I lost my dad at the age of eight,
And this opened a secret gate.
I went down this path of sorrow,
Only to return the next day, tomorrow.
If only people knew,
Of the pain I’d gone through,
They would think twice,
And take my advice,
To stand your ground and face the threat,
Rather than run away and later regret,
That you did not make that vital stand
And someday shake the hand
That you once feared.
Let me ask you a question. Could you name the most wonderful experience of your life?
Most people may describe losing their virginity, others the day they met their partner. Whatever the case, just remember and remember well!
I’m going to try and tell you about mine. I say try, because the most wonderful experiences are ones for which words are not enough to describe, a voice does not compare too and even you cannot describe the feelings and sensations you experienced, to yourself!
It all started on a family holiday to Lough Melvin in Co. Fermanagh in 2001. We were camping in a town called Garrison, on the shore of Lough Melvin, through which runs the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. ‘Twas into the last night of the trip, about 8:00pm that night, whilst my family was in the camping reception house, when I decided to go for a long walk to gather my thoughts.
As I ambled along I decided to go to the small peer jutting out into the lough. The light had begun to fade, turning the sky ever darker shades of Grey, and the wind was blowing, not strong, but enough to give a chill through the thin jacket I was wearing.
Following the shoreline, I walked into a small stone and concrete parking area and past a white van with a man and woman inside and then to the beginning of the peer.
Looking out onto the lough; the waters were dark and black. A thick carpet of cloud in the sky hid the setting sun from sight. The mountains around me were smooth with a few white house’s dotted on them, like stars laid down onto the landscape, and the occasional row of trees marked otherwise unseen field boundaries. I could make out the different shades of green grasses on the hillside and could tell where it was longer in some places.
To my right I looked back at the campsite. The few tents of different shapes and sizes, some with vehicles stationed outside, making mini boundaries, an old rock harbour big enough for the few row boats still tied there and the rocky walls being held in place by huge amounts of thick chicken wire. As I allowed my gaze to travel I could see the large circular, red brick structure with the fresh water tap, the park with a few swings and a climbing frame, the utility shed with showers and toilets with automatic outside lighting and finally the stone wall marking the edge of the site.
In-front of me was a peer maybe 40 or 50 feet long, wide enough only for one person to walk, a metal grab rail on my left and wooden decking at my feet, turned dark brown, almost black by the fading light. The peer was being supported by thick round, concrete pillars below, disappearing into the black swelling waters of Lough Melvin.
I started out. Heading for a small right angled turn at the end of the peer. As I walked, the wooden decking felt damp and slightly slippery from being soaked by the water for so long. My hand clutched the cold metal grab rail, as I looked down I could see the black water through the gaps in the decking. There was no way for me to know just how deep the water was should I have the misfortune to fall in. This realisation sent a chill up my spine and played on my nerves. But on and on I carried till I reached the end. And I looked out at the new sight that welcomed my eyes. I could see more of the Lough, more of the mountains and more of the setting sun. I could see where the thick darkening carpet above me broke and allowed some of the land below to bathe in the suns warmth. Where the carpet did break, streaks of yellow and orange light came flooding downwards and onto the mountains below. Like the heavens above opened for a short time and allowed me to bear witness.
Fear and my now over active imagination took over and I slowly proceeded to walk back along the peer. The planks beneath my feet did in deed feel slippery to my step. At one point I thought I was going to fall in, but my main concern was not for my safety, but for the expensive camera I had taken with me.
Back the way I came and onto the campsite I went. Down to the shore once again. I found a spot just a few feet from the rocky shore, sat down on the damp grass, looked and listened to the wonders happening around me. The sound of the water breaking on the rocks just feet from my feet (excuse the pun) and the sun still trying to break through the thick graying cloud carpet. Eventually the grass beneath me got too wet and I went in search for another observation point.
I found a bench made of thick wood and mounted on two concrete pillars painted white and covered in pebbles for decoration. The dark chocolate coloured seat looked inviting when compared to my current perch.
As I sat on the bench, I shivered both from the cold and the dampness of the seat but my discomfort was soon to be forgotten as I gazed out upon the shore waters once again.
And again I found myself lost in a world of beauty and peace.
