Before I was three years old I had been lost in the woods and in a separate incident fallen down a drain where I remained for quite some time before being found and rescued by neighbouring housewives searching for me. When I was five I was spat at, name called and beaten by a fellow, vicious classmate. By the time I was six I became very drunk on a family holiday abroad, spending the next day badly hungover. The mayhem, drinking and attracting violence stayed with me for most of my years before I fell to a condition known as agoraphobia. I binned all four afflictions when I found Martial Arts and beautiful love in the form of my wife and three children.
Then as I entered my thirties, those afflictions (minus the agoraphobia) returned. Violent men led to me to heavy drink which bought back the mayhem. Martial Arts and my healthy passion for the fighting world disappeared and my family almost followed until I found myself lying in a hospital bed on the brink of a disastrous adventure from which I may not have recovered. ‘Not again’ I thought to myself ‘Not again.” No more would I let mayhem take from me what was mine. It was time to climb out of the drain….and so I did. I have been called a failure…I am seen as a Father, I have been called a spaz…I have been successful, I have lost and I have won, I have been hated and I have been hugged but perhaps most importantly I have been called a waster and yet I have been named Warrior. I’ll leave you to judge as you read the book An Everyday Warrior, but hold on…it gets bumpy.
An Everyday Warrior is available here