My Journey — From Soldier to Spark
My Journey — From Soldier to Spark
In 1981, at just 16 years old, I joined the British Army and began a journey that would shape the rest of my life.
I joined the Royal Artillery and spent my first year in training, something we called "a year for the Queen", because I wasn't old enough to be posted overseas until I was 17½.
I was eventually posted to 1st Regiment Royal Horse Artillery in Hohne, West Germany.
Much of my time there was relatively uneventful, but on 19 October 1984, one of my closest friends, who was serving on attachment to another regiment, was shot and killed in Northern Ireland. It's a date that has stayed with me ever since.
In July 1990, I was posted to 14 Field Regiment Royal Artillery in Salisbury. During my time with the regiment, I deployed on Operation Granby, Britain's contribution to the First Gulf War and the liberation of Kuwait.
Looking back, I believe this was where the foundations of my PTSD were laid, although I wouldn't understand that until many years later.
I left the Army in 1995, having served 13 years and 135 days.
My military service had ended, but some of the experiences I carried home would stay with me for decades.
Life After the Army—The Struggles I Couldn't See
After leaving the Army in 1995, I tried to settle into civilian life, working, raising a family and getting on with everyday responsibilities.
I had married in 1994, adopted my wife's daughter from her first marriage, and welcomed our first son in 1995. Two more sons followed in 2000 and 2003, remarkably born on the same day in May, three years apart.
For many years I worked as an HGV driver, regularly spending two nights a week away from home.
As our younger children grew, both were diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum, bringing additional challenges and pressures to family life.
To help manage things at home, I changed jobs and began working permanent nights as a police call handler.
I continued working night shifts for five years, until one night I fell asleep during a shift and was referred to occupational health.
It was during that appointment that I suddenly broke down emotionally.
I couldn't explain why. I didn't understand what was happening to me.
I was signed off sick and never returned to work.
Looking back now, I realise that I had been carrying far more than I understood. The experiences of my military service, combined with years of work and family pressures, had taken their toll.
But at the time, I didn't have the answers. I just knew that something wasn't right.
My Darkest Days — And Finding a Way Forward
For years, I struggled without really understanding what was happening to me.
My mental health continued to deteriorate, and my marriage began to break down. I felt increasingly isolated, unable to explain what I was experiencing or why I was struggling.
In December 2018, I reached the lowest point of my life and attempted to take my own life.
I spent three weeks in intensive care, followed by another three weeks in a psychiatric ward.
When I eventually left hospital, my marriage had ended, and I found myself homeless. I was placed in temporary accommodation, facing an uncertain future.
It was during this period that Veterans NHS Wales became involved in my care.
In 2019, I was finally diagnosed with military-related Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
After so many years of struggling without answers, I began to understand that experiences from my Army service had continued to affect me long after I'd taken off my uniform.
The diagnosis couldn't change what had happened, but it helped me begin to understand why I'd been struggling.
Later in 2019, I moved into a flat of my own.
I didn't know it then, but that little flat would become the place where I discovered something that would help me find moments of peace again.
Discovering Peace by Numbers — A Brush with Hope
After moving into my flat in late 2019, I discovered painting by numbers.
At first, it was simply something to occupy my time. But I soon realised it was doing something much more important.
When I'm painting, I can spend two or three hours completely absorbed in the colours, the tiny numbered spaces and the picture slowly coming to life.
For those few hours, my mind isn't wandering back to painful memories. I'm concentrating on what's in front of me, one colour and one brushstroke at a time.
My first painting was a family of tigers, which I gave to my mum. I signed it Spark, her nickname for me, and I've signed every painting that way ever since.
Over the years, I've completed nearly 300 paintings.
When I'm working on a picture, I can see every little mistake. Sometimes the numbers show through the paint, or a brushstroke isn't quite right.
But when I've finished, framed it and stepped back, something wonderful happens.
I stop seeing the little imperfections and begin to appreciate the whole picture.
Sometimes you have to take a step back to see the whole picture.
That thought has come to mean much more to me than simply looking at a painting.
I now frame many of my completed paintings and donate them to local charities, where they can be sold, raffled or auctioned to raise funds.
Something that began as a way of helping myself has become a way of helping others, too.
Painting hasn't made my PTSD disappear, but it gives me moments of calm, a sense of achievement and a reason to keep creating.
And that is what Peace by Numbers means to me.