British Warrior

British Warrior.

Words from your author, Simon Morrell.

It has been a long, long road from that skinny kid who took his first verbal abuse at just five years of age. Wandering around the playground with a glob of spit hanging off my face and thinking What the flip just happened? I was far too young to know the word fuck, so flip was all I had.

The road took me on many adventures, not all good, not all great but some fantastic, some just fucking fantastic.

From a terrified youth running as fast as I could from a gruesome thug, armed with knife and full of bad intent toward me, to a husband and dad, standing in front of the family home facing yet another monster armed with blade and again terrified but not letting this fucker know it. I had a family to protect and nothing, nobody was going to harm them. Years of combat training and practicing fear control was going to see to that. It worked because knife man and his band of three apologised to me and left the area.

Not just the physical either. The everyday took its toll. My lack of confidence and constantly scanning for the next beating made me a dopey pupil to work with. I struggled to concentrate but did I, at the age of thirteen deserved to be called thick as pig shit by a loving father?

Enter an English teacher who looked out for me, taught me to write as she said I had talent and her faith paid off. Stood on the stage years later receiving an award for British Book of the Year 2016 for From Bullied to Black Belt and memories of loving dad where nowhere to be seen but gratitude to an adult who helped me through remained.

The same father forced me into his factory for my adult employment. Ambitions of drumming for a living must not fester, yes once a week in white Karate pajamas is more than enough but as much pub time as you want and yes, I will fire you and make you homeless if you as much look like stepping out of line.

A breakdown at a very young age, sick with fear every time I walked through the door yet years later, I was the last member of my family to walk out of those doors of that same factory as I bought it to a close. I was the only one strong enough to stay the pace.

Don’t get me started on the gunmen who I was only able to face via the courage travelling away from home to fight and train with the best in the world. Travelling away from home. Imagine that, a man who suffered from agoraphobia and struggled with a five minute walk to the local shop now driving hours and hours to fight European Champions and grapple with Russian Wrestlers.

From a stock room in a sports centre to a full time professional fight academy. From teaching a couple of mates for fun to visiting other British dojos and giving instruction to a mat full of fighters. From a talk at a local school to interviews on the BBC, the New York Post and more. From a piece in the local rag to a six page feature in a prestigious magazine.

So why now and what is in these pages? Well as Billy Connolly once said the Winter plumage is now on. There are more years behind me than there are in front but I still believe I have a lot to offer and so I want to keep trying.

The first two books contained here, From Bullied to Black Belt, written raw, naive but honest and the sequel An Everyday Warrior, later on in life after terrific adversity but more polished (better speeling, I mean spelling), offer you my life in your hands.

What follows, My Fear, Your Fear is a collection of stories, poems, meditations and tales I have gathered on the way. Some are mine, some are borrowed from others but all are honest or based on true tales. Some I have written with a twist for the entertainment of it but have background in truth and others I have changed slightly to protect friends and enemies.

But all are from the heart, all have been lived, all have made people laugh, cry and some both but all I think, I hope have given me the right to be called British Warrior.

Please enjoy.

Simon Morrell June 2020

From Bullied to Black Belt Simon Morrell

INTRODUCTION

By

Geoff Thompson BAFTA Award Winner, & Times Bestselling Author.

It is an absolute pleasure and an honour for me to write the forward to this splendid book for my very close friend Simon Morrell. A pleasure (first of all) because I love him and an honour because I am so proud of what Simon has achieved in his life.

I remember the first time I spoke to Simon on the telephone many years ago when he was still suffering with panic attacks that were managing to disable his whole life. He was so frightened at that time that even leaving the house became a war of nerves - usually the nerves winning the battle.

When I look at him now - an extremely happy, successful and brave martial arts Sixth Dan Black Belt running his own schools and fronting a successful business - it is hard to believe that this is the same timbering youth that trembled down the phone on our first conversation.

What I love about this book is not just the fact that it is extremely honest- it is and refreshingly so - rather it is the fact that the words and the author offer hope to anyone out there who is being held back by insecurity and fear. What Simon is saying is that if he can do it, if he can beat his fear and live a brave life, then so can you, so can anyone.

There is hope and there is honesty and there is inspiration in these pages that might prove lifesaving to any reader wise enough to be looking for answers and brave enough to use the information on offer.

The author of these pages is a brave man, I admire him so much that it is hard to articulate my feelings. This man not only overcame his terrifying fears of panic attacks he also - in his bid to become a better and stronger person - went on to face down a gang of drug dealers that were threatening to do unspeakable things to him and his family. He has had the courage to measure himself against the best by taking his Black Belts under some of the best Martial Artists in the world.

