking mad, but that’s unlikely.

9. It has an abundance of references to popular culture. So if you’re a fan of Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Star Trek, Quantum Leap, or Marvel and DC Superheroes… then you’ll LOVE this book. It’s a geek fest.

(If none of the above TV/film/comic book references appeal to you then don’t worry, that won’t diminish your enjoyment of the book whatsoever).

10. Successful funding via Kickstarter will mean I won’t need to remortgage my home.

11. Be the envy of all your friends when they say: “I just ran 5k, what have you done today?”
 Your reply: “Oh, I just helped an author launch his career. His books will touch lives, and those lives… other lives. But yay for you and your 5k!”

Then ruffle their hair.

12. Reading about my misfortunes will make you feel a whole lot better about your own life.

13. I’m following my dreams. I could take Luna back to the shelter, and return to full-time employment in an office for a much easier life… but that would be the death of me.

14. You will restore my faith in humanity.

15. I’ll love you forever, and will undoubtedly go the extra mile for you one day too.

16. In a world full of porn, depravity and bloodshed, this lighthearted book will be like a breath of fresh air.

17. You’ll be spared another crowdfunding campaign where I fill your timeline with more shameless plugs. I’m like a dog with a bone.

18. One day you’ll be in Waterstone’s with a friend. You’ll casually nudge them and say; “See that book over there?” “Oh yes. What about it?” “Oh nothing. Only… I made it happen.”

19. This video I made for the Kickstarter campaign. Seriously, what’s not to love?

20. You’ll be helping to make Kickstarter history. Never, in the history of Kickstarter, has a humour book about a Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita been successfully funded after only reaching 18% of the target, with 7 days to go.

21. I won’t need to sell the Star Wars toys from my childhood.

22. It’s an underdog story. Everyone loves an underdog story. Managing to fund the book, against all the odds, would be the icing on the cake.

23. The chapter called “The Hitchcock Syndrome” is worth the “admission price” alone.

24. It’s like the “Haynes Manual” but for dogs. Pretty much all aspects of dog ownership are covered. From everyday things like toilet training and stealing socks, to more complex scenarios like separation anxiety and lunging at cyclists. It’s all here.

25. The copy you receive will be the “first edition” which will undoubtedly be more valuable in 20 years than subsequent editions. It’s relatively low print run also makes it a bit of a rarity.

26. After several years and multiple reads you can say “Hmm, it’s looking a bit dog-eared” and then laugh to yourself as you appreciate the aptness.

Yes, it’ll be a gift that keeps on giving.

27. When you’re sitting in the cinema watching “Lunakita IV: The Bitch Strikes Back” you can turn to the person next to you and say; “I was there at the beginning. When it was funny”.

28. I haven’t done a “fist pump” since I passed my driving test in 1994. So being successfully funded would give me a valid reason.

29. I have two bottles of posh champagne in my cupboard that are just going to waste. If funded, I can crack those beauties open.

30. Luna. A dog who was largely ignored for the first nine months of her life can now be immortalised in print. So in 20 years (when she’s no longer with us) she’ll still be making people laugh, and cry.

So if you don’t want to do it for me... do it for her.

Here’s the all-important link again:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1870936832/lunakita-a-dog-log Thank you.

#dogs #books #staffordshire bull terrier #akita #kickstarter #star wars #doctor who #star trek #doglog #quantum leap #game of thrones #alfred hitchcock #marvel #dc comics

[davidchill]

Crowdfunding, Modern Life, and Polar Bears on an Island

I recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to help fund a novel I’ve written. Lunakita: A Dog Log is a book about a guy who, having recently gone through a stressful flat-buying process, adopts a high maintenance rescue dog. To begin with, everything is hunky-dory, but then his life begins to unravel as he battles personal demons and, ultimately, loses his job. As his debts soar to a new high, and his self-esteem plummets to a new low, he finds himself facing some impossible decisions that could mean he loses everything. Along the way he discovers that the dog, who was once his biggest problem, has become his greatest ally.

