Dan Daiquiri

So where do I begin? The aim of my writing is to provide some form of inspiration in regards to how people can change but yet also highlight just how fragile the mind is- and how elements of your life pathe the way and create the future you want by overcoming challenges which may either be tough to talk about or ones which are not yet conquerable

But let’s get one thing straight, Over my years I have fought a lot of battles with various demons. The main one being my relationship with alcohol which was a by-product of myself wanting to fit in with a group of friends during my teenage years- little did I know this would soon be a staple point of a good few blips along my timeline of life. Another is the use of substances, I suppose you can by technicality classify alcohol within this category however the situations in which any form of recreational drug use occurred always had alcohol as the ignition. These drug-fuelled scenarios range in severity and classification but I would say I have definitely experimented with most- the stories can get pretty wild. Another is my battle with depression and anxiety both of which have an equal impact on my day-to-day life, these two words have more effect on my life than the previous two however the route of these can more than definitely be linked to the previous two demons mentioned. Battling with depression when I’m at a point in my life where I feel I can change my life and become who I want to be is inherently difficult. The drive to want to push yourself to your limit, but not having the energy to do it. People you know not seeing how run down you really are, how tough trying to piece together a life is after spending most your days down and out- knowing you are doing everything you can to get to where you want to be but never truly feeling you are actually there.

The turning point in my life was definitely 21^st December 2013, the day I lost my father. I wish I could explain in words how messed up and utterly distraughtful that day was- I had been partying the night before and stayed up all night, then hit a point in the morning where I was waiting for a call back for some more drugs and it was my brother. Hearing the kind of harsh reality of having to get a lift to the hospital because your father had another heart attack and then receiving a call while peaking on drugs is a very harsh lesson of which I’ll never forget. That as high as you may get, really fucking bad shit can always happen as much as it feels like it won’t, it can.

That day was horrible, I can barely remember it but I do remember it was single-handedly the worst day in my life- sitting in a room with fellow family members clearly still on drugs and drunk in silence for at least 5 hours- that 5 hours felt like an eternity and under any other circumstance being surrounded by family would have been great however this situation in itself was one of which I would hate for somebody else to experience. After the hours of all sitting mulling over all of our good times in our heads, all the memories, the love, the sheer joy my father brought to all in the room we were quickly brought to the absolute abyss with the news nobody wanted to hear. That moment you thought may come but never expected, the utter heartbreak. I felt I’d actually been dreaming, well more a nightmare but nothing felt real- there was no way that my father could possibly not pull through, to just open his eyes and tell us all it was the prank we hoped it’d be. That feeling…. That one of utter reality smacking you across the face like a baseball bat was one of the most gut-wrenching feelings I had ever experienced…. Until we were lead into the ward, to turn the machines off. At this point, my drug high had near enough died and instead I was filled with all the feelings of dread, sorrow, confusion and general depression that comes with the after-effects of drugs- the lack of serotonin and reality of the situation finally hit me and I realised that this moment was it… The last final moments I would spend with my dad, the man who helped bring me into this world. Although he was proud of me that day as I’d finally stuck college and got a job I wish he could have seen me now, the things I do, things I create, people I know and the sheer difference from that life to now. The comparison of which is unfounded, it’s almost an alternate universe. But the reality had hit that this was the moment, we all gathered round I held his left hand as he lay in the bed and the machines were turned off, I cried “I’m gonna fucking make you proud”. I remember my grip getting tighter as the heart monitor changed pace and eventually flatlined. That very moment had changed me, made me see another side to life- that we don’t live forever and every moment is precious. But there is only so much one person can do, we are not immortal or indestructible. The shit can hit the fan at any moment, never forget that the life you live can one day be turned entirely into a strange parallel reality of which nothing is how you remember it.

I wish I could just have another few minutes with my dad, I feel that although I did spend time with him towards the end I wasn’t always the best son I could be. But I guess these kind of realisations come with age and the wishes to do things different occur when things are no longer possible. I miss him with all my heart and hope to god that those reading this tell their dad they love him straight after reading this because the impact of losing the man who brought you into this world is huge, I can imagine it would be the same for the woman who brought you into this world but I am fortunate that I can still cherish time with my mother, something I wish I’d done a lot more with my dad.