Self-Reflection

A couple of days ago, Facebook reminded me of the below picture. It was taken outside the front of Yale College on the last day of my second year. During those two years at college, I was lucky enough to find myself as part of a group of about 30-40 tight-knit friends. I remember the day the picture was taken; I was so proud to be there. I was even more proud to be in the center; it added to the feeling that I mattered. At that very moment, I was surrounded by the best friends I had ever had.

This picture made me think about how I've changed over the years. Within many of the photos taken during that period of time, I can be seen pulling stupid faces and trying to overcompensate for my lack of identity and self-confidence. I often talked too much about very little. I was unsure of myself and so I mimicked the behaviour and mannerisms of friends as a means of fitting in and having people like me. There are few things more powerful than the urge to belong; to be a part of something bigger than yourself, that in turn makes you a bigger, better person. These people shaped who I was for years to come, and I am forever grateful to them for doing so. For as unsure of myself as I was, God knows I was happy. It was that happiness that dictated my behaviour around others going forward for a very long time. I just wanted to fit in; I was desperate for people to like me and so being included in anything was an absolute gift. 

This next photo is another example of that. Atop a pyramid of my friends, I felt like a king. I was literally and figuratively lifted by these people. They made me feel worth something at a time when I was still trying to figure out who the hell I actually was. The reason these pictures stood out to me this week (aside from simply being wonderful memories) is because I recognise just how different the "Ethan" in these photos is when compared to the "Ethan" many of you now know, but I'll come to that later. For now, I'd like to continue delving into the unseen depths held within these snapshots of my life, because it wasn't until I went back and actually looked at these photos that I realised that the person smiling back at the camera wasn't necessarily the person he thought he was. 

For the next photo, we go back even further. High School. It's worth noting that during my last two years of high school I did have a group of friends whom I loved dearly. The few that I still talk to continue to hold a special place and I consider them good friends regardless of the distance or time between our last meetings - particularly Phil, Jack and Naomi who have each in their own way remained pillars of support and friendship in times of need, just as Charlotte W has since college. What's worth noting in this picture (besides my incredible haircut) is the smile on my face. By no means false, but when I look at it now I see a kid who was very unsure of himself. Somebody who was simply happy to have found a group of people willing to call him their friend. The only one in the picture not focused on the camera itself, but the moment it was capturing. Proof that I belonged. In that moment, and many others to follow, that was all I cared about. 

This mindset and sentiment is echoed in another picture taken at the end of college. This picture, taken as a joke between four gingers, shows me looking about as shy as I've ever looked. My smile is coy, my shoulders hunched, hands clasped and my body language in general is very submissive. Unsure that I belong, but happy to be there nonetheless. 

As we move toward the future, beyond the uncertainties of college and the follies of youth, I find myself forever grateful to have had, and continue to have, these people in my life. They have given me gifts that I couldn't possibly repay, and my admiration and respect for each of them is boundless. 

That brings me to University. The 18 months I spent there were complicated, to say the least. I found myself another group of wonderful friends almost by accident. Unfortunately, my behaviour during that time eventually led to the alienation of these people. In the unlikely event that any of you ever find yourself reading this - thank you for the time you gave me, and I'm sorry for the person I ended up being in the end. That person is found within this picture.  Skinny and badly dressed, I began to allow the mask of confidence I had worn up until that point become a permanent fixture; one that slowly developed into a face of arrogance and hubris, instead of the self-assuredness I should have been aiming for. I began University still very keen to impress, but without realising it, I soon hit a 180 and became somebody absolutely convinced he was right all the time. Suffice it to say I was anything but.

My life between school and university had been one spent re-inventing myself; following the examples of others as a means of attaining acceptance. It wasn't until I left university to come home that I began to change for the better. No longer were the camera-captured smiles shy, forced or even "grateful". There's just a simple comfort in my smile; an ease with who I was, and who I was with. When I look at this picture, I'm reminded of the last time my life was unmarred by depression, anxiety or any other worries. It is one of the only pictures in existence that was taken at a time where my mind wasn't filled with noise. Just a normal 22-year old in a normal relationship. Of all the pictures you'll see here today, this is unquestionably the most authentic smile. 