Now that may sound incredibly familiar to those of you who have been reading my blogs over the past 18 months. Yes, the book is based on my life. Quelle surprise! Although it’s certainly not an autobiography. The antagonist in the book is Owen Skimpy, and he may be similar to me in many ways, but there are several key differences. For example, this guy is weird. I mean weirder than me.

Owen has “Only recently warmed to dogs after a lifetime fear/hatred of the creatures”, so he’s a dog virgin, with absolutely no understanding of them whatsoever, and he’s diving straight in at the deep end. “Do dogs drink human water or do I have to buy special dog water?” he asks Tammy, the poor animal re-homer who receives a daily onslaught of e-mails. “Is it standard procedure for a dog to regurgitate its dinner in four huge piles on the bedroom carpet at 1am?” The list he compiles for “the perfect dog” is also beyond the realms of possibility, as such a dog simply doesn’t exist. “They need to exhibit no interest in human food – toast, bacon sandwich, biscuit, sausages, Kit-Kat… when I'm eating I actually want the dog to look away or walk off and go and sit in another room.”

Lunakita: A Dog Log is a humour book (and should therefore be taken with a large pinch of salt) but there is another layer to it, in that it carries a serious message. It tackles the things most people don’t like to talk about, like money worries, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and isolation - while Owen says the things that most people simply wouldn’t say in real life.  

For example, when telling a friend that his wife looked poorly he says; “She did look quite pale and puffy. For a second I thought they had the Michelin Man in for work experience.”

Owen also pays a lot of visits to his G.P. and therapist as he finds life is becoming a real struggle. “I've lost over 3 stone in six months. Is that normal? My doctor didn't really comment, she just frowned and pulled her trademark "Hmmm... something isn't right here" face. I know, because it’s the same face I pull when I glance at my bank statement each month.”

I’m not poking fun at mental health issues, or people with money worries. I can only write about what I know, and that’s my own situation. Losing your job, car, and potentially having to sell your home aren’t comedic scenarios, but I have learned a lot about life, taking things for granted, and how to look at things from an entirely new perspective. I also find great comfort in humour, and in many ways it’s my defence mechanism for dealing with life. So I’m very thankful that I’ve been blessed with a rather offbeat, dry sense of humour, as otherwise I’d probably just lose the will to live.

The problems I’ve faced, and the problems Owen faces in the book, are only first world problems. At one point he’s bereft about losing his subscription to Doctor Who Magazine, and can no longer afford his favourite wine, instead opting for “Shloer in a posh glass”. He rations his food and convinces himself that he can’t socialise with people anymore because they secretly hate him... and his dog.

During his struggle, his eyes are opened to the very materialistic, self-absorbed world we live in, and how people are so privileged that they see wining and dining, luxury holidays, and buying things they don’t really need as “life’s essentials”. Except he can’t judge these people, because that’s exactly how he lived his life before the dark times. Before the Empire.

No, sorry, that’s Star Wars. I mean before the whole “losing job and getting a dog” thing.

The biggest problem I’ve found with crowdfunding via Kickstarter is that the success of funding a project is reliant on other people (primarily friends and family) having so much faith in you (or your work) that they’d be willing to pledge money several months in advance of receiving a return. Unless they’re just donating to help you out, but such people are so uber rare that I could fit them into my bathroom all at the same time.

I have a very small bathroom. There’s not even enough room to towel down a Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita after a bath. I know, I’ve tried.

We also live in a “super-fast” world where people want what they want, and they want it now - or they’re gone.

On average, a visitor to a website will abandon it within 10-20 seconds, and 40% will give up after 3 seconds if the website has failed to load. I’m not making this stuff up, I read it in an article on the Internet, so I’m assuming it must be true.

Now, if true, that’s one mighty short attention span human beings have developed over the years. Yet it explains why a percentage of visitors to my blogs only stay on the page for 30 seconds before departing to play some “What Game of Thrones character are you?” quiz on Facebook. “Okay, let’s scan this blog. Okay, dog. Anxiety. He hates the general public. Blah. Blah. Okay, if I click “like” does that mean I like that he has more problems than me?”