Simon is an ordinary man who has managed to achieve extra-ordinary things with his life and for that he should be commended. This book can offer you the inspiration to do the same.

Geoff Thompson

PROLOGUE

There is no sadder sight than that of a child walking the playground alone, having endured yet another beating, or ‘mickey taking’ session from cruel kids who know no better…or maybe they do. Sometimes they get a perverse kick out of the misery they cause others.

All sorts of ‘reasons’ are given for their behavior. Their dad didn’t buy them a bike, their sister wouldn’t get out of the bathroom this morning, somebody was in their seat on the bus...the list goes on.

We can talk all day and long into the night about why a bully does what he does and why a victim suffers needlessly. Sometimes the talking is justified and needed, sometimes it falls on deaf ears…the bully might just not care an ounce for his victim’s pain. Hell, he might even revel in it.

But for now, back to the victim. He cares not for the bully’s story. He is just sick and tired of being at the wrong end of bad behavior. Sick of getting spat at, sick of getting called hurtful, spiteful names and sick of the anxiety this problem creates.

He may even start to question his own future. Can he carry on like this? What can he do to prevent future attacks (because that is exactly what they are, attacks)? He may feel there is nothing he can do, that he is destined to a life of misery, of failure and of pain. I am happy to tell him he is wrong. There is a life beyond the suffering. There is a future with no bullies, violence or terror. Hell, it needn’t be just any life either! It can be a soul-soaring, rip-roaring adventure, filled with friends, adventures, excitement and love. It can be a great life!

Trust me; I know what I am talking about. You see, I was that kid and I was that adult that endured. I wiped spit from my face, my ears burned from horrible name-calling and my body ached from the violence people cared to inflict on me. I was bullied so badly as a child and young adult that I suffered more anxiety than a man has a right to. Plagued by panic attacks I succumbed to agoraphobia. Unable to look people in the eye, people would prey on me like predators. Before I really got to grips with my problems I became the focal point for a gang of drug dealers and they too thought they could join the people who had blighted my life by bullying the very spirit out of me.

But they didn’t. Nobody does anymore. They don’t do that because I stopped letting them. You see I decided to take control. I was sick of the fear so I decided to take it on. It wasn’t easy, it is never easy but I took control after I made the decision to do so.

It was up to me. When my chance came along and I realised I had a responsibility to myself to take that chance, I bloody well did. I took it and held onto it until it became mine, until it became me. My chance to build my self-respect came through the way of the Martial Arts but your path may be different. It really doesn’t matter what path you take as long as the path fills you with confidence. As long as it builds your self-esteem so high that you feel like you are flying. In the end it isn’t about fighting, it is about being.

Not everyone wants to hit the dojo floor or enter the ring but that isn’t the important thing. I know people who draw their confidence from singing, painting and writing. I am lucky enough to know people from all walks of life who excel in their chosen field and exude confidence. The by-product of this is that bullies give them a wide berth because confident people will not be picked on. Life becomes a little easier to handle.

So the important thing is that you try. That you try something you really want to do but are afraid of. Maybe you are afraid of trying something because you might fail, afraid of looking silly or of being out of your depth but when you try you will find you aren’t. You will find the mere fact that you are trying will lift you to a confident place and you will realise that you no longer have to be a victim.

I did it and so you can, I promise. So please, trust me, read my words and bear with me if it seems I am waffling at times. It makes sense in the end.

This book is for sufferers everywhere who are damn well sick and tired of being a victim. This book is for those people who want a good, positive way out. This is for people who have suffered and want to say ‘No more! No more hiding, no more pleading. It’s time I took control of my life.’

And you will.

The names of certain individuals have been changed to protect the guilty. Other than that, everything written in this book is true.

CHAPTER ONE

Things are good for me now. I have achieved lots of what I set out to achieve and I am looking forward to the challenge of achieving the ambitions I have yet to fulfil.

As I reach one goal another presents itself. In the past I would balk at such challenges, but I now know that we need challenges, fears and adversity to help us grow.

They are tests, sent to strengthen us, a friend of mine once told me. A very wise man indeed. The tests may be of your own making, such as taking a risk in business or your personal life in order to better yourself.