As time went by, I began to lose people. Dad passed away, my relationship with Charlotte ended, and my mental health began to decline. The smiles became forced in a way they never had been before. The mask had once again shifted. What once was a mask of false confidence became a mask of false happiness. That isn't to say there weren't moments of genuine peace and happiness, but generally I'd smile simply because that is what one does in photos. I began my relationship with Hannah and we shared experiences and times together that despite everything, I continue to treasure. Even so, the smile began to fade. It was harder to muster. Heavier. During our travels together, I suffered a huge amount with anxiety. I wasn't even sure why at the time; it just hit me. We were travelling, however, and nobody wants to see or be a part of travel photos populated by somebody unable to summon a smile. So I did. I smiled, and I pretended I was well. This denial, or lack of realisation on my part, was no doubt detrimental to my health, but it was what I felt I was supposed to do at the time.

Back then, I was hiding my illness. Very few people were aware of the noise within my head and only those who looked closely enough could see it. Looking back now, it's rather obvious. When you look at this picture, you'll initially see me smiling with an idiot behind me. I might look happy, but look at my eyes. They're sunken, with a heavy purple tinge. They're tired, worn eyes. I didn't notice it myself until Hannah pointed it out to me. I was ill, and I wasn't being open about it. The lie continued. I wasn't to know it at the time, but things progressively deteriorated. Over the next few years, this relationship fell apart, my depression worsened, my anxiety increased and my self-worth plummeted. Germany happened, along with all the things I've written about to no end here. 

But what's worth noticing, and what is perhaps the point of this entire (rather self-indulgent) piece, is that for better or worse now, the way I feel is reflected in my photos. Those of you who follow me on Instagram will likely notice that I rarely smile. I often look rather blank, maybe angry or stressed, or tired. But it's honest. It's real. The kid who withdrew in photos with his shoulders hunched now stands with them squared and confident. The child who spent years trying to figure out who he was finally knows. It may be far from perfect, but it's me. The countless hours of portraying somebody else has given me the ability to know who I truly am better than ever. So I'll smile when I'm happy, and I'll no doubt continue to look tired and frustrated when I'm not. 

Either way, you can be damn sure that the person you're looking at is me. Ethan Ross. I've come through far too fucking much to waste my time pretending to be something I'm not. 

So I'll leave you with both. One sincere smile, and one weary-eyed, restless soul getting up to face another day of noise. 

Of all the things I worry about, the man I am today is not one of them. 

For better or worse, I've come a long way.

Thank You

For better or worse, I spend a large portion of my life lost inside my own head. Thoughts can creep in like spiders and nest there for days or weeks at a time. Such is the nature of a man who overthinks everything to the nth degree.

Self-doubt is an obstacle that I often struggle to overcome. I frequently liken my life to a game of chess. I strive to be 10 moves ahead as a means of limiting the number of surprises that head my way. This naturally means I have trouble living in the moment and embracing the "now".

There are benefits to this, in so far as I can generally figure out when I might wind up in check, but I'm reminded constantly that chess isn't really my game. It's a game to which I know the rules, but by no means am I necessarily any good at.

It's as hard to see victories coming as it is to see losses, and just as hard to know the difference sometimes. Were it not for the opposing colours and the pieces left on the board, I'm not sure I would ever truly know.

I head back to work on Monday after 5 weeks away. It's certainly been a reflective 5 weeks and I'd like to think a large portion of the issues that prompted the initial breakdown have subsided. Within a month or so I should hopefully be able to finally put the events of Germany to rest and move on from it. As for everything else, I feel I've made steps to move past the majority.

We all encounter obstacles, and realising you need help or time away is key to recovery. In the last 8 months I've been depressed, lost a love, been drugged, robbed, borderline-kidnapped, considered ending it, and come through the other side for the most part. I couldn't have done this without the help of my closest friends. So I suppose it's time again to thank those who have stuck by me.

To my family, I thank you for being the most supportive, loving, close-knit and bonkers family I could have asked for. I am immeasurably proud of you all, and I'm constantly in awe of what each of you are capable of.

To Jake, I thank you for being there everyday and being a solid enough friend to put up with each other's bullshit.

