Beginning Again, Again.

What does it mean to truly begin again? It’s hard to really put weight into the phrase ‘starting over.’ We can start over at many stages during our lives; a new job, a new house – these can all be viewed as fresh starts. But when I said I wanted to start over, I meant in every sense of the word: new country, new city, new flat, new friends, new job.

It started at 30, that niggle in my head that nothing was really moving for me, but for everyone else instead. I felt stuck. Felt that I tried so hard but it wasn’t enough to get me out of the rut I was in. Family and friends got engaged, bought houses, had children and I… well, I didn’t do any of that. I want all that at some point, but I didn’t want it then, so I didn’t really try. I wanted more. More what? More than what was expected of, or set out for me. In life, I’ve never gone the supposed course, because I was always on my own different path.

Having mild Cerebral Palsy (CP) meant that I was always a late bloomer. The expected path was that I might stay put in the family home, safe and happy with family and friends around me. And for a time, I was happy. But as my friends began to have their own lives, and my twin sister moved out and moved on, I became increasingly unhappy. I didn’t want to just stay put. Nor buy a house. I wanted to see the world, but given that I logistically have to plan every single element of my movements day-to-day, travelling around the world as I often daydreamed about was never realistically going to happen. I still wanted full independence, I still wanted life experience. And yet I felt my disability weighed very heavily – the reason it all might not happen.

I keep thinking of Sylvia Plath and her diary entries where she said something along the lines of, “How am I to write if I have no life experience?” That’s how I felt. A writer, with nothing to write about because nothing was different. In a sense, we have all felt that when locked down with Covid-19 around, but I felt it long before the pandemic began.

So, I decided to get out of my rut. To force myself to really turn things around. And that meant changing everything about my day-to-day, not just staying in Dublin. For my life to change, everything around me had to too.

I chose London because of its vibrant culture scene (which will hopefully return post-Covid!) and the fact that I wanted anonymity. I wanted the chance to be anything, to be anyone, in a city which didn’t know me. I also chose it for more practical reasons: public transport is so much more adaptable here, it’s an easier city to get around with a walking aid in tow, and it’s close enough to home that I don’t feel too far away. Pre-Brexit, I always felt it an open-minded, progressive city, which may have dwindled somewhat, but I was always drawn to the glittering lights of London, regardless.

But, my God, it’s been hard. The constant saving for two entire years, putting my life on hold to realise a dream, finding the flat (a near-impossible task given my list of must-haves), and then eventually getting here only to fall and get serious injuries in my first week, then fracture my shoulder two weeks later. I was out for another 10 weeks, back at home – the CP and the injury meant I couldn’t stand up without help – and then I returned, only for the pandemic to send me home again. This time for six more months. I am at last, back again, back at my flat. Almost a week in, self-isolating (despite UK guidelines saying we don’t need to – safety first!) and ready to try again. To begin again. Again.

Being here, with a disability, with hardly anyone around me, with no one who truly knows me to call on for help, has been and is the scariest, hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I am here. Fully independent. Ready for this pandemic to end so that I can jump in feet first and give it my all. I am unstuck at last, with my life out before me. I don’t know which way my path will go, but I am hopeful for the unknown and the adventures which will come with that.

Why, you ask, was I so keen to do this? It was a gut feeling. An instinct which told me that if I wanted the life I saw all my friends having, if I wanted to have adventures, I had to do something drastic. And yet this week has been so filled with sadness. My nana passed away. I didn’t get to see or speak to her before she slipped away. Gone too soon, I left it later than I should have. I so wanted her to see all the fruits of my changes; maybe a wedding and another grandchild for her to hold. I know she was proud of me though, for even having the courage to start my journey, with all the difficulties and much against me.

So, what might I say to others who have a similar dream in the pipeline? If I can do it, you can. But don’t wait – or waste time dreaming about it. Go for it. Live life. This year has shown we can take nothing for granted, but even with our ‘normal’ taken away; you don’t have to stay stuck. There’s time still time – regardless of age or where you are in life – to begin again.

Jennifer McShane, August 2020

Have you dreamt of or done something similar? Tell us in the comments below…