There is one thing wrong with me, well lets be honest there are many things wrong with me, but the one thing that holds me back and stops me functioning as so many others do is my visual impairment.

I was born with terrible eye sight and wore glasses from a very young age. The doctors asked my mum if I bumped into things at home, I never did and have always managed to stay as independent as possible. Many people have difficultly believing that I have sight loss as I have no lovely dog leading me around and do not always use a white stick. I think like most disabled people I do not flaunt my disability and certainly do not want to be defined by it.

My condition was misdiagnosed up until about 6 or 7 years ago when a routine eye check up for my daughter lead to a chain of events which took most of my immediate family to an eye hospital in London were nearly all of us were found to have a genetic disorder called North Carolina macular Dystrophy, a rare condition that they believe came originally from Ireland and was first described in two Irish brothers in the USA, hence the name. Unfortunately for me the consultant said the I had the worse case sinario.

So here I am, sitting on a train on my way to Poole. Travel is a tricky one for most disabled people and this includes those who suffer from a mental disability as well as a physical one.

My husband came with me to the mainline station to help me find the correct platform to board from. Train stations are a confusing place. My disability means that I am unable to read the information boards and many of the signs. I have problems finding my way around an unfamiliar space as I have not been able to yet memorise the visual queues I use to find my way around. Those with a hearing impairment will not hear the announcements being made, wheel chairs will struggle in such a crowded space as a mainline station in rush hour and those with anxiety must find these places pretty distressing.

I needed to find my way to the front five carriages, a simple task I hear you cry. So I walked and walked as the platforms at Waterloo station in London seem to go on for ever and I was unable to see where the front of the train was. My initial plan was to just walk right to the front then make my way back for a couple of carriages but after walking for what seemed an age, I got onto the train and asked someone which number cartridge it was. A kind fellow passenger, having spotted my white stick, told me it was number 3 carriage so I settled down for my journey.

The trip it self was thankfully uneventful. We had informed the train company that I would be travelling alone and as we neared my destination stop the guard announced that he would be walking through the carriages to see if anyone needed assistance, so I grabbed my chance when I saw him and asked about my stop and the distance from the train to the platform.

The guard was genuinely pleased to see me as he knew someone with a visual impaired was on board but had not spotted me yet. By now it was dark outside and I was very grateful for his help in disembarking as I had managed to place myself on the part of the train which would stop at the darkest part of the platform. Although I do have sight, my ability to see is diminished in the dark. My friends met me outside the station so all was well.

There is no spontaneity when you are a disabled traveller, you cannot just get up and go and work it out as you go along. My independent journeys have to be planned and marked out. Which trains to use and full instructions and directions once I have left the train if I am in an unfamiliar area. I cannot imagine how difficult it is for wheelchair users, so much of our transport network is completely inaccessible for anyone who is unable to stand or walk.

I knew from an early age that if I wanted to be independent I would need to use public transport, “you will never be able to drive or operate heavy machinery” was the incredibly helpful news that was given me by the hospital when I was a young child. Finding a way to go places, alternative ways to do things and recognising when to ask for help because I cannot do it on my own, has been a life long adventure for me and the fact that we will be moving to a new area will mean learning new routes and memorising new areas, but I am fortunate to have the help of my family and friends.

The world we live in is not set up for difference. If you have a difference of any kind, whether it be physical or mental, you need to find your own way of navigating the world around you, this sometimes can be incredibly difficult and limiting. Sometimes I wish I could drive so I didn’t have to rely on other people, I wish I could see better so I could get a job without any limitations, I wish I could read my own handwriting still. I am realistic and know that those days are gone and then I look around me and see so many others that struggle with far greater challenges than I have to face and I know that actually I should be incredibly grateful for the level of independence I do have.

There is no “normal”. This concept has been created to find a middle ground, but what is normal? We are all so individual, no two people are the same. I have never met a “normal” person in my life and I am glad of it. Diversity, including disability, is what makes humanity so interesting, so exciting. All I want is that my personal difference does not define who I am, does not hold me back completely, that society acknowledges my difference but does not judge me by it.

To travel as a disabled person can be difficult, even annoying at times but I do not want these difficulties and annoyances to stop me from trying to keep my independence as much as possible.

