Tony

 

There's no roadmap to any of this really, no matter how many times we're a part of this circle.

It never gets any easier, but we probably get better at safeguarding ourselves in whatever way we can. 

You're never truly ready though; how could you be? 

I've written quite a few things about losing my dad when I was in my mid 20's, and nearly 20 years on, I can honestly say that it shaped me in ways that I could never had anticipated.

 There's a million one things I could say about what I wish I could say to him, but I learned to let them go, and to continue to try and be the best I can be. That's what he truly would have wanted. 

I lived with my mum after we lost my dad for 4 years, and I didn't realise it at the time, but I really needed her,  maybe as much as she needed me. We were good for each other, and I look back at those years with a certain fondness. I knew it couldn't last forever, but I really appreciated it while it did. 

When I met Vanille, everything changed. She moved in with my mum and me within 6 months, and we had our own place within 12. It was perfect, but I still worried about my mum, and how she'd cope. We weren't too far away though, and I made sure I visited regularly, and would often finish work and go round for a cup of tea, a chat and a Fish finger sandwich. 

She met Tony a few years after I'd left, at the funeral of a mutual friend, and when she told me about him, there was a legitimate nervousness. I can only assume she was worried how I'd react, but there really wasn't any need to. I was so happy for her, and really couldn't wait to meet Tony. 

The first time I met him, we hit it off straight away. He was so interesting, and really funny, and I could see how happy he made my mum. He was such a great guy, and I chatted to him for hours about various different things that first evening. He'd lived such an interesting life. 

I've talked before about my 30's, and how all these life changing things happened, and how sad it made me that I couldn't tell my dad about them. Everything I've done, that I'm probably the most proud of has happened in the last decade or so. 

• Being Vanille's Husband
• Judging World Title Fights
• Travelling everywhere
• Setting up One Credit Classics
• Teaching Consistently 
• Getting a few belts in Jiu-Jitsu

Tony cared about all of that, and I can't tell you how much that meant to be able to talk to someone like that, about all those things. He was really proud of me when I told him I'd been somewhere, judging fights in another part of the world. Him and my Mum were very happily married for the best part of a decade, but he fell ill last year, and we sadly lost him last month. 

The last time I saw him was just before Christmas, as me and Vanille dropped presents off and chatted to him, my mum and his daughter Sally. He was still himself, but I could tell he was struggling, bless him. 

When it was time to go, I went to give him a hug and he pulled me in close and said "Always follow your heart son. That's the best advice I can give you." I told him that I would, and that I'd see him again soon, and we went on our way. 

I'm really glad we all met Tony. 

He made my mum so happy for this last decade, and he was really fond of Vanille. I'm so glad our paths crossed, and I feel a better person for the time we shared, and the conversations we had. I'll always follow my heart, and try and live a life as worthwhile as Tony did. 

Take care my friend. I'll make sure my mum is ok, she's made of strong stuff. 

I'm only sad I didn't get to know you sooner. 

From 60 to 0

 

Nothing really feels normal anymore, except the flux of uncertaincy we've all had to embrace over the past year and a half. 

Friday night I was down in London for Bellator 267. 

My process, in terms of travel, has remained the same since this adventure started all those years ago. 

The easiest way to get there, and the earliest way to get home. 

Recently, I lost a good friend of my teenage years. 

It really hit me hard, but also it changed my outlook in a few ways. I've got better at addressing priorities, and trying to cut out as much of the unnecessary things as possible, and I realise more that we need to make the most out of the opportunities and the time that we do have.  

I got the train down to London on Friday morning pretty early. I've done Stoke to Euston so many times, it's such an easy jaunt on the train. I played Metroid and listened to podcasts and I was there before I knew it. 

There's still something odd about getting to a hotel room with nothing to do. I don't have a particularly hectic life to be honest with you, but I still finish unpacking my bags, get a cup of tea made and take time to appreciate the time ahead without an immediate schedule. 

