The Journey Begins... Tick, Tock!

For a second, I would like you to close your eyes – yes, I know if you close your eyes you won’t be able to read the text. Ok, lets try this. Imagine, for a moment, the first time you experienced something happy in your childhood – a vivid memory. One that makes you smile. Really smile, bringing a tear to your eye, making your heart swell, hands start to tingle a little. Mine is the first time my dad brought me my brand new bike from my grandmother. It was bright orange with images of galaxies plastered all over it, sporting chunky gear selectors, massive tyres with deep treads and orange brake callipers. It smelt like new rubber, metal and liberation! I was excited. Having watched programmes like The Wonder Years, the kids on these shows made riding bikes look easy and adventurous.

“Pfft” I thought, “I got this”. Six-year-old Aaron wearing a navy blue, Bon-Bleu matching short set paced towards the bike with lottery winner’s confidence. My dad’s face showed apprehension but support simultaneously. He held the bike up and I swung my left leg over and sat on the seat. The soft, black, pleather, arrow-shaped seat nestled between my bum cheeks. Orange galaxy helmet sat on my head; chin strap secured, I was ready for this. Feet on the pedals, I started to push down. The bike was moving! NO WAY! Excitement and adventure, all await me. I can’t wait to show all my friends on the estate this sick method of transportation I have just acquired! The first thing I wanted to do was fill up my Super Soaker, strap it to my back and water fight on my new bike. This is a lot to feel in 3 seconds, right? An experience you could liken to almost anything. The first time you had sex. Starting a new job. Going on a date.

The bike began to wobble and my heart began to race. It was beating so hard in my chest that it pulsated in my head, sounding like a bass drum being stamped on. My trunk stiffened, my arms flung out perpendicular to my body for balance. Somehow, the ground’s horizon was becoming vertical but very slowly. I could hear someone shouting something, it wasn’t coherent. I was telling my legs to move off the pedals. STAND UP AARON! Jump off! You are going to fall and it’s going to hurt. My legs refused to move, the left side of me was hitting the ground. Jagged uneven tarmac and grit met my exposed arms and legs. The camber of the road made sure I slid towards the gutter, grazing my skin. Red-stained scrapes, debris-filled grazes, stinging badly making my eyes water uncontrollably. The weight of the bike rested in-between my legs, the front wheel of the bike spinning slowly. The tears in my eyes turned my view into a dreary underwater world.

In a matter of ten seconds or so, I had been so high. I felt invincible, elated and fearless, too. Yet in pain, disappointed, angry, frustrated, confused and embarrassed that I let my dad down. The saving grace was my father who ran to my aid, cuddling me to console my failed efforts. He whispered that I still looked good in my matching short set, and I would look even better if I tried again. My grazes suddenly didn’t sting so much. My horizon became horizontal again as his hands cupped me under my armpits, pulling me back up. Tears wiped I was shaking a little. I picked up my bike. I was now more determined than before to ride this bike.

This carried on for the next two hours. But each time, as I kept balance for a little longer, pedalled a bit faster, felt my dad let go of the bike seat for a second longer, the pendulum of my emotions, my self esteem, was slowly gained altitude to the maximum, dizzying feel-good height of emotions. Step by step, at each achievement of gaining balance, the weight of the pendulum was resting on the notches created by the support of daddy and the reinforcement of reward.

Think back to my first experience where I felt invincible. Click your fingers, hear the echoing snap; my world had been turned upside down (or in my case 180 degrees). The pendulum swung from equilibrium, to happy elated excitement, to anger and frustration in a matter of seconds.

Imagine such a swing. You’re out with friends having a whale of a time. For me, this was when I was at a colleague’s leaving drinks. I was ok for a significant length of time. Then something insignificant happens – let’s say I drop an ice cube on the floor. All I wanted to do at this point was escape. How could I be so stupid? Where was I going to get more ice from? The walls are closing in, everyone’s laughter suddenly become peering, watching, judging eyes. Background noise becomes unbearable. My heart races, instigating a headache. I need to leave. Right now! Don’t bring any attention to yourself, Aaron. GET OUT! Everyone thinks you’re an idiot anyway. No one here actually likes you, it is all a front. A plot to get you. That’s why you dropped the ice cube.

It’s just an ice cube, right? No one cares and no one probably noticed you dropped it.

Tick. Happy, outgoing, jovial, joke-making Aaron.

Tock. Paranoid, frustrated, angry, anxious Aaron, struggling to quiet the self-deprecating voices. Struggling to enjoy the conversation. The immediate introversion. All rationalism failing.

Thanks for joining me on: The Pendulum Swing.