Confidence, Determination, Patience and Self Belief

Life's tough when your confidence and self esteem have been stripped away from you. You feel like a nobody, someone who's soul has blackened and died, waiting for the moment when life will finally take away your earthly body.

My confidence was stripped away while I was at university and this unfortunate trend has continued until fairly recently. There were always more negatives than positives which made me question everything. At times, it felt as though I could do nothing right whether at work, home, or with my friends. Life was a monotonous cycle of wondering what the next disaster was going to be. Who would be the next person to chip away at my already fragile being? What would be the next event that would hammer a nail into the cracks of my carefully formed shell?

It's hard to accept compliments when everything you seem to do is wrong. You smile and brush them off, batting around comments such as, “Oh, it's nothing”. Or “Someone else could do better”. I did it with my writing.

I've had several books published so someone enjoys my work enough to put it out there. I've picked up awards. Peoples comments have been mostly positive.

Yet it was never enough to lift the darkness that surrounded me. Where there was once someone who ran her school's drama department and had absolutely no problem in being extrovert, now stood a person who wished only to hide in the shadows. I wanted to do things. Wanted to be inspired and create and go wherever my heart told me to go. But I was terrified. I was terrified of being uncovered as some kind of fraud. Terrified of letting myself be put in positions where I would be criticized even more. Terrified of opening up my heart and soul. I couldn't go there because the pain would be more than I could ever take. It was an agony I knew would drag me to the brink.

Things started to change in the summer of 2014. I'd just finished working on the piece that was given to Dave and handed it over to my proofreaders. My intentions were to send it to a publisher.

“Don't,” one of my readers said. “Turn it into a screenplay instead.”

I hadn't written a screenplay in ten years but I wasn't going to let that stop me. It took me six months to do before I sent it back to her. She loved it and made the suggestion that I talked about in Four Days, Three Flights, Two Concerts, and a Pumpkin.

So I did.

One of my problems is that I've always hated my writing style. I wanted my books to flow in a way that read like those books I immortalised. Instead I found myself writing what I considered to be a very simplistic style. And I loathed it. I desperately tried to change it but, when I did, I hated the results even more. The style just wasn't me and didn't fit with the stories I was telling. It took me until just a few months ago to realise that I was trying to force myself to be something I wasn't. I wasn't being true to myself nor was using the voice that I'd been given. Maybe I was writing in a particular style to make the messages I had in my heart more understandable?

One of the many gift journals I've received over the years.

Things started to change when I had that minor revelation. I started noticing peoples compliments and, rather than brushing them off, I thanked them. I also found the reviews from the original version of this screenplay and they made me realise that what I do, and how I write it, aren't as bad as I thought they were. In fact, they're far, far better. Over the past week or so, many of them have reduced me to tears.

I adore the premise; it rings all too poignant, foreshadowing a very possible chain of events that may become our reality one day.

Yes!!! Another fascinating story! This idea is very interesting, and I ALREADY love it.

You are building a powerful, vivid, scary world here and I am really interested in where you are going to take it. I am in for the ride! Let's do this! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for this.

I am so proud of you! Honey, you are an intelligent woman who deserves to have her voice heard. Always remember that.

You were so courageous in your doing.

If you're one of the people whose words are listed here, thank you. Your kindness and generosity as well as your unwavering belief in me have slowly started to rebuild what was destroyed so many years ago. I hope that one day I'll be able to repay you and pay your love and kindness forward.

Dance Free

Earlier this year there was a story about a gentleman called Sean O'Brien. Sean was body-shamed on social media for the “crime” of dancing. While he was enjoying himself, others took photos and uploaded them to 4Chan with the intention of humiliating him. It worked.

To a degree.

But it didn't take long for a group of people to pick up on the post and turn it around. Needless to say, Sean danced again, this time to a very different response.

Well over ten years ago, I went through something similar. There was one thing I loved to do... Dance. I'd go to clubs and concerts and just let myself be free. As a larger lady, I didn't care that my body probably wasn't designed to move to music. Music spoke to me and that's all I cared about.

Then the inevitable happened. While at a club one night someone pointed out that others were laughing at me.

My heart was shattered. I felt worthless. Humiliated. Ugly. In a split second, I went from a 20-something woman with the world at her feet to a frightened mouse. Little did I know how much those words would affect me, not just in that moment but for years to come.

That one moment helped to break my confidence and self-esteem. Where once I would have dressed up to go out, I instead hid myself away. I clothed myself in baggy clothing. I stopped going to clubs and concerts. I stopped listening to music except when I was walking to and from work. In my eyes, I was worthless. Everything I worked on, from films to books to jobs was worth nothing. I was worth nothing and didn't believe either myself, or anything I did, should hold any value.

Moments like that shouldn't have been inevitable because everyone should be free to express themselves through dance. No one should feel like they have to hold back because of the way they look or move. Music lives within us, built in to our bodies, and the desire to move with it is overwhelming. So much so that it shouldn't be suppressed just because of what others around us think.

Yet so often this desire is hidden away, the fear of ridicule crippling us. We want to sway, or bounce, or wave our arms. But we're scared of what the people around us will think.

On 3^rd October 2015, I decided it was time to chase away the shame and stigma that I'd attached to myself for so long. Thanks to my day job, I'd met a wonderful group of people all of who attend a local Zumba class. Over a number of months, their gentle persuasion became good natured pressure until I finally cracked.

It would be fun.

It would be an opportunity to get out.

But it still made me nervous.

A barrage of questions rolled around my head. What did I wear? What were the people like? Would I fit in?

It was a long walk to the venue, one that left me with plenty of time to change my mind and turn around. Already I was making up excuses, preparing them for Monday morning. I didn't feel well. My back ached. I was tired. It had been a long week. I needed to wash my hair. All of them plausible in my mind.

Yet, at the same time, I knew I'd be letting down the very people who'd invested time and love in me. They wanted to see me there. They wanted me to join in. It was at that moment that I realised that people did want me around. They did want to know me. And they weren't judging me.

So I continued my walk until I found myself at a school on the other side of town. There were lots of cars arriving and leaving, all of them I assumed going to the Saturday morning football match. I felt alone and scared, my nerves getting the better of me. But I'd gotten this far so there was no giving up.

Walking through the gates, I looked around and tried to find a hint of where this two hour dance class would be. Finally I saw people who looked like they might be heading to such a class (think sports wear). Quietly I fell in line behind them until someone noticed me. They turned, smiled, and introduced themselves before asking if I was there to dance.

I was. And that tiny spark of recognition form a complete stranger was all it took to relax me.

I danced for two whole hours, only stopping to catch my breath or take a drink. It didn't matter that I didn't know the moves. It didn't matter that I was completely out of time. No one stared at me. No one judged me. No one laughed at me. I was having the time of my life and I'd found a safe, happy space where I could be myself.

Slowly... Slowly... I can feel my confidence returning. And I can't wait for the next class! (Which won't be 2 hours long, thank goodness!)

No one should be shamed for dancing. No one should feel like they have to stand in a corner because of the way they look. Music moves us, just as it should. Let it flow through you and enjoy the experience.