The show itself was fantastic, and it was great to see some familiar faces. 

Even after all these years, judging fights still remains the one constant in my life that allows my mind to completely focus on a singular track, it's like nothing else. 

I can't tell you what it feels like when the lights go down, when you're sitting in that chair, and when the bell rings. It feels like absolutely nothing else. It's everything, just everything. 

After the event I went to get food with my friends, before heading off to bed. It was about 2 am, and I'd bought an off peak return for anytime Saturday. 

My challenge however, which always keeps these things interesting, was to get back as early as possible. 

I got to sleep at about 2:15 and got up a few hours later at 5:45. It was so dark outside, I'd already packed all my stuff up, so I left the hotel and got on my way. 

I jumped on the train at Wembley Park, and got off at Euston Square, before a quick walk down to Euston Station. 

It was about 6:50 and the next train home was 7:20. I was really happy with this, and as it started to go light outside, I briefly reflected on what I'd seen the night before, that was before the number of the platform came on the board and everyone walked as fast as possible in that direction. 

Nobody ever wants to run do they? I get it though, but still, I mean I walked really fast, but never once thought about breaking into a stride. 

The train was fairly busy but, in the current climate, you're usually guaranteed a couple of seats. 

I got back to Stoke at 8:45 and it was raining, fairly predictably, but it my good lady wife's day off, and as much as I could call her for a lift, it didn't seem fair. 

So I thought I'd walk, it's only about 1.5 miles, and I could trek up the canal. 

I stopped at Subway for a breakfast sandwich, and a cup of tea that legitimately kept me warm for ages, and began the journey. 

Another rule of mine when travelling, is to try and go as light as possible. For this leg of the trip, I had Jeans/T Shirt/Suit Jacket and Doc Martens which double as both casual and event footwear.

In my backpack I had a shirt, tie, t shirt and a few other bits. Just the essentials!

As I neared my home, getting progressively more wet and cold, I was struck by the silence and the serenity of my journey. 

I walked past houses full of presumably still sleeping residents, appartments with curtains drawn, and an empty pathway without a cyclist or dog walker to be seen. 

That's the bit that got me the most, it felt like I was the last human being alive for a brief second, which contrasted so sharply with the neon chaos I'd experienced the night before. 

That's the bit you're never, ever prepared for. 

0-60 is exhilerating, it's exciting, it's a rush. 

60-0 always catches you off guard. 

And in some ways, I think it always will, but I'm fine with that because as I grow older, I appreciate the serenity more and more every day. 

I got home and in from the rain and the cold, to be greeted by my dogs and my lovely wife. I made us a hot drink, unpacked my stuff and caught up with everything and everyone. It was fantastic. 

It felt so good to be home, and it's been a glorious few days, but I can't stop thinking about that walk home and how strange a juxtaposition it was between the thousands of screaming fans packed into the SSE Arena, and a row of angry looking ducks, clearly weighing up what was left of my sandwich. 

I'm sorry it's been so long, but nothing has made me want to write until now. 

Take care my friends, I won't leave it so long again. 

We need to talk

I still remember that day. It was back in April last year and nothing made any sense. That's the dangerous thing in some respects, you can never properly tell what someone is thinking.

That's a photo like any other I seem to take right? Me in a niche T shirt, with my massive beard just hanging out with Larry. Everything seems good with the world in that crystal clear snapshot.

But it wasn't.

I don't have any explanations for what happened to me mentally, and perhaps that's the most frightening part.

I woke up and everything seemed difficult somehow. I struggled to eat for a while, my mind was flooded with darkness, I couldn't get motivated to do anything, I couldn't stop randomly bursting into tears but perhaps the most frightening, was the fact that I couldn't see a way round any of it.

I'd wake up and the first thing I'd think was the fact that I was thinking about it again. That's the worst part, because it's not even like there was a trigger. It wasn't one specific thing that was making me unhappy that I could target, it was an overall depressing sense of void that I really couldn't get past. Nothing had changed. I'd gone to bed happy and woken up like this.

