Built From Chaos

It’s Sunday, 15th February 2026, and it’s strange how quickly things can shift.

A few days ago I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Irritable, combative, restless, unsure whether it was withdrawal, alcohol, or just me. Today feels different. Not euphoric. Not manic. Just steady.

Which, at the moment, feels like progress.

We’d been invited a couple of months ago to a Valentine’s evening meal at the Kingston Theatre Hotel in Hull. Something formal. Something a bit different. The kind of night where you make an effort.

The day started with something simple: a trip to the sports shop to buy the girls new trainers. We went in knowing exactly what we were going to get. That changed within ten minutes. Our eldest decided to size up in the same pair she already had. Safe choice. Our youngest chose the same style but with burgundy hints instead. Slight variation. Enough personality to make it hers.

There’s something grounding about ordinary parenting tasks. Choosing trainers. Stopping for lunch. Driving home. It pulls you back into normal life after a week that felt anything but normal.

When we got home, I sat down to organise my notes from the week. I’ve been making more of an effort to write things down recently. Not just work notes, but thoughts, patterns, reactions.

There’s good reason for that. Research over the years has shown that expressive writing can genuinely help regulate emotions. Psychologist James Pennebaker’s work in the 1980s and beyond found that writing about emotional experiences can improve both mental and even physical wellbeing. More recent studies in clinical psychology suggest journaling can reduce rumination and anxiety by helping people process rather than suppress what they’re feeling. It doesn’t fix everything, but it externalises the noise. It turns a looping thought into a sentence you can examine.

When your brain has spent a week catastrophising, putting thoughts onto paper feels like taking them out of your bloodstream.

After that, I had a quick game on the Xbox. I’m playing FC 26 at the moment and decided to start a career with Oldham. It’s my hometown. I spent the early years of my life there before moving over to East Yorkshire. There’s something nostalgic about taking them up the leagues. I’ve managed to get them into League One. Championship next season, hopefully.

It’s just a game, obviously. But there’s a quiet satisfaction in building something, even digitally. Control. Progress. Structure.

One thing that still fascinates me is how much I lean on AI in everyday decisions now. For the evening meal, I had the jacket, trousers and white shirt sorted but needed to wear a lounge suit. Instead of overthinking it, I typed into AI: I’ve got this jacket, these trousers, white shirt, Valentine’s dinner, must wear a lounge suit — what works? It came back with a simple suggestion: add a waistcoat and a red tie. It even generated a shopping list.

I asked it to create a matching look for Sam. It suggested a burgundy dress to tie into the red accents. She went and bought it.

She looked incredible.

There’s something amusing about using artificial intelligence to reduce the friction of getting dressed, but honestly, it helps. Especially when your brain has been unreliable all week. Quick decisions. Reduced cognitive load. Less overthinking.

We stopped at our local pub before heading into town. One of the locals was shaving her hair for the Macmillan “Brave the Shave” charity. It was one of those small community moments that reminds you life is happening around you all the time, regardless of what’s going on in your head.

We grabbed a cab into Hull and had a genuinely brilliant night. Good food. Conversation with interesting people. Entertainment. Laughter. For a few hours I wasn’t analysing my nervous system. I was just present.

When we got home, I did what I’ve done for years after drinking. I put my headphones in and listen to music.

There’s a pattern here I’ve never fully understood. When I’ve had a few drinks, I almost disappear into the song. I visualise. Sometimes I’m on stage playing guitar to thousands of people. Sometimes I’m the hero in some imagined scenario. Sometimes it’s darker, more melancholic imagery.

I’ve often wondered why I do that.

There is some evidence that people with ADHD are more prone to immersive daydreaming or intense internal fantasy. ADHD is strongly linked to dopamine regulation, and music is one of the most reliable ways to stimulate dopamine release in the brain. Research in neuroscience has shown that listening to music we enjoy activates reward pathways involving dopamine. For someone whose brain constantly seeks stimulation, music can become more than background noise — it becomes a mood amplifier and sometimes an emotional escape.

Add alcohol to that, which lowers inhibition and increases emotional intensity, and it’s not surprising the imagination becomes vivid.

I had Fireball and some awful cocktail left in the house. I drank both. I wish I hadn’t.

It’s that familiar line between enjoying the moment and tipping it too far.

This morning I woke up feeling rough. Not catastrophic. Just flat. Our youngest had stayed at her grandparents, so there wasn’t an early wake-up call. I dragged myself out of bed, had a coffee, took a shower.

Within an hour, I felt good.

Clearer.

Steadier.

And that’s the part that stands out most about this weekend.

After the volatility of last week — the anxiety spikes, the irritability, the combative edge — this weekend has felt balanced. I’ve been busy. I’ve kept occupied. I’ve felt good in myself, especially walking into that pub in a three-piece suit chosen with AI assistance and getting a few compliments. Silly as it sounds, that kind of external reinforcement does something. It reminds you that the version of you that feels sharp still exists.

Tomorrow is Monday.

A new week.

A couple of meetings, but all local. A follow-up week. A week to steady the ship and get my head back into the game properly.

I’m not pretending the volatility is gone. I’m not pretending the medication withdrawal and alcohol tension won’t reappear. But today feels like evidence that the swings aren’t permanent.

And right now, that’s enough.