Things You Didn't Want To Know, But I'm Going To Tell You Anyway.

Hello again. So, I’ve belatedly been putting myself “Out there” more recently; posting more on social media, banging my head against the brick wall of nonsense that is Twitter, and attempting to keep a somewhat regular blog. I have yet to master harnessing the mighty power of the internet in a way that C.R.J. Smith™ is the hot new author name on everybody’s lips. I still work in a factory, scramble around at the end of every month to make rent, and my electricity provider is sending me letters wondering if I would be so kind as to pay them what I owe. (The letters aren’t angry yet, so I have a bit of time on that one.) I have a small number of people following my blog whom I would like to give genuine thanks to. Every time I get a new follower notification, it really does lift my spirits. It feels like maybe I’m doing something right. But am I showing the real me? I write fancy sounding bios on various platforms, things that sound like they might have been written by an author. But sometimes I feel like I’m trying too hard to impress. All the details are true, but sometimes I look over what I’ve written and think; what a pretentious asshole. So whether you want/care or not, here’s an honest, stripped down blog. It’s a bit long, so you might want to get a snack or something. * I’ve suffered from anxiety and panic attacks for as long as I can remember, but only did anything about it last year. I’m 31. I used to deal with it by avoiding human contact as much as possible, because obviously that’s the healthy way of dealing with it. There were times in work where I’d have to find somewhere to hide until an attack passed, or at worst go home sick. Being in busy shops was hell and nights out were often ended early because I couldn’t handle the pub or club. Things started to change when I met my fiancée eight years ago, but even then it was slow progress and I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to live with. Last year I reached breaking point and after spending weeks in an almost constant state of anxiety, I went to the doctor. I am now on 15mg of Lexapro a day and it has helped so much I wish I’d been brave enough to do something about it years ago. It’s not all sunshine and bunny rabbits of course. Lately I’ve noticed some of the old feelings creeping back. I have to see the doctor again next month to discuss my progress and I’m going to ask about upping my dosage and possibly look into the therapy option. I’ll just see how it goes. * A couple of months ago I had to go home from work because of a pain in my ass. Not a co-worker or a manager, you understand; an actual pain in the ass- Haemorrhoids. Multiple, protruding ones at that. My doctor had a look and gave me suppositories and creams, but after a week they hadn’t helped, so I ended up going to the ER. They shoved them back in and set up an appointment with a consultant, who in turn arranged a colonoscopy, during which they put banding on some of them. One hardy one couldn’t be banded and I’ll have to have a minor surgery in the next couple of months. ‘Why are you telling me about your haemorrhoids?’ I hear you ask. Well, partly because of my new warts and all honesty policy, but also to emphasise how much my anxiety tablets have helped me. I went through the whole process from telling my manager in work exactly what the problem was, to the doctor, to the hospital, with no anxiety or embarrassment. I wouldn’t have been able to do that two years ago. I’ve had more doctors and nurses poking at my ass in the last few weeks than I had seen in my life up to that point, and I just went with the flow and it was fine. Medical professionals have seen everything and they don’t judge. Whatever you’ve got wrong with you, they’ve seen worse. After my procedure, they gave me tea and toast, because I’d been fasting since the night before. I got talking to a guy who had just had a full colonoscopy (I’d just had a left sided one, which looks at the first third of the colon) He told me the only reason he was there was because he’d met an old friend he hadn’t seen for a few years. This friend looked unwell and after chatting for a while he dropped the bomb that he only had a few months to live. Colon cancer. He’d never got checked and by the time he knew anything about it, it was too late. So I guess what I’ve learned is, you can live with embarrassment, but you can’t live with an undiagnosed illness. Get yourself checked people. It might save your life.

