Diary Of A Square Peg

When things are bad and you reach that point where you can't continue like you are, believe that the grass is greener, believe that as one door closes another one closes. Cliche maybe but cliche's only describe what commonly happens. I can confirm that the grass is vivid and vast, the sky is blue and I wonder why I didn't jump sooner!

In films people ask for there mothers during death scenes. But it is not dying that draws out the plea. It is pure fear. I have experienced that fear twice in my life.

The first time it happened I sharing a dorm with a bunch of Isreali lads who were about to return to serve in the armed forces. This was back in 1999 in Australia. I was woken but I could not move. I had the overwhelming sense of an awesome power being around me. I wanted to cry out but my gaping mouth made no sound. I was completely paralysed. I felt utterly frozen to the spot. I felt like the air was being sucked from my lungs and as if a dark spirit stood over me. I thought I was going to die. And then I uttered the word, ‘Mama,’ and a tear rolled down my paralysed cheek. Then the silence faded, I could breath and I sobbed quietly, afraid of waking my dorm mates and totally in shock. It felt to me as if I had been visited by a malevolent force, by the angel of death…

In 2004 I think, I was woken from my sleep in my old bedroom at my parents’ house by the tremendous sound of air rushing out of the open bedroom window, the sound becoming more concentrated and narrower, as if a gap were closing. Again I was paralysed. I could feel the air being sucked from my lungs and I was stunned into inaction. I had woken at the tail end of something awesomely powerful, because the room was filled with bright white light and the curtains were whipping in the air outside my bedroom window and then it was dark and the curtain hung limp and still. I shed a tear and uttered, ‘Mama’, though I only ever referred to her as mum. After a while, I forced myself out of bed and closed the window. I turned on the light and left it on. I was 29 years old and petrified by this experience.

Were these isolated dreams? Was it the action of my synapses firing wildly, creating a waking nightmare? It seemed too real, real enough to make me more scared than I have ever been at any other time in my life, scared enough to make me regress for just a single stunned moment and real enough that it sends a tingle down my spine even now...

I awoke this morning around 11am having slept in to avert the effects of another life shortening night shift. While our little part of the world was sleeping, I was rushing through the night, one of two souls constituting the centre of a busy little cocoon surrounded by silent blue strobes. The flashing patterns of shadows amongst trees and houses and open ground are exhilarating, tiring, mesmerising and somehow otherworldly…

On the radio a programme about polyamorous relationships plays. I lay in bed day dreaming.

I wonder what the natural course of my wife’s bisexuality will be. Does it mean that she might ultimately find someone to bring into our lives, to live and share each day with us as equals?
I am happily married. God knows as the shifts and fools drain the energy from my lean body I can barely make enough time or desire to keep my wife happy, let alone cater for two. And yet I find myself day dreaming of being the centre of a tiny ménage a tois. But it is not a lustful one in the conventional sense. I day dream of sharing gardening, tea in the gazebo, winter evenings by the fire and TV. Only very occasionally do I imagine something sexual.

It seems too good to be true. Is it really possible that double the number of good women in my life could double my happiness? Could it really be that we would all be satisfied and happy with such an arrangement? Clearly it would mean we no longer kept all our eggs in one basket, negating that frightening leap of faith, and blind trust in commitment whose true nature we will not know until we reach our deathbed.

The day dream is one of strength and happiness in numbers. Of acceptance and contentment and living the life that looks and feels right. No affairs. No lies. Just openness and spice…

Would another help us believe? Would we each have emotional security, never fully alone when the black clouds of argument roll in to burst asunder our normally close and happy life? And what of the one caught between the two, or left out. Is the reality of polyamorous life more likely to be one of jealousy and disappointment for everyone on a rolling rota?

Early in my relationship with my wife she confessed to me that she had had bisexual feelings since she was a teenager. She was afraid to tell me, fearing that I might be disgusted by this as her former husband had been. Being a red blooded male, I saw this as a bonus. The fantasy threesome might actually happen. She would have a dream come true, and in supporting her so would I!

Well that was 5 years ago now and nothing seems to have happened (unless of course I simply haven’t been told about it). My wife knows that she can see someone without me to begin with but I’m pretty sure she hasn’t. She agreed to keep no secrets from me and I agreed to wait for an invite rather than assume I’d be involved. We’ve tried internet sites and joined the throngs of couples looking for a single bisexual girl that would be attractive and intelligent enough to enjoy the event with us. But there seems to be a lot of talk and promises that rarely come to anything for anyone. As if the fantasy is as far as many want to go. I wonder, if there are so many girls with bisexual feelings, how come so few are available for some frolics? I wonder too, what we can do to change our fortune. Is it just the British reserve that keeps people from chasing these dreams proactively? I find myself jealous of communities such as in ancient Rome who simply went to get what they wanted and felt no shame.

I find myself wondering whether it could ever happen for us. I know too that my wife is still keen. Being a man, I multitask badly. That’s why when ever I think of this I don’t get much else done. But then, if I can’t multitask, what hope have I got if it ever happens?! I imagine it is the ultimate form of multitasking – keeping two girls happy in bed, even if it means just knowing when to stay out of the way! That’s why it is important to me that the person we share is the right character to have a laugh with no matter what happens. Her character is as important as her looks and figure.

