Doctor Who: The Shadow Divergency

Now that I've had time to process things with Doctor, notably Jo Martin's incarnation of the Time Lord, I personally believe that the Doctor is now in an alternative universe to the rest of the show's previous chronology. There are reasons for this but I won't go into them now. But a few nights ago, I was watching Rick and Morty and something happened in it that made me think about something. Not an official theory, nor is it 'canon', but here's a possibility that I think could be plausible.

Here goes.

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"I'm not sure I understand what's happened here..."

The Physician sighed and put his hands together.

"Due to Gallifrey's exposure to the time vortex, and indeed Time Lord physiology, there are very rare instances where children can...well...for lack of a better word...repeat".

The young couple look confused. They look over once again at their two children. One is a young boy, the other is a young girl. They are small, swaddled in cloths and towels, and are moving together. In complete unison. The young man looks once more at the physician.

"Define repeat".

"In Time Lord society, twins are not uncommon. Twins occur on lots of different worlds. Earth being a famous example. Natural Twinning used to occur on Sontar, Skaro, Obaletska, Chronion and many others. But this form of twinning is unique only to Gallifrey. One may be male, one may be female. But rest assured, they are exactly the same person. In Time Lord medicine, we call it 'Acute Shadow Divergency'. Somewhere during your gestation, Lady Lungbarrow, the temporal element which allows a youngling to obtain their regenerative capabilities became corrupted. You conceived one child. But one ended up a shadow of the other".

Lord Lungbarrow, the father, looks even more confused.

"We were not warned of this when we found out we were expecting".

"It's a rare phenomenon, Lord Lungbarrow. We learn about it at the Academy of Medicine as a cautionary tale. But there hasn't been a case of this, to my knowledge, since the time of The Imperator".

The Lungbarrows look at each other in horror.

"Will they be like him?"

Lady Lungbarrow look terrified as she awaited the answer to her question. The Physician shakes his head.

"I have no reason to believe that's likely. But one never knows. We cannot see the future".

Lord Lungbarrow shakes his head.

"So, what happens now? Do we keep them both?"

The Physician shakes his head.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that".

Lady Lungbarrow stands up in protest.

"I beg your pardon!?"

"I cannot allow you to take both of them home".

"And why not!?"

"Because, Lady Lungbarrow, your two children are two forms of the same. To keep them together would be a paradox. Two versions of the same fighting for supremacy. They might be best friends or bitter enemies. But if they stay together, they will be the same entity vying for the same space. On a planet like ours, the results of that could be catastrophic. Cataclysmic, in fact!"

Lord Lungbarrow sighs.

"Then what is to be done?"

"Shadow Divergencies can co-exist in the same universe, the same planet, the same time. But they need to be kept apart as far away as possible.The further the better. I'm afraid you will have to let one go".

"Will they remember each other?"

"Over time, no. They'll retain similar memories and they'll retain similar core principles and interests. But the further apart they are, and the more different experiences they have, the less of an impact the divergency will have. They will be forced to forget to they become more different over time".

Lady Lungbarrow, who looks over at her children, sheds a small tear. She turns around once more.

"Will they ever meet?"

"I don't know. If they meet as adults, after centuries of being apart, they could meet and there'd be no issue at all. I'm sorry, but they HAVE to be separated. And they CANNOT know of each other while they are young. Their meeting could rip Gallifrey apart. The fact they are a day old now is not an issue. But the risk increases by the day".

The Lungbarrows process what they've been told. Lord Lungbarrow rises from his chair and sighs.

"Which baby is the Shadow?"

The Physician thinks.

"From what I understand, the boy was the original pregnancy. We didn't register the girl until later".

Lord Lungbarrow, trying to regain decorum, walks over to Lady Lungbarrow, who is cooing over her children.

"We need to let her go..."

Lady Lungbarrow puts her hand over mouth and starts to cry.

"I can't. I can't...Our first children...I can't lose one..."

"We have to. You heard the Doctor. They're too dangerous together..."

Lady Lungbarrow takes a few moments before picking up the boy and passing him to Lord Lungbarrow. After he takes his son, she reaches down and picks up her daughter. Holding back more tears, she looks at her beautiful young girl.

"Now, you listen to me. I need you to do something for me. I need you to know that I don't want to let you go. But I know I must. I'm not letting you go out of hate, or neglect. I'm doing it because...I have to. So please, my little girl, please remember these words if nothing else..."