I had a wonderful time at my friends so all the preparation and planning were worth it and having travelled on my own on the mainline trains once means that next time I will not find it such a daunting prospect. You see as a visually impaired person I don’t want or need anyone to hold my hand, I just need society to help me find my own way. Disabled people are just that, people. They are not of lower intelligence or somehow want different things from able bodied people. I am not my eyes any more than a person in a wheel chair is their legs or someone with anxiety and depression is their brain, we are whole people, mothers, sons, daughter, fathers etc.

Yes I am visually impaired, yes the chances of me recognising you from across the street are nil and yes I do have to sit that close to the TV, but first and foremost I am me, Janet, daughter, wife, mother and actually an alright individual.

Do you sometimes struggle with things that others might find easy, are you or do you know someone with a disability? Why not let me know your’s or their’s experience of navigating this world. Maybe we could share tricks and tips to make our literal and figurative journeys easier.

Love

Janet.

When you look in the mirror what do you see?

So many of us are unsatisfied with the image that looks back at us in our mirrors. Too fat, too thin, too short, wrong hair, wrong eyes, too many chins and of course, the dreaded cellulite. In short, we are unhappy on how we look or how the ravages of time is taking a tole on our bodies.

Not wanting to age is a common thing, but increasingly now it is the young that are unhappy with their appearance. Perfectly beautiful younger people are taking to surgery or creams and potions to try to achieve an unreachable goal, and most of them realise that what they see on Instagram or online is not a real image of a person but a filtered, adjusted one. So why then do they, and we, still strive for what society shows us to be the perfect face and body?

The perfect image of a women has changed dramatically over the years.

In the renaissance period women were painted as curved with round faces and pale skin. To have a little bit more flesh on your body meant that at least you had enough to eat, in an era when survival was more important than looks for the majority of the population.

Queen Elizabeth 1 was crowned in 1558 and is famously picture with Snow White skin and deep red lips. White skin was a sign of upper class status as the poor had to work outside so were always tanned. Those who wanted to be seen as coming from a higher status group followed the queens example and she continued to slap on the face paint to keep her virginal image and later to hide her small pox scars. Consider now that some spend copious amount of money to have tanned skin which in the past would have been considered a sign of poverty.

It’s worth remembering that make up was worn equally by men and women and after the French Revolution the aristocracy wanted to distance themselves from the image of the past and so paired back on the make up and went for a more natural look.

In Victorian times the Pale, frail and weak look was all the rage. Society dictated that being a mother and staying at home should be enough for a women and her body shape, dress and face should not show her as strong. In some quarters the sick, weak look was seen as beautiful. Make up at this time was positively dangerous. Ingredients included substances such as mercury, lead and nightshade, most women knew that what they were putting on their faces was deadly but were willing to risk it to look more beautiful and to please their men.

Fast forward to the 1920s and women who had worked during the First World War had a taste of independence and were not willing to give it up. For the first time the perfect body image of curvy and fertile change to a more boyish look. The Flapper style was short hair and slim and unfortunately began the modern day obsession of being thin.

Since the 1920s the perfect woman has varied to some degree but on the whole it is still slim, flawless skin and perfect hair as soon as you step out of your bed in the morning.

It is amazing to realised, that women especially, have always been dictated to on how they should look and let’s be honest here, most of it is so that women look more desirable to men. We have so much more equality now but rather that us becoming freed from the shackles of image, men are now being dragged into an endless bombardment of how they should look. So much money is spent on image that companies have realised that men can be shamed into buying products just like women can.

Do I buy beauty products? Of course I do. I have grown up and live in the real world like we all do, but I know that at 52 years old, time has the upper hand but after I have departed this world I would rather be remembered and loved by my family and friends for what I did and not for how fab I looked. My concern is for the younger generation who are hounded by images on social media. Unattainable, fantasy images. You cannot become or emulate something that is not real. Eat healthier and exercise because it will give you a longer illness free life, not because what you see in the mirror scares or disappoints you.

We are all “fearfully and wonderfully made”. We are all different and meant to be that way, you cannot be a carbon copy of someone else nor should you want to be. Yes you can have plastic surgery or fillers to change your appearance, but you will still be you underneath, no amount of money, products or going under the knife or needle will change that. If we could only teach the next generation to take care of themselves for the benefits to their mind and body rather than how many likes they get in Facebook or Instagram. We are breeding a generation where how you look is everything rather than what you do or achieve or how much love and kindness you show to others. We need a generation of young people who’s hearts and souls are beautiful.

