Recently I was interviewed about Trapped at my husband’s church, and the experience was over so soon, I felt I hardly had time to draw breath. I had prepared some answers to questions, which were helpful to hold on to. When we went off script, it felt quite natural, easy and relaxed.
The minister was gentle. She asked thoughtful questions, asked, why did I write Trapped; and was so perceptive and kind that, almost, despite the laughter, it would have been easy to weep, though not for the obvious reasons.
Being disabled, one runs the constant risk of being misunderstood. I felt I was, and that process turned me initially guarded, then defensive, then prickly, then isolated. In retrospect, and having had the courage to spell everything out (as much as for myself as for the reader), I see that retreat is not inevitable, of course. I can’t help feeling that much misunderstanding and sorrow might have been avoided, or shed more easily and naturally, if there had been more people around who were unafraid to grasp me in their arms, speak to me as I needed to be spoken to, firmly and kindly, in order to break through the self-imposed isolation that has been one consequence of being misread.
I grieve for the obvious reason that life was awful, and for the less obvious reason that I have wasted so many years being unhappy. There is the other, more insidious pain of knowing that my perceptions – like those of others! – were often greatly mistaken, and that if I had been less fearful and stood my ground, no-one would have minded terribly.
Sure, the world is full of insensitive oafs, and cruel people who are casually unjust, and it is our focus on such people that turns us inward. But the world is also brimming with delightfully kind, forgiving and thoughtful people.
This also makes me grieve now, because I missed so many opportunities for joy, and for love, and for fun and humour and sheer delight. Meeting wonderful people, knowing they can see past my social awkwardness, my stumblingly stupid statements, to the smile that hopes it will be accepted, is so liberating. That makes me grieve now. Life is full of inexplicable contradictions, isn’t it?
Without having gone out of my way to excavate my experiences by writing them, none of this would be clear. Muddy confusion would all be sitting still, at the bottom of a dark glass, festering.
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November 26, 2014
Why Did I Write Trapped? (Conclusion)
Fran Macilvey change, choices, communication, disability, Fran Macilvey, happiness, Memoir, progress, work, writing 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', Fran Macilvey, Memoir, Path To Publication 0 Comments
So, why did I write Trapped? I have been astonished to notice, in the pavement, a flowering dandelion with roots so tenacious that the concrete is cracking around it. Similarly, when I was about forty-two, I knew I sat at a cross-roads, or, as a friend put it, on a roundabout, facing a number of choices and not sure which way to go. But I have always known that if I could simply summon the courage to begin writing, and writing in particular about my life, I could maybe find answers, and a new will to live which would crack open all my misconceptions and mistakes, and give me new room to move and breathe and begin again.
It is all very well and good, knowing the theories of happiness, but at times it is necessary to take the risk of experimenting with one’s own life and circumstances to see how they turn out. It is a bit like jumping off a cliff without a parachute and hoping that someone or something will catch you and lift you up: an eagle, a winged horse, a swan, the branch of a tree snagging on the back of your jacket, or a grassy ledge that we land on, breaking our free fall descent. Who knows how it will turn out?
The only way to know, is to have the courage to take risks, with friendships, with ideas and with every single opportunity that presents itself. And that, ultimately, is why I wrote Trapped. To test myself, and see how far I could go.
The journey is not over. In fact, in some ways, it is just beginning. There is still much to do. I have at least three more books to write and publish, and I welcome opportunities to promote all my books, wherever these chances originate. I am learning how valuable friendships are, that can originate in the most unlikely places. As my header says, every day is a fresh opportunity, and I intend to make the most of them. If that means I have to journey to Pittsburgh and subsist on peanut butter sandwiches for a week, or get a cleaner to take up some of the household jobs, or a PA man to help with admin and publicity, then bring it on! Life is for living, and that is why I write.
If anyone would like to contact me to discuss publicity, promotion or other ideas, please write here, or contact me at franmacilvey@fastmail.fm Thanks to everyone for reading, sharing, commenting, supporting and cheering me on. I love you all.
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