Chris Skoyles - Notebooks.

They say that the first step on the road to recovery is admittance, hands held high in defeat and heads hung low in shame as we say ‘OK, I admit it, I have a problem.’

I think there’s a little more to it than that.

Admitting we have a problem in our lives is much like admitting that we breath air or occasionally pass lustful glances towards other human beings; we all do it, even if we may not openly talk about it.

Show me a person who claims to live a problem-free life and I will show you either a liar or a person who, through strength, wisdom or pure bullshit, has acquired more knowledge of life than I could ever hope to.

Be it an addiction to alcohol, drugs gambling or any multitude of other sins, chronic pain, mental illness, domestic abuse, a deep, dark secret lingering somewhere in the back of the mind which torments our soul each day and disrupts our sleep each night, each one of us has some form of problem or another.

More accurately, I think the first step on the road to recovery is not to hang our heads low, but to hold them firm on our shoulders, eyes fixed right in front of us, staring that problem in the eyes and summoning the resolve to seek the love, support, and most importantly, courage to deal with that problem.

Yes, I admit that I have a problem. My problem is that I am powerless; powerless over my demons, powerless over my poisons, often powerless over my very life as a whole.

I admit that I hit rock bottom and I hit it hard. I admit that, feeling distant, desolated and at a certain point of despair, the lingering effects of some long-past childhood trauma trembling in my gut and pounding at my conscious, the anniversary of a milestone playing heavy on my heart, I felt overwhelmed, sad, troubled even.

I admit that I tried to overcome this problem the same way I’d tried to overcome it so many times before. I admit that I tried to drown it out, numb the pain, soothe the soul and settle the mind. 

Did it work? Hell no!

If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ve always get what you’ve always get what you’ve always got

I’ve always loved that quote. I first came across it whilst reading a particulalry useful Neuro-linguistic programming guide that helped me through my divorce. ‘Of course!‘ I exclaimed to myself ‘That makes perfect sense!’

Yet as much affinity as I found with those words, as much as they made pure and perfect sense, I admit that I didn’t really apply them to my own life. I admit that I kept on always doing what I’d always done. What happened? I always got what I’d always gotten.

People, important people, left me. Debts piled high and depression sunk lower, but I had a problem, and I kept on keeping on.

I read somewhere that one definition of the bottom is the point when the last thing you lost or the next thing you’re about to lose is more important to you than doing what you’ve always done.

Well, I lost it. 

I emerged from my sleep; my pain was not numbed, my soul not soothed nor my mind calmed. Instead, that terror trembled harder inside me. I spoke to her. I’d lost it. We spoke all day and into the night.

And then I woke up, probably for the first time ever. 

I admitted, still admit, that I was powerless over my demon, and I knew that, as strong as I could be, it was not strong enough to conquer this Demon on my own. So I sought the love, the support and the courage I needed to head into battle.

I’m still battling now. I’ll be battling for a long time to come. But now that I can see clearly, my eyes firmly fixed on those of my Demon, I at least know what it is I am battling, and I can launch myself into this war with all the determination with which I hurled myself into my last debauch. 

I admit that nothing good will come if I always do what I’ve always done, and that if I do it again, I will most likely lose one of the few things I have left; my own life.

I admit that I do not wish to do it again, and that with the love, support, courage and resolve I have found, I will not do it again. Not now. Not ever. I may have lost almost everything, but the few things that do remain to me I cherish and value much more than I ever cherished the opportunity to drown my Demon.

I admit that this Demon was destroying many areas of my life, and that I can no longer allow that to happen. 

I admit that I have a problem, but more accurately, more importantly, I admit that I am ready to hold my head firm on my shoulders, my eyes fixed firmly on my problem, and I admit that I am ready to face it, conquer it, and through the love and support of others, carry with me the courage to regain control.

Chris Skoyles
May 20th, 2012. 

They, whoever they may be,
With wisdom engraved in popular philosophy,
They say that behind every great man
There stands an even greater woman.

Of this, I know nothing.

Flawed and imperfect,
Head sore and heart hurting,
I am far from great.
Sometimes I am not even sure
That the good in me amounts to an ounce
Or that my sins will ever be forgiven.

And yet, there she is, that woman,
Flawed and imperfect,
Body sore and soul hurting.

And yes,
Sometimes she slips behind me,
Hands pressed to my back,
Pushing me forward, pulling me on track.
But mostly she’s beside me,
Equally imperfect.

Like two wounded soldiers
We fight our battles side by side,
When I win she rejoices
When she hurts I cry.

One soul, two voices
Two halves of one whole.
United we conquer,
Divided we fall.

