Andy 'Scarfman' Lloyd's Blog

“I’m thinking of taking up golf!” This is what my big sister said to mum and me, as she drove us back from the cemetery last Saturday afternoon (it was my late dad’s birthday).  I almost choked in stunned amazement at this surprising revelation. 

My sister hates most sports. Nevertheless, as she told us about how this lady from Slimming World had got talking to her about the joys of golfing, I realised my sister was indeed serious.  She further commented how her and me should go for a game in the coming months. Could I really play golf again I wondered to myself? Could I really go into our back garden shed and fish out my old clubs?

I am forty-five and stopped playing golf in my late teenage years.  I love all sports (well, apart from F1).  Dad and me always played golf on family holidays.  However, when I got diagnosed with chronic bacterial prostatitis aged just twenty-one (with chronic pelvic pain), I could hardly walk never mind play any kind of sport.    

Then, there was my severe obsessive-compulsive-disorder.  I first got diagnosed with contamination OCD aged sixteen.  Back then, it revolved around a fear of me walking in any kind of animal faeces.  I also felt contaminated going to the toilet.  Consequently, going to watch any public sporting events, or even just simply playing sport, well and truly went out the window.  

Those of you who know my OCD story, also know that about twelve to fourteen years ago, I contaminated (in my eyes) the whole family home with the smell of vomit.  All this and the above, meant my old golf clubs lay dormant in the shed.  I could never see myself using them again.  Indeed, due to thinking they were contaminated, I could never ever see myself touching them again either.

My physical and mental health has improved enormously though.  Today, I go regularly to the gym, and I no longer think everywhere is contaminated with the smell of sick.  That said, I had banned people going into the garden shed for over twenty-five years.  Could I therefore really get my old golf clubs out to see what kind of condition they were in … could I?  

Motivation has always been the key thing when facing up to my OCD.  A few years ago, I got the train to Liverpool because I wanted to see my mate, Ruth.  I stopped throwing my clothes away because I wanted to buy more expensive ones to look nice.  The thought of playing golf again really excited me, so I knew this was the carrot (motivational one) that I needed to face my back garden shed demons with.

Yesterday, I took the plunge and entered the back garden shed that I had avoided for over twenty-five years.  I was scared, but also excited.  My anxiety was high, but not high enough to prevent me from doing it.  As I got my old golf clubs out and lay them on the ground (in not too bad of a condition), I got emotional.  You see, the last time I had used them my old man had been alive. I had written them off as rubbish never to be touched again.

I was super chuffed that I had been brave enough to go in the shed and touch my golf clubs, still up on cloud-nine now if I’m honest.  I am going to use them I’ve decided.  Even if my sister goes off the idea, I now know that one day I am going to play golf again with my old clubs.  The clubs I thought I’d never see again, let alone touch.

That’s it then, that’s my blog about touching my golf clubs for the first time in over twenty-five years.  I can’t stress this point enough, motivation, motivation, and motivation. It was a great day to start the week with.  It was another great day where I stuck two fingers up at my OCD. I will no longer be imprisoned by it like I once was!