Going To Work In Sports Socks

I’m not saying I’m a needy dependent but my wife did make me change my socks this morning before allowing me to go to work. I thought I looked perfectly respectable. Dark grey suit, white shirt, black socks and shoes. Fionnuala took one look at my feet and shot me a horrified look – ‘You are NOT going to work in those socks,’ she proclaimed. ‘Why not?’ I replied. ‘Because they’re sports socks!’ she hollered back.

I was utterly oblivious I was heading into the office in running socks. My brain computes black socks as black socks. There is no further sub categorisation. My mind was blown. I’d been doing this for months. Had anyone at work noticed? Did my work colleagues gather by the photocopier to point and snigger as I walked by? Oh look, there goes Running Sock Guy,’ they would guffaw, just out of earshot.

What about running? Had I been hitting the roads in fluorescent tops, shorts and black business socks? I was probably the laughing stock of the local running community, a pariah to be mocked and shunned. Would I be forced to return my marathon medals for crimes against running fashion? I shook my head sadly, my dreams of a seven figure Nike sponsorship deal shot down in flames.

My father was the most resourceful and practical man I’ve ever known. He could turn his hand to anything. If you threw him an assembly manual and a spanner, he could assemble it. Garden shed, swing set, aircraft carrier, he would figure it out. The one thing he couldn’t master were matching clothes. Every morning he would walk into the kitchen and ask my mother if his outfit for the day met the required standard. Often, he was sent back to the bedroom to ‘try again.’

The other day Fionnuala caught Adam going to school in black shoes and ankle socks. It was up there with the cardinal sin – black shoes and white sports socks. Even I know that is a complete no no. Three generations of Black men, joined by the common strand of being utterly incapable of dressing themselves. Thank God for women, I say. The power behind the throne….and the wardrobe.

We fight all our lives to be independent, to break free of the apron strings of our parents and live our own lives. Yet, so often, we are lazy and allow ourselves to lapse back into old habits. We lean too heavily on others, and allow them to take responsibility for our decisions and actions. That way, it’s so much easier when the wheels come off. We can blame somebody else, as opposed to taking the hit.

Life is all about decisions. Will I take that job, will I marry this person, what socks will I wear to work today? They vary in levels of importance. Some we make without even thinking, others we deliberate over for weeks on end. In the end, we have to make a choice, choose a fork in the road and set off down it. Every action has a consequence. The only way to find out what that is, is to take a deep breath and go for it.

How independent are you?

Do you allow others to make decisions for you?

Are You A Confident Person?

Fionnuala and I are attending Hannah’s annual school review this lunchtime. This does exactly what it says on the tin. We sit around a table and listen as her teacher, classroom assistant, physio and occupational therapist update us as to her progress so far this school year. I know we will have nothing to fear as Hannah is a model student, popular, polite and hard working. We always leave such meetings with smiles on our faces.

It’s also fast approaching the time of year where I am subject to my own annual review at work. This time, the shoe is on the other foot. I sit quivering before my boss as he gives me his thoughts on my performance over the past 12 months. Thankfully, I have a very understanding and accommodating manager and I don’t think I’ve screwed up (too much) during the reporting period.

This year is a little different as there is a promotion opportunity looming on the horizon that I have been encouraged to apply for. On the face of it, this might seem a no brainer. I’m one of the few people within the organisation trained to do the job. It’s a considerable pay hike and people have been telling me for years I am capable of performing the role. And yet, I hold back, reluctant to throw my name in the hat.

There’s the little issue of my lack of self confidence to begin with. I’m my own worst critic and constantly tell myself the promotion boat has sailed. My face doesn’t fit, senior management don’t rate me, I wouldn’t be able to cope with the added pressures and demands of the job. I’m the king of excuses when it comes to such matters, my own worst critic. I don’t just knock myself down. I then check the rear view mirror and then reverse over my inert body, just to be sure.

I’ve been dreading this past week where I’ve held the on call phone. I’m not good enough, I won’t be able to cope, I’m going to make a total mess of a call and be found out. I’m always worried about being found out, shown up for the fraud and charlatan hiding behind the professional and competent front I present to the ever watching world. The same applies to the other hats I wear.

