Phil Green
Typically for the BFD, any day is a good day to read something that makes you think. On Saturday the 7th this article was posted.
I commented with a brief synopsis of the cards dealt to me, specifically as it trends with the high suicide rate of divorced men. I concluded with an ‘I’m all good, onwards and upwards’ stance. Which is true, and lucky me. I’m fortunate.
And to be frank considering I’m a frequent commenter, now with an unwanted loudhailer (loudmouth) symbol beside my profile (thanks Disqus), I did wonder whether I should write this small story. The beauty of the internet, however, is that you don’t have to regret buying the magazine, you can just move away to the next great BFD article.
My story is to highlight, gleaned from personal experience, how incredible life is when you take risks. In my experience, these risks are always rewarded, and I’m going to provide a few for you now.
In 1997 I was in a business partnership, and it wasn’t going well. I was 31 years old, still living with the folks and it looked like I was about to lose my shares in a company that I started. I started walking at night to clear my head, and it’s not for the first time that I think exercise saved my brain. I was constantly thinking, “How can I solve this problem?” and sporadically the thought of suicide did impinge its dark claws, but I knew I was too cowardly to take the ultimate step.
Then, like a road to Damascus moment, the thought came to me, “Leave, get out, it’s far easier than suicide, and you’re a mug for even thinking like that.”
So I did, which was harder than it sounds. I had to leave secretly lest I’d be convinced to stay which I knew would happen. With the similar level-headedness that you hear about people who once they’ve decided to suicide become calm and resolute (hearsay, because I don’t know how we’d know that), I embarked on a plan within days of leaving New Zealand.
The escape was thorough and it proceeded like clockwork. Not without emotional turmoil, as I was leaving my beloved parents in the lurch as they too worked in the business and I recall I cried all the way from Wellington to Auckland.
Mercifully, this was in the days before mobile phones so instant communication was impossible.
I turned up on my brother’s doorstep in London, by then knowing what I’d done but, bless him, he didn’t give me a hard time. Anyhow, the mundanity of needing money quickly caused me to start looking for jobs. I saw a job as a welder at an irrigation firm about an hour away from London. I was a proficient self-taught Mig welder from making my designs, but uncertified yet decided to apply for the job anyway. I called and spoke to the owner and he arranged a time for me to travel to Kettering to meet.
Who I met was a great Kiwi guy, who had worked as a mechanic for the Maclaren motorsport company, and who’d gone on to create a massive international irrigation company. I passed the welding test, he hired me, liked me and we became friends.
I told him about my problems back in New Zealand with an awkward partnership, and he paid for me to return to New Zealand willing to buy my business partner out. This all took about six months, and within that time I also met the woman of my dreams in London, whom I later married and had three children with. I’d never have met her had I not taken the most drastic left turn in my life.
So, I went from zero to hero in about six months, by making a hard decision to leave a debilitating situation. I’m not trying to minimalise the difficulties of mental health, but very often the hardest step of removing yourself from the situation may be a life-saving one.