I stopped writing as well, as you've probably seen from this blog, but one thing continually kept me going.

Who else.

Vanille.

The light in the darkness.
The sugar in my tea.
My missing piece.
The single most important thing.

We had so many conversations during that time about things we wanted to do in the future; places to see, adventures to go on, new horizons. I slowly but surely began to feel more human but it took a very long time.

Over the weeks and months I began to see the colour emerging once again in the day to day, which seemed to make everything easier.

One day we were chatting about a few things and she suggested that I go back to training again.

I'd always really enjoyed being a bit more active, it's really very good for you in so many ways, so I figured I'd try and get involved again.

The weird thing about training BJJ for me, is that once you've learned something and then stopped for a long time, you still mentally imagine not only will you still remember it but it'll also still work, despite the obvious light year advances since I'd last really trained with any seriousness, nearly a decade ago.

Getting back was as tough as I thought it would be, but there would be always something in every single session that would spark my imagination in some way.


Everyone was so nice and sociable as well, and that was such a big part of it looking back now. It was good to train, but also good to catch up with these people who became mates quite quickly and easily.

I'd been back a few weeks and after a good class, I remember driving home and all of a sudden thinking that I hadn't thought about being depressed for not only the duration of the class, but also the few hours before I arrived.

My focus was so singular and positive on physical self improvement, that there wasn't really room for anything negative. That's the great part about training really, everything else stops and you're immersed into a demanding situation. You don't realise how much you're improving because you're in a positive environment, where everyone is getting better constantly.

It sounds a touch obvious, but right then and there I guess on some levels I knew I was going to be alright. For the first time in a long while I could see a very small light up in the distance, and that was all I needed to focus on.

The really strange thing is that I can't even remember how those first few days felt now, the hardest part of writing this was trying to think back to how much that darkness engulfed my being, for every waking minute.

There's nowhere I'd rather be and nothing I'd rather do than what I'm doing right now and the most important thing that I can take from this, is that it's so important to talk to people. If you're going through something that you don't think you can get through, then reach out and talk to someone, hell talk to me if you want to.

All you ever need to hear is that it's going to be alright and that you're going to make it, and as much as these things seem insurmountable, there's always something you can do to improve your situation.

Finally I guess I wanted to say thanks to you all over the past 18 months. You're fantastic and I don't know where I'd be without you all.

One final thing, is that if you look at the very first photo in the piece and then this one at the end of me enjoying some Belgian fries a few months ago, on balance there's very little to separate them. The ironic thing is that they're a million miles apart.

That's the problem really. Everyone seems alright on the basis of it, because you've got no real choice but to hold it all together. We live in a society when there isn't really time for that, there's always a ruthless schedule in place and if you can't keep up you'll fall off.

What you need to do is talk.
Promise me you'll talk if you need to.
Because without it, without that interaction with other people to remind us why we do all of this, what's the point?
We're not meant to do this alone, and the problem is that you think you've got all the time in the world. Tell those you love them that you love them, make time for the right people and never forget that you're never alone in any of this.

I promise you'll feel better eventually, there's always a way to make our situations better.

Until next time
Take care

Speak soon

Ben 

Hello Again

I've not been in the mood to write much these last few months for some reason, I'm not sure why. It's not been a block or anything, it's simply not been something I've thought of doing for whatever reason.

It's been odd to be honest with you.

I've wasted way too much time thinking about things that have happened and way too much time worrying about things that might happen; to a really ridiculous degree. It got quite overcast for a while. 

I'm not 100% over all that stuff but I'm so much better these days and every single day is better than the last. I'm stronger mentally as a result of this process and for that I am thankful.

Everyone who's been there to chat over these last few weeks, thank you so much. You've no idea how much you've helped me out. I'm fine, trust me. I'm just a bit more aware somehow, but maybe that's more to do with getting older.