To Matt, I thank you for being the least judgemental, most honest and loyal man I know and keeping my head on straight in spite of your own issues.

To Hel, Jamie, Will T, Annie, and Ned, I thank you for providing an escape and a true representation of friendship.

To Jack and Will C, I thank you for being the truest of friends and never allowing me to stray down a path I'd struggle to return from.

To Amy, I thank you for showing me normality and contentment by simply being there and being your wonderful self.

To George and Louise Cheesbrough, I thank you for providing me with the happiest day I've had this year, and I wish you all the happiness there is to find in this world. It means an indescribable amount to me to know how frequently you've kept an eye on me despite how busy you've both been.

To Smethy, Swales, Lister, Franny, Arblaster, Shreevo, Mark, Big Cheese and King, I thank you for being so welcoming of a stranger and becoming friends I hope will be around for a long time.

To Dan Prescott, I thank you for being the man I've counted on for the last 6 months to keep me sane in work; you'll be missed but I couldn't be happier to see you making the dream come true.

To Geraint, I thank you for being a friend even in absence, and promise to see you soon.

You've all kept me on track in one way or another and it's my sincere privilege to know each and every one of you.

All the dramatics aside, I feel it's important to let those who've helped know that they have; especially when they've done so to such a degree.

The rest of my year is entirely without direction and for the first time in a long time, I think I'm okay with that. Life may be good again, that remains to be seen. What doesn't is the knowledge that I'm surrounded by the finest people I could ask for.

I won't forget that. To all of you, I look forward to the next adventure.

Thanks again folks; I'll see you soon.

Lights & Crossroads.

Lately I find myself at something of a crossroads. I'll come back to this crossroads later, but I'll begin by saying without question that the year so far has been the most difficult year of my life. Given what I've seen and done in my near 27 years, that's a scary and sobering thought.

For a great deal of time I came to believe that I had rid myself of the demons I'd come to know all too well, but the events of the past few months have taught me that they never truly go away. They hide, they retreat and if you're lucky you're granted a brief respite from the darkness these demons can bring. I guess you just have to hope that you can find the light again and reach it before the darkness becomes too much to bear.

As some of you know, I recently experienced what I feel to be the most traumatic and vulnerable event of my life thus far. Robbed of any control (and a few materialistic things that mean far less in the grand scheme) I found myself in a place I rarely allow myself to be. I found myself scared, numb and broken.

In many ways I'm still combating that fear, and the fears that permeate through the upswing of happiness that preceded them. I had allowed myself to believe that I was finally happy again. To have that so violently and suddenly stripped away is the most difficult thing I've ever had to reconcile.

Why then do I maintain some degree of optimism in the face of such a painful year? Because as I'm reminded by my friends, I've gone through so much by now that the only thing I can hold onto is the memory that with time, everything improves.

I don't write too much anymore. It bothers me that I've allowed something I was so passionate about at one point to be relegated to an old hobby. Because in all honesty, that's never what this was for me. It was catharsis. It was truth, and it was an acknowledgement on my part that shitty things and shitty people will always be a part of life.

Whilst it's often difficult to remember, the opposite is also true. I find myself for the most part surrounded by the dearest friends I could hope for, and a family that I would do anything to protect because that's my job. They are my whole life, and not all of my "family" are blood.

I've never, ever let my family see me cry. When my old man died, I held it in. When past loves were lost, I held it in.

What happened in Germany threw me in a way I cannot begin to express. I'm just lucky I had people around me who were willing to sit through and support my pain without question or judgement.

So I guess my optimism lies in those I love. The knowledge that I have people I would die for, and people that would die for me.

There's no debating what a rough place I'm in at the moment. I'm battling depression, anxiety, trauma, the remnants of a relationship that to this day confuses me, and the fear that things will never get better for me or those I hold so dearly.

But they will. They have to. They always do.

I apologise for what a heavy piece this has been, but in truth there is a huge amount I keep bottled up that I need to talk about. Maybe this is the place to do it; maybe it isn't. Honestly, I don't care.

To anybody suffering with anything, please get help. See family. See friends. See a doctor. See new horizons. Be adventurous, but with care. Be open to new things and new people, because it's amazing the effect these people can have.