So when you look in the mirror what do you see? Do you look to criticise or do you look with realistic eyes at the person you are, the great as well as the not so great. Do you see what you could be, the good you could achieve. Do you look at yourself with the same loving attitude as you look at others; with the same compassion. Buy your beauty products and clothes that you like, but because they make you feel better about yourself, not to be someone else or because you feel pressured to be and look a certain way. Our mirrors show reality, even for those filtered and photo shopped models we see on social media.

My husband says I am the perfect wife, not because I am amazing, but because I am visually impaired so do not really see imperfections in people faces. To me everyone looks great. Maybe its time that we looked at each other with imperfect eyes and see the perfection in others. See beyond the face and body, see beyond the projected image to the amazing person underneath. Maybe its about time that we looked at ourselves with those same imperfect eyes to see the beauty that is on the outside and the inside of us. You are who you are for a reason, for a purpose. We all have beauty, we are all unique and I say that surely is what we should all see in the mirror.

When you truly grieve for someone or something your mind is no longer your own. You are not the same person and no matter how much you or others try to get the old you back, that person died on the same day.

So what do you do?

Life is about choices. I have learnt that there are many things I could not or cannot control, thats just the way it is, but I have also learnt that there will always be choices in the things I can control. How we deal with things, deal with others, deal with the rubbish this life throws at us is our choice.

When we lost our boy we were lost too, striped to the bone. Just

functioning on any level was the greatest achievement of the day and some days it still is. We had a choice to make, to completely give up, fade away, disappear forever in our grief and pain, to live a living death, which believe me when I say that I could see how that could defiantly happen, and would blame no one for it. In some ways that would have been a lot easier, but we had others to think about, it wasn’t just about my grief or my husbands grief. We could not allow our other children to loss their parents as well as their big brother, so we made a choice.

So why is grief a thief?

Grief robs you of the future you thought you had, of the certainty that once existed in mind, of what you were sure off. Grief foresees you where you don’t want to go and takes everything from you for a time. Your life and soul are ransacked as you desperately search for things to hold onto, for memories and snippets of your former life. Grief takes so much, but it does not take everything, it can never rob you of your love for what you have lost or of the choices you have to make.

Change will come, it has too. We had change thrust on us without mercy, but now the changes that are coming will be our choice. Grief robbed me of so much, but it can never rob me of my ability and write, to express myself. I write because I must, I need to. Now I see the world as it really is, more so now than ever before. Grief will make you furious at the world, but cannot take your compassion for it. Grief will take whatever it can but it cannot take your love, your faith or your soul.

Time is a healer they say, nonsense, time just helps you get used to grief, to find ways of managing it, some things cannot be healed. The future is uncertain, as yet unknown and unwritten, but it is on its way whether I like it or not, but what we do with it is our decision to make.

I had done some yoga before. I went to a yoga class years ago and was one of many women who were all desperately trying to look graceful in a large sports hall, all praying for the words “now its time for the relaxation”. I had found it quite an impersonal experience, so like many others who try something for the first time, I soon faded away from yoga.

So there I was many years later, having walked along side my mum and been with her through her two year battle with illness until she passed away. I needed something for me, but what? I wanted it to be mental as well as physical, something to ease my mind as well as help my body, something that might help me be able to avoid the same illness that had so cruelly robbed me of my mum.

One day a leaflet came through my door detailing all the events that were happening at my local community centre and there it was, a new yoga class around the corner from me, like a little divine nudge to get myself going, and so I signed up and went to the first class that was being run by a brand new yoga teacher.

Three years on I am no expert, but like anything new that you learn, you have to persevere and give it time. I am not naturally flexible, my balance is pretty awful and I have had many ups and downs on my yoga journey, but it has definitely become easier and my flexibility has certainly improved. Am I great at all the poses? Absolutely not. Do I find some poses easier than others? Yes, but I have been blessed to find a wonderful teacher who helps us to accept the way we are, work with our own body and have fun along the way.

Being in Sabina’s class from the beginning has given me a fantastic grounding in my yoga and I cannot impress enough on you how important it is to find a wonderful class and teacher that will keep you enthusiastic even when the going gets tough.

Doing exercise is not just great for your body, studies have found that mental health is also positively affected by doing some form of exercise too.