She thinks for a moment.

"...Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Never give up, and never give in. Hate is foolish, love is always wise. Always be nice and NEVER fail to be kind. Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind. Be everything, my love..."

Crying, she hands her daughter to the Physician.

"I promise, Lady Lungbarrow, she'll be well cared for..."

Lady Lungbarrow leaves the room. Lord Lungbarrow nods at the Physician before leaving the room also. The Physician looks at the little girl in his arms. She's crying. The Physician smiles.

"I promise you, I'll see you're looked after. I'll see if we have space in our home for you..."

My Therapy Day In London (Part One: Brexit)

For those of you who don't know, I've been signed off work for over a month now due to recurrent stress and anxiety. I'm due back at work next week but, while some improvement has been made, I still don't feel up to going. I'm having multiple anxiety attacks most days and, sometimes, it can be crippling. Sometimes, they can last most of the day. Unfortunately, I'm also a hypochondriac. So when my heart rate increases, my brain thinks I'm having a heart attack and the cycle begins again.

While I've been off, I've tried various things to try and calm myself down. I've written most of an experimental album based on my feelings at the moment. I've tried to take walks and I've tried various calming techniques to try and combat it. Nothing seems to work all the time. So I'm having to try a mix and match of various things. Which isn't overly helpful but that's what I've got to work with.

Earlier this week, I decided that perhaps a change of scenery was needed. Just a day where I could leave familiarity behind and just get lost in a change. So, I chose London. I love visiting London, it has a lot of things to do and, frankly, it's not that hard to walk around. A bustling city full of distraction sounded like just what the doctor ordered. And, while I certainly felt better for it, my heart rate did increase in the afternoon and multiple anxiety attacks did occur. 

Never mind. 

You can't win them all.

My day started on the Southbank. A building development opposite London Waterloo was completed so a walkway down to the river bank was ready to use. And what a lovely morning it turned out to be. The London Eye was bustling with tourists but the Southbank itself was largely quiet. I didn't want to stay here too long but it was a nice way to reintroduce myself to London. I hadn't been for well over a year and a half so it was nice to reacquaint. 

A walk along Westminster Bridge raised a slightly dark memory, however. Along the pavement now is a metal railing, separating the pavement and the road. It took me a moment to realise that this was because of the Westminster Bridge attack 2 years previously and was placed to prevent such an event from happening again. (Similar infrastructure was visible around a lot of Central London for terror prevention).

Now on the North Bank of the Thames, my first destination was the area around the Houses of Parliament, where I knew a lot of Brexit related stuff was going to be going on. 

And I wasn't disappointed.

The first person I spoke to in London that day was a German gentleman who, at first, asked me which part of the Houses of Parliament we were looking at. Apart from the scaffolded Elizabeth Tower, I wasn't at all sure but I still jokingly suggested he took a picture of it in case it all comes crashing down in the inevitable post-Brexit collapse of British society. He then asked me where Downing Street was. I directed him to the best of my memory and then, he asked my permission to ask a personal question.

"Can I ask what your view on Brexit is?"

Realistically, no-one's ever really asked me that. And, luckily, I'm not annoyed by this kind of questioning. So, I told him. That I voted Remain in 2016 (but I wasn't a die-hard Remainer, nor am I still) and that, when the result came through, I was wanting us to make the best of, what I perceived to be, a bad situation. I also explained that I felt that the actions of Parliament this week, in relation to another extension and further scrutiny of Boris Johnson's proposals, was a positive thing. Even though I appreciate it probably annoys large swathes of the populous. 

The gentleman went on to explain that he was a German of Turkish descent and was a banker. And he felt that it would be better for Britain and Europe to Remain, but he respected Britain's decision. He was explaining to me that, seeing as the financial sector in London is important to the European Union, it was expected that either Paris or Frankfurt would take London's role upon our departure. When I asked whether or not this was a positive thing for Germany, his answer surprised me.

"No. We'd much rather Britain remained the financial hub of Europe. We'll make it work but we'd love Britain to stay".