My name is Ethan, and my head is a fucking mess. It's important that I acknowledge it because these things only ever seem to be whispered about. Depression and pain are tricky bastards to tackle, but they're also necessary evils. I've never met a single person who's gone through heartbreak, loneliness and depression and come out of it a less empathetic person.

These things make you stronger. They make you a better person. Hold on to that, and live for it. Because I honestly believe that you will be better for it in the long run. I wouldn't change a single thing that's happened to me. I wouldn't change things with my old man, my family, my friends or even past relationships that may not have been the wisest positions to be in. Because I'm who I am now because of them, and all the self-loathing, insecurity and doubt aside, I know I do my best.

I know they did too.

So back to the crossroads. Where do I go from here? I honestly don't know. I figure I stay on the path I'm on and hope that it leads me somewhere good. If not, I'll retreat and try another direction. Repeat until happy.

Life is a series of paths, diversions, dead ends, retreads, locked doors and stunning vistas. But the journey is what matters. The lessons you take with you on the way.

People come and go. They're not always good people. Sometimes they are and they leave anyway because that's where their path leads them. But stay true to yours and I truly believe it'll take you where you're going.

In the words of my old man, you just have to "keep on keepin' on". One day we'll all find it.

Until then, don't stop looking. Find the small things, and use them to build something monolithic. Something unbreakable. That's where happiness lies.

In summary, I realise this isn't the most upbeat of messages. But these things are so often brushed under the carpet that it scares me how little people feel they can discuss it. So this is an open message to anybody reading this.

If you're struggling, lost, or just need to talk through something you don't understand, I'm here, and I would welcome the friends. Because that's all life really is. It's not you.

It's the people around you. Those are what you live for.

I'll see you next time I have a long-winded, pointless rant to write. Until then, stay in touch, and keep looking for the light.

Where ever it might be.

Stronger Together - For Orlando

A little over 600 days ago I wrote an article wherein I discussed the power that love has and the things that humans are willing subject themselves and others to in order to find love and keep it.

Sadly, the events of this weekend have shown us all what people are also willing to do to destroy love. Over the past 24 hours I have read numerous reports on the attack in Orlando, and there is a consistent inaccuracy within these reports that I cannot ignore.

These 49 lives were not "lost". They were taken. These people were ripped out of existence for no greater reason than hatred, ignorance and bigotry. Put simply, this was an attack on the LGBT community, and my heart goes out to the families and friends of each and every victim of this senseless tragedy.

More and more we find ourselves reminded of the horror that human beings are capable of. Whether it's in the frequent terror attacks in the Middle-East, the attacks closer to home, or even the victimisation of people from all walks of life who's plight doesn't make it to the forefront of the media, it saddens me to see such division amongst a species with so much more to gain through solidarity.

Though I am not personally a part of the LGBT community, I am proud to call its members my friends. Over the course of my 26 years on this planet I have had the privilege of knowing dozens of wonderful LGBT people who have enriched my life in a great many ways. The same can absolutely be said for my friends of Islamic faith; a community that has been the target of an inexcusable amount of hatred and mistrust due to the actions of a few individuals who share the cowardly beliefs which fuelled the events of this weekend.

I am a white, British heterosexual atheist male. I have never had to endure any degree of discrimination and I have never been attacked because of what I believe. I don't feel that I belong to any particular "community" and so I can only begin to guess how much it hurts when somebody seeks to destroy a family that you feel yourself to be a part of.

With that said, what I remain certain of is the power of love. In events such as these, it is all to easy to become lost in the anger and pain that such an act of terror provokes, but I would urge everybody to look beyond the hurt and confusion and see the compassion that is inherent in most human beings instead. In a state wherein blood donations from sexually-active gay men are not permitted, hundreds of people lined up in Florida hoping to donate blood in support of the LGBT victims.

Love ultimately triumphs.

Good will always beat evil. We must remember that.

So finally, I say this. You can be male, female, heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, cisgender, transgender, black, white, Asian, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Buddhist, Pagan, agnostic, atheist, disabled, able-bodied, or anything else.

Ultimately, all that matters is that you are good. Be kind, be brave, and be accepting. Individuality is beautiful; it's what makes the human race such a fascinating and varied species. You may disagree with somebody's views or beliefs, and that's fine, but violence will only ever destroy.

