Month: November 2015

Why is friendship valuable? Everyone seems to want and need friends so there must be a reason! I just spent a good 20 minutes on Google trying to work it out, but then I thought of my friends. The biggest things that my friends have in common are; I trust them wholeheartedly, they are loyal, they are always around if I need them and (most importantly) they always forget that I am disabled! I have many acquaintances but there are only a few people I would call proper friends. I am quite selective as some of my acquaintances know! 🙂

Friends are so important for my everyday life. I have friends who help me pick out my make up (because, seriously, how many shades of orange can a lipstick bloody be?!) to those that help me go up and down mountains, even in the snow! I need to rely on my friends much more than a ‘normal’ person might. This has brought me closer to people (I always find that when you open up to people they really respect you for it) but the last thing I would ever want to be is a burden. Whilst my friends do help me, I try to give back as much as I can, mostly by being loyal, loud and occasionally funny. At school, my best friend used to take care of me on trips. I have vague memories of us in France. She would watch out for me on the roads, make sure I could read menus (taking extra care to ensure food was vegetarian) and included me in everything. All my friends worry about me crossing roads. I am a bit of a liability, which does mean I get sworn at occasionally by car drivers. In school, my mobility worker (someone who helps disabled people become more independent) wanted me to use a white cane to cross roads. I tried it once and never again, after an older lady helped me to cross the road! I felt I should have been helping her, not the other way around.

I am really lucky to have such awesome friends (and acquaintances). I know there are many disabled people who are isolated and lonely. Google tells me that around a quarter of disabled people feel lonely most days and just above a quarter only see their friends once a month (or less). These are people who are so marginalised in society that they aren’t able to have meaningful friendships if they want them. I wish that wasn’t a reality that people have to face.

Although this may sound odd, my disability has taught me to be grateful for what I have in my life – which is why I am thankful all (well 90%) of the time. I can’t see everything, it can be a problem and it can be frustrating. The hardest thing for me to accept was that I cannot, and will never be allowed to, drive (don’t worry, I am getting to the grateful bit).

People often say it is the simple things in life that make a person happy. I know that lot of people in London feel like they just exist. Maybe this is just London life; people work, they go out or go home and then sleep, all with the pretext that they can’t wait for the weekend. But life is so much more than that. Do you ever notice how pretty the sunrise is when you have to get up at the crack of dawn for work? Could you become a surgeon, just because you wanted to (random one I know!)? Do you go for walks in the park and see the faces of the ducks and birds? Do you go for drives in the car? I can’t do nearly all of that. The good news, however, is that I can see and feel the sun shining even if I can’t see the intricacies of a sunrise, I can hear the birds chirping and the traffic (I know, less pleasant), I love being chief navigator in the car whilst my husband drives (with the help of GOOGLE MAPS) and enjoy hearing his stories about something happening on the pavement or about a really cute baby you can see across the road (even though sometimes these stories can be a tad boring, sorry husband). I might not have noticed or done any of this if I could fully see, and don’t get me started on how wonderful it is having a freedom pass or two for one cinema tickets! I guess you can kind of see why I am thankful (!!!).

Today, I am most grateful for my beautiful little sister giving me a mini pancake after I went to the gym. Your task today is to think for a minute about what you have, not what you don’t. Maybe even thank someone for it (God/Family/Friends). I know that it will be hard to remember when you are trying to force yourself up for work on Monday morning, but there is something to be happy for every day.

Smile, be happy and remember all the things you are grateful for. No matter what you can or can’t do.

Independence means more if you need to fight for it. I always want to prove that I can do anything a ‘normal’ person can do (sometimes to my own detriment!). Independence, to me, means freedom. The ability to do anything despite my disability. This can conflict with the notion that (note the sarcastic tone) disabled people need their hand holding and wrapping up in cotton wool.

Rewind back to being about 17, I was making scary decisions about the future. I wanted to study Economics at university . My parents wanted me to go to a local(ish) uni, they knew the journey wasn’t difficult and they had heard of the uni before… it was a safe choice. I wanted to go to another uni, the courses focussed on Africa and Asia, but it was further away and my parents (or, as it turned out, nearly all of my family!) had not heard of it. I did think maybe it would be better for me just to be happy with the safe choice, but I wanted more and decided to fight for it (cue song: something inside so strong!). I printed off all the information about the uni I liked. I found its disability policy (which was a few years out of date, but I didn’t tell my parents that!), I organised a meeting with the disability advisor and made my parents come to an open day. I showed them how much I wanted it and in the end (of course) they were convinced. I went to SOAS. This may not sound like a major battle, but to me it meant that I could be normal. I choose a uni because I liked it, not because it was safe. I found myself and did things I could only imagine doing. I attended the odd protest (which is important if you go to SOAS!), was on the elected union, sang at an open mic night in Camden, dyed my hair purple,  wrote an article for the uni newspaper and did rather well in my degree! Part of me always felt like I wasn’t just fighting for myself, I knew my sister would be going to uni in a few years, and I didn’t want her to feel constrained by her disability. In hindsight, I had no reason to worry!

I often think back and feel extremely lucky. Lucky to have parents that support me no matter what, lucky to live where unis support disabled students and even lucky to have attended a mainstream school. There are so many disabled people in the world who do not get these opportunities. There are disabled children who cannot go to school and are marginalised in society. Who will support them to lead independent lives? Who will enable them to have a voice?

I am in no way, at least from the outside,  defined by my disability. People often say to me “I forgot you couldn’t see” when I, for example ask what a menu board says on my lunch break. Yet on the inside, I feel like I am fighting a constant battle on what is essentially, my greatest insecurity.

This insecurity manifests itself in different ways, but the one I want to talk about today is my job. I know lots of insecure people say that in their jobs they feel like a fraud, and that they are good at deceiving people that they are doing a fantastic job. I was (and sometimes am) like that. When I first started working, I was wholly convinced that the only reason I got the job was because I did not complete an initial reasoning test (disabled candidates were exempt).  I wondered how people were going to take me seriously if I couldn’t believe I got the job. Things weren’t made any easier when a bright banana like keyboard (my nemesis), that I didn’t want or need, arrived as part of my reasonable adjustments in my second week. People asked a lot of questions, I wanted to run and hide. As time went on, I took baby steps out of my comfort zone, like walking over to a part of the office and talking to people at their desk. I often remember feeling really red cheeked and nervous, because I can’t always recognise people until I am at arm’s length. It has lead to some very awkward moments waiting for, and in, lifts (like not recognising a Minister!). Slowly, through speaking to more people, and surrounding myself with positive people and energy. I began to feel better and perform better in my job. I had days where I felt worthy, and even the odd day where I thought I was bloody brilliant.

Being disabled and odd, I often see (well, kind of) the surprise on people’s faces when I tell them that I am employed, even more so when they hear my job title! Whilst it being great that I am challenging what some people inherently assume about my disability and me, wouldn’t it be amazing to be part of a society where success isn’t getting a disabled person into any old job, but is to support and challenge disabled people to be the best they can be? If society can foster development in disabled people, instead of putting yellow keyboard shaped barriers on them, wouldn’t that be a better place for me to succeed?