Jake Borrett's Writing Blog: 2018

Scars

Scars

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at the age of thirteen in November 2007. This was four years after a doctor branded my regular symptoms of my health condition as ‘imaginary’ and a product of an ‘over-anxious mother’.

Since being diagnosed I have been on lots of medication; tried various food and liquid diets; had bowel resection surgery in July 2010; and in October 2013 had a flare-up that hospitalised me for nearly a week, during which my potassium levels were dangerously low I could have died. I have also made so many lifelong friends, and completed a tandem skydive for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation in June 2018.

One of the many lessons I have learnt living with Crohn’s disease as well as dyspraxia, anxiety and depression, is health conditions, both physical and mental, are very ‘hidden’. If you were to look at me you would see a boy in his twenties. You would not see the hospital visits; the crying in the toilets; the bullying in the school corridors; the caring responsibilities of looking after a dad who has primary-progressive multiple sclerosis.

As we are coming to the end of ‘Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Week 2018’ I wanted to share a poem with you. Scars is inspired by all the experiences mentioned above, especially the ‘hidden’ nature of health conditions. I am thankful that there are many people including yourself who are willing to listen to my story. Thank you for making these ‘hidden’ aspects more visible.

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Scars

When I look at myself I see a scared boy.

I see him crouching over the toilet with brown

Shit dripping down his arm, cursing as the burning

Never stops. I see him being told by his doctor that

He made this nightmare up; that it was ‘imaginary’.

That’s a scar.

When I look at myself I see a vulnerable boy.

I see him being bullied in school for being ‘different’

As he can’t run, can’t write, can’t read, can’t speak.

I see him being teased for needing that little extra help

So he doesn’t become another shadow in the corridor.

That’s a scar.

When I look at myself I see a lonely boy.

I see him without his dad carrying him up high

On his shoulders, standing over the darkness below.

I see him alone in the hallway listening to old voices,

Old memories from the one who slipped into the night.

That’s a scar.

But you don’t see this boy when you look at me.

You don’t see the cursing in hospital.

You don’t see the bullying at school.

You don’t see the mourning at home.

You see a ‘normal boy’ when you look at me.

That’s the deepest scar of all.

Sepsis

Sepsis

I stand on Lonely Hill and the knots of my lips rise as I watch him kite flying with his son. An emerald glows above our heads through the patient but scorched sky. The dad peaks behind the boy, his nervous hands clutch over his son’s as they grip the string.

I muter the words they share.

‘Up a bit. Down now. A little more powerful, son. No that’s too much; yes that’s better, look at it soar.’

They go about this dance but it always ends. This time a tremor in the sea beyond silences our voice and the grass divides into rusted memories. Piss stings the air as a wave of yellow pollutes Lonely Hill.

The last thing I see is his hands holding onto the broken kite.

‘I’m sorry.’ I shout. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry...’

But Dad can’t hear me.

C#

I was diagnosed with dyspraxia by an educational psychologist at the age of eighteen in March 2013. In five years, I personally believe, the hidden disability has gained more awareness. A large part of this is down to the charity, Dyspraxia Foundation, and its supporters for championing understanding in education, work and health industries.

Dyspraxia has been discussed in online blogs, newspaper articles, on radio shows and on television programmes; some of which I have been lucky enough to contribute to. Doctor Who returned on Sunday 7^th October 2018 and features the character, Ryan Sinclair, who lives with dyspraxia. They have already touched upon the coordination aspects, such as learning to ride a bike, so it will be fascinating to see how showrunner, Chris Chibnall, and the other writers continue to represent the hidden disability on screen.

We are in the middle of ‘Dyspraxia Awareness Week 2018’, so I wanted to share a poem with you. C# is a piece inspired by my experience of being bullied at secondary school; having a dad, who has primary-progressive multiple sclerosis; and living with Crohn’s disease, anxiety, depression and, of course, dyspraxia. The piece uses the symbolism of music throughout. I hope you enjoy reading the poem and get something out of it. Lastly, as ever thank you so much for your support. You mean so much to me.

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You spit ‘failure’, ‘loser’, ‘nerd’ and ‘retard’ across littered corridors.

You punch and kick my inflaming small intestine and twist my trembling fingers.

You mimic my lisp on school bus rides to and from the twilit playground.

You snicker as my dad limps along with a dull walking stick during parents’ evening.