We are stronger together. Always.

I love you all.

New Oceans

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” – Andre Gide

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What strikes me most about the past four months is how exceptionally different they were to the four years that preceded them. What then was a life of routine, stress and discontentment is now one of hope, uncertainty and unemployment.

With that said, I couldn't be happier with how life has been this year.

Last Saturday I walked on British soil for the first time in six weeks and I did so more than ready to be back. I had finally taken the steps to begin fulfilling a lifelong dream and the idea of that initial journey coming to an end wasn't the worst thing in the world for me. By no means should this statement be interpreted as disappointment; for all I had to give up to travel I regret nothing. I truly feel as if I learned more about myself, the world, Hannah and home in that time than I could ever have done otherwise.

Split, Croatia - One of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

All I mean to say is that six weeks was enough time for a collection of "first steps" and I'm at peace with the idea that this is a journey I will continue for the rest of my life.

What I find myself faced with now is a purgatory of sorts; a "nowhere" place between where I've been and where I'm going. I'm sure there's a metaphor about "train station changeovers" buried in there somewhere that fits nicely with my travelling motif, but I digress. I've not yet adjusted to being back, and so the last six days have been filled with nothing more grandiose than loved ones and bad food. The focus now is on moving forward and finding the next means of adventure.

Travelling is without a doubt the most important thing I've ever done, and the temporary cessation of that experience can be likened to crawling after a rapid sprint; once you're done being on your hands and knees, there is only one course of action.

Catch your breath, get back on your feet, and run like the devil himself is chasing you.

The Perfect Game

It's been a long damn time since I wrote here.

Whilst it wasn't for lack of trying; I find that I've struggled somewhat to retain the level of interest I once possessed in the consideration of my surroundings. I'll put that down to the complacency that follows a long recovery.

Today was different though; I experienced that wonder which so many of us seek - the "perfect game".

The "perfect game" is the type of day that you experience so infrequently that it becomes something near mythological. More than this; it's the type of day that provides a beautiful opportunity for retrospect. Those of you who have been gracious enough to read my musings and ruminations thus far will know that "change" is a force I have a great deal of reverence for. It is quite literally the embodiment of progress.

I suffered a brief relapse recently; old demons re-emerged and I found myself needing a few weeks out to work up the strength to hit back. I think I got so used to the idea that I was done with all the old issues that I fooled myself into believing I couldn't regress into old states of mind. I was wrong; we're all capable of it. More and more, I'm struck by how common this issue is; it wasn't until I looked around and really tried to see it that it made itself so apparent.

We're all so busy battling through the everyday that we don't take the time to appreciate how much shittier things could be, or have been. This time last year there wasn't a thing I was truly happy with. 12 months later I'm happy, I'm in love, and I'm the manager of a fantastic team of people I consider friends. It feels good.

To most, this might not seem like progress in the grandest of senses, but consider the things you live for. Consider your waking thoughts and the feelings that dance around your head when you crawl out of bed in the morning. Are you heading toward a day that's going to stand out? Chances are, the answer is "no". But that needn't mean the day is lost, or a waste of time. Happiness can be found everywhere if you take the time to look for it.

Today I found it in a group of friends, a beautiful woman and a pineapple. I'm looking forward to seeing where I find it next.

A Merry Little Christmas

Christmas is mere days away; I have yet to wrap a single present. I have yet to buy a single present, come to that. I've not decorated, I've penned no witty Christmas cards and I have eaten not one mince pie. It's fairly safe to say that I won't be doing the "traditional" Christmas this year. Now, reading this may bring names like "Scrooge" or "Grinch" to mind, but I would ask that you hold off on the judgement for the briefest of moments whilst I explain.

Don't mistake me; I love Christmas as much as the next guy. I love the relaxing, crooning music that was immortalised by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Judy Garland. I love the smell of the winter nights and the log fires. I love the red, blue, green, orange & pink Christmas lights because they remind me of how much I would physically shake with excitement as a child on Christmas morning having his presents handed to him by his big brother. I love the drinking, and I love the food. I really love the food. 