It may be they are caused by the hands of another or brought about by fate. In such cases you may feel you have been dealt a bad hand and quite possibly you have. You may have been the victim of bullying or just simply another's lack of code or ethics and had to endure, what at the times, seems like endless pain and anxiety. You may feel like giving up, or more correctly you will feel like giving up. But if you can find the strength within yourself to last the course, see through the business risks or stand up to that bully then you may be, no, you will be victorious.

Sometimes the victory isn't the obvious one, and, as in my own experience, you may not even realise you have been victorious until much later, after the event. But you will do and when it hits you, the sense of confidence and well-being your victory brings will stay with you forever.

These victories will be your vehicle to, and through the next challenge. How do I know this? Because it happened to me. I have tasted both the deepest depressions and most satisfying victories.

So don't worry. You are not alone in the way you feel and there is a way forward. Many of the greatest achievers in history where prone to anxiety or started their life as victims so you are in good company. Your anxiety can be channeled into an almost unstoppable energy.

During my childhood and adolescence I was the victim of bullies. I spent my life in a dark cave of anxiety. I developed severe agoraphobia and suffered from terrifying panic attacks. At times I thought I was losing my mind. In a desperate bid to do something about it, I managed to change my life for the better. I started meeting challenges and creating opportunities for myself. However, the more opportunities I took the harder the tests where, but as a result of that, the bigger the rewards where also.

You now know that my way out of my former life as a victim was through Karate and the Martial Arts. First of all I plodded along, not daring to try and excel or stand out. But gradually I started to have some successes. People began complimenting me on my efforts and others paid me the ultimate compliment in trying to avoid fighting me. My attitude changed, not in a horrible arrogant way, but in a positive and assertive way. After training for some time I realised I had become a fighter.

Please, don’t think me a coward or a bighead when I tell of my weaknesses and strengths. I tell them only to be informative, but for the first and only time in this book I apologise if what I am about to say does sound conceited.

I had become not just a fighter, but a good one at that.

However becoming good meant the tests got harder. The fights and the training where now much tougher and at times I felt like giving it all up. I wondered if it was all worth it. But the more I stuck at it the stronger I became mentally. This spilled into my life outside the combat arena and mountains suddenly became molehills. I became a much more confident, outgoing person able to contribute to all sorts of situations.

I had become a fighter on both a physical and mental level. It was a good job I did because the conflict with the drug dealer I mention in the prologue was a conflict that lasted almost three years. Imagine that? Three years of going to sleep at night worrying about the problem and waking up in the morning knowing the problem was still there. Only I could make it go away, just like only I was the only person who could put a stop to the misery of my bullying years. The funny thing was that my issue with him was nothing to do with his drugs and his dealings. It was over a legitimate business deal that went wrong.

He ripped me off over a large sum of money and then he and his gang tried to bully me into submission without paying it back. Along the way they also tried to persuade me to turn a blind eye to the dealings…right next door to my family home. Not a chance. My days at the hands of bullies where long gone, and submitting was something I no longer did. I emerged from the conflict with my hand raised. He emerged from it in the gutter where people of his ilk belong.

It took me a while to realise that I had just passed one of the biggest tests of my life and with it came the sweetest victory and its prizes.

I believe now that all my earlier misery was for a reason. People look at me like I am mad when I tell them this (can't blame them for that, I did once see a shrink!) but hopefully you will see past that initial reaction when you read this book and begin to appreciate the tests in your life. Believe me, the end results are worth it.

How did I recover from the nightmare of agoraphobia and being unable to leave the safety of my own house? How did I become someone who actually enjoys standing in front of many people, teaching them to overcome their fears and learn to defend themselves? How did I snap out of victim mode?

And perhaps the most intriguing question of all, how did I go From Bullied to Black Belt? Read on and find out, and God love you if you’re a victim of any kind because you really can change the way you are. It is my extreme hope that this book will help show you how.

Here’s how it all started....

Spaz! A mean faced kid with bright ginger hair spat the words in my face. This was the first time I was bullied. It wouldn’t be the last. I was waiting in line to go into class with all the other kids. I didn't know what to do and remember feeling shocked at the hatred in his eyes. Perhaps I should have done something, answered back or been more assertive but I didn't. I did nothing. I just stood there and grinned weakly, feeling sick inside.

Spaz! He shouted again, to the amusement of all present. And there it was. That became my name, it became me. From then on I was then bullied into victim mode, a state that I would spend, to one degree or another, the best part of my life in.

As a youngster I always felt like an outcast and didn't seem to be able to make friends easily. Being very shy I would be an easy target for some thug to vent his frustration out on me and make a name for himself.

