A Badge That Says ‘I’m Different’.


I was given this badge. This nice blue badge which, now that I mention it out loud, is appropriately coloured. On this lil blue badge is the London Underground sign with a phrase stating: ‘Please Offer Me a Seat’.

I was born looking normal, I grew up looking normal (well to the extent I hid my arm) and I definitely still look normal. No body can see the pain I’m in. Friends wouldn’t really know the extent of the pain I’m in on a daily basis.

Why? Because I don’t want to be that one who complains all the time and nor do I want to feel like a burden to anyone. So I smile and get on with my pain treating it as and when I need to.

I wish that method could apply to my mental pain, but I digress.

Standing up on a packed tube where I’m too small to reach any poles to steady myself is painful. All my effort goes into trying to balance and it hurts. My leg is throbbing from morning all the way through til that tube journey home.

And so I was given a badge. In the hope that people wouldn’t question my invisible disabilities and allow me to sit.

And most of the time they do. The rest of the time, I’m probably way too small for people to even notice me in the first place and that’s fine. What’s also fine, is those who don’t give up their seats because they could be like me.

It hurt me though, when I got it. I felt like I was given this great big blue badge that screamed ‘I’m disabled!!!’. I felt ashamed that people would look and question what could possibly be wrong with me that warrants me having such a badge.

I felt broken.

It represented this huge feeling of being broken. Of having something wrong with me. Of not being normal.

It reminded me of those feelings of shame for having physical issues growing up. The feelings of hurt when no one would believe I was couldn’t do things or was in pain. The memories of being bullied for being different.

I still get embarrassed. I see people staring but I know they’re going to. One person was cruel but that was one in god knows how many hundreds I’ve come across on my tube journeys this past month.

But being able to get a seat for most of my journey has really helped reduce the pain I get in my leg. Just like writing helps reduce the pain in my head and heart.

It’s nice to feel less pain in my legs.

It’s nice to be writing again.

I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last wrote anything and it was an unexpected message that actually got me wanting to write again.  It’s not been plain sailing since then but I’m sure I’ll start telling you all everything that’s happened soon enough!!

Thank you for that message ❤

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A Beautiful Ticker

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The thing with broken clocks is that you can tell exactly when they stopped ticking.
With people it isn’t so easy. Sometimes you can’t even tell they’re broken.

I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s broken but it’s definitely been hurt. It’s been picked up and carelessly shattered into pieces a few times but it’s still there. It’s still ticking, beating away to the sound of my consistently crazy life.

Going back to Law School meant that whilst the gossip had spread, most people hadn’t gotten to speak to the actual source: me. I don’t blame them but it took a lot out of me having to tell close friends what had happened yet again. It was draining to go through the evening over and over again: his words, his actions, my feelings.

Just like last year, my exams had been the perfect distraction. However, the post-exam come-down made me realise that I was still hurting. Not over the boy but, rather, his actions. I don’t need nor want a liar in my life but the situation just echoed my past. No, it didn’t echo it, it amplified it. The contradiction of words and actions was one of the cruelest things I have ever experienced.

I still don’t believe he meant to hurt me so bad but that doesn’t exactly make it hurt any less. I don’t need people to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. That sometimes things don’t work. That I’m fine just the way I am. I do know that and I’m still that optimistic girl full of hope that one day, someone perfect for her will think she is perfect for him.

Nevertheless, my confidence has taken a massive hit. My focal point of happiness has shifted back to weight loss and I need to pull myself up and climb over this rocky patch and remember that there is so much  more to me than a number on a scale.

Everyone needs to take a time out every now and then. Just press pause for a few moments, take a breath and reflect. We have all, at some stage or another in our lives, been presented with challenges that we have either overcome or are still pushing to overcome. We have all experienced darkness and failure. We have all been taken advantage of and let down. We have all been hurt and not once did any of us deserve it but whilst the pain makes our confidence drop, don’t you think that we are actually so much more beautiful for it?

I think so.

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Kintsugi is the Japanese art of restoring a broken piece with a lacquer that is mixed with gold or silver. This craft is based on understanding the spiritual background and history behind the material and is interwoven with the philosophy of finding beauty in broken things. To appreciate that the piece is far more beautiful for having been broken.

My ticker needs some time to heal right now but it’s going to be more golden than it ever was before and someone who truly deserves it will appreciate the artwork that is this broken heart of mine.

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