Now, this is a story all about how my life got twisted upside down. If you’d like to take a minute and sit right there, I’ll tell you how I became a guy who began not to care… Da, do, do, dooo, do… My name’s Rich, I’m 34. I’m a guy… a father of four, a partner, a son, a brother — and often a miserable sod. I live in a village called Caister-on-Sea in Norfolk, where I was born and raised… on the playground is where I spent most of my days (right enough of that)! I grew up with my mum, dad, and sister. I was very lucky in my younger life to have a loving family around me. We never had much money, and times were hard a lot of the time. My dad was disabled and couldn’t work from the time I was born, and my mum cared for him and for us. But that never stopped us from making the most of what we had as a family. I was a really happy kid, known for my cheesy smile. We never had family holidays. In fact, I never had any trips with my dad whatsoever — until later in life, when he joined me on the odd trip to pick up a car. My dad wasn’t a fan of the world, and due to his disability, at times this could make him bitter about a lot of things. Finances frustrated him so much as a father. He felt like the world was out to get him and like his luck was just no good. But my dad was a hugely intelligent man. Genuinely clever. He had some of the most skilled hands I’ve ever known. He could build anything, create so many things — there was nothing he couldn’t fix. Every boy is supposed to look up to their father, but I didn’t. He was just Dad. Not maternal, often felt cold and unloving… even though he wasn’t. He loved us all so much. It wasn’t until he passed away in March 2020 that I realised who I’d lost. Yeah, I lost my father — but that day, I actually lost my hero. Not to be cliché, but now I can see that if I had 10% of his knowledge and skills, but with a positive attitude, I could change the world. He could have taught me so much — but I never had the interest to learn. I saw his negative thoughts and how the world shaped him, and I often felt like learning was all a bit pointless. All those skills he had… all the things he could have achieved… but sadly, the world beat him down. I believe I grew up with a similar mindset. My thought process meant I saw the world as a row of spears — constant terrible things, near impossible to work my way through. I became lonely in my own thoughts, which meant I was lonely when I was with people that cared about me. These thoughts made me grow up defensive and often grumpy… God, I can be grumpy (even now, I guess, at times). When things go badly — or even just not well — I become hard to be around. I get argumentative about absolutely nothing (I get that from both parents for sure, haha), mainly because I felt like it at the time. The sad thing is… that’s not me at all. I allowed the world around me to turn me into someone who wasn’t truly me. I’m genuinely a happy soul who doesn’t want for much in life. But certain events (as in so many people’s lives) got me down and sometimes took me to a place — a thought process — that was never healthy, nor useful. Like everyone, certain circumstances in my life didn’t go well. Through all sorts of events, I ended up in a place where I just began to not care. I saw the world as out to get me. Financially, it felt like life was mocking me — and to be honest, that hasn’t changed much today. But now I feel like I approach it differently. Once I became a father for the first time, things really got hard. I put so much on my own shoulders and believed I was an absolute failure. I didn’t see what was right in front of me and what truly mattered. I saw failure. I didn’t know how to deal with things — and so, I began not to care, because it felt easier. I cared for my son… but nothing else. People’s feelings, money, just being present, days out as a family, what was for dinner, my career, what I should focus on… I became numb. I didn’t allow myself to smile often — and when I did, it was just putting a face on to please. I let the world overcome me and allowed it to, because I lost all fight. This wasn’t down to relationships, family or friends. It was because I let the world, and the feeling of failure in modern society, consume me. I allowed it to make me angry, resentful, and, in general, hard work to be around. Yeah, I’d crack a joke in all the right places, so people saw the jokey Rich they know — but inside, I was empty. It took me a long time to realise that it was all coming from my own head. My thoughts, my emotions, my feelings — it was me allowing the world to change me. When I finally began to realise this, it didn’t get better — it got worse. Instead of leaning on people for comfort or help, I pushed them away. I didn’t even notice — or care. Being a father took over everything for me. I couldn’t be anything else — not a partner, not a friend — because I had to try to be a good father. I was learning all the time (and still am to this day), but I didn’t know how to be anything else. And often, I wasn’t even good at being that. With age came wisdom (as they say), and I see things differently now — though I’m still forever learning. I’m going to share some of those things with you along the way — and I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m the furthest thing from perfect. That includes being a perfect dad, son, or partner — even now. I wish I was. But I’m not. What I do now, though, is wake up every day with the intention of being at least 1% better. I mean… by that maths, in 100 days, I’m surely going to be 100% better, right? I don’t know. But I feel like small improvements are better than none. So, how do I improve myself? I don’t know. Or do I? One day I sat and thought: people can teach you everything there is to know about being human. They’ve done it all and still learn every day. So surely, I can learn from people who have the skills I don’t. For example, if you want to learn martial arts, you can watch The Karate Kid as much as you like — but you’ll never become Mr. Miyagi unless you go out and find a Mr. Miyagi to teach you in person. That made me believe I must go out and do it. To learn how to become a better person. I still get it wrong constantly — but for me, that’s okay. We’re taught from a young age that failure isn’t okay (think of all those school exams), but it took me until adulthood to realise life is about failure. Without it, there’s no progress. It’s okay to get it wrong. We all have things in our lives that make us different. Special, in a sense. I believe everyone has something special inside them. You can’t convince me that after all this evolution we’re just meant to be here, meaninglessly… nah, I’m not having it. I believe that everyone — no matter where they’re from or how they grew up — has something… a spark. My dad had as much skill in his hands as Lionel Messi has in his feet. But due to his disability and life’s circumstances, he allowed his spark to be dimmed — and almost put out completely. I watched him for 29 years suffocate in loathing the hand life had dealt him. I couldn’t let that be me. Now, I still don’t know what my own skill is. But I believe I’m here to help others. I don’t yet know if that’s my spark — but it is my passion. I’m a passionate guy. The people who know me know I have a bonkers mind, and I can easily be away with the fairies. I feel safe there (mostly). But that often leads me to think of ways to help others — and ways to make the world better. I’m sure we can all agree that if we were given the chance, we’d want to make the world a better place. The love for my kids, the feeling of loneliness, the fear of failure, the struggle to be who I want to be — and hearing so many stories from struggling mums and dads — helped me shape my passion and my mindset. That’s what made me sit down one day — no clue what I was doing, no idea what I was building, no knowledge of how to even make a website — and start putting together, word by word, what would become LonelyLlama.co.uk. I want to show people — through real experiences and help from like-minded individuals — that you can be the person you were meant to be, no matter your age. Your spark is never out — maybe just dimmed. And I promise you now: we can all find ways to thrive. So as much as this story isn’t just about me, I wanted to tell you where this all came from. The feelings that sparked its creation. For you to see that I’m just a guy who wants to build something to help others — because I know, first hand, that a room full of friends and family can still feel completely empty. That’s not okay. And by building this community, I hope I can help change it. Because I truly believe: Together, we thrive. Happy Father’s Day Dad, Forever My Hero…. Part 1