Yoga has so many health benefits, these include:

Improving your posture and flexibility – the postures encourage you to stand and move in certain way making you aware of how you stand and helping you to hold poses for longer which increases your flexibility.

Lowers blood sugar and cholesterol – yoga can help reduce your stress levels, it can also lead to a slight weight loss which can help lower your chest oral and blood sugars.

Helps with weight loss in conjunction with a healthy diet – like all exercise yoga has to be done regularly and in tandem with a healthy diet to help with weight loss.

Improves your breathing – the breathing exercises in yoga help you to control your breathing and to use more of your lung capacity,

Improves your circulation – the poses in yoga, especially the inverted poses where your head is below your heart can help to improve your circulation.

Increases your energy – at the end of a yoga session, rather than feel tired, many feel energised. I love to do yoga in the morning to get me ready for the day.

Helps with mental sharpness and increases your sense of well being – yoga is amazing for your well being. Whether it is just the fact that you have exercised or that you have made an effort to do something for yourself, yoga can calm your mind and help you switch off from the world for just a little while.

There is no denying that all exercise is great for you but ultimately I took up yoga not just for the health benefits but for something more, for something that was just for me, a chance to be still, to put the stresses and strain to the side for just a few moments. To learn how to breath, to be still, to move with purpose and then to relax. Now when I hear the words “its time for the deep relaxation” my thoughts are not gratitude that its over, but wonder at how quick it has gone.

For more details contact:

sabina@trudruyoga.co.uk

I see you,

I see the scars that life inflicts,

I see beneath the “I’m fine”,

I see the thick layers underneath,

That hold the wounds of life,

The war weary,

The battle hardened,

I see where you have been beaten and battered,

The lines that show your grief and loss,

The longing for those passed,

Places never seen,

Voices no longer heard,

I see the dreams that languish unfulfilled,

I see where you wish your feet had trod,

Hands never held,

Lips never kissed,

I see you,

I see that you are more than you,

More than that revealed to the passer by,

More than you skin and bone,

More than your body and brain,

The parts of you hidden in the darkness place,

The bits that have been kicked and punched to the ground by living, by life,

I see below the shell,

To a soul that sings and cries,

Shouts for joy and screams in despair,

Under the tormented waves to the still below,

To a swimming ambition, a drowning intention.

I see you,

You walk,

Your head held high whilst your spirit droops and stoops like an old mans frame,

You muster strength to bolster your fortress,

Prepare yourself to stand strong again,

As life swipes at your knees to bring you low,

But, I See You.

I became a vegetarian 34 years ago but decided to make the momentous leap to veganism 3 years ago after the death of my mum from a long illness. When your life has been out of control for a while, you make what you see as necessary changes to gain some assemblence of order and for me this was in the form of becoming a vegan and beginning to write, something I had always wanted to do but like a lot of things in life had never quite got round to.

So 3 years ago I said goodbye to dairy and eggs and went down the road to a completly plant based diet, to the surprise and it has to be said shock of my friend and family. No one in my circle of friends and family had ever gone vegan before and to top it off my husband joined me in our new adventure. I have always been able to cook so providing good food for me was not that difficult. I did my research, and changed a lot of my buying habits but as time has gone on I have found that there is a whole sub culture that is all linked quite closely, that of health and zero waste.

So I began to follow the zero waste moverment, my kids say that I am turning more into a tree hugging hippy everyday, a title that I have no objection to, but what I have found is that shopping for a family at a local super market and using less packaging is almost impossible. I am trying to buy loss fruit and veg, although it is impossible to buy some things without it being covered in non recyclable plastics. Go to a farmers market I hear you say, but where we are there are no farmers markets and being visually impaired I am unable to drive so travelling to do a bulk shop at a farmers market is out of the question. I go to a zero waste shop but have to get two trains to get there as there is not one closer. I try to recycle as much as possible but still have stuff that goes to land fill ever week as it cannot be put through the recycling process.

Surely it is about time that the supermarkets gave us a choice, personally, I don’t need my food perfect or wrapped in plastic, I don’t need things to be clinical and untouched by another human hand, I just want my fruit to come out of the ground and put on the shelf, I, being a human of adequate intelligents, can handle the rest.

Being a vegetarian was fine, becoming a vegan was a bit more problematic but I got there (don’t talk to me about cheese) but becoming zero waste in 2019, well so far its impossible, so tips and tricks would be gratefully recieved.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton