A Penniless Passion

I’m gonna level with you. I’m a window cleaner in rainy England with limited working hours, sloth-like energy levels, and the bowels of a lactose-intolerant CEO in an ice-cream factory.

I have five children to support and a bunch of previous debt to contend with, alongside trying my best to do my best, despite struggling to even get out of bed most days. Being out anywhere for any length of time is difficult, anxiety-inducing at times, and outright impossible at others.

I’ve battled a debilitating depression for half my life, which paved the way for a violent war between the driven me, the depressed me, and the me that soars through town til the early morning coked-up until reality sets in.

I may be the guy you look to on the internet as a source of inspiration, or I may be the guy who’s poetry and insights you love to read because they make you laugh, or think, or feel something. And I love that! It drives me more than anything.

I built my writing on top of authenticity and passion, and if you didn’t know any of this about me you’ve simply not read enough of my work. All my words are laced with experience, passion, honesty, and humour, and it is important to me to be able to share that with you.

This may all sound a little ‘woe-is-me’ so far, but it’s actually not. I take it all in good spirits (like a good English-man should) and am, for the most part, a happy-go-lucky guy that leads with humour and a light heart.

And in any case this passion of mine was born out of the very issues that plague me. Without anxiety, IBS, and depression, there’d be no writing at all. There’d have been no interest in self-development, psychology, or philosophy.

Without that dark cloud looming over me, pissing down it’s acid-rain all over my self-cut hair, there’d be no mindfulness or deep thoughts to share with you or encourage my learning. Without my battles with addiction there’d be no experiences to draw from, no way to measure myself against the non-existence I called life before it all.

I’ve developed friends, and dare I say fans, over the last few years, and all of that has come as a direct result of both my online and offline activities. The very fabric of my reality is woven from these tortured threads.

I’ve long since accepted the realities of my situation: life will never not be difficult for me. I have chronic pain and struggle through a job that runs in direct opposition to a comfortable life. But does that mean I can’t make the most of what I do have? (Which is still plenty more than others might I add.) And does it mean I can’t help others accept and deal with their own personal circumstances to the best of my ability? Of course not! And that is what I love about all this writing malarkey.

I have something to say and the tools to say it, and I absolutely, 100 percent, whole-fucking-heartedly, love to say it! I love to help people. I care about people. I love to entertain, and encourage, and inspire, and make laugh; and sometimes even make cry if the act will help them out of their pain. I don’t write. I don’t ‘do writing’ as a hobby. I am a writer. A thinker. A philosopher. An eternal student of life. And I won’t stop until my lungs can’t take in any more air and my heart stops beating. It simply IS me.

The very first piece I wrote and published was for Hubpages, a content mill I hoped would allow me to earn an income from home to support my family. Unfortunately, a lack of consistency and direction has seen me never quite make my mark in that way.

Don’t get me wrong I have earned with writing, through direct sales and reads, freelance and such… but never have I seen it through. But it’s not about money for me, it never has been. It’s about expressing the deepest insights of my soul, and helping others along that journey. It’s about getting the thoughts out from my skull and into the world.

It’s about writing for the sake of writing, sharing for the sake of sharing, because that’s what a writer does. It’s my penniless passion, and I’ll stick by it to the end.

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