What I don't like is the headache that the holiday period seems to have become. It all seemed so relaxed when I was a kid. I'm certain that it wasn't, but perhaps it should have been. I hate seeing people frantically running from shop to shop for this trinket or that, knowing that all but the most expensive presents will see very little use beyond Christmas day. Or hearing colleagues arguing over holiday leave, and seeing the general financial panic that people get themselves into just so that the 45 minutes you spend opening gifts is as extravagant as possible. 

I appreciate that this is simply what Christmas has become, and that soon enough I will be knee-deep in the Christmas spirit as I wade through the many gift-wrapped requests of my future children, but for the time-being, I'm keeping it simple. This year might be my favourite yet. 

Christmas Eve will be spent getting painfully drunk with my good friend and flatmate; eating crappy food, drinking cheap beer and watching sub-par films. I'll wake up Christmas Day battling a nasty hangover, and struggle through it to clean the house; awaiting the arrival of my Ma to help cook the meal. We'll spend a few hours together listening to Christmas music and soon enough, my brothers will arrive with Mum's fiancee. We'll eat beautiful food, drink cheap beer and watch some more films. Simple as that.

This is Christmas for me, and there's nothing I enjoy more at Christmas than eating, drinking and laughing with my brothers and seeing Mum relax with Jeff. We'll be as close as we ever are with not a present in sight. I cannot wait. 

I love this time of year. 

So with that said, have yourselves a merry little Christmas. I'll see you on the other side of it!

Progress Without Movement

I've reached that point in my week where I sit here and try to find something to write. I don't know if I struggle because I have too much to say, or because I have too little. I feel that in this instance, it is the former.

You see, I woke up yesterday morning in a state that's left me a little worse for wear. Arguably, not the worst hangover I've ever had, but it appears that the older I get, the more of an effect alcohol seems to have on me. Shit, at 17 I would drink anything I could find and wake up the next day as fresh as an early Spring morning. Nowadays I've had to resign myself to the fact that a few drinks on a Friday night will leave me bedridden until Sunday morning. Such is the inadvertent sacrifice of age.

This got me thinking about what else has changed over the years; where I am now, compared to where I was "then". I've thought upon the miles I must have walked, and where they've ultimately led me and I've realised that it's all too easy to wake up every morning and feel like you're in the same place you've been for years, for no other reason than because you physically are.

Maybe this is because we tend to measure progress in the spatial dimensions; distance travelled, heights climbed and so on. But if you were to sit in the same place for one whole year and devote that time to learning as much as you could, would you be the same person you were 12 months ago? You won't have moved, but I guarantee you'll be a very different person. Albeit, with a bad cramp.

As many of you know, I consider my life to be a journey towards a worthwhile story. My journey over the last year has been a very strange one. I have experienced the absolute heights and depths of my emotional spectrum and as I reach the end of it, there are a few people that I feel I should thank. After all, what makes a journey more than the people you meet whilst you're on it?

So in no particular order, I give the following people my thanks.

I thank Jack Freeburn for saving my life, and I thank Matt Pike for being a brother to me in the truest sense. I thank Jacob Dobby for being my best friend for the 17 years that I've known him, and I thank Hannah Lloyd for being that light in my hand that keeps me smiling. I thank Becca Peters for reigniting the creative spark that I thought I had lost a long time ago, and I thank my Ma for making the home I've had all my life. I thank Ben Ross for turning into a brother that I am immeasurably proud of, and I thank Tom Chester for being an older brother in whom I see a strength I hope to one day achieve.

Lastly, I thank Charlotte Kelly. Thank you for being the deepest love of my life for the time that you were in it. Thank you for the times that you tried to understand what I was going through, and thank you for standing by me for as long as you did; you were a saint to do so. For that, you will always be my friend.

I thank anybody that has changed me into the person I am, for better or worse. Some of you were in my life for the briefest of moments, and yet you have had an impact that you will never know.

So to anybody reading this, I ask you to look back at the last 12 months and consider the people who have shaped you. Thank them, because you may feel the effects of their friendships for the rest of your life.

Lastly, consider who you were at the beginning of the year. Are you the same person? I know I'm not.

So here's to next year. To the friends we've yet to meet, and to the people we'll become.