Perhaps worst of all, you grade me a ‘F’ on your musical score of hatred.

You do not realise I am a C# forever rising, forever shining in the shimmering sky.

You do not accept I or my loved ones have hidden disabilities and mental health conditions, but these are only cords on our guitar, strings on our harp.

You do not believe my name shines in stories, poems, awards and I will keep climbing the instrumental soundtrack of life.

I am not a ‘F’ which you can silence.

I am a C#, forever breathing, forever playing even when the stars turn dark.

Time

Time

On Wednesday 17^th August 1994 at 6.37am, I was born.

Of course, I do not remember much about being born. However, there is an old photograph which shows my mum, dad and older sister sitting on a bed as they welcomed me into this scary, beautiful world.

I was a hyperactive and clumsy child to the extent my parents gave me the nickname ‘Scooter’, many years before I was diagnosed with dyspraxia at the age of eighteen in March 2013. There were many fun, exciting childhood memories, including kite-flying with Dad; being read to by Mum; and going to the seaside with my sister. We were also lucky to travel a lot and we went to Australia, Canada and the United States of America. One of the main reasons for this is because we wanted to see the world whilst Dad was still able to.

My dad has primary-progressive multiple sclerosis. He was transferred into a nursing home in mid-2011. Before this we cared for him at home. It is so hard to see a loved one in such pain and it was and still is emotionally draining. I have memories of helping him get dressed; taking his medication; cleaning him up after he had a continence accident; the rows between him and my sister; and his frustration of not being able to walk anymore, especially as he used to run half-marathons and loved to cycle and swim.

It is frightening even now because since he has lived in a nursing home he has been in intensive care and has been in a critical condition a number of times with urosepsis and aspirated pneumonia. He is quadriplegic and has other issues, including related to mental health, cognition, behaviour, continence, skin integrity to a name a few. We regular visit him as a family when we can, and often play lots of games with him like Scrabble and Whot; which he occasional cheats at. Still I cannot help thinking one day soon he may not be here, so we have to make the most of the time we have left together.

Secondary school was also a particularly challenging time. As well as trying to balance caring for a disabled dad with homework and examinations, I was also bullied by other boys. I was punched and kicked in school corridors; they mimicked my lisp; belongings were stolen; and they laughed at my dad for walking with an aid during parents’ evening. School was not all bad though as I have some happy memories playing games, laughing and having fun with some amazing friends. I am also thankful to the English teachers and Learning Support Department for believing in me and vastly improving my language, literary, writing and speaking skills. Without you I would not have graduated from University of Hertfordshire with a first-class honours degree in English Literature and Creative Writing in September 2016. This is something I never thought was possible especially as I was predicted to achieve C grades and lower in my GCSEs.

If my life was a film or a novel, one of its themes would be health. Each member of my immediate family lives with a health condition. This includes but is not limited to multiple sclerosis, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis ‘ME’ and asthma. At the age of nine I sat on the sofa in the living room and told Mum my stomach was hurting. After four years of symptoms being branded as ‘imaginary’ and a product of an ‘over-anxious mother’, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. Since November 2007 I have also been diagnosed with dyspraxia, anxiety and depression. Only recently have I found out through an MRI scan I may need to take biologics in order to control the active inflammation inside my small intestine. In some ways these health conditions have made me a determined, passionate and empathetic person. I am sure many of you who are reading this have sadly lost people to cancer and suicide, like we sadly have, and these are just some sore reminders of how time is so fleeting.

This is why since graduating from university, I have tried my hardest to push myself outside of the ‘comfort zone’ despite how terrifying it can be. I am pleased to have done so as I have made some lifelong friends; appeared on radio shows; taken part in creative writing open mic events; raised awareness of physical and mental health charities and conditions; passed my driving practical test first time in an automatic car; and completed a tandem skydive for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation. Thank you to my family, friends, teachers, the community and of course you for your kindness, as it does go a long way.

What I am trying to say is time goes too fast. I am twenty-four years old now, but it does not feel that long since I was born. We should try to make the most of the time we have left, despite how difficult that sometimes can be. We should try and do what we enjoy. We should not allow bullies to tell us we ‘stupid’, ‘lazy’, ‘weak’ or ‘retards’. We are not. We are allowed to make mistakes, but we are also beautiful, kind, funny, creative individuals. We should try to tell our loved ones we do love them, and I know I do not say that often enough. It is also okay not to be okay, but it is not okay to suffer in silence. Someone will listen. Thank you for listening to me.