The clouds now threatened to rain. I scanned the Loughs length taking in every detail my eyes could find. On the far shore white buildings stood out like stars in the night sky. An array of greens in varying shades marked field boundaries made of grasses, trees and bushes.
As the night progressed and the sun sank further into the distance, the cloud began to break and fracture allowing light, like gleaming blades, to shine upon the mountains. Almost as if God himself were viewing the land. And the waters changed colour to a deep, dark blue haze.
The evening wind started to blow, piercing my jacket and biting at my skin, and causing tiny waves to form in the waters and crashing into the rocky shoreline.
Streaks of oil floating on the surface left behind by some unknown vessel show up like white slime trails.
In the distance mist starts to roll of the shallow mountains like a hazy tide slowly coming towards me. Enveloping everything in its path. The greens and browns and yellows of fields all get swallowed by the encroaching tide.
I look up at the clouds and can clearly see the different layers. The lower parts are a light Grey turning to a graphite shale colour. The upper levels retain a light white, still being fed by the disappearing sun.
In the furthest parts of the Lough a seemingly tiny boat can be made out only by the white colouring of its sail in contrast against the darkening Lough waters.
As I sit, I admire Mother Nature and all her glory. I look at the watch on my wrist and it reads 21:30. Half nine at night. I’d been watching the Lough for what seems like 15 minutes when it has actually been 90 minutes. As I sit I think about what I had the privilege of witnessing, thoughts and feelings of peace and serenity fill my entire body extending to every nerve from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Mere words are not enough to describe this sensation, but it is one I shall never forget.
The gentle dripping of water on my face and jacket tell me it’s going to start to rain. Time to go back to the tent and get a bite to eat and still think more of, what has possibly become, one of the most awakening and perfect experiences of my life and one which is likely to remain as fresh at the time of my death, as it is on that very same day in which they took place.
The older i get the more I realise just how ingrained this is within myself. It’s like looking at yourself and trying to notice the details and not just the overall picture. Within your exterior, hidden in plain sight, are all these details that make up who you are and they are there if you know where to look.
I say exterior, rather than interior, because I am referring to physical clues such as tone of voice and body language. Non-verbal communication.
In my case I have a strong compulsion to punish myself for the slightest wrong that I perceive. Simple things that have caused no distress to others feel to me like they are worthy of reprimand and I MUST be punished.
Recent Example No.1
Last month my wife went on a foreign holiday with her sister for a few days. This holiday had been planned for months but only booked a matter of weeks before the actual departure. I was invited as well but I declined for practical reasons and I also saw an opportunity to spend some time doing some things I always wanted to do but couldn’t whilst my wife was here. Nothing bad, just spending some time up the coast at night (ref Kinbane Castle).
The next day, I decided to watch a couple of DVDs and to have a few drinks and let my guard and defences down. It was during this period that my wife and her sister text to ask me what I was up to and I replied via FB messenger that I was sitting naked having a few drinks and beginning to feel tipsy (I don’t know why I said this as I was sitting fully clothed) and I suddenly got a phone-call from my sister-in-law saying that my last message was sent on a group chat and that I should delete it ASAP.
Too late; I received a reply from someone who was not meant to see that message saying ‘TMI’. I deleted my message right there and then but the damage had been done. My sudden concern turned to embarrassment, even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Unfortunately this proved to be a perfect storm as not only was I starting to feel intoxicated, I also hadn’t taken my meds the day before nor on this night in question, and my embarrassment quickly turned to anger.
Suddenly, and without hesitation, I sunk my teeth into my left arm and bit myself hard enough to make my teeth ache in my gums. In an instant the alcohol that I was using to lower my guard was now my weapon of choice to further self-harm. I knew I would be sore and there was a possibility that I may have a rough night ahead of me, but I didn’t care and I felt like it was something I deserved as I was such an idiot for not being more careful about where I send my messages.
This is like the time when my dad asked me if I wanted to move to Antrim a few years before he was murdered and I said no. I know the names of the people who murdered him and I know mine is not counted amongst them and never will be.
I know I was not to blame for his death; but survivors guilt leaves its own scars and this is one of them.
I know I am being irrational in that I have nothing to feel guilty about. I know I need to stop punishing myself for every slight I do. I know I need to stop letting others make me feel guilty. I know I need to stop treating myself so badly and I know I need to stop self-harming. I know I am a nice guy with a good heart who is caring and compassionate.
