Feeling The Fear & Doing it Anyway ... One Step at a Time

    Okay, quick recap; I'm not good with travelling. People who read this blog will know this about me by now - and for a long time, it's held me back. I've rarely travelled far, especially by myself, and my anxieties (I believe rooted in my dyspraxia) have often held me back.

    Right, that's us all up to date. I should say, I've started really taking a long hard look at my anxieties at that aspect of my life, because I want to start "feeling the fear and doing it anyway" - my new motto in life! I have to be patient with myself - I need to conquer my anxieties slowly and steadily, else I'll just go back to the start again - but I've made a couple of trips to London (would have been three, but I was ill on the third) and started to tackle my worries head on.

    Part of my slowly-increasing confidence is down to my current job, which I started back in July and involves some travel around the eastern "half" of the county. I have two main locations I visit when not at my "home" location - one is 30 minutes on the train and one is 45 minutes away. The first few times, I got hideously lost and a bit stressed as a result; as I've learnt the route (and even some short-cuts), I've actually found myself giving directions to other people ... crazy.

    Anyhow - I recently found that I had a free afternoon and decided to be impulsive for a change. For anyone who knows me, you'll know that's not really in my nature - I always try and plan to the nth degree, which I am pretty positive must drive people insane sometimes, but I like to be prepared for all eventualities as being in control of a situation usually helps me control my worries.

    However, I decided to test myself - and so, being only an hour from London at lunchtime, I decided to jump on a train and see where the afternoon took me. Oh yes, the other thing I should mention - I loathe the underground. I. Hate. It. I've never used it by myself - and even when I'm with other people, it makes me distinctly ... ahem, uncomfortable. It's been a personal mission of mine for a while to use the underground by myself and, when I arrived at Victoria, I could feel my legs carrying me outside the station away from the tube station.

    It was at this point I got cross with myself and just bloody did it. I went on the underground by myself - and think I've begun to conquer a personal demon in the process. I should say, I didn't go far - I went two stops along the South Kensington, then four stops back along to Westminster, but it felt - and still feels like a real accomplishment. To many people, it may not seem like much, but for me, it's a big stepping stone - it means I've got no excuse to not try it again, and perhaps not feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack the next time!

    My brief visit to South Kensington allowed me a quick trip around the Victoria & Albert art museum - somewhere I've never been before. I'm determined to go again in the new year and have a proper look round - although, given its size and layout, I have no doubt I will get lost going round! Still, that doesn't matter ... as long as I can find the cafe, I'll be happy.

    I then travelled to Westminster - just because I felt like it and wanted to prove that my tube travelling wasn't just a one-off - and had a mooch around. One thing about London that I'm starting to notice - places really aren't as far apart as you actually think. Parliament, Whitehall, Buckingham Palace, the Cenotaph, Trafalgar Square ... they're all incredibly close to one another. I even walked past Downing Street and saw armed police again (I'd seen similar back in the Summer when I visited Parliament) on the gates - being from the "provinces", I can't quite get used to that.

    By this point, I'd been on my mini-tour for about three hours ... and my legs were aching something chronic, so I did the only logical thing and decided to WALK back to Victoria train station, thirty minutes away. Obviously.

    Although I got lost a couple of times when I got my bearings confused, I was able to contain and understand the source of my anxieties a lot better - and so deal with them. I feel exhausted now - mentally as well as physically - as I always do after being in unfamiliar territory; I have to concentrate on where I'm walking to make sure I don't physically walk into things. Happens more often than you'd think!

    So ... a productive afternoon. I've proved to myself that I can move beyond my previously implacable "issues", albeit it at my own (often stubborn) pace. I write about my experiences of travelling because I wonder how many others experience similar things - and, if there are, hope that we can always learn from each other!

    Oh yeah - here are a few photos from my exploration ...
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150505924765170.429067.741245169&type=3

Perceptions of Disability

    I have dyspraxia & OCD (and some Aspergic traits thrown in for good measure), which have one thing in common; they are all "invisible" conditions. If I was sat quietly in a room, and concentrating on my expressions and movement, then it's possible you wouldn't have a clue that I had these conditions.

    It's not just these conditions, of course, that are invisible; everything from diabetes to Deafness is not visible by just glancing at a person. Of course, in certain circumstances, there are subtle clues and hints that knowledgeable people can pick up on, but in the everyday world - a friend of mine twigged that I had dyspraxia before I'd even said anything, but then again, she is a medical assessor.

    Being able to "hide" a condition can be nice, sometimes; it enables me to maintain my privacy should I choose. On good days, when the sun is out and the wind is light, I can appear almost ... ahem, normal ... and people wouldn't think any different about me to the next person. When I was younger, I was very sensitive about that. Now, my philosophy can be summed up by one word ... "meh". It doesn't bother in the same way it used to, and I'm a lot more open about my condition (as regular readers of my blog will know).

    One thing still bothers me, though, and I can't help but get annoyed at it. It's when people assume; they assume that a Deaf person is stupid because they can't automatically lip-read, they write a dyspraxic person off as clumsy and worthless because they can't catch a ball or think that because you rely on routine to get through the day, that you can't ever do anything new. Instead of thinking, "Oh, maybe that person has a disability", and adapting their worldview to take into account someone else's perspective, some people just assume - and get it seriously wrong.

    I'm fortunate to have Deaf friends; they're not my friends because they're Deaf, but their Deafness is of the things I know about them, as well as their eye colour, height and job. They're as - and in some cases more - intelligent as me, and just because they can't hear doesn't make them any less of a person. If someone's looking away from you and they ignore you when you call their name, have you considered that they could be deaf?

