The Only Way Is Up

Coffee pour, Wild & Wild, Congleton


It’s been said many times, but before you experience it, it never really made much sense. At least that’s the experience for me. It was a Sunday, dates irrelevant I guess, but just know that this was around a week ago, I relapsed back into massive panic mode and found myself laying in bed, searching for my pulse with my phone at the ready to track the seconds…

I spend the majority of the day in bed, having rushed in from the car after spending the morning getting coffee with my children. It was a beautiful day, we had great fun without drama until the attack suddenly hit me in the car, kids in the back, palms sweaty on the wheel, eyes flicking between the rear view and the road, trying to keep my cool whilst loosing my shit inside.

It was home and straight to bed, not without warning my wife that I urgently required an ambulance, and made clear that I can’t be left alone for too long without check'-backs, entirely sure I wasn’t going to make it much longer.

Anyway, I thought it was my new rock bottom. That was, until Thursday came along. I woke feeling heavy, flushed with hatted of myself, feeling disgusted and fearful, with a terrible sense of very real and overwhelming “doom”. That’s the only word I had available.

It was early, the kids were up, and I was outside watching them play, looking miserable as hell and considering the end of my life.

It was, my true rock bottom.

I made my way upstairs, sobbing to my wife as I spluttered I can’t no longer life like this.

I got into bed. And tried to pull myself out of the hole I’d fallen in.