I have written a lot over the years, and especially in 2016, about fear and sickness, and the force for good that can come from being dealt a hand of crappy cards.
Over the past year and a bit, my right foot has been hurting. I put it down to standing on my tip-toes on clinical placement (too small to move patients- should really get the step out! – so my own fault), creating a planta facisa like thing. I had an injection which stopped the pain for like 2-3 months. I was happy. Glad it was just a normal thing, and nothing complex like I usually seem to rock up with at the doctors.
And then it started to seep slowly back. Every morning when I got out of bed, I could barely walk for the first few minutes. I ignored it. I was no longer on clinical practice, for months, and yet it was getting worse. But never mind, I was in America. I was sure it would go away soon. I never even really looked at my foot though, as I thought all I needed was another injection when I got back home to the UK.
Then when I was kayaking across the pacific ocean in Hawaii – my bad kayaking skills got Gemma and I hit by a massive surf wave as we nearly arrived at the shore of the beach. I don’t know what I hit my foot on, but when I did I got this soaring pain. I limped out of the kayak, holding my breath to try and take the edge off. Days later when my foot felt no better, I inspected my foot – and noticed a medium sized mass in the center of my soul and up to my ankle . I thought about googling it – but I was in america… what good would that do? So I shrugged it off. And thought it was probably Kayaking swelling. I continued to limp across the West Coast and from Gatwick to home, and beyond.
My GP – always a believer in not doing something without proof said he’d rather not do anything until he knew what was wrong, referred me for a scan of my foot. It took a month for the letter with my appointment time on – which was the night before my flight back to Boston/NYC for a week. I went, had the scan and the radiographer told me there and then that there was something on it that I had to go back to the doctor straight away because “that’s what doctors do”. I was like, “is it a tear?” He was like – “maybe – or maybe fibromatosis.” I sat up and looked at the screen and instantly could see the deep shadow on my foot – that radiological training, yo. Since I was flying the next day, I decided to do what I do best – just ignore this pathology and go on as normal. The radiographer told me it was necessary to see the doctor asap, and that I shouldn’t go running at all. I arrived back home a week + later to an appointment to see a specialist.
I left, and of course, googled Fibromatosis and looked at scans of feet to compare what I had seen. I have come to the conclusion that it’s not much to worry about in the great scheme of things, but elements of concern remain never the less – like if it is this – how will I ever be pain free in my foot again? And now every morning when I get up, is a reminder of this pathology existing in my foot as it hurts to walk.
I am forced to look upon myself, once again, with a harsh and urgent clarity.
In 2012 I was forced to become essentially aware of my mortality, and of what I wished and wanted for my life, however short it might be, priorities and omissions became strongly etched in a merciless light and what i had most regretted were my silences. Of what had I ever been afraid of, and opportunities not taken?
I’m aware now that my visions of a future have been honed by the lessons of my limitations – such as the never ending fatigue & headache. But I think it’s really important to give an honest and vulnerable account of what it’s like to deal with our hardships, if we are indeed going to share them.
There was a BBC article recently saying being on social-media can make you sad – because a lot of people, often, portray a life of sunshine and rainbows, myself included. Sharing celebrations but not their failures. Showing an easier path, perhaps. Or shining glory in the face of adversity, leaving you the viewer – feeling less of a person because in the same adversity you crumbled, whilst they stand up shining and strong. When in reality, both parties struggled and both are victorious in being able to work through the challenge at hand. It’s just curated in a different way. Now I’m not saying we shouldn’t share our celebrations – but isn’t it much richer when we know the losses and insights gained & gathered in that process? It’s often a 2 -way journey too. I know I wouldn’t be where I am without help.
I feel like I have been open throughout the years of my experiences. But I do often not share my feelings fully. I often don’t really tell people what ‘s going on, or what I’m going through, or weird things that’s happening to my body because — well, you know the other person probably won’t know how to react, or when there’s no proper finishing line it’s hard, or you’re not really looking for sympathy. But often when I do take a leap and share what’s happening, there’s a huge sense of relief. Like, almost that my pain has been validated because another person knows about it – so it therefore is way more real than it just existing in my body or in my situation.
Through time, I am slowly learning to live beyond fear by living through it, and in the process learning to turn the fury at my own limitations into some more creative energy. Living a self-conscious life under the pressure of time is enough to leave a mark upon alot of my life’s decisions and actions. And it doesn’t matter whether my death comes next week or in 30 years from now; this consciousness gives my life another breadth. It helps shape everything: from the ways I want to love, to my politics, to my work to the depth of my appreciation of living.
I would be lying if I did not also speak of loss. The lessons of 2016, and beyond, have provided myself with many (hard) lessons and questions. Such as, how do I provide myself with the best physical and spiritual nourishment? How do I give voice to my quests so that others can take what they need from my experiences? How do my experiences fit into a larger tapestry of my work as a working-class woman working across multiple disciplines as an artist? And most of all, how do i fight the despair born out of my fear, and powerlessness — imposter syndrome — self doubt — my meaning(less) life — which is often my greatest internal enemy?
What I’m learning, and wanting to take forwards into 2017, is that battling despair does not mean closing my eyes to the enormity of the tasks of effecting change, nor ignoring the strength and the barbarity of the forces alighed against us. This is important as we begin to sail uncharted and ferocious seas of many conflicts and unknowningness ahead- both politically and personally: and physically, philosophically and socially.
When I reflect through all of this, it is the concern and caring of all those in my life which have given me strength. We should share our experiences – all of them, the bad, good and ugly , (only if you want to share of course) and spread words that are meaningful to us. It is necessary to teach by living and speaking our truths which we believe and know beyond understanding. We have lived through all of this already, in silence, mostly. But we can learn to work and speak when we are afraid in the same way we have learnt to speak and work when we are tired.
I want in 2017, for us to be brave, see beyond our fears – whatever they maybe – and to break our silences with kindness and compassion – for those around us, but also for ourselves. We can challenge hateful assumptions, we can begin to understand others fears, we can work together to try and bring small solutions to never-ending problems and crisis. But it will be because we became unified. Because we understand that essentially we are all fragile, and all human.
It will be a big task, because there are many silences to be broken. But I know that together we can do it.
So lets share our vulnerability, lets assess our fears and dreams, lets help each other up.
Don’t wait to be asked if you need help, because I’m already here and you’re already being beckoned.
“In the depth of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger — something better, pushing right back.” — Albert Camus