Well I’m back now, in fact I got back over a week ago but this is the first chance I’ve had to sit down and write about the last month or so. Since I last posted I’ve spent a fortnight underground at the longwall and gathering the last of the data I need for my report. I also spent it saying goodbye to everyone I have met in Australia, the people who I have worked and partied with from Newcastle to Picton over the last year. I spent a fantastic weekend in Sydney and another in Picton, drinking and looking back over my time in Oz. A mere 36hrs after landing at Heathrow I was in Wales partying with the GBBikers who have been there for me all year with both support and criticism, keeping me sane. I spent my last few days in the UK back in ’08 with them and my first few days being back in ’09. Since then I’ve moved back down to Falmouth to continue my life as a student and hopefully to finish my degree. It’s strange being back here for a number of reasons. One is that many of my friends and acquaintances have since graduated or otherwise moved on. Another is that I have to pick up the threads of my friendships and try to weave them back into something stronger than before. The third is that I left unfinished business here and I still have no clue how it will pan out, I’m not the same person that left and no-one here is the same either.
My year in Australia was far from easy as anyone who has followed this blog should have realised. It has had some appallingly bad times yet some absolutely amazing ones too. I have done things and been to places which many people will never experience and I am grateful for that. I have learnt an incredible number of lessons that I could write for hours about. I have changed my views on many things and truly become far more adult as a result. One thing which I have never believed in is clinical depression. I have always been a fairly positive person, at least outwardly and when times get bad I just get on with it and don’t let it stop me doing everyday things. It has taken me months of reflection and talking about my experiences with people to realise just how low I had sunk. Apparently wanting to throw myself out of a transport while it’s moving is not healthy… could have fooled me! There were months where I had to force myself to sit in the back of the dolly car or transports just in case the urge to push myself out grew too great. At the time it was just something I dealt with by forcing myself into a position where I physically couldn’t, I thought that spending my weekends in bed, hiding away and wishing no-one would knock on my door was perfectly normal. The dread of talking to anyone in the street or a shop became subconscious to the point that I would go weeks without having an extended conversation. I became paranoid to the point of not wanting to socialise with the few people I considered friends because I was convinced that they felt sorry for me and mocked me behind my back. I desperately tried to cling on to friendships and relationships back in the UK that no longer existed just because I had nothing else to hope for. The saddest thing about it was that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy; I drove people away because I was convinced that they hated me yet they only grew to hate me because of my actions. One of the few markers of this was my massive weight gain. With half a dozen 24hr take-a-ways within a two minute walk of my apartment I adopted a cycle of eating, sleeping, working, eating and eating again. Although my months at the mine have put a lot of muscle on my bones my months in Newcastle piled on the fat. I currently weigh in at my all time heaviest of 119kg or over nineteen stone in old money. No wonder the sight of myself in the wall length mirrors in my apartment would make me despise my weakness. No wonder then that once I started work underground I immediately volunteered for the hardest, dirtiest jobs that kept me soaked in sweat from the start of my shift until the end. I was convinced that it was the only way to compensate for everything else. At times I truly thought I was losing my mind and I used to think that I was the sanest person I know!
Some of you may be glad to know that I’m pretty much back to normal now. I met some fantastic people in the last few months and their friendship and my trip back to the UK in June really sobered me up and helped to put everything else behind me. I didn’t particularly want to write about it all to be honest but I know that being open about it is the only way to leave it behind. Depression is nothing to be ashamed of yet even as I write this I’m cringing at what people might think. The word itself to me is distasteful, it conjures images of weakness and no-one, least of all me, likes to admit weakness. My words and actions during certain times have burnt bridges with certain people, you know who you are. I’m truly sorry, I was far from in my right mind but that’s no excuse. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and I’d do anything not to type those words which ended up hurting me more than they did you.
Right enough of that Emo-bullshit, back to my usual brash and arrogant self ;P
Since I’ve been back people keep asking me “how was Australia?” and to be honest I can’t give them a straight answer. There were far too many ups and downs to say either way. However when I was in Wales my friend Emma asked me “are you happy to be back? Do you regret doing it?” and it got me thinking. Yes, I am very happy to be back and no, I don’t regret it. The whole year has been a fucking farce from the start to finish. At no point did the company deliver anything they promised and for the last 6 months I was effectively cut off from all support and left to my own devices. Yet now I’m back it’s completely irrelevant. Nothing matters except that I learnt a shitload about coal mining and I survived to tell the tale. I refuse to become a bitter and boring wanker who sits and bemoans my luck to any and all who will listen, filling people’s ears with pathetic whining. I’m back with my friends and family, doing what I want to do, where I want to do it. Admittedly things could be better but they could be a damn sight worse too. I have a roof over my head, food in the cupboards and mates to drink with. That’s all I need. I just want to move on and concentrate on my degree, getting fit and having fun. I’m going to live for the moment because it could all turn to shit at any time. I’m starting from scratch and though I’m sure I’ll screw up plenty of times it’s a great way to cut the chaff out of my life.
Well that was so full of clichés it made me want to vomit haha! I love criticising my own writing, even though I try to avoid them at all times sometimes clichés serve a purpose. After all, they wouldn’t have become clichés if they weren’t accurate. I’m no great writer by any means and I just type as the thoughts come to me, I could edit and re-edit but at least this way you read it as I think rather than some manufactured piece of bullshit.
I have written over 1400 words so far and have only covered a few of the subjects I wanted to. I don’t know if I’ll post again or even if anyone will read this but it is a possibility. I always have plenty to say so we shall see.
Keep digging,
RTC
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