Beauty Every Day

Beauty Every Day

On difficult days I should look at the list below and remind myself, beauty can be found every day. I hope you find some comfort in these words too. Remember you are not alone.

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Sunrises and sunsets

Trees, birds, butterflies, cats, dolphins

Penguins, monkeys, goldfish, roses

The patch of blue in the sky on the cloudiest of days

Rain after a heatwave

Reading a book which makes you cry

Watching a film which makes you laugh

Listening to music which allows you to travel in time

Smiles, laughter, joy, happiness

Telling jokes with friends over pints of Coke

Acts of kindness

Justice

Love

The sweetness of strawberries, the softness of candyfloss

The spice of hot curries

The clunk-fizz noise when opening a can of lemonade

The clink of water against ice in a glass

Writing stories, telling jokes, reciting poems, speaking on radio shows

Kites, trains, bunny rabbits

The first snowflake to land on the pavement at night

Bubbles, wishing wells, shiny one and two pence pieces

The wind brushing against your cheek

Silence after noisy building work has come to an end

Bright ideas, finished projects, triumph

Good news

Babies giggling

Winning a hand at Texas hold’em

Inspirational people

Playing board games with loved ones, especially Articulate Your Life

Visiting art galleries, playing football, sailing calm seas

Talking to people who listen to understand

When a good day feels like a lifetime

Travelling to new places and returning to old favourites

The smell of fish and chips at the seaside

Natural wonders, especially the Northern Lights

Meeting new people and catching up with good friends

Family

The brightest star shining in the darkest of skies

And so, so much more…

Nine Years Later

Nine Years Later

On Sunday 28^th June 2009 my dad completed a tandem skydive at Hinton Skydiving Centre in Brackley. At the age of fourteen I watched him complete an act of bravery by jumping out of an aeroplane into the clouds below. He was inspirational for doing so because it was not long afterwards he was transferred into a nursing home due of his primary-progressive multiple sclerosis. Nine years later it was my turn.

I arrived at Hinton Skydiving Centre in Brackley at 11.30am on Thursday 28^th June 2018 with my mum, sister and a family friend. On our drive to the airfield I looked up at one of the clearest summer skies above us and remember thinking it was going to be a surreal experience to jump out of an aircraft at 13,000 feet.

When we arrived, I felt very anxious. I have never been scared of heights, but I was scared that something could go wrong; the parachute may fail to open. This anxiety continued when I signed the safety declaration forms; when requesting photographs and videos of the jump; during the safety briefing; when getting into my suit; and as my dad, one of his carers and my two cousins arrived very soon afterwards.

There was only a brief amount of time to talk to my seven supporters before my name, ‘Borrett’, was called and it was time to fly into the sky. Just before 1.00pm I said my goodbyes, hoping I would see them again. I along with three other nervous jumpers met our instructors and walked to our plane. My skydiving instructor was called Stuart. Even though he joked he had recently been ‘promoted from cleaning the toilets’ I knew I was in capable hands. After all he had recently been bobsleighing too. From my travels to Canada with my cousin, Rufus Lakin, I knew how dangerous this can be too.

During our plane ride up to 13,000 feet, Stuart completed the final safety checks and did his best to slow down my very fast breathing. The aircraft smelt of nervous, excited sweat; we could hear the flurry of the wind brushing against the windows; grip hold of the leather plinths; taste petrol; and watch our loved ones shrink as the number of the altitude clock continued to climb.

At 13,000 feet the doors opened and I saw the drop into the blue sky and white clouds below. A number of solo skydivers went first before two sets of other tandem skydivers. Soon afterwards it was my turn. As I dangled on the edge of the plane 13,000 feet up in the horizon and with Stuart strapped in behind me, what was I thinking about? Surprisingly I was not thinking there is a chance the parachute will not open and I could die, or I should be sensible and go back inside. Despite a dry mouth, sweat dripping down my arms and legs and my heart thudding, I was thinking about the board game, Articulate Your Life. I was coming up with ways in which to describe words.

