Ajk_Lpool
06-12-2009, 02:57 PM
Hi guys. I just want to share with you a recent experience in my life that hopefully will help inspire and motivate you even more to achieving your goals. It's not entirely bodybuilding related but it can certainly transfer to it. The real motivation is what I believe to be the concept itself.
A bit of background info. I'm 19 (nearly 20) and left school when I finished in the U.K at 15. The next year, I re-sat my exams at a local college (I was very immature at school, slightly impressionable and just enjoyed the attention and enjoyment that came with being a class clown) and pretty much failed again (I still had 4 C's at GCSE grade in maths, English Language & Literature, business studies; which is decent enough to get onto any national course yet didn't reflect my true ability). Despite this, I've always considered myself to be extremely intelligent with a unique view on things, yet never applied it into my true ambitions and goals, of what I wanted to achieve. I've always wanted to become a Primary school teacher (ages 4-6) and make a positive difference in the world today and improve outcomes for children. I believe that children are the future and ever since I did my work experience in a primary school at 14 years old (high school requirement for 2 weeks in the UK), it's always been my true objective in life.
The next year, (about to turn 17) I enrolled on a two year National Diploma in Early Years. The course was full time, Monday-Friday, with one week being based in college and the next in a placement. The first year would be based in a nursery, with the second in a primary school - working up the relevant ages of children, starting from babies in nurseries, to children who had just started school in the primary stage (3-7). My first day of the course, I walked into my classroom and seen i was the only male there. My heart sunk! I felt extremely nervous and a little embarrased to tell the truth. can remember everybody being intriguied by my presence on the course and what I was doing there! (the course is mainly responsible for producing nursery nurses although it provides an excellent learning experience with children and background knowledge of education and their development, which is what I was interested in). Despite this, I made friends very fast and became the most popular person in the group, mainly because of my strong character and sexuality (if i am bias!). The 1st year flew by - I had such a great time! I was an active participant in the group, enjoyed the discussions in class, was hanging out with up to 5-6 girls each break :D and absolutely loved the practical side in the day nursery every other week - where I also made some great friends, and loved the children. Despite this, my lazy habits of handing in coursework, completing assignments were beginning to catch up with me.
Now, fast forward to the beginning of April (close to the end of first year of the course). My Dad was becoming very ill at the time and started to be extremely tired, lethargic and could not eat at all due to pai in his throat. Despite this, he would still work every single day as a courier (12am-2am) 14 hours per day, travelling all over the country and back (a total of around 500 miles with 10 different large deliveries in between) Monday-Friday. Not to mention, my Dad was not exactly a spring chicken at this time - he was 63! He went into hospital for testing around mid-March and I went with him for the results on a college day (he lived around 50 miles from my home in Liverpool - parents were divorced, I live with Mum - so I had to travel to see him every weekend, he would pick me and my brother up every saturday without fail). He went in for the results with his closest sister and i waited outside with my Uncle and Aunt - his brother and sister. When he came out, he took me to the side and I asked nervously what the results were. He told me he had a tumor in his throat that was quite large, and that he had cancer of the osopheagus. When i asked how big, he told me "9 inches". I remember just walking silently along the hospital corridors, and then just breaking down. My Dad was my closest friend, my hero, my everything. He held me and said "we will get through this together" in a totally calm and relaxed manner. about 10 days later I spent the weekend with him and he became incredibly ill and deteriorated. I just didn't realise how bad it was, until on the sunday before I was due to come back (my brother drove down to pick me up) his sisters and brother visited and immediately rang the doctor. He was admitted to hospital that night and I went home, believing he would be OK.
