To sit on top of a Table

To sit on top of a Table

Standing there above the city, towering over the streets

There is a table that is awe inspiring

That stands for beauty but also of fears

And will provoke different emotions for everyone who tries to climb on top of it.

I was daunted even before I caught sight.

I knew my challenge was to get to the top, but I somehow thought

There might be an easy route - there is a cable car

But alas, I wasn’t allow to use the electronic way.

It was love and hate at first sight

The beautiful Table Mountain stands proud in my beloved Cape Town

To see her had taken the biggest journey of my life

Climbing her would be another story all together.

From the first ten minutes, I knew she wasn’t going to be kind

Was I fit enough - yes but I wasn’t tall enough.

I scramble up the rocks like a tin robot trying to stay on dry land.

The sun beating down in harmony with my heart beat.

Everything about me was put to test - all my demons, all my angels

Had to work together to keep myself going up.

I knew I had to work in short minutes as the hours went by

I had to let go and embrace all my fears if I was going to survive.

At points I couldn’t even look behind me, I knew why -

Everything before Table Mountain pointed to the girl who couldn’t do this.

And everything in front was the life I had only dare to dream on raining days.

And in my hearts were the faces of friends cheering me on - the ones who never doubted.

Their belief filled my muscles with strength, my head with determination.

And together with the help and a hand of a beautiful stranger

I climbed my mountain, leaving demons behind, with my three up, two up routine.

I stood at the top and realise there was no going back to the girl I used to be.

What do you do when you get to sit on top of the Table - I drank Redbush Tea

And ate home made sandwiches under the protection of a tree

A unforgettable picnic in the most beautiful place in the world.

And then, of course, we had to climb back down.

Julia Boxer, 26-05-08

Can I write - written in June 2008

Can I still write? For some reason this morning, I have woken up and felt drawn to the computer to write. An act that a couple of years ago would have felt almost routine but for the last 12 months, my writing addiction has taken second place to post graduate degrees, trip to South Africa and Jules’ own personal walks of Edinburgh. Maybe though writing is like riding a bike that once you have mastered the basis, you never quite forgot and let’s face it, there's nothing wrong with my imagination, which helps fuel my create flow.

They say writers have a habit - how they write and where they write. I don’t know whether there is a ‘how’ to my writing. I just think it circulates my brain until the words are ready to come through in physical forms through my typing. The 'where' is now the box room in my flat, which was transformed last year into a study with the hands that are now writing. It is a cool room as I have an ideas walk that is filled with pictures and quotes to fuel the word power and then everywhere else there is paper. (Yes this should be me doing spring cleaning but as it is only 8.50am in the morning, there is time yet to be sensible.) I have a mug of strong coffee beside me, with a jug of milk on the other side and the computer has a selection of music playing at me. It is funny, music, when writing, is very important for me and most of my stories will have been penned to certain songs and this week Coldplay released their new album,Viva La Vida, which I think is very strange as it is the same week that I went back to writing group, one of the bands, who I have spent hours listening and writing to, is back in the spotlight. Maybe it is time Jules’ writing came back into the spotlight. I say my writing as I think over the last 12-18 months, I have managed to attract spotlights right, left and centre.

So why has the spotlight been on me? I decided to do good and everyone started to make a fuss. I don’t know, the decisions to volunteer for Samaritans and walk moonwalks were very personal for me and were related to experiences in my life that it was never about getting noticed. I wanted to make positive from some very negative/sad memories. Then, what happen, was a colleague & friend from work thought she would nominate me for an award. My nomination form was good. I work in Marketing and we know how to sell things to the world and I was sold very well.

It was late December 2006, when I had been told that I had been shortlisted from about 300 applications down to 3 finalists for outstanding individual volunteer of the year (there is six awards so that equates to 18 finalists). I was speechless - that December was filled with priceless Christmas presents as I also got an unexpected promotion at work and got my status as a full volunteer with Samaritans. Things do come in three, although I think 2006 will always be the year I got my flat in Edinburgh - a place that still makes me beam from ear to ear.

Anyway, I am beginning to get sidelined, the nomination was followed by getting filmed and then the awards in Cafe Royal in January 2007. It is still a blur what really happened that night when they read my name out as the winner - suddenly, I was part of an elite group at HBOS for all the right reasons. It’s funny, I have just been back to the 2008 HBOS awards, and watching this year’s winners, makes what happened even more unreal to think I am one of the past winners. To give you an idea of what the size of HBOS awards. There are 60,000 colleagues in HBOS, only 300 people get to attend the awards each year and out of them, there are only six awards. The awards are in their 5th year so there are only 30 winners in the hall of fame. Believe me, it is the only elite group, I have ever been in. Although a good friend and promoter of volunteering has said that he might throw me out if I don't I think he has forgotten that this year (2008) I have raised nearly £10,000 pounds for Scope.