Then Stuart let go and we tumbled into the brightest blue below. In freefall I remember the rush of wind hitting my face, looking at the camera man floating below us, and the sense of freedom. After an unmeasurable number of seconds, the parachute opened and we sailed into the sky. Then silence. A strange silence where all I could hear was Stuart’s voice giving me a tour of Northamptonshire from above the clouds. We could see Silverstone Circuit and the airfield. It was spectacular. We descended down to the airfield in our blue and orange parachute and into the hugs, smiles and cheers of loved ones.

It is difficult to describe what it feels like to complete a tandem skydive. Only people who have done one will understand that, and they themselves find it challenging to remember every detail. However, I do remember feeling anxious, terrified but more so exhilarated, magical, free and strangely, alive.

It was also an honour to complete a tandem skydive in aid of the two charities, Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation. Both have supported me every day since being diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at the age of thirteen and dyspraxia at the age of eighteen. The people who volunteer and work at the organisations have been there through all the achievements but also on the darkest of days too.

I am also thankful to my loved ones who came to watch as their son, brother, cousin or friend descend from the sky above. In particular thank you to my dad. He inspired me. If he did not have the courage to jump out at 13,000 feet in June 2009 I would not have experienced it for myself nine years later.

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If you would like to kindly donate as part of my tandem skydive for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation you still can by following these links:

For Jake Borrett’s Team Page, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/companyteams/jakeborrett

To donate to Crohn’s and Colitis UK, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/jake-borrett1

To donate to Dyspraxia Foundation, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/jake-borrett2

Thank you so much for your kindness.

Disease, Disease

Disease, Disease

Disease, disease you crept into my life when I was nine

Disease, disease you laughed when they called you benign

Disease, disease you mocked me when I believed your lies

But disease, disease she saw the truth burning behind your eyes

Still disease, disease you sent a thousand daggers all my way

Still disease, disease you left me dripping blood each hospitalised day

Still disease, disease you played tricks on my mind for your final blow

But disease, disease, you failed to realise you still have one last foe

Listen disease, disease after eleven years it has come down to this

Listen disease, disease after all your hits from your blazing fists

Listen disease, disease, you may have picked on a helpless son

But you keep on forgetting that you have one weakness, my mum.

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Saturday 19^th May 2018 marks ‘World Inflammatory Bowel Disease 2018’.

Crohn’s disease and ulcerative colitis are the two main forms of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, which affects 300,000 people in the United Kingdom and millions more worldwide.

I have Crohn’s disease. Through the good times and the bad, my mum has always been there. Thank you Mum and thank you for your support too.

Why I am skydiving for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation

Why I am skydiving for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation

On Sunday 28^th June 2009 my dad completed a tandem skydive in aid of Multiple Sclerosis Society. He was diagnosed with the neurological condition in 1998. In a matter of twenty years he has gone from running half-marathons to a living in a nursing home due to his serious complex and unpredictable primary health care needs. It is remarkable to think he was able to undergo such a feat whilst he was still just about able to do so.

Exactly nine years later, on Thursday 28^th June 2018 I will be doing the same as my dad and will be completing a tandem skydive, but this time in aid of Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation. I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at thirteen years old and dyspraxia at the age of eighteen. My journey living with these two hidden disabilities has included being bullied at secondary school; regular hospital admissions; flare-ups and surgery; tears, anger, embarrassment, isolation and fear; and further complications with mental health too.

Nevertheless, I also believe Crohn’s disease and dyspraxia have made me a creative, bright, funny, courageous and determined individual. I am proud to have achieved a first-class honours degree in English Literature and Creative Writing from University of Hertfordshire despite having tri-weekly learning support lessons during the first three years of secondary school. I am also proud to have passed my driving practical test first time in an automatic car as of March 2018.

Raising awareness of all forms of hidden disability and mental health conditions is so important to me. One reason is to challenge the stigmas and taboos which still exist. We are not stupid, lazy or dangerous. We are definitely not ‘freaks’, ‘losers’ or ‘retards’ as some of the bullies at secondary school suggested I was. Instead we are amazing people who achieve incredible ambitions.

I am completing this tandem skydive in aid of Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation as they are two charities which support thousands of people across the country who live with Inflammatory Bowel Disease and specific learning conditions, respectively. It is also their mission to increase understanding especially among professionals in health and education and to spread awareness of how people living with the condition and their loved ones can be helped.