Around us were people waving all sorts of banners, placards and flags. And, close to us, was a lady with a 'Brexit Now!' placard. The gentleman's wife (I presume) wasn't overly sure what was going on. So, with no sense of irony, went up to the lady with the 'Brexit Now!' placard and said "Yay, remain!" Upon further inspection, her husband and I realised that she had gotten confused about who was who in this plethora of people. She thought that the people with the EU flags were Leavers and that the people with pro-Brexit placards were Remainers. (Not entirely sure how she arrived at this conclusion but who am I to judge). I explained to her who was who and all was forgiven. The lady carrying the placard found this quite amusing and made no effort to demean the wife for her mistake, which I felt was nice given most pro-Brexiteers you see on television are very vocal and ready to defend their beliefs. (Mind you, this was the real world and not BBC News).

However, I did find it amusing when the gentleman took this lady by the hand and begged her for Britain to stay. They then had a conversation in fluent German about this. Again, the lady was perfectly amicable, which I was glad about. The last thing I wanted this German couple to go home thinking was "Diese Engländer sind sehr unhöflich!"

After a few minutes of conversation, the German couple thanked us, wished us well and departed, leaving the placard lady and I alone. It was in this instance, I sensed an opportunity. But I was wary. Letting foreigners off the hook was one thing, what about a question on Brexit from a fellow Brit?

"Can I ask, when you voted to Leave, what exactly did you vote for? No deal or a deal or some other arrangement?"

Given this had been a topic of discussion of late, it seemed prudent to ask someone now.

"Oh, I don't care about a deal!" she went on to say. She then spent the next five minutes explaining to me why she voted leave. She explained how she used to work in telecommunications and had a company that was responsible for supplying communications equipment for European Space Agency satellites that ultimately got launched. She then explained how, in her experience, the EU had ruined the science sector on the continent and then went on, with no segue, to talk about VAT. After that, I kind of lost her. Not because I was disinterested, far from it, but because she was talking at 100mph and I genuinely couldn't keep up.

A walk around the statues of Westminster was the next order of the day. Realistically, I only wanted to see two statues. And I wasn't disappointed. Nelson Mandela is my historical and political hero, so to see his statue was incredibly humbling. But, my real desire, led me three statues to the left of Nelson. (Sorry, Madiba). The newest statue on that green. The statue of Suffragist, Millicent Fawcett.

I'd seen the unveiling of this statue on the news but it was lovely to see it up close. On the base of the statue were pictures of other prominent suffragists and suffragettes. I'm going to be honest, I didn't know many. The only ones I did know (apart from Fawcett) were Emmeline Pankhurst and Emily Wilding Davison. I studied the Women's Suffrage Movement in GCSE and A-Level history but it seemed there was a huge gap in my knowledge when it came to actual women at that time.

And reading the banner she was holding, it seemed particularly ironic to me given what's happening in this country now. Parliamentarians are often referred to as cowards or traitors for their views on Brexit. But, I suppose, in one way, it's courageous what they're doing.

Just as a disclaimer, I'm not saying this for all MPs. There are genuinely some who I believe lack conviction. Those who are Leavers, or those who are determined to Leave despite voting Remain themselves, are having the courage and conviction to stand by their principles. On the flipside, there are people who voted Remain who have the courage to still make sure either an orderly Brexit happens or even having the courage to dare speak out and talk about over-turning it. I'm not making a judgement here on who's right or wrong, but I think to have the courage to speak against the tide is an admirable quality. Whether you agree with that conviction or not.

I pondered this as I decided to walk through Whitehall and rest at Trafalgar Square. However, before I departed Parliament for the moment, three things caught my attention. 

The first was a permanent memorial to PC Keith Palmer, who died in the line of duty during the Westminster Bridge attack. I had no idea this existed so it was truly humbling to pay tribute to this man and to see that, even now, people still leave flowers and messages of thanks and good wishes for him.

The second thing, just around the tight corner from the memorial, was a man selling toilet paper. But not just any toilet paper. Oh, no. 2 ply Donald Trump toilet paper.

"I'll bet none of you have Donald Trump toilet paper at home! You can give it as a gift or you can use it!"

The third thing actually came from my about to ask him why he hadn't called the product 'Donald Dump'. I would've achieved this objective if a man on a bike hadn't decided to block my path to the vendor in the hope he could clear the gap before I moved. And, with a slightly dirty and tired look on his face, he looked at me for a moment and then went on his way. I just smiled at him before he left.

This man, as it happens, was Jeremy Hunt MP.

In Part Two: I'll discuss how I finally discovered how they film the news, my journey around the Queen's supermarket and how I nearly went to Abbey Road, but it wasn't to be.

