'cigarettes, alcohol, hose pipe and car keys - all set.  shame i didn't have those morphine tablets as well but i swallowed them years ago'

set-backs, losses, deaths and whatever else life throws at us - the best we can do is deal with them as they come whilst hoping for more good times than bad.

although, for certain people, life can be irreparably damaged by certain events or trauma.  perhaps whereby reality ceases to exist or becomes all too real.

i am now only too aware of how close we all tread that line.  it's not close enough to see yet only a small step away.  like many a life destroyed by a short-term and minor cash flow problem, we can all be just that one penny - one event - away from our own personal hell.

nineteen ninety six, britpop was at its peak, england thrashed the netherlands at the european championships, i enjoyed a great social life and my career was starting to go places.  in hindsight, it was also the year in which my problems surfaced.

my usual high intake of alcohol, recent smoking habit and new sleeping schedule left me feeling nauseous after awaking.  although if any one of these problems were absent the night before then the morning after wouldn't become one of those days i would soon dread.

the retching i initially suffered whilst commuting developed in to actual vomiting.  my problems began to boil over.

'no one will harm me today, especially myself.  i have my alcohol.

alcohol.  the single cause of my anxiety, depression and stomach problems.  i have no medical complaint which can not be attributed to its misuse.  no alcohol equals no problems.  alcohol is bad and enjoying alcohol is living in denial.

in fact, this diagnosis left me mentally naked.  my medication was poor, a different drug every few weeks.  not until i had nothing but skin and bones did i receive the appropriate drug.

alcohol isn't the solution but don't ever tell me it's wrong whilst just prescribing smarties as a substitute.'

simply, each episode was fucking horrifying.  gagging and puking in public is very, very distressing.

in an attempt to 'manage' my vomiting i would avoid or select certain routes, where i could disappear from view.  unknowingly i was creating area's whereby i would automatically feel sick and, subsequently, anticipate this scenario.

hence, by 1999 i was unable to control where and when to puke and certain situations were met with utter dread.  the mere anticipation would induce vomiting - i was beginning to fear fear itself.  a phobia was being conceived.

approaching the new millennium, all the ingredients were in place for my catastrophic downfall.  my symptoms escalated, i took even more sick leave and also fainted through sheer fear at a wedding.  i was best man.

i began to realise my problems were of a mental nature and not a physical problem.  yet, not that my doctors did - it took them nine months to diagnose my symptoms being of an emotional illness.

i credit ssri's with saving my life but it was a further nine months before i was prescribed them and i had lost all that could be considered my life by that time anyway.

'this is the day that you die.  i am somebody's son, somebody's lover, somebody's father, somebody's friend, somebody's manager etc.  i mean something to somebody.

i enjoy pleasing my customers, gaining respect from colleagues, making the boys laff during our night out, my wider social circle and being a dad.

now what?  i'm nothing to these people, does no one care, friends no longer, my professional contribution means nothing, i must cease being a father?'

so, at 11:40 on december 14th 1999 i was forced to resign due to my 'zero contribution to the company'.  a suggestion both incredible yet typical.

with hindsight, and strength i didn't have at the time, i would have challenged my 'resignation' in a court of law.  although this is all irrelevant.  events were exaggerated, lies told and ranks closed.  my fading self-worth and mental well-being hugely dented by the pointless and untruthful comments of my employer in an effort to be rid of me.

not having my achievements acknowledged hurts yet i know the huge difference i made to that company.  alas it doesn't mean a fucking thing.

i remained the top salesman months after my departure.

the loss of my employment caused a dramatic and immediate decline in my condition.  it took hours before i could attend the train station and my experience waiting on that platform still chills me.

my 'safe havens' reduced from the office, the local pub, my home and then finally just my bed.

the following months aren't easy to explain, how i survived them i'm not quite sure.  it was very difficult when i had to leave the confines of the house and i was usually bed-ridden.

still, i needed to provide for my family.  interviews required an extraordinary effort and the period leading up to each appointment was almost unbearable.  i would sometimes fall ill before, or during, the interviews and totally wrecking my prospects in the process.  every one of these left me physically and mentally drained.

the friends and family circle evaporated and i didn't receive a call from anyone for four months.  four fucking months.

i managed to sign on at the unemployment office, an achievement i still find amazing to this day considering i was barely able to function at the time.

there were certainly no jobs for someone of my ability, they admitted that themselves.  i didn't belong in that place, just being there was yet another personal death.

during this time i did receive many phone calls from recruitment consultants.  one was particularly persistent and spent much time in trying to draw me away from my consultant of choice.  it didn't register that i was worth so much of their time but later realised why - agencies would charge an organisation £11,000 simply for the privilege of employing me.

one of the interviews i attended represented possibly the best opportunity for me ever.  the company, management, product and prospects - the whole package - was simply fantastic.

although i was considered the strongest candidate, age was of concern.  yet i wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by and i proactively set about convincing this company.  after two interviews (totalling sixteen hours) the position was mine.

i bought a £22,000 audi and enjoyed a basic salary which would enable us to live as kings.  the prospects were huge and one could easily become a millionaire with just a few years hard work.

'what the hell was i thinking?  a holiday from the facts.  fucking joker.  i'm not here, it's not real, this isn't happening'

i failed, obviously.  the whole thing was a fucking joke.  for some reason it appeared to escape my mind that there wasn't a hope in hell i'd be able to cope.  it was an awful and crushing experience and i remember my time there as if it were yesterday, just watching myself die slowly.

the one opportunity in my life which promised the earth as long as i didn't fuck up.  typical.

although i recall a massive sense of relief after this job, my career, ended.  finally i could focus all my energies on overcoming this terrible disorder.  i badly needed to heal.

during this time i did seek menial work with jobs that enabled me to be alone (driving for example) but, due to an unfair reference from my original employer, no one at all would employ me.

thankfully my partner agreed to work instead.  we would no longer enjoy the benefits that my salary brought but we'd get by, be together and i could recover.

'august 2^nd year 2^k.  everything previous to this date is meaningless, everything after is pointless.  this is the day that i died'

my partner's mother picked up my son for the afternoon, a few hours later i was informed he wasn't coming back.  ever.

within a month my partner admitted that she left because i was seemingly of no further value and that the portrayal of me being a negligent father was false.  just a mere scam used to snatch my son away from me - making them feel more comfortable in this evil endeavor but subsequently leaving me to rot.

the last kick in the bollocks (apart from the parody of her wanting me back a few months hence) was dealt with the admission that my son was conceived purposely with the aim of trapping me in a relationship.

'after the accusations and subsequent revelations i dropped out of whatever it is that we all belong to'

i didn't shower, rarely slept, avoided domestic admin and, at one time, never ate for eleven days straight - just cigarettes and alcohol.

my only income was incapacity benefit, a pittance.  my car was repossessed, i had a number of outstanding legal threats and the danger of losing my house became just a matter of time.

after selling the house i had the option of clearing all our bills (almost) and, in turn, becoming homeless and penniless.  or, i could take the money and run.  hmm, decisions decisions..

with regards to the car suicide, obviously i didn't kill myself that day.  although something within me did die..