Both charities have been very supportive. I regularly write articles, appear on radio shows, and am a member of Crohn’s and Colitis UK’s Readers Panel. In June 2017, I was humbly awarded the ‘Matthew Hunt Award’ for ‘outstanding achievement in raising awareness of dyspraxia’.

The charities continue to do excellent work to support thousands of people living in the United Kingdom. Therefore, this tandem skydive is my way of saying thank you to them but also to you who have listened or read every word and are there on the toughest of days, but also in the joy, laughter and celebrations as well. Plus, I like to think I will also be doing my dad proud by flying through the sky like a butterfly.

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If you would like to kindly donate, please do. You can do so through any of the relevant links below.

For Jake Borrett’s Team Page, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/companyteams/jakeborrett

To donate to Crohn’s and Colitis UK, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/jake-borrett1

To donate to Dyspraxia Foundation, please follow this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/jake-borrett2

Thank you so much for your kindness.

On Thursday 28^th June 2018, wherever you may be or whatever you may be doing make sure to look up and admire the sky.

Sky

Sky

Sky, water-droplets fly like crystals passing by,

But they only see rain and I wonder why, sky.

Sky, birds float like clouds stretching far and nigh,

But they only see swarms and I wonder why, sky.

Sky, kites glide like sapphires hung up high,

But they only see paper and I wonder why, sky.

Sky, butterflies dance like candyfloss that dips and dives,

But they only see pests and I wonder why, sky.

Sky, with treasures that dance and float, glide and fly,

Why does no one look at you through my eye, sky?

A Few Words of Kindness

A Few Words of Kindness

I was recently asked, ‘What are some of your greatest moments so far?’ On reflection I realised there have been many. I graduated with a first-class honours degree in English Literature and Creative Writing from University of Hertfordshire. I was awarded the ‘Matthew Hunt Award 2017’ by the Dyspraxia Foundation; won ‘Radio Presenter of the Year 2017’ at the Trident Media Awards; have appeared on Radio Verulam and BBC Three Counties Radio; have been published in newspapers; travelled around Canada with my cousin; recently passed my practical driving test first time in an automatic car; and of course, spending time with you. In all of these occasions I am thankful to you. I know I would not have achieved any of this without your kindness.

Kindness probably started when I was born in the morning of Wednesday 17^th August 1994. Since I do not remember much of then, I would say it began when I was nine years old. I sat on the sofa in the living room as an agonising pain stabbed at my small intestine. I remember the sample pots; the charts which likened poo to shapes of food; the misguided use of laxatives; and four years of accusations I was ‘imagining’ the physical pain. I also recall my mum believing the tears, screams and everlasting nights on the toilet. Her belief led me to be diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at the age of thirteen in November 2007. Since then, I know I can always rely on her. Thank you, Mum.

The innocence of playing tin-pot rounders and attending chess club faded when I joined secondary school. During these seven years I learnt the consequences of having Inflammatory Bowel Disease; witnessed the health decline of my dad, who was transferred into a nursing home and later developed sepsis, which nearly killed him; and I was also bullied. In corridors I was punched and kicked; belongings were broken and stolen; cups of pasta were thrown on my shoulder; lisps were mimicked; and I recently recall someone firing a small piece of carboard into my eye with an elastic band on the school bus. It was not all gloom as a few amazing women in the learning support department listened. They built up the confidence in my writing and also myself. I am also thankful to a couple of close friends who defended me against some of the bullies. Thank you both.

I later decided to enrol at University of Hertfordshire to study English Literature and Creative Writing. Like many of you, university was tough, mainly due to flareups, panic attacks, deferments and it was also a time when I was diagnosed with dyspraxia at the age of eighteen by an educational psychologist. Nevertheless, it was also beautiful as I have fond memories including the ‘3…2…1’ ice-breaker challenges; playing lots of games of cards, including poker; inviting guests to speak on my radio show; and laughing over tasty burgers and sparkling lemonade at local bars.

The proudest achievements would not have occurred without you. I would not have passed my driving practical test without the humour and wisdom of my driving instructor; not have achieved the ‘Matthew Hunt Award 2017’ without the compassion of the Dyspraxia Foundation; not have spoken on the radio or written in newspaper articles without the belief of presenters, producers and editors; not have travelled around Canada without the courage of my cousin deciding to study Sports Science a year abroad; and not spending precious seconds with you without your empathy to ask if I am okay on the days where I would rather see total darkness than play games of Articulate over a Chinese takeaway.