So, I’m asking you if you have any advice on how to help us make it happen or advice on what to do and not to do when it does. Your stories much awaited!

I was and perhaps still am capable of switching off my emotions and my moral compass to do what needs to be done. Reading Libby’s blog about finding a first love again reminds me of something I did that I regret to this day. After all, sometimes it is better to regret not doing something than to regret doing it…

After several years away, I returned to work near my old home town and soon began to restore my friendships with those great people with whom I’d spent my wonderful formative years.

One of those people was my first girlfriend. A wonderful girl to whom I lost my virginity aged 16. My relationship with her then had been stormy. It was a baptism of fire for me; a rollercoaster introduction to the world of women and relationships.

Our first evening together felt so natural. She had a home and a happy marriage. She had a beautiful child whom I quickly became fond of. Once or twice a week I would go there and talk to her. She knew my work mates from our school days and became my muse as I off loaded my week of frustration about work or girlfriends of the time. She too, would talk about her frustrations and plans. I never gave much thought to her complaints about her overworked husband’s declining sex drive.

Over a year she became my emotional rock, to whom I ran when things were going badly. We became close friends and I valued her friendship. This supportive and deep friendship was in such juxtaposition from the tempestuous relationship we had had, when she taught me about cruelty and betrayal.

One night, I lay on the sofa opposite her and we chatted about life and drank sparkling wine. And then, before I knew what was happening, she was leaning over me, her auburn hair cascading down onto my chest. She kissed me passionately and said, “When are you going to seduce me then? It’s been six months since I had sex.”

I was shocked. I had never seen it coming. I felt exhilarated and appalled at the same time. How could I betray her husband, who had been so welcoming to me? Soon after this first event, I mounted my motorcycle and road off into the city night, my mind awash with possibilities.

Before long we were going out for drinks, something we had not previously done. We stole kisses on the way back to her house, petted in dark corners of the rumbling inferno. And smiled at her husband as he welcomed us back, asking how the pub had been.

Then one day it was arranged. She could wait no longer. As a testosterone fuelled male, I felt it was necessary to me too. I cared about her, but I simply wanted to fuck her on the hard animal level of things. My moral compass and my mixed emotions were ignored.

I dropped her husband at work and came back to the house. I entered his house with a cold stone of inevitability heavy in my stomach, and entered his wife with cold and calculating heart. The buy awoke in another room. She gripped my hard body as I sped up to satisfy my own desire before he could come knocking at the door. She gasped as I pounded. And when all was done not a smile flickered between us guilty lovers as we kissed and separated there in that bed. But I knew now that I was capable of anything; a dangerous adversary to anyone who dared cross me.

Shortly after this event I moved away with work. I met a wonderful girl with whom I had the potential to be a life long partner. I called my first love to tell her we could not meet again as planned. I had to give this real relationship a chance. She told me she felt used. I let her hypocrisy lie.

I did not see her again after that first cold fuck. In switching off my moral compass to satisfy my carnal desires, I had lost a great friendship and my place in a wonderful family. Some years later I tracked her down again to try to make sense of what had happened and rescue that important friendship. Her reply spoke of happy, growing family life and I decided it best to let it lie.

I had several relationships with married women before I settled down. None brought me happiness until I met my wife this way. Now I am committed to my wife. I can no longer switch off my moral compass because it is ALL that I am, all that is left of me. Loyalty is everything to me now. To love and care for my children and wife and to not let them down. How far removed from the cold blooded man I once was.

How I regretted being that man. How I regretted it daily for years. I thought of her so often, and suffered each time, only forgiving myself after ten years…

Classic! George Bush dodging shoes in a press conference. If only after he ducked the first time he had risen from behind the lectern with his best Austin Powers impression said, “Ow! That really hurt! I mean, who throws a shoe anyway?!”

During my paramedic training some years back, I observed two very different leadership styles displayed by senior consultants in hospital. These two approaches represent for me the ‘how to’ and ‘how not to’ ends of the leadership scale.

One consultant was scowling as she walked on to the critical care ward. The massed nurses, trading information about patients at shift change, half of them on their own time I might add, jumped to attention as this person started barking orders and demanding action. There was no hurry. This was no emergency situation. This was just a senior clinician marking her territory, flexing her power. In fact, to the keen observer, she was demonstrating a complete lack of it. Later that day, I remember watching her perform a surgical procedure in which she barked orders at flustered and rushing theatre technicians, chastising them for being too slow, which was not at all true. The patient, who was awake, must have been unnerved by the lack of calm in the room, despite the operation going very well.

It seemed odd to me. This consultant had spent many years in training to reach their lofty clinical position yet had utterly failed to learn any people skills necessary to be a good team leader. She had clinical superiority (read more or less as managerial superiority) over dozens of staff but, upon further investigation, I was not surprised to discover she was universally disliked. So much so that when she deemed a person worthy of praise (this was never anyone unlikely to ever reach her rank), her words were met with defensive disbelief.