There'll be more from me soon in the upcoming weeks I'm sure. Things are starting to make a bit more sense and the clouds are parting, as I sit and contemplate about how I ended up here and just what is going to happen next.

That's the whole point of all of this in so many respects I think.

I'm fine.
We're all fine.
The cracks in the ice will be there whether we spend days looking at them or not.
All we can do is keep on walking and not waste steps on where we stumbled before. 

Until next time my good friends.

Take Care.
Speak Soon.
Ben 

Friends

I never had a dog growing up.

They always freaked me out if I'm being honest, I'm not sure why. It's hard to believe looking at me now, at just shy of 6"3 but I was a really small kid growing up and they always seemed massive.

When I started the final year of high school in 1995 I was 5"4, when I finished I was 5"11. That helped me out quite a bit in all honesty because my brother is really tall.

I couldn't have dealt with being loads shorter than my big brother. I mean he'll always be taller than me, that's a given but still, not by much these days.

There were all manner of animals around our house growing up from cats to fish and even a tortoise, who my dad drilled a tiny hole in the back of his shell and attached a red ribbon so he wouldn't get lost in the grass.

I had a cat later on in life when I lived on my own, not through my design, and I ended up giving her to a lovely old lady who'd recently lost her cat when I moved back to my mum's house. I knew I'd be moving to a new house and that I probably wouldn't be able to accommodate a pet. I was sad initially but I knew that Mookie had gone to a nice house so I didn't give it too much thought.

A few years back I was helping my brother clear out his late mother in law's house and managed to inherit a budgie who didn't have anywhere to go. He'd been on his own a bit because of hospital visits and you could tell the situation had stressed him a bit. I'd try and minimise the amount I'd spend apart from him wherever possible and always left him the radio on if we had to go out.

He got used to the situation pretty quickly, he even escaped at one point and shat on my brand new TV but that's another story for another day.

My wife, impulsive as a young Cyndi Lauper, bought another budgie as a present I believe initially but we ended up keeping her. Harper was her name and she was loads bigger than Bobby and a lot more tame and confident.

The two still tweet away like they've know each other forever. It's so heartening to see them chattering away hour after hour. It kind of reminds you that we all need people; like minded souls to share the day and to enjoy experiences with.

The central drive to my wife's strategy regarding pets however, was clear from day one.

She wanted a dog.

I didn't.

We'd talk about it for hours and weighed up various options but it became obvious, to me at least, that I couldn't stand being the person that made the person I cared about the most, unhappy for whatever reason.

I knew that at some point it'd happen but it became more about the timing than anything else and also, because I'm such an idiot sometimes, about me squashing my own ridiculous sense of stubbornness.

When we first drove to pick little Larry the Dachshund up I was equal parts nervous/excited really as I didn't know what to expect, but over the first few weeks I noticed myself spending more and more time wondering about what he was doing whilst I was at work or away somewhere. I passed it off mentally however. I was right. I had to be. Everyone else was wrong.

Everyone I spoke to though asked me about him, loved him, fussed him massively however, but somehow I never quite seemed to get it. He was adorable, quite comical and at the same time and a little bit curious but in my head I wondered if that was as far as this relationship would go.

Fast forward to this past weekend, a glorious sprawling Easter Bank Holiday spectacular, which involved hanging out and eating like an absolute cretin, and something changed.

Yesterday I was sitting on the floor with my hoodie on and Larry wandered over to see what I was doing and climbed up on my chest as I watched television. This was nothing new really, he'd been doing this for a while but this time I noticed that he seemed a little cold so I wrapped him up in the warmness of my hoodie without even thinking too much about it.

I'd never really done anything that impulsive before with him and, looking back at it, I guess it was a big step.

He took one look at me, snorted a little and then settled down for a nap. As he lay there on my chest I could see that he was still struggling to get comfortable though, so I zipped up my top over him while I watched the TV.