#SmallTalkSavesLives [Trigger Warning]

If you find the idea of death and suicide triggering, now is the time to click off. I honestly don't want to trigger something for you if that's what makes you anxious. This is your warning.

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I retired this blog a little while ago. And, if I had my way, I wouldn't write it again. But I saw something earlier today that really played on my mind and I felt the need to comment on it and share my own experiences of this. As, it's been long enough, and it's something that needs to be discussed i think.

It's a video by the Samaritans in which an announcement is made at a train station that there has been a 'serious incident' on the line and that trains have been delayed. Now, anyone who travels on trains enough will know that a 'serious incident' is when a person jumps onto the line to commit suicide. As this is announced, the faces of the passengers turn into the inevitable "oh for f***s sake, really?" (We've all done it).

But this changes when the announcer reveals that the person who jumped was called 'Sara', who was 28, and was suicidal. You can see the passengers start to feel more sympathetic towards the person once their name and age is released, humanizing the person who has jumped. The announcer then goes on to explain that talking to someone who looks like their about to jump (e.g, small talk) could save somebody's life. (Something which has been demonstrated in the past). I'm not going to spoil the video's ending, I'll share it below, but the general message is that #SmallTalkSavesLives.

I watched this video and cried. I sobbed like a bloody baby because I identified with this. In fact, I've been in a situation where I've been saved by someone. Not by small talk, but by intervening at the right time.

It was 2013. I'd been to Newport for university and it hadn't gone as well as I'd hoped. I'd left the university, I'd been in a shitty job for a couple of weeks and I felt lost and without direction. I then got a job which, for the most part, I enjoyed. But I still had this gaping hole in me. I was feeling really shitty and I wasn't really enjoying things. I didn't really take any notice of it but, actually, I was really struggling with trying to take back control of how I was feeling. But I didn't say anything. Because I felt that I could do it eventually and that, if I said anything, I would be laughed at. Ridiculed and told I'm just being over-dramatic.

And then, there was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I liked someone who lived quite a way away. A young woman who shall remain nameless. A mutual friend and I had been talking, I'd revealed to them how I felt about said young woman and the mutual friend believed that the feelings were reciprocated. I was happy. I finally felt happy that something may well go my way. I finally felt I had something good to hold onto.

So, in agreement with the mutual friend, I wrote the young woman a letter declaring my feelings for her and sent it off.

The day after I'd sent it, the mutual friend messaged me telling me they'd grossly misjudged the situation and that the feelings were, in fact, not reciprocated at all.

I couldn't believe it. After sending the letter as well. I felt upset, angry and embarrassed.

Mainly embarrassed.

A few days later, I got a response to the letter outlining what I already knew. I still have it somewhere as a reminder. But that'll become clearer later.

I felt broken. It was June 2013 by this point and that was it. As far as I was concerned, I was done. Nothing mattered. I was struggling and struggling but I still felt I couldn't tell anybody. Not Mum, not my friends, no one. I felt embarrassed, dead and alone. Not a lot of happiness except momentary happiness. Happy in the moment, but not really happy when looking back.

I often refer to June 2013 as the 'Dark Time'. Because, in my life, it was. I started to become more angry, more hot tempered, I changed so much that my Mum once told my aunty "he's not my son. I don't know where my son's gone but this isn't him". I'd changed that much. Still feeling alone. Broken. Like nothing was worth anything.

Because, if I had that much shit going on and it was getting on top of me, there wasn't going to be an end to it was there?

Then, later in June, that's when it happened.

I was in the house alone. Mum had gone to work and I had a day off. I was home alone, stewing on my problems. Letting them fester like I had done the other days I'd had. Other stuff had happened in June that made me feel worthless, stupid and idiotic and I'd just had enough.

I was doing the wiping up in the kitchen when I picked up a large knife that Mum had. I was wiping it and I was staring at it. I spent a couple of minutes staring at it and thinking. I kept thinking "if I just did something with this, the screaming in my head would stop. The self-loathing would stop, it would all stop. I could finally be happy again".

That's when I decided I was going to end it.

A split second. That's all it took. A moment where it all got too much and the opportunity presented itself. The emotions, the means and the delightful outcome all arrived at the same moment. If I ended it all I could finally be at rest. And the hurt wouldn't hurt anymore.

I took a deep breath and put the knife up to my throat. I'd always thought that dying of suffocation or lack of air was the worst way to die. So, I figured, for the bad I'd done recently and all the upset I'd caused, I deserved to die this way. I took a few more deep breaths and came to terms with what I was about to do. It still felt right to do it. Because, if I did, it'd be quiet.