It only takes a few words of kindness to save a life. Yours saved mine from bullies, illness and even on occasion from myself.

Bubbles

Bubbles

I blow bubbles and watch them dance.

Little ones twist with tooth brushing; mouthfuls of ice-cream; binge watching of late night Doctor Who.

Many inflate with friendship and laughter spilt over pints of coke; crowed poetry readings; swooping across the ever-darkening sky.

Those in the corner darken from cries in hospital beds; punches and kicks in school corridors; fear; anxiety; self-loathing; guilt.

Others spark with bob-sleighing down Canadian ice; snapshots of mortarboards hanging mid-flight; driving across sunlit hills; radio broadcasting; passion; triumph.

They all wait...and wait to pop, to let go...

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Wednesday 28^th February 2018 marks four years since I launched ‘Jake Borrett’s Writing Blog’. Whenever you may be reading this message, I want to say thank you. Thank you for being there for me on the darkest days of flare-ups, bullying, anxiety, but also the good days of spending precious moments with loved ones. Here is to many more incredible times together.

My Snow Angel

My Snow Angel

My little-self strokes the flakes sleeping on my mittens.

‘Look sugar!’ My words drift along the morning air.

Together we nuzzle the snow, spreading our arms and legs

Wide, sketching a template of ourselves until white dusting

Covers our heads. Our angel will never melt away,

As long as I promise snow can come back another day.

My bigger-self watches the flurries buzz across the night,

Dancing before slipping onto the pavement.

Together we shroud the numbing in our palms as I place

My hand to the glass. I see you lying in bed, arms and legs

Wide. Frozen. I promise to melt the snow away,

Only if I could be with you, my snow angel, for one last day.

Golden Horizons

Golden Horizons

2017 was a challenging year for me. I cried; experienced anger; my Crohn’s disease flared-up; and I was often overwhelmed with anxiety; felt extremely low on the darkest of days; and witnessed the further decline of my dad’s health due to his primary-progressive multiple sclerosis.

However, there were also many positives. Some of the highlights include:

› Travelling around Canada with my cousin. Visiting Yellowknife in January and witnessing the Northern Lights twice was incredible.

› Going on an Arvon residential creative writing course in Shropshire, which specialised in young adult fiction under the supervision of writers, Julia Green and Marcus Sedgwick.

› Winning ‘Radio Presenter of the Year’ at the Trident Media Awards at University of Hertfordshire.

› Attending the Dyspraxia Foundation’s Annual General Meeting and Conference in London, where I met so many likeminded people and won the ‘Matthew Hunt Award 2017’. I did not expect to win.

› Appearing on Radio Verulam across the year and on BBC Three Counties Radio three times.

› Contributing to a Poetry Open Mic Night at The Poetry’s Society Poetry Café in Convent Garden, London. I read ‘Oh Butterfly’ and ‘Bubbles’, which were both received extremely well.

› Most recently, passing my driving theory test with 49/50 in the multiple choice and 66/75 in the hazard perception.

› Spending time with loved ones, friends and yourselves.

I also learnt to be more confident and determined in myself; and to accept that small things such as butterflies, bubbles, golden horizons and having a good day are so important.

Resolutions for 2018

It is currently Monday 1^st January 2018 as I write this article and it is uncertain how the next 364 days will go. I know there will be tough days but also unforgettable moments. Like every year though I set some possible goals to aim for.

Here are some of mine for 2018:

› To get my young adult fiction novel published with the help of a literary agent/agency.

› Pass my driving practical test as I have recently passed my driving theory test.

› As I enjoyed Canada so much, to go travelling again with my cousin.

› To do more exercise and to enjoy doing it.

› Finally complete a tandem skydive in aid of ‘Crohn’s and Colitis UK’ and ‘Dyspraxia Foundation’ after saying I would since 2012 and even perhaps before then.

› Raise lots of awareness of hidden disabilities and mental health.

I should really also add, to be kind to myself as well.

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I want to end this article by thanking you. You are the reason I keep writing; keep speaking keep fighting; keep breathing. I will never stop raising awareness of hidden disabilities and mental health. It means so much more that I know you will be there with me in each dark day but also in each golden horizon too.

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