Jake Borrett's Writing Blog

To My Hurting Mind

To My Hurting Mind

You lurk in the shadows of alleyways; the seats at bus stops; the books on classroom shelves; and the walls of my home.

You turn my mouth dry; speed up my heartbeat; make my hands and legs tremble; hurl the vomit over the floor; and leak the diarrhoea out into the toilet.

You doubt my abilities by turning my stories and poems into jumbled words; laugh at my lisp when I speak out loud; and make the car collide into the kerb when I learn to drive.

You force me to hide beneath the bedsheets; guilt me by saying the food I love to eat is rotten; the novels I enjoy to read are boring; that I am wasting every day by doing nothing; and that I do not deserve to be supported.

You trick me to think I am hated; that strangers want to hurt me; my friends want to leave me; that my family is ashamed of me; that I am a retard; that I should do everyone a favour and end it all.

You are my anxiety; my depression; my fear; my stress; my self-loathing; my guilt; but you will never win.

My hurting mind, I will harness you to write stories that will last forever; I will speak poems that will dance across the page; I will meet new friends and hold onto the ones I have; my family will always be proud; and I will do everyone a favour and live.

Butterflies

Butterflies

I shut the door on Mum and Dad shouting in the kitchen and enter the garden.

A purple and striped red butterfly perches on the bird table we have left out. I creep over and my trainers crunch the pebbles below.

I lurch over the creature and my fingers stroke its papery wings. Its heart beats within my nails. I smile for the first time in a long while.

The butterfly drifts into the sky and I am left alone in the garden to remember our brief time together. I pray for it to come back another day.

Honesty

Honesty

I am honest when I share my experiences of living with Crohn’s disease and dyspraxia and having a dad with severe multiple sclerosis. However, this honesty can sometimes hurt.

I am haunted by the corridors in my secondary school where I was punched, kicked, strangled by others boys. I remember the long admissions in hospitals where blood poured out of my bottom and I fainted in my mum’s arms. I still visualise the beds where dad’s legs trembled and his veins were infected. I recall the faces that shouted I was a ‘nerd’, ‘lazy’, ‘stupid’, ‘ugly’ and a ‘retard’. These faces laughed at my scars. These memories invade me as I type each word and I am almost too scared to press the ‘enter button’ to publish this article...

...But I know I am not alone. There are many wonderful people who are willing to listen to my story, no matter how graphic or personal, and they do genuinely care. I know they will be there when I cannot get out of bed in the morning even after setting two alarms; when I stumble over my speech; when I fall into shards of glass and cut my face; when my potassium levels are so low I could have a heart attack in the night; when I am bullied; and when I feel like ending it all.

On Saturday 24^th June 2017 I attended the Dyspraxia Foundation Annual General Meeting and Conference 2017. I was very anxious on the train down to London Bridge. My hands were shaking; my voice was dry; and I almost vomited into the toilet. However, these fears disappeared over the duration of the day. Each organised talk, each activity, every workshops and ultimately every person was inspiring. You took the time to listen to my fears, my dreams and I listened to yours. You are kind, creative and determined and I am proud to have met you.

If it means my voice will no longer be silenced; if I can prove the bullies wrong; and if I get the chance to meet many more incredible people then I will continue to be honest.

My Truthful Dreams

My Truthful Dreams

Recently I have been having some strange dreams including one about Doctor Who, another about unrequited love and a further about asking a prime minister whether she has heard of a fish and chips restaurant in Bournemouth. The images have made me reflect over what ambitions I would like to achieve in life. Here are some of my truthful dreams.

I dream that my writing will be read all over the world. I write articles including those about living with hidden disabilities, just like the one you are reading now. I produce poetry, short stories, script and have also been finalising a young adult fiction novel. If you are moved by a story, can relate to one of the characters, if I can make you cry, laugh or you become inspired then I will continue to write forever.

I dream to have a wife and children. I am very close to my parents and sister, and wish one day to have a family of my own. This does concern me a bit as I wonder whether I will find someone who will understand I have Crohn’s disease and dyspraxia and a dad who has severe multiple sclerosis. I worry that I might not be able to have children, that my body will stop me from producing. I fear I may not be a good husband or a caring father, but I would love the chance to be both.

I dream that everyone will understand all our disabilities. I dream to be in a world where I do not have to apologise for talking about poo at the dinner table; that I do not need to say sorry for not having the energy to get out of bed; do not feel guilty that it may take a little longer to tie shoe laces, learn to drive, that I may fumble over words; that health conditions have been and will always be a big part of my life.

These are some of my truthful dreams, and perhaps one day they will come true.

Silence

Silence

Silence echoes through houses.

Silence ripples through streets.

Silence shatters through crowds.

Silence tries to hide our voices, but our united roar will never stop...

Pages

To My Hurting Mind

Butterflies

Honesty

My Truthful Dreams

Silence