It was February 15, 2015 and I just felt I had to do something. I’d had enough and couldn’t go on. I’d tried to stop drinking on my own many times, but could never do it.
Drinking was a way for me to numb feelings, but the problem is it numbs everything: happiness, joy, sadness… You end up a bit numb to everything.
I’d finished managing at Leeds and was working as a scout for Arsenal, and I finally got to the point where I woke one morning and decided I couldn’t do it any more. I’d had a moment the night before – I’d been drunk – where I was feeling cloudy, anxious and depressed, and I thought, ‘I’ve got to say it out loud’. It was the best thing I ever did.
I went into our study where my wife was working and reached out to her for help. We weren’t actually together at the time and hadn’t been for a year, but we were staying in the same house. I asked if she could ring someone for me, and that’s when she made the phone call that changed my life.
I’ve always had struggles with imposter syndrome. I remember, aged 16, opening an envelope with my O-Level results inside and thinking, ‘I’m probably going to fail every one of these’. I got four out of five passes with Cs and As, and I thought they must have sent me the wrong envelope. I didn’t think they could be mine; they weren’t my results; they were somebody else’s marks.
I’m trying to fight that feeling all the time: ‘you’re not good enough’; ‘you shouldn’t be here’; ‘you don’t belong here’. I didn’t want to see after I’d played because I didn’t think I’d played well enough, even if I’d scored. I was nervous to watch the game back because I thought I’d mess up. I didn’t want to see an interview I’d done because I couldn’t speak properly.