Apart we are nothing,
Flawed and imperfect
Full of pain, devoid of grace
Yet together we’re everything,
Perfect and great 

Take this matchstick
Small, stupid thing.
Strike against my smile
ANd I’ll feel the sting
The tiny flames rise
upto my eyes and melt my tears
Slowly drown them out
Down I drown, sinking to my matchstick knees.
Begging the torment to please ease,
And let me find my new lease of life,
Without yesterday’s ashes remaining after today’s fire has died,
These matchsticks with sadistic tricks 
Slip inside me and heat my soul
Passions boil and tempers fly
Break glass, smash, be alone and cry
Snap these matchsticks
Breaking maybe, but for one short while
Not enough for the flames to burn my smiles
Living my entire life on matchstick knees
If matchsticks burned out,would I even be?

I can’t wait till tomorrow
Tomorrow’s Friday y’know.
I love Friday’s
Honestly, they’re the greatest things that God ever made.

Fridays are the days
I get paid and get laid
And get tipsy on whisky
And play pissed up games.

Fridays are the days
-or nights should i say-
that I abandon all shame
And have sex in the rain with…
Shit, sorry, forgotyour name

Fridays are the days
I get drunk andget sex
And get cash from my job
To spend in the pub

I get everything on Fridays
I really do get it all
All, that is,
‘till Saturday comes to call.

I hate Saturday mornings
When I’ve smoked all my fags
And spend all my cash
And woke up with some kind
Of genital rash.

My breath stinks of lager
And in 9 months I’ll be a father
To a child with..
Sorry, babe, who are ya?

Later that day
the lads are back in the pub
for the Hair Of The Dog
ANd it’s then I’m reminded
Of the drunk stuff that I did

The embarasment, the shame
And ow, shit, the pain!
Did I get in a fight last night?
OH yeah, that’s right..
called the bouncer a gobshite
And got a black eye

I ride High..
On crimson waves of ecstacy
And I fly..
Into the dementia that waits before me
I live…
Where no man ever lived before
Under the fire
Behind Death’s glass door.
I die..
As the moon falls silent over mortal hell
Fighting to life
Trapped in paranoid spells

This is The End.
This is The Life
This is The Blade

Here comes the pain, boys
Here comes the steel.
Pain returned tenfold
Stealing back all smiles you stole

..Fall asleep with a clean knife
In the dead of night
Return unto sunlight
Covered in blood.

December 2004

You and I
Go hand in hand
Down to the lake
And Sail away
We float away from misery
Into the sea,
Just you & me

We hit the land
And hand in hand again
We save ourselves from pain
This little island we now call home
Is yours and mine, and ours alone

Were hours away from anyone
A million miles away from what once begun
Kindred spirits beneath the sun
Soul mates, best friends, just one on one.

All best ex-girlfriends turned out to be whores
But I’ve never met anyone like you before.
In one locked room, you opened doors,
Picked my lifeless body off cold, cracked floors.

And now we’re here, all by ourselves,
You and me against the world
We’ll win this war,
So take my hand and let’s sail back home
To the little land we call our own.

Chris Skoyles
16/11/04

*I remember very clearly, in quite an odd way, that I was inspired to write this after listning to ‘99 Red Balloons’ on a daily basis.

By the by, I like my life.
Spend each day on the edge of a knife,
One arm grasping the edge of a cliff
Loosing grip on a dream, a wish.

Rock ‘n’ Roll’s the name of the game
By Thursday night, I’ll be dead again.
But Friday brings the ressurection,
Save an hour’s grace for introspection
Spend a grand or two on inebriation
I’m born again, the celebration.

And as the Renegade Freaks rise
Against the masses
Purging their purity in sin’s sweet fires, I propose a toast, so raise your glasses,
Here’s to life, on the edge of a knife.

09/11/04.

By the by, I like my life.
Spend each day on the edge of a knife,
One arm grasping the edge of a cliff
Loosing grip on a dream, a wish.

Rock ‘n’ Roll’s the name of the game
By Thursday night, I’ll be dead again.
But Friday brings the ressurection,
Save an hour’s grace for introspection
Spend a grand or two on inebriation
I’m born again, the celebration.

And as the Renegade Freaks rise
Against the masses
Purging their purity in sin’s sweet fires, I propose a toast, so raise your glasses,
Here’s to life, on the edge of a knife.

09/11/04.

This is where we go

To overthrow the undertow.

This is how we know

The undergrowth is

Overflowing.

This is where we stalk,

Those who walk the light.

This is how we enrapture

Those who capture

The night in their dreams.

This is where my life

Once fell apart at the seams.

This is how the dead,

Found a new way to breathe.

This is where we go,

To overthrow the overflow,

This is how the undergrowth

Got pulled along by the

Undertow.

This is where we choked

On all of tomorrow’s hope.

This is how we breathe

Through yesterday’s dream.

This is how it was revealed

That it’s OK to believe,

This is where we go,

To realise what is real.

 

If it makes your life easier,

I will relieve you

And leave you free from

Doing as you please.

If you think it might work,

I will take all the hurt

Caused by disorder

And help you cross

This border to calm.

In time, you may thank me,

Or even reward me for 

Sharing his control,

For letting me relieve you,

For making life easier.