I can recall like it was yesterday, when I spent the day in pain after a bigger lad than me (they all seemed to be bigger lads) twisted my arm up my back until it felt like it was going to break. He only relented when I started to cry.

His idea of relenting was to push me to the ground and kick me. It was my sixth birthday. Even at that young age I was already being bullied to the degree it could have been assault.

I stumbled around the school, falling prey to both kids my own age and older. The teachers seemed no better. Once, when I didn't understand a math problem (at this age I still thought of them as sums, not math), the teacher called me to stand in front of the class. She demanded that I knew the answer. I didn't. To try and get my brain working, the teacher thought it would be a good idea to hit me across the knuckles with the sharp edge of a wooden ruler.

After dishing out her own version of inspiration, she gave me a further ten seconds to come up with the answer. Good teaching tactics these, severe pain to knuckles would help increase brain power in much the same fashion as eating a plate of fish.

Did she honestly think that the answer would suddenly spring to mind once I had felt a bit of pain? Perhaps she thought I was bluffing!

Yeah I know the answer, you witch, but I am not going to give it to you. How many times can you hit me with your bit of wood before you get tired, eh? Believe me, I can go on forever! Your wood will break before I do!

Sadly this wasn't the case. It just hurt. I didn't know the answer and no amount of whacking would help me produce one. After another dose of wood on knuckles I was allowed to sit down.

Humiliated and sore, I longed for a school where the teachers preferred not to beat the kids up for their inability to perform complex math at the age of seven.

I now believe that certain people can smell a victim a mile away and that these people will think nothing of adding to the misery that some of us feel. This is true of both adults and children, pupils and teachers and yes, even friends and certainly enemies. It has been my experience that if you are a weak person (but please, believe me, you can make yourself stronger) like I was, these people will exploit this for any benefit they may get, be it your dinner money or your wages at the end of the week. Yes, that's right, wages.

Bullying is not, as some may have us believe, an exclusively childhood problem. It happens on a daily basis to many adults. What may be just a laugh to the lads in work, constantly picking on one person, may to that person be a living hell. He may have to go home pretending to his wife what a great job he has and how, The lads in work are brilliant. A right laugh!

Deep down he may dread his working day and what it brings. It may be more than just having a laugh at someone. Violence in the workplace is now more common than ever. This little baby has spurned a whole new industry in the USA, with a multitude of books, videos and courses on how to deal with the problem, and wherever America is, we in the U.K. are never far behind.

Whether the victim of constant pranks, abuse or violence, whether male or female and whether young or old, the reasons behind your suffering don't matter to you. You just feel miserable and want it to stop.

I felt like this as early as the age of six and hated the school I was at, the people there and the kid I had become. However I persevered at this school for about four years. Only once did I attempt to stand up for myself.

A particular chap who had been using me as target practice stood with his back to me one day. A perfect chance I thought. Not very brave I admit, but for some reason I saw red and ran at him. I remember jumping on his back and pushing him to the ground. He split his head open on a concrete step and I felt I had redeemed myself.

He deserved it, I told myself as I watched the blood gush from his head.

The head teacher thought differently and a severe reprimand followed then I was beaten with a cane. The bully got a cold drink and an afternoon off school. This took the wind out of my sales. I now didn't know if it was right to fight back as all I got was into trouble. I went immediately back into a depression and fell victim to the bullies again.

Sleepless nights and dreadful mornings followed. I took the decision to approach my Dad and asked to change schools. I missed the school bus deliberately and instead went to my Dad's office.

I was in the shop, Dad, and the bus must have been early, I offered by way of explanation.

Well I'll take you in, come on, get in the car, he said, moving to get up from behind his desk.

I decided it was time for him to know the truth. Tears filled my eyes and in one breath I poured out to him the miserable time I had been having for the last few years.

He listened and then asked me what I wanted to do. It was simple. I wanted to change schools.

Okay, I'll phone the school now and tell them you won't be going back, he promised. I was sent to get some sweets and a drink whilst he made the phone call. He was in mid-conversation when I returned. Pausing he put his hand over the mouthpiece.

Your head teacher has promised that if you go back, he will personally see to it that you aren't bullied anymore, he offered.

Panic set in. No, no, I just don't want to go back there, please!

I had no faith whatsoever in the head, his teachers or his school. The very thought of returning filled me with fear.

Okay, that's fine. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.