But I also know that I hold myself partly to blame and that as I cannot punish the people who killed him, I CAN punish myself as the nearest substitute.
I also know that after 30+ years I need to stop this destructive behaviour as the only person I am hurting is myself…but I can’t help it. It feels wrong if I don’t punish myself; like I am letting the guilty walk free.
Recent Example No.2
I was driving home one late afternoon and I saw the lights ahead of me turning from green to yellow. I knew in a second or 2 they would be red and I need to make a decision NOW as to what action I need to take. Do I have enough time to stop safely? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.
I hit the accelerator and saw the lights change from yellow to red just before I reached them. I had just went through a red light.
FUCK! STUPID STUPID BASTARD!!!
My wife had to calm me down because I didn’t cause an accident and I wasn’t caught by the authorities and I was starting to over-react in a big way over something so simple that it may go unnoticed by other people or it is the kind of thing people do all the time.
It’s what I do and whilst I can override these instincts some times…others lead me to some sort of self-harm.
I try, internally, to make them feel better by punishing myself for their wrongs rather than my own. I feel like I take upon my shoulders all the weight and troubles of the world because this is what I have been doing most of my life and, whilst it is entirely illogical, it is something I feel I am compelled to do.
I am just too bloody nice and too caring 😦
This is a completely natural emotion to feel. It keeps us safe when we feel threatened, increases respiratory rate flooding the blood with oxygen and releasing adrenaline and our bodies natural painkillers; in preparation for either attacking a danger or running away from it – flight or fight.
I have some difficulty with this particular emotion as it conflicts with some of my personality traits in that I am not an aggressive person and I do what I can to avoid conflict and try to deescalate any increasingly hostile situation which life throws at me.
I have seen people get angry and loose their temper with people who are only doing their job or they get so engrossed and passionate about a sport that they easily take offence at anyone who disagrees with their view.
Anger also has its place within our society. Soldiers, martial artists, sports; any sort of situation where we are competing against or in conflict with another person and anger is useful in a controlled way as it improves our performance, increases our pain threshold and enables us to go that little bit further…or in the case of military personnel, helps keep them alive.
For me its different as it conflicts with my personality. I hate being angry. I don’t find it to be a pleasant emotion and it makes it easy to loose control of a situation and react negatively. But then again, that rush of endorphins flooding my body and increasing my confidence can be exhilarating lol.
Sadly my anger often times results in self-harm and emotional pain that’s almost beyond endurance.
I’ve spent years learning to be on the lookout for warning signs that I am starting to get angry and as a result my anger rarely sneaks up on me. There are usually early warning signals. Maybe I am feeling more irritable than normal or I feel that adrenaline starting to be pumped into my blood and my breathing increases. I also use my eyes, ears and mind to assess what is going on in my surroundings to see what the stimulus is that could be impacting negatively on my emotional state.
In the meantime, having had these early warning systems being triggered, I immediately focus on my breathing to try to calm down. Deep breath in… hold… and slowly release. Repeat as often as is needed. I also take myself out of and away from any situation that is causing this level of distress.
Sadly we all have a breaking point. I’ve found myself in situations where I need to have that physical release of energy and I usually end up punching a wall and damaging my knuckles or biting my arm until my teeth hurt all the way to their roots.
This is a controlled, and destructive, release as I will NOT take my anger out on ANYONE as I don’t believe this is productive. And I rarely find myself in situations where my safety is in question. I am always on the lookout for an alternative to a physical confrontation. I pose a danger to myself, but not to others.
But like I said, we all have our limits and even mine can be tested to the extreme…
Many years ago I remember one night when I was supposed to be staying with a friend in their flat. They had a visitor from Scotland over and the 3 of us were supposed to be going to a fancy dress party. I had my dads leather jacket and was going to go as John Travolta from Greese.
The situation that night took an unexpected turn before we even left the flat. My friends visitor had begun drinking and, having been informed somewhat of my past, he began questioning me about my experiences. I wasn’t happy about this and refused to answer. But the questions kept coming and were becoming more aggressive in nature.
I could feel those familiar warning signs being triggered and I was becoming concerned. I began to employ calming breathing techniques. As the minutes went by the questioning changed and this visitor began to ask before demanding to try on my dads jacket. This to me would be the equivalent of trying on his skin and desecrating his memory.
