All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

Five Years in Australia – Part 1

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Five years ago I was sitting on a plane watching Pleasantville somewhere between Singapore and Melboure. It was quite possibly the most excruciating experience of my life because I absolutely detest flying – I don’t detest travelling, hell no! I despise being trapped in a relatively tiny metal contraption several thousand feet in the air.

Maybe it’s my fear of height, maybe it’s my fear of being trapped next to a snoring person, maybe it’s my inability to control myself around cute women in uniforms (joking!), maybe none of this is of any relevance whatsoever because my fear of flying or not I made it to Australia.

I forced myself to do something that I utterly hated, in order to achieve something I had been dreaming about for several months. I was emigrating for the love of a woman. So many men have done it, and from my experience, so few women. Why is that? Is it because it’s an incredibly hard thing to do and women just don’t have the gumption for it? Or is that merely my latent sexist sense of humour rearing it’s ugly head? And once again who cares, for it is indeed besides the point. I uprooted myself from family, friends and a country I wanted to have babies with for the love of a woman whom I wanted to make into my family and live in a country where I could have babies with her.

We had been apart for several months, and the first time I laid eyes on her on Australian soil will be for always one of the single happiest moments of my life.

Alas, things were not meant to be. Just as the sun will always set and the doped up guy with the munchies will always have a handy pack of jaffa cakes, life got in the way. We parted company, a little over a year ago, and if you want details you will merely get an (im)polite f**k off!

I’m not here to point fingers, lay blame or otherwise belittle what was one of the most important relationships of my life. What I’m here for I will get to (one day, I will, but I may need to nick a jaffa cake to keep me sustained)

No, I have never lost respect for her, and never will. It’s just a sad fact of life that, as people meander the ever spiralling pathways of life, they change. Nothing we can really do.

Where was I, ah yes, jaffa cake – yummy!

The question I keep asking myself is: ‘had I known, when I was watching the sexy Reese Witherspoon, what would unfold over the coming five years, should I have just got on the first plane back home?’

The answer is simple…

…to Be Continued.


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