I know people who gave up on the television series Lost simply because it featured polar bears on the island. “That’s ridiculous! Polar bears? On an island?” They didn’t stick around to find out why they were there, because they needed to know immediately, and even then they wouldn’t have been satisfied with the explanation. For the record, I stuck with Lost until the end, and yes, it dipped in places, but on the whole I found it thoroughly enjoyable.

One of my all-time favourite television shows, The Twilight Zone, would probably struggle with a modern day audience. Many of the episodes are rather “slow paced” in order to stretch to a 30 minute running time, concluding with the trademark “twist” at the end. In fact, if you asked a teenager to watch an episode in 2016 they’d probably get out their phone within the first minute and start tweeting about how boring the olden days were. “its in black and white lol”

The problem with books is that you have to sit down to read them, and people aren’t very good at sitting down and not being distracted by a funny Internet meme for more than a few minutes. You need to invest time in any book, and time is something that most people think they don’t have.

Perhaps I’m showing my age, but the primary goal of this Kickstarter is not only to share a funny, insightful piece of writing with a good heart, it’s also to fulfil a lifetime ambition of having a novel published in printed form. To me, no iPad or Kindle will ever beat a traditional, tangible book. I’d rather have a wall adorned with old books than “a thousand books that fit in my pocket” any day of week.

How’s it going on there? Well, there’s now 18 days to go, and over £2,800 yet to raise.

I know what the skeptics, naysayers and “realists” are saying. “He’ll never do it. There’s just no way he’ll raise that much money in two years, let alone just over two weeks!”

It can be done, but when someone sees that you have so much to raise they don’t believe that their £5 can make a difference, so they don’t bother. Unbeknown to them, there could be another 300 people thinking exactly the same thing…

So I urge you, please, to pledge something if you can. It takes a few seconds to enter your details, and payment won’t be taken unless the target of £3,000 is reached, so you don’t have anything to lose.

In the event that the project isn’t successful on Kickstarter, I have no doubt that the book will see the light of day. Eventually. I’ve heard enough good things from reviewers and publishers to know that it has legs and will, eventually, be well received… if it can reach a larger audience.

Lunakita: A Dog Log is not just a book for dog owners, as it can be enjoyed by people with next-to-no knowledge of dogs (much like the protagonist in the story) and if anything, the dog is just one ingredient to a story that is essentially about the trials of modern life.

If you can’t relate to struggles, misfortune or mistakes, then I feel exceedingly sorry for you. Please watch the video and read the full story via the below link. Thank you for your time...

Lunakita: A Dog Log - Kickstarter

#dogsofinstagram #dogs #staffordshire bull terrier #akita #kickstarter #books #doglog #lost #doctorwho #crowdfuning #twilightzone #ipad #kindle #hardback #paperback

[davidchill]

Love, Life, and Death - Part 2

You can read the first part of this blog here: http://davidchill.tumblr.com/post/141149834252/love-life-and-death-part-1

Although you don’t need to read Part 1 in order for Part 2 to make sense. So this is like Star Wars: Episode IV. 

Life

On a recent dog walk my attention was drawn to a parked car displaying a bumper sticker in the rear window. It read; “A dog is for life, not just for Christmas”

I’d always looked at that slogan and read “life” to mean the lifespan of the dog, but it suddenly dawned on me that this wasn’t just relating to linear time.

Life is a series of peaks and troughs, where you have really good days and really bad days. Some people may experience such contrasting days in equal measure, while others will have more good days than bad days, or vice versa. Sometimes life is cruel, sometimes life is harsh, and sometimes life is so good that you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

I know nothing of football, but imagine if your favourite team won the cup year after year after year. They won every single match, without fail. You probably think that sounds great, but sooner or later it’d get boring. Like the Christmas number one being something spawned from X-Factor.

We need defeats, because they make the victories so much more… well, victorious.

In the past two years I’ve probably experienced more bad days than good, but I’m thankful for the bad days, and the struggles, because it’s made the good days even better, and given me a newfound appreciation of not just everything that I have, but also everyone I have in my life. My family, friends, Facebook friends, Twitter followers, and blog readers. Yes, even you.