I cried a little bit as I finally started building up the resolve to do it. I started to pull my right arm across when, suddenly, the doorbell rang. The knife nicked me ever so slightly as it did. But when the doorbell rang, I paused. And that's when I snapped out of it. I stared into space for a moment before looking at what I was doing. I dropped the knife and gasped for air. The reality of what I was about to do hit me like a train. I started to cry.

I ran to the door and opened it. It was Tom. One of my best friends.

"Alright?"

He commented on my crying, but I told him that I'd seen something sad on TV. Still believing I couldn't tell anyone I was struggling, let alone what I'd just tried to do.

"I've got the afternoon off work and was thinking of going to Southampton. Wondered if you'd like to come with?"

I don't think I've said yes quicker to anything in all my life. As he came in and shut the door, I ran back into the kitchen, quickly washed the knife again and put it back so it didn't look out of place.

I tried to act normal. I brushed my teeth, got in the car, and went to Southampton with Tom.

Now, this is why I think this new Samaritans campaign is important.

I was lucky. Tom knows what happened, I told him a couple of years after it had occurred. Tom literally saved my life. If he hadn't have come round at that exact moment, I may have died. By my own hand. It's not necessarily small talk, but it's still an intervention.

My reasoning for wanting to end it is petty. I know that now. I look back on it and I hate myself for ever thinking that these little triggers were worth dying over. But that's the nature of the beast. Little things, no matter how big or how small, build up. And that's when the little voices in your head start to niggle away at you. Telling you that you're worthless, no one loves you, no one will miss you.

And, with some people, the idea of taking their own lives can come to them weeks in advance and they meticulously plan it. But, for some, like me, it could be a moment. A moment of weakness when you're at your lowest point and you can't see a way out. It's that easy and can happen that suddenly.

Personally, I'm at peace with this now. Tom knows what happened, I recently told Mum about what happened (don't worry, she's not going to find out through this!) and I'm ok to talk about what it was like and how it felt to be in that moment.

Not because I'm trying to draw attention to myself or because I want to seem more important than anyone else, that isn't it at all, but because it's important to talk about this.

In the UK, 76% of all suicides are male suicides because men just don't feel that they can't come forward or show signs of struggling. I've been through that, I know what that's like. To feel like, as a man, you can't show signs of weakness or anything. Because, you're a bloke, you're meant to be the strong one apparently.

Many people I know have tried to kill themselves or have self harmed and it's a shame that this sort of thing still isn't taken as seriously as it could be.

I know some people who know me will be shocked, maybe even saddened, by what I've written here today. But I'm lucky. I found a way back from it. And, this may surprise you to know, it's largely down to a song I wrote called 'Molly's Lullaby'.

I wrote it after a dream I had about a future daughter of mine, called Molly would you believe, who refused to go to sleep until I sang that song. When I woke up, I wrote it and performed it at a gig I REALLY didn't want to do in Sturminster Newton. But the song went down well. Grown men cried. I put it up on YouTube and people really liked it. To this day, I still think it's the best song I've ever written because it's saved my ass on so many occasions. Someone even once commented to me that they liked it because you could hear the emotion and passion in my voice as I sing it.

Want to know why there's emotion and passion?

Because it was born from a dream at a time where I was at my worst and lowest. And to have a dream where I have a daughter, have a future that I can visualize? At that point in my life? I think of it as my victory song.

But not everyone can find a way back that easily. I've felt like ending things since in the moment, but nothing to this extent. And it's largely over things that are fixable. Reactionary, if you will.

But for others, it's a daily struggle. They can't just have a dream, write a song and slowly get back to a better place. It takes years of drugs, of therapy, of God knows what else to get them back to a point where they can feel confident that they have a future of some kind.

But interventions, small talk, anything like Tom did, all helps. It doesn't cure the problem but it cures the moment. It could save someone's life.

I'm forever indebted to Tom for saving my life. And he didn't even know it at the time. (And, when I told him, he was dumbstruck).

But, please, regardless of what gender you identify as, if you're struggling, please tell someone.

Tell someone you trust. Or call the Samaritans on: 116 123

And just help yourself. Or, if you're not in a situation like this and you're a friend or a family member, just be there. Listen, don't judge and help them.

You never know.

It could save a life.