In this image apt for today’s wetting, I was about 3-4, viewing ‘land ahoy’ along the coast of Shoeburyness. I’d previously attempted to pull the beached boat by its rope to the waves behind, but couldn’t understand at the time why the broken and anchored barge wasn’t cooperating with me.
I use this as the best way to demonstrate the subjects of today’s wetting. Perseverance, self-worth, and expectation versus reality.
Throughout my life, I’ve never been one to achieve the extraordinary in the academic or similar sense, nor am I keen on appearing as if I’m boasting a form of inspiration pornography in regards to my attempts to persevere through what others may find as menial or trivial. I.E. My initial social and communication difficulties of yore that still plague me alongside my freeloading tenants of mental health, as well as negotiating my other strifes.
I suppose though it’s useful and cathartic enough to share such endeavours. Making sense of the wettings of the past and making use of it all to deal with the now and what’s ahead. And if anyone from any walk of life relates to this or can take anything positive or useful away from all of these words on a screen, then that’s a bonus!
I mean sure, I can; hold conversations, say yes or no in the right places and find writing things down as a better way of expressing myself than any other, but that has all stemmed from constant practice. Constant refinement, having to learn what others find instinctively as if it was an instrument or a second language. And today, I will still have setbacks and struggle, even when attempting to break free of any self-loathing or internalised ableism that often puts my well-being in a choke-hold.
In an academic sense, I’m talking of course, about how when I’ve attempted to put all of my hard work and effort into a; subject, activity, or piece of work, only ever coming out with a satisfactory or below average results, trying my best not to explode from excitement at the slightest taste of triumph, that often ironically comes from when I’m not making as much effort.
That sense of diminishing returns. Once at about the age of 8, I attempted – like everyone else – to complete a Standing Long Jump as part of a programme implemented into P.E of that term. “90 centimetres Mr Clark!” loudly and scathingly boomed my teacher, causing ripples of laughter amongst the rest of the class.
Similar laughs when we were all individually weighed in front of the class during that time, for whatever purposes, with our weights read out aloud. “Yeah! I remember the 90s too(!)” You’d think that the sense of routine and repetition would be something I’d most thrive in right? Not with the addition of the other lessons I seemed to be the only one taking part in. Ones of a social persuasion.
Fast forward a decade, in my GCSE Art class at Secondary School (before I dropped it in favour of a free period), I would listen to music on my iPod, as it would help me focus and drown out the noise around me. Music still does. I’d completed an observational portrait of an Orange. “Wow John, why can’t you draw like that all of the time?” was remarked in one breath, then when all MP3 Players were banned and I was persistently told off for insisting on listening to the music on mine, an unimpressed retort was remarked in another: “Are you even trying any more?”.
Such examples are endless, and I am far from bitter about each one. They’re just events that have happened, and are not exclusive to school, as seen in my perilous swashbuckling adventures along the Essex coast. From disastrous meals I’ve attempted to cook, to unnecessary arguments with my partner or daughter, or being 45 minutes late to an interview in London due to getting lost, such faux pas is often exacerbated by how I’m (as one of my school reports says) “Something of an enigma.”
So when I strived, and nigh-on gravitated towards aspirations of a career in Scriptwriting and Filmmaking (that I just about managed to qualify for with my given grades), there was already that overwhelming pressure and wish to persevere reflected from previously perceived ‘cruel teachings’ daren’t wishing to repeat them.
Attempting to give it my all and almost prove to myself more than to anyone else that I must be good at, at least something. Something that in this case, stemmed from a long-brewing passion for telling stories, but before, struggling with what medium to express them through, only deciding Film long after I could’ve taken Media Studies as an option at Secondary School.
Writing this blog, scripts or similar, I will still inspect and think that there’s still something missing, and that what’s in front of me is complete waffle. This psychological pap, of overanalysing, philosophising and attempting to become self-aware, as well as undertake my day to day, preferring to concentrate on the quiet minutiae as opposed to accommodate the rest of the world and its noise from outside.
This raison d’etre and tunnel vision of focus, that can still hear echoes of negativity, including the ostensible remark of this titled post, disheartened at times by the never-ending hurdles, of juggling both myself as well as the world and its circumstances around me.
Having to make that choice of unexpectedly becoming a Father at 23. Having to wade through the endless bureaucracy of the DWP. Having to incorporate Insulin into my routine. Having to mask and put on a front as a means of conforming and wading through the day to day.
It all grows so tiresome, but I suppose that’s the living part about life, especially one as pokey as mine. Being able to face such noise when confronted with it, but also continue to fight and disregard the self-loathing and pessimistic outlook of self worth, that blossomed out of the negative as well as well-intentioned experiences of how others have reacted and responded to me.
Not be too hung up that the expectations, hopes and dreams you had didn’t play out in the way that you wanted. Learn from those mistakes, and accept and move on from the fact that that boat isn’t going anywhere, because it has a huge hole in its side.
And realise (in my case) my Mum has always been right with her advice, despite insisting that I knew better when I was younger. “As long as you know deep down that you gave it your all, why does it matter what anybody else thinks or says?”.