Husband, Father, Christian, Runner, Writer. I’m a big, fat imposter and today is the day I’m going to be found out. Today is the day I’m going to sit in front of those who matter and be told I’ve fluffed my lines and my services are no longer required. Pack up your belongings and hand in your ID card on the way out. Stephen has left the building with his tail well and truly between his legs. Game, set and match to the nagging voice inside my head.

Do you ever feel that way? Where your confidence pours through your fingers like water from a gushing tap. You watch as it trickles down the drain, unwilling and unable to take that step out of your comfort zone. It could be the step that changes your life, one way or the other. There’s only one way to find out and yet you hesitate, you hold back. The self survival mechanism within tells you to stop.

You’re at a crossroads. Which way do you turn? You’re sitting in front of an interview panel. What do you say? Decisions need to be made, yet you sit there floundering, barely able to draw breath, let alone formulate an eloquent answer to the question you have been asked. It’s at times like this you need to draw deep from the well within. Hoping you find deep, refreshing waters of inspiration as opposed to a few inches of stagnant, murky despair.

Are you a confident person?

Have you a big decision looming on the horizon?

How do you combat the nagging voice of doubt?

Uncommon Sense

You haven’t the sense you were born with!

This critique of my decision making and problem solving skills has dogged me throughout most of my adult life. I am told that I am intelligent and I hold down a reasonably important job where I (shock horror) manage other adults and ‘do the grown up stuff’ without blinking an eyelid. I can deliver presentations to large audiences, brief senior management and function effectively within a high pressure working environment.

Fionnuala says there are two Stephens. ‘Work Stephen’ who is confident, assertive and strong; and ‘Home Stephen’ who can barely change a light bulb and who dithers over whether he wants pizza or Chinese from the takeaway.

I used to be indecisive but now I’m not so sure….

I cannot make a decision to save myself. My self esteem is low so my default setting is to please people. I want to be liked. It’s different in the working environment. I am representing an organisation and making decisions on their behalf. It’s not personal and if people don’t like the decision then they can blame the organisation and not me.

It’s different outside of work. The buck stops with me. When I am asked a question I’m immediately second guessing what the person who asked the question wants me to say in response. My brain goes into overdrive. If I say pizza will they be annoyed because they really wanted Chinese food. Or vice versa? I hmmmm and I haaaaa and then end up saying ‘Oh I’ll have whatever you’re having’. This drives Fionnuala nuts. ‘I wish you would make a decision’ she sighs.

This people pleasing disposition has got me in all sorts of bother down the years. I can’t say no. I hate confrontation and disagreements. I will agree with someone’s opinion or point of view even when every molecule in my body is screaming that they are wrong. This has led me down many wrong paths and before I know it I’m up to my neck in a whole world of pain.

I have worked hard this year on many aspects of my personality. This includes making decisions based on what sits best with my conscience as opposed to what the other person wants to hear. It also involves saying ‘no’ when I want to say ‘no’ and veering clear of people and situations which I know are not healthy for me. This has drastically wiped out a large chunk of my social calendar but I view it as a small price to pay.

Fionnuala has asked me in recent weeks what I want for Christmas and as usual I wasn’t able to give her a straight answer. Until now.

All I want for Christmas is wisdom and discretion.

I don’t want common sense. I want more. I want uncommon sense. I want the wisdom of Solomon. I want my yes to mean yes and my no to mean know. I want to make healthy, well informed decisions which I know are right for me and my family. I want to walk along the paths I was born to walk along. I want that piece of my mind that has always reneged at this to know true peace of mind.

Is that too much to ask Santa?

Would you say you have common sense?

What bad decisions in your past have influenced your present?

Steps Lead To Shelter

Last night I woke up at 04:00 am and the following words hit me like a bolt between the eyes.

Steps lead to shelter….

We are all on a journey. And every journey requires forward motion. Change is daunting and many of us fear and avoid it. But it is necessary in order for us to evolve into who we are meant to be. We need to embrace new situations, relationships and experiences as opposed to recoiling from them.