* I’m an atheist. I was christened, had my communion and confirmation, learned religion in Saint Oliver’s Primary school, part of which included mandated trips to the adjacent church for confession where once, when I told the teacher I had nothing to confess, he told me to just make something up. Another time, another teacher, I was told that everyone had some sin to confess and to think harder about it. Really? I don’t want to bash religion. It’s not for me, but if it brings you joy, comfort, or meaning, then fill your boots. If you have faith, then nothing I or anyone else thinks can, or should, change that. Just don’t try and foist it upon others. Same goes for non-believers. There is a tendency to feel superior, like you’re too savvy to believe in the fairy stories that people of faith subscribe to. I’ve been guilty of this myself at times, and it’s not a good look. Either way, some of us are in for a shock when we die. Religious extremists are another thing altogether. Whether it’s the westboro baptist church idiots, or the evil, murdering scumbags of isis, they represent nothing but a disgusting, twisted interpretation of their supposed faith. There is a special place in hell for them. Or just an eternity of nothingness, depending on what you believe.

* I believe abortion is the choice of the pregnant woman, and nobody else. I don’t think it’s a decision that is ever taken lightly. Information and advice should be freely available, but so should the procedure itself, without obstruction, prejudice, guilt, or threats. If you have a penis, then it’s none of your business. If you have a uterus, then do what you want with it and don’t worry about what anyone else does with theirs.

* Immigration. Always a hot topic, but with Britain exiting the EU, a decision made by many in the belief that they could pull down the shutters to stop the evil foreigners tainting their fair land, and Donald Trump, himself from good immigrant stock, stoking the fires in the US, there has been a daily dose of stories lately. We all want the best for ourselves and our loved ones, and if you’re lucky enough to have been born in a country where you can live relatively comfortably, then good for you. Some people aren’t as lucky and are desperate to make a better life for themselves. Of course, there is homelessness and poverty in every country and that needs to be addressed, but closing your eyes and covering your ears to the problems of others just because they’re far away, is not right. Nobody is sleeping rough on the streets of Dublin, London, New York, or Sydney tonight because of immigration. The factory I work in is staffed mostly by eastern Europeans and the amount of casual xenophobia from the Irish is astounding. Most of it starts with the classic, “I’m not bein’ racist, but…” to the blatant, “Foreign pricks, blah, blah, blah…” I’m not saying this is indicative of Ireland in general, I hope it isn’t, but it’s what I’ve observed. Maybe it’s something the company needs to work on. “But terrorists are coming from Syria, seeking asylum while they plot their atrocities.” Maybe, yeah. It’s likely; a few out of the hundreds of thousands who are genuinely in fear for their lives, and who just need a safe haven. You might as well want to ban holidays; some asshole could cause more trouble on a one week package holiday in Magaluf than the overwhelming majority of asylum seekers would in a lifetime in their adopted countries. And besides, given that the recent atrocities in Paris, Brussels, and Nice were carried out by French and Belgian nationals, maybe –just maybe- it’s more complex than keeping people out. * So, yeah… swearing. I swear a lot. Some people think it’s a sign of low intelligence or a limited vocabulary, but they can go fuck themselves. I don’t think I overdo it, and I can censor myself in professional situations and with people I’m not familiar with but in general, if I’m having a conversation with somebody I know, there will more than likely be some cussing. It can be very effective to convey certain emotions. For example, read the following statements: “Donald Trump is not a very nice man. If he were to become President, it would spell disaster not only for America, but for the rest of the world.” “Donald Trumps a bigoted cunt and if he becomes President then we’re all fucked. I’d give that nasty bastard a week before he’s started world war three. Prick.” Now, be honest. It was a little more fun reading the second sentence, right? I don’t like Trump, but I’m not crazy about Clinton either. It’s a pity a third party candidate will never get a look in because it often seems to be a choice between two sides of the same coin. There’s no voice of reason in the running, somebody who could unite the country. Would Bernie Sanders have been the better choice? I don’t know. But I’ll be watching with the rest of the world in November so come on America, don’t pick the orange clown. * I’ll leave it there for now. You now know a bit more about me and what I think about some things. If you continue to follow me, honesty will always be my policy. For better or worse. So, until next time, stay safe, and thanks for reading. Chris.