I never even noticed that he fell asleep until I looked at him.

He looked so peaceful that I didn't even want to breathe properly in case I woke him up. I could feel myself getting a little drowsy because, as he got warmer and more relaxed, his breathing was quite hypnotic and he almost became like a hot water bottle.

I took one last glance at him before I shut my eyes and it all made sense at that point.

I get it now. I completely get it.

I'm back at work today, but I'm already wondering about what the future with Larry and Vanille will hold. We're not designed to do this on our own, others make up the most important parts of what we do why we do.

Until next time my friends.
Take care.
Speak soon.

Ben

Dad

I try and keep this space free for when I need it now.

Whenever I've got something to say more than glib romanticized witticisms or observations about being stuck in a lift somewhere.

It's 10 years since I lost my Dad.

I don't know where to begin or how to start.

I figured I'd just sit here, write a bit and things would happen.

The words would come along nice and easily but it's harder than that somehow.




Dad,

There's so much I wish I could tell you. There's so many things that have happened. I've got a wife, she's amazing. You'd love her. She's called Alison and she's probably the best human being I've ever met. She's pretty and kind and thoughtful and makes everything worth doing.

I've got a small dog called Larry and two budgies called Bobby and Harper. Larry's adorable and quickly becoming my favourite thing.

I've got a nice house and a nice job and a good car as well, not that that's super important but I know that you always think it is.

You were right by the way; getting that teaching qualification was probably the best thing I've ever done because not long after you left I started teaching regularly and 10 years later I'm still doing it.

Mum's doing fine as well but I guess you knew she would. She's strong like that, I moved back in home for 3 years to help her out and to save a bit of money as well. It made the whole transition easier for both of us. I moved out in 2011 and still live in the same house. We'll probably move soon though because I can see us getting another dog at some point and we'll need a bit more room.

I wrote a bit, for a few magazines, websites and various publications. I could always imagine you being happy about that, because I know you were so passionate about writing and everything to do with that. I wrote primarily about mixed martial arts but there's been quite a bit of other stuff as well in the meantime.

Speaking of mixed martial arts, I judge fights now and have been doing so for about 7 years. I've been all over the place and been privileged to see some fantastic things and meet some wonderful people. It's probably the one thing I do out of everything I do that I feel I do the best if that's not too convoluted.

I also play a load of old computer games on a channel on YouTube. I'll never forget you walking me down to Longton on a Saturday to play all those arcade machines. I loved that.

I should be really happy but on a day like today that seems next to impossible.

I miss everything about you.
I miss being able to talk to you about nothing.
I miss important talks but most importantly I miss that I never had the opportunity to make you properly proud of me. Everything that I'm most proud of in my entire life happened after you went, so I never got a chance to show you what I could become. I'll never stop trying though, I promise you that. I'll always try to do the right thing like you taught me and to try and to always help out anyone who needs it.

Take Care Dad
Love Always
Ben

Lost for a day

I'm sorry I've not been here for a while.

Those who know me will know that I recently started a videogaming channel on Youtube and it's taken up quite a bit of time. In a good way though you understand.

It's not like I don't get the thoughts to write anymore, it's just getting the process right to let them tumble out of my head in good order.

Yesterday was one of the best Saturdays I've had in forever. All I did was play Mario and drink tea. It was a dark, cold afternoon and I stayed warm indoors and played videogames.

I'm working on a Super Mario World 96 exit clear so I needed to practice a little bit before I sat down to record, which I think will happen next week. It's frightening how lost I became in the whole process. It's literally like nothing else existed.  I took this photo before I started and I've been unable to get away from looking at it ever since.

It's just perfect.

It's dark but the lights seem warm.
It's comforting and full of amazing memories.
It's the beginning of a fantastic journey and I've got everything I need.

I'll never stop doing the things that make me happy.
That's the key people, that's truly the key.

Take care
Speak soon
Ben