It’s important to take some time for yourself

For many football fans, myself included, the World Cup has given us an exciting month when the nation has, to some extent, been distracted from all the doom and gloom predicted in the economy.

Football unites people. It promotes social inclusion and entertains so many.

It can provide a stress release that is positive for our mental health.

It is the most popular sport on Earth and it is estimated that more than half of the world's population regards themselves as football supporters.

Unfortunately, when it comes to tournaments such as the World Cup, we see an increase in alcohol usage, raised levels of emotional stress, and domestic abuse.

Our resilience to cope with traumatic incidents during this period will be put to the test.

Fortunately, there is support out there.

There are telephone helplines and support groups available, as well as the police.

You must not feel you are on your own in managing a crisis.

It is also worth considering that excessive drinking may be due to other underlying stressful factors in someone's life, the football tournament is coincidental.

My advice is to try to make some time for yourself during this period.

Remember, in order to support others who may be struggling you must be mentally strong yourself. This is not being selfish; it is self preservation.

To use an analogy, imagine yourself as a jug full of water.

If you keep pouring glasses of water to give to others to help them, eventually the jug will be empty.

As a child I would play football with my friends on the local football field, the small grassed area on our estate, or in the street itself.

In the 1960s the streetlights were our floodlights; and the gates and fences of our gardens were the goals.

Wintry evenings were a heady mixture of childhood exuberance, grazed knees, and blood and sweat. All of this played out beneath a coal black, starry sky.

I would constantly hit the fence with the ball and kick it into the garden of the lady across the road.

Exasperated, she would open the front door to chastise me as I ventured into her garden searching for my lost ball in the dark.

I would apologise and she would give me one last chance.

That ‘last’ chance was always extended.

On becoming an adult I left the village. The years passed and whenever I returned, we would always smile and wave across the street at each other.

Now in the autumn of her life I would feel a tinge of guilt about my childhood antics.

Our waves were of genuine affection, both of us feeling nostalgic, both brought together by our past.