NO ONE KNOWS ME…

… and that’s because I’m only just really getting to know myself.

It sounds nuts, almost stupid, but I think getting to truly know myself has been one of the biggest challenges to date. I must admit (and those that “know” me will probably agree), I’m a complex character at the best of times, and like I said in my first post, I’ve lived a number of lives. There have been a few versions of me so far and I think I must be on about Version 7 —

There’s been the litter fucker ‘road-man-me’ that saw me in and out of jail. This guy was called Dizzy. (No one to blame other than myself, it was all my doing, BUT, I really didn’t know better at this point. Dad was in and out of prison, I’d say 90% of my mates were too, so it really was the norm!) Although my behaviour seemed almost normal because everyone close to me was behaving in the same way, I always felt different. I knew I wasn’t like these guys I was sharing cells with.

Then there was University me… My ex at the time, who came from a VEEEERY different background from me somehow convinced me that I was smart and could do better. If I’m honest, I would go far enough to say that this girl changed my life and I will always secretly hold her close to me for that. I had a peek into how the ‘other half’ lived and I liked it. Hated uni though, I found it so shit. I for sure wasn’t cut out for it. Doing things like going straight to lectures from midweek partying, no sleep and tooting lines in the toilets to get me through them. I passed my marketing degree with a 2:1 but didn’t make graduation as I was too busy in Ibiza missing my flight... I met some cool people during my time at Uni, however, I always felt different. I knew I wasn’t like these guys I was studying with.

Which leads to the Dizzy Version 3.0. Outfuckingrageous party animal. This was fun, very fun (i think) the next few years were a bit of a blur but I know I spent a lot of time ending up in random places, in unbelievable situations doing shit that some of you would definitely find hard to believe. Haha, I’m actually laughing now thinking about 3.0 me. Who was that guy? For fuck sake, he was tapped for sure. Loved my partying crew, but I always felt different (I think). I knew I wasn’t like these guys I was partying with.

Enter Version 4. Dyson. 100% still not fully right in the head. This era was the birth of the ‘legal’ Entrepreneur, good at making money and doing a great job of spending it too. Good investments, bad investments ups and downs, a crazy fastpaced time that taught me a lot. I was mid 20’s “living” life but still not happy… still felt something was missing. Not being grateful for what I had achieved, forgetting where I had come from and still wanting to be better. Better than I was, better than everyone else. I was angry… NOTE: I forgot to mention my anger, all previous me’s had it, I was made of the stuff, it was my burden. My temper was through the roof and uncontrollable. It ate me up if I held it inside, and if I let it out, the guilt of my actions would eat me up anyway. It was lose lose. Again, in this part of my life, I always felt different. I knew I wasn’t like these guys I was making money with.

Version 5. Looking for a new challenge, I guess bored of fighting nightclub bouncers and wanting to get the violence out, I started training MMA. Before long I was on a reality TV show. Yeah, I know! Not sure I’m gonna say the name of it as you will all be googling it, and I remember some really cringy moments. It wasn’t like that TOWIE bullshit though. It was for fighters… For those that thought they were good haha. Anyway, in true me-like scatty form, I got the audition dates mixed up and it fell on the same day I had to catch a flight to Marbella (fucking Marbs… think you’d have to pay me to go there now). My pal drove me otherwise I would’ve missed it, and got there to be told that although they like me, I would be too small as the show was for LHW (Light Heavy Weights)/ 93kg. I weighed about 82kg.

So off to Marbs I go for a week of popping bottles, drugs and sex... On my way to the airport coming home, (in full come-down mode, and just wanting to crawl into a ball and be cuddled) I got a call from the show saying that I’m in, but I needed to put on weight. The thought of having to fight these big dudes while I felt so fragile made me sick, but me being me, I decided I was gonna do this and forced down 3 Cornish pasties as soon as I landed at Gatwick in my attempt to start gaining. Long story short, made it to the final and got my ass kicked. Although I lost, I still got offered the contract and I became a professional cage fighter. I had 10 fights, and lost 3 of them… and I have got brilliant excuses for why I lost those too. Fighting professionally felt positive, my teammates were next level wicked and love a few of them to this day, however (haha) I always felt different. I knew I wasn’t like these guys I was fighting with.

The 6th part of my adulthood was the start of a new me. Mason. No nicknames needed, I started to recognise that the past versions of me had been toxic (apart from fighting. I knew I didn’t want to fight as a career, but i liked the challenge, it humbled me. Getting punched and kicked was good for me. I loved it and still do). I felt unsettled, wondering about the next step… The rebrand. With this slight change of mindset, came a change in lifestyle. My social circle was changing, most of my friends started “normal” jobs and done “normal” things. Normality definitely wasn’t, or will never be for me but it was nice to be a little more, erm… Tame. Yeah, I knew I was different, but I started to be ok with it…

There is another part to bring you up to where I am today, but this is getting a bit long now so I’ll save it for next week. I guess I’m just trying to give you a glimpse into my journey. This has just been a synopsis but I’m sure I’ll delve in a little more at some point.

In conclusion… This post is about my quest to discover who I am. Why I spent so long being ‘not me’. Am I the only person that felt this/feels this? Does everyone else fit nicely into their cosy little demographics?

Without getting too philosophical what does “fitting in” even mean? Is it liking the same music, like doing the same things, having the same beliefs? All of the above? And why is it so important? Is everyone adapting their true selves to fit in? and if so, why?

Life is way too short not to be who were born to be. I believe I have a purpose, I think we all do, and not being true to it is just fucking yourself. We need to ask ourselves the questions and not be scared of the answers. Some of you may want to write a blog, sing, become an artist, start a business, see the world, or tell us you’re attracted to the same sex…basically do something you’re not doing because fear is holding you back. The way I see it, if we can’t even be ourselves, I don’t see how we’ll be able to truly discover our purpose, and more importantly, be happy.