I looked to my friend for help and asked them to help; but my pleas were ignored whilst they laughed.
I had to get out of there before I snapped. I began to pack up and was being told to stay by my friend whilst being called a ‘chicken’ and a ‘little boy’ by this visitor.
Nah, fuck this, if I don’t get out of here I am going to loose my shit!
It took several trips to remove all of my belonging from the flat, but despite now being outside and away from these idiots, I was barely in control. I was physically shaking with rage.
Sadly, I seem to have somewhat of a delayed reaction in that even when I was finally out of that flat, my anger was actually increasing as the gravity of the situation began to fully catch up with me.
All I wanted to do was to kick a bin, but I didn’t do this in case the neighbours heard and began to ask questions.
I walked to my car, determined to drive away. I also knew that as soon as I got behind the wheel, this would not be safe and I could very likely end up in an accident or hitting someone; but such was the heat of my anger I decided to be selfish and not care about other people. With the distress I was feeling I just didn’t care about myself or others.
I think something must have clicked with my friend because they came out and grabbed the keys from my hand and threw them away before shoving me away from the car. I was so so close to hitting them. I wanted to. I felt justified in throwing that punch.
But the morals my parents instilled in me as a child came to the surface and they were my last line of defence.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted the pain to stop. Emotionally I was in agony and just wanted the pain to go away. And I will admit that had I gotten into the car in this state, suicide was most definitely an option I was actively considering.
Fortunately my friends shove, when combined with my own constant calming techniques, did the trick. I calmed down just enough to regain my desire to not do anything stupid.
After a few minutes my anger had cooled from 100C to 98C. Still far from being safe and calm, but cool enough to regain that valuable control of my mind and actions that I so desired.
I still left. I drove away angry and alone, but now no longer carelessly so. I don’t remember where I went but as I am here writing this today, I clearly got there safely lol.
I HATE having a mental illness! I hate the pain and confusion that it brings. And people can’t see these wounds and relate them to my, at times, unusual behaviour. I hate that people make judgements about my behaviour and that even I have trouble understanding my actions.s
This is one of those battles that happens for no reason and which I cannot explain, even when such reasoning is warranted or expected.
I hate the fact that the person who caused all this continues to wreak havoc on my life without knowing it. It feels like I am being punished over and over and over again.
I feel like the Husky wanting to begin to pull its masters sleigh in the cold snow covered Alaskan wilderness. I want to write but a subject to liberate this urge eludes me. Sudden inspiration hits me. I think “Bingo!” I have on this the first day of February 2004 just created something which may gave vent to these frustrations. I have titled it “Dreams”. From here inspiration grows, a selection of 80s inspired power ballad type music gives energy to my fingers as they whiz about the keyboard hitting keys which my mind only decided on a split second before.
A powerful energy surges forward giving yet more life to my already speedy digits. My mind races forward so fast I have to consciously slow down as I find difficulty finishing one word before the next eagerly emerges. My mind is a frenzy of thought and activity as I type.
I urgently move quickly, for the fear of losing the very fragile idea which my mind has just acquired, is very real. I cannot recall when the last time was that I felt such a thrill. The idea of putting into words an idea which I created and allowing people to read, then witnessing expressions growing and falling from their faces as they become absorbed in my world, is another thrill in itself. I can tell just by the expression on their faces where in my journey they have reached.
This is my gift to the world. I am who and what I am and I wouldn’t change a thing. Slowly I am emerging from myself. A stormy past of thought from many years ago is giving way to this new emergence of me. I am finding myself all the time. I have been a secret to my soul. Hidden in a depth of the mind rarely explored but which always surges out as I sit down to write.
It is not enough for people to read these personal and dear thoughts, but I wish them to read and believe they are their own and it is I that plucked them from their minds. In most cases this is achieved.
The randomness of the words takes you on a journey which you cannot predict. A journey of the mind. A journey without question. Because in dreams we do things and see things that defy logic, but which never seem out of place or questioned. Defying gravity, seeing weird and strange lights which threaten to reveal the secrets of the universe aren’t questioned. Suddenly being rich or having superhero abilities become the norm. logic is turned on its head and once again, as in childhood when being told about Santa Clause or the tooth fairy, we accept this new environment of psychological creation without question.