I took the day off college Monday and visited him, where he lay in the hospital bed eating ice cream slowly to get his energy up. Do you know what he said to me and my brother? "Why aren't you in college and work?!". A man who puts his own children's lifes before their own physical health, dying, is what I believe to be a remarkable individual. I went home later that day after visiting and told him I loved him and he said the same back to us. We were lucky to have shared such an open, loving relationship where we could talk about anything. On Tuesday, around 5pm, i was entering the gym back in Liverpool where I received a call from my Uncle. He said "Adam, you need to come down and see your Dad, he isn't that well. He's ok but he just wants to see you both". I just didn't think anything of it at the time, I don't know why. He was due to start chemotherapy on wednesday where i believed he would begin to recover. back at home later on, my brother burst in from work in tears. he said my Dad was really sick and at that stage I was confused and scared. We travelled immediately up to Stockport and entered the hospital. My Dad was already being perscribed large doses of morphine and appeared extremely...well, just not himself; he was tired and was losing his mind and in obvious discomfort. Me and my brother were distraught. I stayed up until 6am in the morning with him on his ward. He was in such bad pain and couldn't get comfortable. I just rermember telling him I was going to make him proud and that I loved him. Eventually he went to sleep and I kissed him goodnight and went to the waiting room where I briefly slept at I was exhausted. I woke up at 9 and went to eat breakfast, visit my Dad where he was sleeping. I knew by then we were waiting for him to die and that i had spoken my final words with him. I just wanted him to be at peace by then because it was destroying me psychologically and emotionally seeing him in such pain. At 3pm, I sat by him when I just couldn't take it no more. I had to leave the room and his Auntie took me away outside where I broke down. I just wanted it to be all over. In the 2 minutes I was out the room, he died. My brother had went back to the flat he lived at with my Uncle to get something at the time, and they returned just as he died. We went in and I spoke my last words to my dad's body and that was the end of his life. I'll never forget my speech at his funeral which was absolutely packed out. It showed what a wonderful man he was. "Pride is what compells a man to work hard when nobody is watching". I actually told him this on the Sunday I spent with him before his death and he smiled as he lay sick on the couch. it was so fitting for how he had lived his life. He never had achieved anything great in economical status or financially but he lived a life a man should be proud of. Full of pride and integrity with a work ethic I have seen unsurpassed. He said the greatest thing to ever happen to him in his life where me and my brother and that with us he needed nothing else.
Back to college..The tutors were extremely considerate and thoughtful at this time. As was my placement. I actually returned to the gym the day after he died and even went on the day of his funeral on the Thursday, working in my placement the Monday and tuesday following his death. At the end of the year, it was just too much for me to handle and I did not pass my first year due to the incredible work load I had to catch up with.
The following year, the tutors encouraged me to go back. I turned up for the first class and just walked straight out. I still wasn't mentally prepared for everything. I thought, my first year was a failure, my Dad didn't want this. I need to find a new career. Emotionally, i was all over the place. Eventually a tutor persauded me to give the course another try. The thing that hurt the most was having to go through ANOTHER year in my life with nothing achieved, having to do all the 64 placement working days again. I had a comment from a member of the staff in the nursery i went back who said "I heard you failed your first year" as she s******ed. This upset me greatly at the time but I look back now and realise, when people see qualities in you such as drive and commitment without limitations, jealous and envious people will always try to bring you down. Never let them. I passed the year eventually with the same lazy work ethics. My work was rushed and half-assed, missed several days of college and had erratic times going into placement, missing days etc. It was a relief to get that year out the way and make progress out of the private day nursery.
A bit of background info. I'm 19 (nearly 20) and left school when I finished in the U.K at 15. The next year, I re-sat my exams at a local college (I was very immature at school, slightly impressionable and just enjoyed the attention and enjoyment that came with being a class clown) and pretty much failed again (I still had 4 C's at GCSE grade in maths, English Language & Literature, business studies; which is decent enough to get onto any national course yet didn't reflect my true ability). Despite this, I've always considered myself to be extremely intelligent with a unique view on things, yet never applied it into my true ambitions and goals, of what I wanted to achieve. I've always wanted to become a Primary school teacher (ages 4-6) and make a positive difference in the world today and improve outcomes for children. I believe that children are the future and ever since I did my work experience in a primary school at 14 years old (high school requirement for 2 weeks in the UK), it's always been my true objective in life.
The next year, (about to turn 17) I enrolled on a two year National Diploma in Early Years. The course was full time, Monday-Friday, with one week being based in college and the next in a placement. The first year would be based in a nursery, with the second in a primary school - working up the relevant ages of children, starting from babies in nurseries, to children who had just started school in the primary stage (3-7). My first day of the course, I walked into my classroom and seen i was the only male there. My heart sunk! I felt extremely nervous and a little embarrased to tell the truth. can remember everybody being intriguied by my presence on the course and what I was doing there! (the course is mainly responsible for producing nursery nurses although it provides an excellent learning experience with children and background knowledge of education and their development, which is what I was interested in). Despite this, I made friends very fast and became the most popular person in the group, mainly because of my strong character and sexuality (if i am bias!). The 1st year flew by - I had such a great time! I was an active participant in the group, enjoyed the discussions in class, was hanging out with up to 5-6 girls each break :D and absolutely loved the practical side in the day nursery every other week - where I also made some great friends, and loved the children. Despite this, my lazy habits of handing in coursework, completing assignments were beginning to catch up with me.