Compare this individual with one at the other end of the scale. It is interesting that this man held an almost identical position of authority with the same members of staff and yet quietly managed to do his job to a world class standard without having to snap at people. A cool-headed, quiet man, equally skilled as his stroppy counterpart yet universally liked. Fear of disappointing him, of being held in low regard by him, rather than fear of the authority of his position of power motivated the same group of staff to go the extra mile for him, but in a calm, methodical way (the best way to avoid mistakes in a high stakes game). What is more, praise from this man of few words and great skill was high praise indeed. In short, he was inspirational rather than tyrannical in style. This is the way to achieve great respect from your team and great things with them.

It boils down to a Machiavellian concept. In 'The Prince', Machiavelli points out that the best of all situations is to be both loved and feared in equal measure. To be loathed and feared is far from ideal. Adding this to the general rule that what goes up must come down, we can see that the quiet surgeon can expect a rosier present and future than his prickly counterpart.

Being in a position of power does not make a person a good leader. It requires both innate characteristics and the ability to reflect and learn from experience and the teachings of others. Kipling wrote that part of being a man (lets take this to mean ‘developed and successful adult’) is to ‘keep your head while all around are losing theirs’ and to ‘walk with kings nor lose the common touch.’ Great leaders do not forget what it is like to be a trooper. They treat their staff with genuine respect and have a care for their physical and emotional well being. Our first surgeon has failed in this respect. She either lacks the innate characteristics (of genuine empathy, friendliness, sensitivity and the confidence to realise she does not need to throw her weight around all the time) or the ability to reflect on her interpersonal skills and learn, or both!

Harbouring a not-so-secret desire to attain a position of leadership one day, I have always been fascinated with the qualities that make people great leaders. I have therefore been very aware of leadership styles and the characters of leaders. In this analysis I have come to two sad conclusions.

Firstly, although I have had both good female and male bosses, in my experience men have tended to be proportionally more often better at leadership than women because they more often manage to be inspirational and to have quiet effective authority. You can draw your own conclusions from this and I would welcome your own experiences. I’ll expect some backlash! Perhaps women have to be much harder characters to become leaders in a male dominated world, but when they get there they too often fail to become great by virtue of those very same characteristics.

Secondly, although there are really great women and men in leadership positions, there are too few really good, natural leaders out there, either male or female. And I think this is because people in leadership or managerial positions are mostly selected solely on their work experience in a role rather than having those characteristics that make them sensitive and inspirational leaders. It takes more than just knowing all about a subject to be a good leader! The ambulance service is mostly managed by people that lack those natural and learned characteristics. The result is a totally demoralised and defensive staff hindering the chances of the service reaching its full potential. Mismanagement isn’t just about squandering financial resources. It’s also about failing to value the human ones.

So next time you come across the words, “Lead, follow or get out of the way,” consider how you think it should be done.

I could not sleep last night. After just a couple of hours I awoke at 2am and spent the rest of the night with my mind in a turmoil; planning, remembering, regretting and wondering. It is all too easy to become utterly despondent when we do jobs we hate. I hold my employer beneath contempt and often wonder how I fell into such an intractable situation. Where did I go wrong?

As I lay there, I thought of my friends who each has their own battle, their own demons. And I thought of my own situation in a different light. I hate my job but at least I have one. My choice to marry means that I do not feel the loneliness suffered by those whose careers I envy. I have made bad choices but they can be undone, unlike friends who have killed, maimed or been maimed. I have my family complete, my parents are alive and my children are healthy. I am not rich but by no means of the imagination am I poor in comparison to some. There is much to be thankful for. I have a reason to celebrate, to plan and to forge ahead. Not much longer and I can leave the dead end I am in and start to be happy with my working life again, as I should be with every other aspect of my existence.

I guess the ideal start isn’t exactly to go to work after a long night of being sleepless… but then sometimes revelations can be better than rest.

I just worked two 14 hour days both without timely breaks and almost exclusively for people who didn’t really need the services of an emergency ambulance. Having our time wasted is the one shared experience that all NHS employees have in common. Which is why, after about 6 months of working for the NHS, each and every employee is issued with a pair of standard issue roll back eyes! Eye rolling – the silent way to say “For fuck’s sake!”

There will be many who use their blog today to attack the politics of war, the military industrial complex or class system. I would ask them to refrain from offending those tragically affected by war or military service, just for today. Those caught up in the tragedy of war have much to contend with every day but especially today. There is no need to add to their pain with cold comments.

I hope you are fortunate enough not to know what it is like to get that phone call as friends communicate the news of the maiming of one of their own or to experience the daily concern for the friends affected. It is a long and rocky road of frustration and sadness, with a few victories lighting the way. The life changing nature of illness and injury sustained in theatres of war around the world is devastating and sad for all those involved. For those more recently affected it is likely that they chose to put themselves in these dangerous situations by virtue of career choice. Yes, if we live by the sword we die by the sword but it makes the tragedy no less terrible or sad.

Much of Remembrance Day is geared around those who made the ‘ultimate’ sacrifice. As we remember them we should also remember those whose sacrifice is made each day (and is perhaps more terrible for it) and the family and friends who have suffer with them.