But, even in this new totally accepted environment, we can create built in triggers to help make the experience all the more enjoyable.
What am I talking about? I’m talking about the ability to program the mind to wake up if you have a nightmare. This is the case for me. If I start to have a dream I don’t like I automatically say to myself “I don’t like this. Time to wake up.” And I do. This happens regardless of whether or not I am aware that I am dreaming. Since I started doing this I have never had a nightmare that I didn’t want. If things get to scary I just simply wake up. Nightmare over. This, as far as I’m concerned, is an extremely powerful ability, but one which I am thankful for. I don’t know when or how I started doing this.
The other thing about dreams is that about 70% of the population remember the last dream they had. Here’s an interesting question to which I do not know the answer. What percent of the population remembers the 2 or more dreams they have during the night.
Dreams occur when we enter into the deepest of sleep known as Random Eye Movement (REM). Personally I have recalled on at least one occasion when I have been dreaming and was aware that I have had 2 other dreams already. Or even more recently I have recalled in some detail 4 dreams which I had on one particular night. Quite surprising. What percentage of the population does this put me into? That is a question I would love to get answered.
The mind is indeed a powerful thing. To create sensations which have never been experienced in life but which turns out to be very accurate. Dreams and the imagination, hope to coax them into the reality of the waking world.
To fly free of this world and escape into the hidden depths of the soul. To experience sensations which would never be contemplated in the world of the real. To conquer fears and live as thy should like to. Explore thyself. Fears become nothing to be feared. Eternal energy flows through the mind.
But the greatest sensation which gives way to the greatest awe is when the reality of the dream is realised. That the world which is before my very eyes is not real. But created entirely by my mind. A sense of disbelieve fills my mind. I walk up to a door; feel the hard wood and grainy surface beneath my fingertips. I look up and see the sun shining down on me, feel the warmth of its golden rays upon my very skin. See the shadows cast by its brightness. The tarmac beneath my feet, the buildings around me. All this is not real. I feel everything I touch but it’s not real. It’s all in my mind. I am literally creating everything I see. The shock of the situation as I realise all this is overwhelming. But then once again the reality of the situation strikes like a thunderbolt. A million thoughts and ideas rush though my mind and as this is happening, an evil grin grows across my face and all sorts of possibilities flood my mind. This is my world. In here I am God!!! I can do anything I want without consequence. I am no mere mortal. I am not bound by the rules of the norm. I am beyond all. I can run faster than I can.
I try and test this theory, unsure if it will work. I have a muscle I am not sure how to use. I run! Down a street with no end. I feel my feet in my trainers beating the ground. I feel the wind in my face. The cars pass me easily. I pass a group of guys and hear the shouts of “go on ya boy” and “hurry up or you’ll never make it”, floating on the wind behind me and I think in amusement “just like real life”. But I’m not going fast enough. This is my mind. My rules! I am faster than this. Suddenly the cars appear to slow, the cracks in the pavement become blurred, the wind picks up, I feel a see sensation of speed building in by gut. I hardly notice the absence of the sensation of my feet beating the ground which was once so apparent before just seconds ago. I find a “higher gear” and suddenly lunge forward, the sensation of speed building all the time. The cars seem to be going backwards.
Time stands still.
The power is building. Shifting.
I can feel it sinking down, down deeper, down into my thighs. It’s overwhelming. The sensation of speed is trying to overload my mind.
I can’t stand it any longer. I have to do something. I feel an overpowering desire to jump, and jump I do.
A new sensation overtakes my senses. The sense and freedom of flight. No earthly boundaries. I go higher and higher into the clouds. The world drops away beneath me into the distance. I surge upwards into the heavens. I feel the wet moisture from the clouds against my face as I journey though them. Suddenly yet another overwhelming desire takes hold and urges me to fly. Fly as fast as I can.
I’m off once again. Flying into the wind. Destination not important. I feel my entire body become even lighter than before, the power builds and I increase speed. The world beneath me starts to whiz by. First tall building separated by streets merge like the white lines on the road. Their windows first hard to distinguish, then impossible. The buildings themselves turn into giant black streaks, then fades to grey as I angle upwards into the clouds once again.
The city gives way to countryside of green fields and hedgerows with the occasional farmer in his tractor tending them. Further still and I see rivers give way to mountains of multicoloured rock.