So it is true to say that 2007 started well and believe me if you ever get a chance to go through the award experience, it is something you will never forget. It is also something that I thought I would never go through. One award in one lifetime is enough (although if I am being honest the HBOS awards was my third award), but for me, I would find myself accepting another award on my 30th birthday for volunteering. Madness to be recognise at national level for volunteering because I wouldn’t say that I am the world’s best volunteer and there are many people who spend their whole lives supporting others, furthering communities without being recognised, and I would much preferred these people to be recognised over me. I do my bit because I know how important it is to know that there are people to support you no matter what. What is most important to me is my family and friends as they are the richest awards I could every have in my life.

I suppose that is why I signed up for South Africa. I don’t know, I think it was a reaction to hitting 30, winning awards and the need to have an adventure. Sometimes I think it was madness on my part, but it just felt right, to stretch myself both physically and mentally.

I have just taken a break to get some Wheatbix, which I am now eating whilst typing. My dad wouldn’t approve - I can hear his voice - don’t get your breakfast on the computer. I shouldn’t have gone to get breakfast as it highlighted how badly my flat needs clean, but it is still early so I am going to keep writing - it would just be my luck if someone came a visiting! Where was I? Yes, South Africa - the 10 days trek and climb of Table Mountain in aid of Scope. One of the most amazing times of my life. Stripped naked of every comfort of Edinburgh life, I have never felt more free or accepted in my life. That statement must sound weird so I am going to try and explain that. I know I am accepted in life, I have friends in Edinburgh, a supportive family, etc. But out in South Africa, I was truly alone, without a comfort zone and without the knowledge of knowing that I could go and walk 10 mins to find someone who knew me. It was one of the most moving experiences of my life because I think out of all the people on the trip, the one person who started to accept herself was me. That does sound weird but I think I have sometimes been at odds with myself over my disability and given myself a hard time over things I cannot control. I suppose there is a part of me that always deemed myself ugly because of my disability and it was although in the middle of the South Africa’s safari, I actually saw myself clearly and I actually liked what I saw. Funny how, it wasn’t at the ceremonies of the awards ceremonies when I was dressed up to the nines and receiving Cartier watches that I saw this, it was when I was in the middle of Africa in shorts and t-shirts walking behind the group. The experience gave me a confidence that I am not going to say wasn’t there, it just changed slightly in me. The complete validation was on the boat in Cape Town, watching the sunset go down on the horizon and having a tall dark stranger tell me how beautiful my voice was. Never has anyone told me that I have a beautiful voice and I don’t even know whether this man even knew I was handicap or whether he were sincere in their words or just enjoying my low cut top, but he spoke to my soul and to the little girl in me who used to be scared of her own voice. I know his words and that brief moment we shared will stay with me forever. The trip was life-changing, it reaffirmed to me who I am and what I want to do - to use my experiences to help others through volunteering and by sharing my journey to help others. It sounds stupid and almost big headed when you see it on screen, but it is truly what I want to do, and I have been told by others that my story is powerful. An example of this was at writing group this week, I read out To sit on top of the Table, a poem about climbing Table Mountain and Alan said how positive it was. It is funny, Alan’s comments somehow validated some of my thoughts I have been having recently.

So what I am going to do with my writing? I think in Dawson’s Creek, it is said to one of the characters that they are most definitely a writer, but that is the easy part, the hard part is knowing what to do with it? The dreamer in me, would love to buy a laptop, rent out my flat, quit my job and go back to Marrick for six months and write. Really see whether I could turn my novel into a best seller, but alas I know the reality of money and being able to write, means that keeping down a job and having the security of life, means that running back to South Africa is a pipe dream.

A little less conversation

A little less conversation

Where to begin? Do you know that there were 206,000 books published in the UK in 2006? We are a nation of readers, but what makes authors believe they have the next best seller. For sometime now, I have been thinking about writing my own life story. Not because I am old, because I feel I have a different perspective to put on life and the words cerebral palsy. There are a lot of stories about how parents and carers cope with disability in their life, but very few actual cerebral palsy suffers speak out. I think it is because cerebral palsy is term used for a disability that ranges from mild speech impediment to severe mental disability. It is never the same in any one person and if you try to generalise the condition, you will succeed in getting it wrong for 99% of your audience. I know even to attempt writing about cerebral palsy means I must put a clause into my writings to say that I am speaking from my own experience and I do not wish to offend anyone.

