Jake Borrett's Writing Blog

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.

Pages

C#

Time

Beauty Every Day

Nine Years Later

Disease, Disease