My Dad turned back to the phone and gave the headmaster the good news. My escape had been arranged all the way to the border. I wouldn't be returning to junior Colditz. Instead I was transferred to a different school, away from my tormentors.

It was with a smile on my face and a spring in my step that I entered my new school. I had a fresh start where nobody knew me. The children seemed okay and I was put in the protective custody of two girls, Josie and Debbie.

As I was the new lad, I was something of a novelty and it was at this school, once Josie and Debbie had become bored with me and let me off the leash, that I made my first proper best friend.

Richard was the same age as me and we both shared a passion for sports and in particular Liverpool Football Club and their star player, Kevin Keegan. Richard and I played for hours, swapping places at pretending to be Keegan and for what seemed like the first time, I enjoyed school.

However, things were short lived. We had a fall out, as ten year old do and fisticuffs were arranged. You would think by now that I had realised that I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag.

But no, my thinking was that this was different. I wasn't being bullied (and in this case I wasn't), but this was a proper fight of which I was a willing participant. I was ready for it.

When we did get around to fighting, Richard absolutely hammered me (well in the way that ten year old do) but he was such a nice lad that he cried more than me and reported himself to the teacher!

Holding us both by the hand, the teacher didn't have the heart to tell us off but got an agreement from us that fighting was pointless. We went back to being friends and I thought that was the end of my trips out into violence.

However, having seen what a useless pugilist I was became the inspiration for another kid, Timmy, to try and make my head and the toilet wall one and the same thing. Very big for his age, and strong with it, Timmy approached me in the toilets. Without warning he grabbed my hair and smashed my head into a concrete wall. I was shocked, by both the speed and surprise of the attack. No words were spoken, just actions taken and I was left dazed, in a hump on the floor.

Somebody told the teacher of my distress, which led to a very strange series of events. Timmy was called to stand in front of the class, whilst I sat nervously in my chair. The teacher addressed the class on the wrongfulness of trying to ‘amalgamate somebody’s head with a wall’. We looked on blankly…we didn't know what amalgamate meant as we were only ten years old.

Then she did something that totally surprised us.

Simon, would you like to come up here and smash Timmy's head into the wall? she asked.

I couldn't believe it. The teachers in this school were great! Somebody shouted an encouraging Yeah! and so, to the cheers of my classmates, I left my chair and made my way to the front. Timmy watched, horrified, as I approached but when I got there, the teacher’s attitude changed.

Simon don't you dare, I am disgusted with you! she yelled. Sit down now!

Slightly confused at this withdrawal of invitation, I went back to my seat. Timmy was also told to sit down and the class resumed its work. I looked around at the kids with their heads buried in their books and wondered if I had just imagined the whole thing. Not one of the kids ever mentioned it again but at least Timmy just left me alone.

As time passed, High School loomed on the horizon and with it the prospect of even bigger kids and tougher bullies. I had now become very shy, even skinnier and confidence was something I could not even entertain. I was rubbish at sport and not particularly bright and so tried to keep a low profile in a school of sixteen hundred kids.

The problem was I could keep a low profile to most, but not to all. At the age of about fourteen, I was out one day riding my bike, minding my own business.

A local thug, RW, took offence to this for some unknown reason. He thought he was hilarious and a charmer but I had seen this kid in school and knew him to be nasty piece of work. Until now, I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting him in person but that was about to change. As I rode past him, to the amusement of his friends, he ran at me and grabbed hold of the front of my bike.

Give me my fucking bike! he screamed.

It isn't yours, I argued meekly as I desperately tried to hold onto it.

Well what about the smokes you owe me! he yelled into my face.

I don't owe you any, I tried to argue.

You fucking do! Bring them here tomorrow or you’re dead!

With a parting slap around my head he was gone. The feeling of sickness is something I will remember forever. Panic, stomach churning, light-headedness and I didn't even smoke!

I spent a restless night worrying about the next day’s events and what I would do. I decided I would ignore the whole thing thinking it would go away and for a while I lived in ignorant bliss. However, a change of fortune would bring RW back into my life.

I had a trial for the local football team and made the position as goalkeeper. The qualification for this was that I was the only one who could be bothered to try out for it. It was the first time I felt I had actually achieved something and looked forward to being part of a team. The team's pitch was at the bottom of the road into a large housing estate, which happened to be the haunt of RW.

To get to the pitch I had to enter the estate at the very corner where RW was to be found hanging around. The alternative was to cycle two miles out of my way to enter the training area via the local rubbish dump… I chose the rubbish dump route. The extra two miles I had to cycle were great for