Since falling on hard times I’ve never found so much pleasure in such small things.

A friend recently bought me a bottle of wine, and there would have been a time when I would have just said “Thanks” and stuck it in the cupboard with my other bottles of wine. Except it’s no longer just a bottle of wine, it’s a luxury that I simply cannot afford. So it suddenly meant so much more to me than it would have a couple of years ago.

I used to be such an ungrateful swine. Somebody would buy me coffee, and it was nice, but come on, it’s just a cup of coffee, right? Well, no, it’s more than that. It’s a very kind gesture, and one that should be received with much appreciation.

Then I had my lightbulb moment. Having had two lightbulbs go, and literally not a penny to my name, I eventually ventured out to make my purchase. “Luna, we have light!” I exclaimed.

She looked at me as if to say “Wow, I really drew the short straw at the animal shelter”

The problem is that I used to take everything for granted. Eating out, entertainment, social functions, having the latest Ford Fiesta. I didn’t see any of that as living a privileged life. I just saw that as part of my pretty mundane life.

At the time I didn’t think I had much, but on reflection I had more than I needed. In fact I was living beyond my means.

I often hear people say things like “Oh, we really can’t afford this holiday to America, but…” and that was me in 2013. I couldn’t actually afford a two week tour of four American states, but I’d never been, and it was on my list of “Things to do before I’m 40”.

Two months later I find myself trying to raise money to buy my flat. Suddenly I have a dog, I’m spending over £1,000 on my new garden, and the debt is going up and up but everything is okay, because I have a handle on it. I have a handle on it because I have a full time job with a fixed monthly salary. So chill Hill, I’ve got this.

Then I lose my monthly salary.

That’s when you freeze like a rabbit in the headlights. The anxiety that has bubbled beneath the surface suddenly has you in a Vulcan death grip and you can’t see any way out.

So now what? The mortgage payment is due, the credit card bills aren’t going to pay for themselves, you have another mouth to feed, and you really need that electricity if you still have designs to be a website designer.

It’s easy to say what you’d do in that situation, or what I should have done, but not only does anxiety bring all the worst case scenarios hurtling to the forefront of your mind, it also clouds your judgement, and all rational thought goes flying out the window.

I have to admit, some days I woke up and I couldn’t breathe. It was almost like I’d eaten part of Darth Vader’s lunch and he was very cross with me.

On reflection I should have gone to debt management or asked for help from the bank immediately.  Instead I overworked my brain and spent hours working on multiple projects, many of which may never see the light of day, because I was juggling too many balls, and dropped several as a result.

Yet 18 months on from losing a comfortable fixed salary, I’m still here, my dog’s still here, I still have a roof over my head, and I’m still blessed with some pretty amazing people in my life.

I don’t know how or when I’ll conquer the debt mountain, or if things are going to get worse before they get better, but I do know that I’m thankful for everything, and despite the amount of poop, pee, puke, and ridiculous behaviour, I’m still exceptionally grateful for my amazing, affectionate, loyal, and devoted friend called Luna. She’s got me through some dark times, I tell you.

Sometimes she looks at me as if I’m nuts, and other times she looks at me as if to say “you’re nuts, but you’re my daddy”

So when I depart this mortal coil (snuff it) be that through natural causes, fatal accident, or an anvil dropping on my head (which could also be classed as an accident, unless someone was out to kill me) I will die safe in the knowledge that I made a huge difference to the life of a living being. I made her happy, gave her comfort, and relieved her suffering. I made a difference.

I don’t know when I’ll die. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, or maybe in 60 years. I do know that no matter how much time I have left, I’m going to learn from past mistakes and throw 100% of my being into helping others, regardless of their species, gender, or sexuality. So that includes any lesbian cats seeking financial assistance that might be reading.

Which brings me to my final instalment of this blog trilogy…

Death. Not cash-strapped lesbian cats. If I ever write a blog on the latter then please kill me.

To be concluded…