Change involves transition. Transitions require decisions.

Are you at a crossroads in your life? Have you a significant decision to make that will change your life irrevocably? If you have it’s a frightening time. You may feel that you are exposed and vulnerable; that the next step may only take a second but could lead you into a life of regrets; that you are leaving your safe, comfortable existence behind and are entering a dangerous, new world.

My advice?

Take the step.

Be honest with yourself. The decision was taken days, months, years ago even. All that is required now is the actual transition. You need to turn that thought into a concrete action. Take the step. And then another one. And then another one. Don’t look back in anger the song goes. I say don’t look back at all. When you have made your decision stick by it.

Your comfort zone is a war zone. You might feel safe there but you are in fact engaged in a fight to the death. The death of your dreams and hopes. The death of your future. The death of who you were created to be. Suffocated by the smog of your present circumstances. The comfort zone is a dank, dark, cold environment.

I see little comfort in that.

The future might seem frightening but throw back the veil and you will see for the first time that it is in fact quite the opposite. It is a place of opportunity; of revelation and restoration. Where you are going is a place of construction. Where you are coming from is a place of obstruction and destruction.

What are you constructing? A new world. A world you deserve and are entitled to live in. It is your birthright; it is your inheritance. It is also a place of sanctuary. You have moved forward in order to find your retreat. You can build strong, thick walls behind which yourself and others can heal and flourish. It is a place of genuine comfort.

A storm is coming. You can see it on the horizon. It is hypnotic and you can’t take your eyes off it as it edges ever closer. It is time to move on. It is time to take that first, faltering step in the opposite direction. You may take it alone or you may take it with others. That is their decision but do not be tied by it for you have already made yours.

Take the step.

Steps lead to shelter.

For There Lurk Demons

Sometimes you hit a crossroads in life and I think I am there now. It has been an undulating and meandering route but I am there. So where do I go? The crossroads is barren and offers no clues as to the way ahead. There are no signposts or clues as to which road to take. There are no fellow travellers to consult with. All I know is that I cannot go back the way I came for there lurk demons.

I am weary and fearful that if I delay my decision much longer then it will be too late. The window of opportunity will be firmly and permanently shut in my face. The options open to me will disappear like wisps of smoke in a clear, blue sky. I look to the skies for inspiration but see only the gaunt vultures circling me under the watchful, unblinking eye of the searing sun.  They smell death. The death of my dreams.

I crave death. The death of my past. I want to cut free from the stifling chains of guilt and worthlessness. The voices that tell me I have failed. For they are seductive liars who flaunt their wares brazenly in front of my tearful eyes on a daily basis. I no longer believe the lies but they still sting like salt on a fresh wound. They circle me mockingly and show no respite. They seek to overwhelm me but I will not succumb to their falsehoods.


I look to God for guidance but he is silent. Is his silence a sign in itself? Is there a purpose behind his silence? Or is he screaming in my ears but I choose not to listen? Is my spiritual deafness self inflicted? The cruellest enemy is the one who knows you best. And I know myself very well. I know every chink in my threadbare armour. Every exposed area where the steel of the enemy can plunge deep through flesh and muscle until it strikes home, piercing my very soul.

I see myself lying at the crossroads as my essence drains out of me to be consumed by the dusty, thirsty road. My very being ebbs away as my eyes glaze over. There are no Good Samaritans on this road. Only the crossroads and a decision to be made. Is there a right decision? Is the wrong decision making no decision at all? I renounce the confusion in my head. The fog of the enemy has no place in my mind. I pray for clarity and truth. 

I look down as my right foot tentatively steps forward. Followed by another step. Then another. I am walking. Forwards. I know not where this path leads and I know not why I have chosen it. But a decision has been made. I leave the crossroads behind me and move on, leaving the vultures behind. The distant horizon offers only baffling anonymity. I see no end to my journey. I see no fireworks or marching bands. Only the road. But every step is another one away from my past.

For there lurk demons.

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