Now, fast forward to the beginning of April (close to the end of first year of the course). My Dad was becoming very ill at the time and started to be extremely tired, lethargic and could not eat at all due to pai in his throat. Despite this, he would still work every single day as a courier (12am-2am) 14 hours per day, travelling all over the country and back (a total of around 500 miles with 10 different large deliveries in between) Monday-Friday. Not to mention, my Dad was not exactly a spring chicken at this time - he was 63! He went into hospital for testing around mid-March and I went with him for the results on a college day (he lived around 50 miles from my home in Liverpool - parents were divorced, I live with Mum - so I had to travel to see him every weekend, he would pick me and my brother up every saturday without fail). He went in for the results with his closest sister and i waited outside with my Uncle and Aunt - his brother and sister. When he came out, he took me to the side and I asked nervously what the results were. He told me he had a tumor in his throat that was quite large, and that he had cancer of the osopheagus. When i asked how big, he told me "9 inches". I remember just walking silently along the hospital corridors, and then just breaking down. My Dad was my closest friend, my hero, my everything. He held me and said "we will get through this together" in a totally calm and relaxed manner. about 10 days later I spent the weekend with him and he became incredibly ill and deteriorated. I just didn't realise how bad it was, until on the sunday before I was due to come back (my brother drove down to pick me up) his sisters and brother visited and immediately rang the doctor. He was admitted to hospital that night and I went home, believing he would be OK.
I took the day off college Monday and visited him, where he lay in the hospital bed eating ice cream slowly to get his energy up. Do you know what he said to me and my brother? "Why aren't you in college and work?!". A man who puts his own children's lifes before their own physical health, dying, is what I believe to be a remarkable individual. I went home later that day after visiting and told him I loved him and he said the same back to us. We were lucky to have shared such an open, loving relationship where we could talk about anything. On Tuesday, around 5pm, i was entering the gym back in Liverpool where I received a call from my Uncle. He said "Adam, you need to come down and see your Dad, he isn't that well. He's ok but he just wants to see you both". I just didn't think anything of it at the time, I don't know why. He was due to start chemotherapy on wednesday where i believed he would begin to recover. back at home later on, my brother burst in from work in tears. he said my Dad was really sick and at that stage I was confused and scared. We travelled immediately up to Stockport and entered the hospital. My Dad was already being perscribed large doses of morphine and appeared extremely...well, just not himself; he was tired and was losing his mind and in obvious discomfort. Me and my brother were distraught. I stayed up until 6am in the morning with him on his ward. He was in such bad pain and couldn't get comfortable. I just rermember telling him I was going to make him proud and that I loved him. Eventually he went to sleep and I kissed him goodnight and went to the waiting room where I briefly slept at I was exhausted. I woke up at 9 and went to eat breakfast, visit my Dad where he was sleeping. I knew by then we were waiting for him to die and that i had spoken my final words with him. I just wanted him to be at peace by then because it was destroying me psychologically and emotionally seeing him in such pain. At 3pm, I sat by him when I just couldn't take it no more. I had to leave the room and his Auntie took me away outside where I broke down. I just wanted it to be all over. In the 2 minutes I was out the room, he died. My brother had went back to the flat he lived at with my Uncle to get something at the time, and they returned just as he died. We went in and I spoke my last words to my dad's body and that was the end of his life. I'll never forget my speech at his funeral which was absolutely packed out. It showed what a wonderful man he was. "Pride is what compells a man to work hard when nobody is watching". I actually told him this on the Sunday I spent with him before his death and he smiled as he lay sick on the couch. it was so fitting for how he had lived his life. He never had achieved anything great in economical status or financially but he lived a life a man should be proud of. Full of pride and integrity with a work ethic I have seen unsurpassed. He said the greatest thing to ever happen to him in his life where me and my brother and that with us he needed nothing else.
Back to college..The tutors were extremely considerate and thoughtful at this time. As was my placement. I actually returned to the gym the day after he died and even went on the day of his funeral on the Thursday, working in my placement the Monday and tuesday following his death. At the end of the year, it was just too much for me to handle and I did not pass my first year due to the incredible work load I had to catch up with.
The following year, the tutors encouraged me to go back. I turned up for the first class and just walked straight out. I still wasn't mentally prepared for everything. I thought, my first year was a failure, my Dad didn't want this. I need to find a new career. Emotionally, i was all over the place. Eventually a tutor persauded me to give the course another try. The thing that hurt the most was having to go through ANOTHER year in my life with nothing achieved, having to do all the 64 placement working days again. I had a comment from a member of the staff in the nursery i went back who said "I heard you failed your first year" as she s******ed. This upset me greatly at the time but I look back now and realise, when people see qualities in you such as drive and commitment without limitations, jealous and envious people will always try to bring you down. Never let them. I passed the year eventually with the same lazy work ethics. My work was rushed and half-assed, missed several days of college and had erratic times going into placement, missing days etc. It was a relief to get that year out the way and make progress out of the private day nursery.