Something in the back of my mind says “faster, faster, faster, you’re faster than this.” Once again I feel the surge and then a tremendous sensation of speed. The landscape below be blurs then melts into itself as I go faster and faster and faster.
The land opens up to sea then ocean. I see the dark blue hues as I race over its rippled surface. From the depths of the ocean up ahead I see a pod of Dolphins break the waters surface. Their slick grey streaked bodies with their arching back fin break the surface. Puffs of dense white water vapour erupt up as they blow out and take another deep breath ready to return to the oceanic depths. Some of them jump clear of their watery home and take flight in a display of un-associated aerial grace.
As I fly past I see dark thunder clouds ahead of me. I approach and see white streaks of angled lighting as it travels within the cloud, followed by an ear-bursting thunderclap. I dodge the lightening easily. Faster and faster I go still increasing speed.
In the distance I see the sun. It spears to stay still as I approach its horizon. I feel yet another surge of speed and the world around me takes on yet another change. All colour fades from sight and I am enveloped in a tunnel of grey. I pass onto land and mountains become dark streaks which flash by so quick I have difficulty in realising what I have just seen.
Boredom takes hold and I once again angle up wards aiming for the blue sky itself. As I go higher and higher, the blue fades, gives way to the dark, cold blackness of space and I see billions and billions of stars. Each winking at me. Daring me to set forth and greet them personally.
Off I go. This time speed becomes irrelevant. The size of the cosmos shrinks and I pull it near as though attached by an invisible chain.
I see an array of dazzling colour and various ballets which have been performing since the dawn of time.
The universe shrinks and closes in on me. I see clouds of dazzling sparkling dust millions of light years across and at the centre is a pinprick of light which is slowly sucking the cloud closer to its ever brightening and expanding centre. This is the birth of a new star just like our own. I ponder what manner of life will evolve on the planets which will orbit it in the millions of years yet to come.
I see the sun. our sun. I feel its heat on my face. Its surface is like a boiling pond of lava. I bare witness as huge arches of fire and plasma millions of miles across reach out and wrap its boiling arm round me. I see its warm glow on my hands and feel its life giving heat on my face.
Closing my eyes I relish its cosy effect.
Journeying further I see a spiral of dust and debris heading towards an invisible black mouth, sucking all that is unfortunate enough to be taken within its reach of gravity. Not even light itself can escape its insatiable and endless unrelenting hunger.
Onwards yet again and I see a spiral disk with 2 huge towering jets of light shooting out from the top and bottom. Each is several light years long and beyond comprehension. They reach far out into space like a giant spear piercing its centre.
I go out farther still and I approach the edges of the universe itself. I reach the limit of the imagination. When I can go no further and explore no more I wake up. I realise with disappointment that my journey was a dream. I feel special. Like I have discovered the secrets of the universe. Physically I feel tired. Happy to be home. I realise that what started off as a realisation of dreaming, turned into the journey of a lifetime. The experiences and sensations I was privileged to explore are beyond praise.
All this happened in my mind. At the beginning of this journey it was important that I realise that I was dreaming and then I got lost in the beauty I was seeing and the feelings I was feeling. The power I was talking about felt like all my love and passion, hope and desire, hatred and anger and all my other emotions were compressed, magnified a million times and then turned into pure energy and released within me. Actually it feels like more than that but the words don’t exist to write what I felt. The only way to understand is to feel it. Almost as if everything in the universe was me and I it. We were one and the same. As if I am the universe and I am just flowing through it.
I would like to make clear that I have felt this way before, not when I was dreaming but when I was awake. I wrote about it before. The story is called Garrison. I won’t to into it because that story has already been written. But essentially the feelings are the same. The only difference being that in Garrison I had to make due with feeling the sensations and acknowledging they are there, in this case I was able to do something more with them and used them to take to places I can only dream about.
In garrison it was just me and what was before my eyes. There was nothing else. No worries, fears, dreams, hopes, people, nothing. Just me and what I was witnessing. Experiences such as those leave a long lasting impact on your life and I found that I don’t want to forget even a single feeling. Part of the reason why I write things down. I want my experiences to become yours.
I experienced all this and yet my mind struggles to accept that the journey didn’t happen. Or did it? You decide. I’ve made my mind up about what happened to me. I leave you to make up yours.