4. My dad

I don’t think much about my dad. I guess he has been in a box in my head. But since I am trying to open those boxes and getting things out, I should start with him.

In the past, when I have thought about my dad, I have felt sadness over him dying, anger at some of his actions, hurt over his bond with my brother and disappointment over how he would feel if he saw me now. So I have just kept him in a box and not thought about him.

My dad was a good man, but definitely not a perfect man. Having a dad with bipolar as interesting growing up, because it was hard to know what dad you were going to get – high as a kite dad, depressed dad, angry dad or quiet, reserved dad.

I can’t remember a heck of a lot do with growing up with my dad, but I do remember he coached my rugby team. I respect that because it took time and I was always proud that it was my dad who was our coach. The other boys in the team liked him and he was a good coach.

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1. Boxes

I have always been good at putting things in boxes – be it the stress or anger I am feeling, some kind of guilt or shame, or even grief. I have developed an excellent ability to put my feelings into a metaphorical box in my head, and soldier on. I think I learnt how to do this from a young age and I will most likely write about that another day, but what I learnt was, on the surface, it can work really well.

I appeared to be unflappable, dependable, together – but actually I was just the guy who didn’t really deal with things AT ALL. The problem with that is, after a while, those boxes get pretty jam packed with all the crap you are shoving in there, and they explode. And when that happens, you best not be standing anywhere near, because shit gets crazy.

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