    For me, I've become quite good at "hiding" my condition - sometimes, you wouldn't think there was anything "wrong." I tell people if the conversation comes round to it, but never make a fuss - and so people are often surprised when I do mention it. Why do I hide it? Habit, mostly - because, at school, I hated the thought of being treated differently ... and I still do! I've been fortunate in that the overwhelming majority of people I meet couldn't give a ha'penny damn; on the flipside, there have been (thankfully rare) occasions where people seem to struggle with understanding ... well, me. I get annoyed when that turns into thoughtlessness - when they don't think I might need some extra support or patience occasionally (which can happen occasionally - even I have to remind myself I'm on the mild end of the autistic spectrum and sometimes need to pace myself).

    I must reiterate, though - that's thankfully rare (but tiring when it happens!). Most people are great - and recent conversations with new and old friends recently have reminded me that there are people out there who care and want to understand. You may not know who you are, but you rock all the same.

    You'll find a lot of similarities between people with "invisible" conditions - oftentimes, they don't make a big song and dance about it. They might feel frustrated in private, but it remains just that - private. I'm quite a private person, so that's how I am, but I wonder if we don't always do ourselves a disservice by not broadcasting when something - or someone - has been insensitive.

    That's the main reason I'm writing this blog; as a way of trying to raise awareness and show that I'm not fundamentally different. Yes, I may look at the world in a different way sometimes - but then, don't we all? What's my disability got to do with that? Let's start pushing back against those people who make assumptions - let's start gently reminding them that just because someone is Deaf, or dyspraxic, or ... well, anything across that spectrum, they're still people. Let's get that small minority of people educated!

Dyspraxia, Movement & Navigation

    I write about my dyspraxia on a semi-regular basis and I've had some really positive feedback, both from people with the condition as well as friends and family of those who have it, so I just wanted to say "thank you" before I started - I really do appreciate all the responses I get.

    Onwards and upwards! Today I wanted to write about the physical side of dyspraxia, which is a huge part of the condition. Every sufferer is different, of course; I know of some dyspraxics who have learnt how to catch a ball, for example, or read a map or have decent hand-eye coordination, none of which I have. It's a good job I don't intend to be a tennis player or Bear Grylls, in that case - I've always preferred a more sedentary life!

    I have zero navigational skills, as evidenced recently by a recent spate of visits I've made to different towns for work purposes and got lost far too easily, but there are things that help me with that - phone-bases sat nav and good friends and colleagues who are very patient with me, even if they don't always understand my pathological inability to get from A to B without paying a brief visit to Z (which, 9 times out of 10, is perfectly pleasant as a sight-seeing diversion).

    In years gone by, I would have "solved" this problem by not going anywhere; now, I do it anyway. There's a small amount of panic involved, because I'm fighting against my natural instincts (which are to hide under the duvet instead), but you won't get very far if you don't fight those instincts from time to time.

    I'm written before about my lack of physical coordination in certain situations; ball-catching and anything where judging distance is required ... well, in those circumstances, I'll usually volunteer to make the half-time drinks instead, as long as someone else can carry the tray. My feet often have their own ideas about where they want to to go, and not always in conjunction with each other or my brain, and so it can occasionally appear as if I am the worse for wear ... honestly, mum, I don't know what that's like (and especially since I don't drink anymore). It's actually quite liberating, because I've realised that I don't care what other people think - and I suspect people sometimes think I am the worse the wear. If they do - sod 'em. It's the way I am. I'm used to it!

    For me, the other main physical effect of dyspraxia is joint pain; I've always had sporadic aches and pains in my joints (lower back, knees, hips and thighs especially) and I don't really think much about it now, although it's one of the more ... annoying features of my condition. The aches can come and go, but they do often come at times when I really, really wish they'd just bugger off; when I'm planning to go for a walk, for example, or half-way through a working day. It's strange; I can sometimes walk a few miles and feel absolutely fine (I love walking, it helps me plan my story ideas in my head), but I'll walk down the stairs to my front door the next day and my knees will scream at me.

    Part of this is undoubtedly genetic - I can think of a few examples in my own family where they've got bad knees or back, etc - but I know my dyspraxia plays a part, and I have to accept that. Although I'm aware that I have limitations (doesn't everyone?), I won't allow my dyspraxia dictate to me what I can't do all the time; if I want to do something, like walking five miles on a Saturday afternoon, then I'll damn well do it - and train my body to cope with it.

    Since I've been writing this blog, I've said how I want to document my journey of understanding my dyspraxia, and this is certainly part of it. I get annoyed if I'm ever treated differently because of it - and thankfully, it barely happens - but I'm often hardest on myself. I want to prove - to myself, to others, who knows - that I can do things. I don't care about my aches and pains (it doesn't stop me walking), I don't care about my inability to catch a ball (seriously, I sit behind a desk all day, when am I ever going to need to catch a ball?) and I'm learning how to navigate new areas with confidence (not being afraid to ask for directions is something blokes have issues with, but I'm overcoming it).

    If you have dyspraxia, and reading this, then you'll have undoubtedly have experienced a combination of these issues yourself. I won't lie to you: they won't go away, but I'll let you into a secret. Mental attitude is as much a part of it as the condition itself; if you sit down and think, "Oh, well, I'm dyspraxic, I simply can't do that", then you won't. You'll never know how far you can push yourself. I thought that way for a long time, but then I started pushing myself - I started feeling the fear and doing it anyway - and I discovered a lot more about myself by doing that.

    There's a quote I rather like, and this blog post is partly an excuse to share it with you; "You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do." Eleanor Roosevelt said that - and I'll leave you now with that thought!