When I am feeling inspired, I think I would make a good life coach and public speaker. That would be something to get a prime time audience and talk to them after dinner and perhaps my words would even get them thinking about our society and how we actually view disable people. But then, do people really want to listen to a voice like mine? Honestly, well, I have to say yes, I have always been listened to. I am too loud to be ignored. I am one who excelled in a system that 100 years ago I wouldn’t have been allowed to be apart of , who fought to be counted as an equal and squashed anyone who ever dared to put my disability before my ability. I have broken every ceiling that seemed to fence me in and I am happiest only when the next great adventure is filling my head with fire. So where do I start my story, well I am not sure, life has so many surprises and I think my 30th birthday was one of them, when I realised I had something in common with Elvis Presley (1935 -1977).

Elvis - I remember being in High School and one of the girls talked about their connection with Elvis because they had born on the day Elvis had died and that they felt his presence. I must admit, I probably laughed inwardly and couldn’t understand her thoughts on the power of Elvis. I suppose I don’t really have a lot of knowledge of Elvis so I probably couldn’t understand what it meant. Elvis’s songs were something that you played when you were learning keyboard at home - my mum used to play Love me Tender on the keyboard and I had seen some documentaries about him but that was about it. Now if it had been John Lennon or Paul McCartney, I think I would have understood. The Beatles obsession will perhaps come out in a later chapter. So what do I have in common with Elvis?. It is that fact that we both have won a TOYP.

What a TOYP? I hear you ask. Outstanding Young Person’s Awards (TOYP) is an international awards programme run by Junior Chamber International (JCI) that servers to recognise individuals between the age of 18 and 40, who exemplify the best attributes of the world’s young people. TOYP’s aim is to recognise the achievements of young leaders in a variety of fields to inspire others to Be Better - the core theme of JCI. Elvis went on to win at international level, whilst I was only recognised at National Level along with names like Michelle Mone, Mark Chadwick and Jamie Andrew. I won my award for Humanitarian and/or Voluntary Leadership. It was some way to celebrate turning thirty. Sometimes, it hard to believe that it was me standing receiving an award at national level and making an speak - it is so far from the speech and physical therapy that I went through to even get myself notice. But it is not about getting noticed or about lime light. It is about telling others that there is accepting world out there. That maybe nothing is easy and maybe there will be a million times when people will be wrong in their behaviour towards you, but that with the right support, there is nothing you cannot conquer. It is also about the simple things in life - I didn’t have to win a TOYP to have a connection to Elvis. My best friend, Ed, his Grandfather was a journalist and was the only journalist to interview Elvis in Scotland.

Finding my feet

Finding my feet

There is no colour. Clinical white surrounds me and that smell - it reminds me of mummy trying to clean up after I have been sick. The trouble is that smell always makes me feel sick again. Another thing I cannot escape from is the heat. It feels as though the sun is right above us. Mummy has already taken off my jumper and I wish she would take of my shoes. I hate wearing shoes, if nature wanted us in shoes, shouldn't we have been born with them on?

The group of adults is back again with notepads and pens. They don't allow me to draw - only them. There is an older man with a white beard and glasses - a bit like Father Christmas in disguise. He is busy talking to my mummy and two other ladies in white tops and dark trousers. It is odd to have an auidence when you are only three years old.

They want me to do the same as last week; to walk between the bars from one end to the next. I have not managed it yet so why should this time be any different? Mummy places me at one end and kissess me. No words of encouragement though can make me walk.

I can't do this. I stand there thinking that the end of the bars look as far away as the view of the hills from the kitchen window. My knees are still bruised from last week's try. I look back at my mum, her sweet smiles makes me want to crawl into her arms.

Suddenly, images of my friends appear - all running around the garden and me limited in my actions. If I did walk, I could play with my friends. No longer bound to the red & white push chair. I could be one of them - part of the gang, not stuck in the sand.

I take each of the bars in my hands. My palms are sweating already and I have to grip like a vice to not lose my hold. My legs feel unconnected to the rest of me. Come on brain, keeping the messages pumping through my legs, they are counting on you.

Heels down and then the toes. My first few steps are awkward. Each time I move my foot, I shake all over. All my concentration is being kept on where my feet are going. Any normal person would only feel this way I do now if they were standing on a boat during a storm. I sway to each side constantly. My audience is holding their breath and the plasters for when I go bump on the ground. Whatever they are feeling, I need all my focus to be on my legs and feet. I have only taken five steps and I already want to be at home eating ice-cream. What is so important about walking anyway?

My thoughts of vanilla ice-cream have distracted me and I stumble again. It's beginning to feel like any other Thursday. Time to bruise my poor little knees again. As I feel myself falling, I catch in the edge of my vision the end of the bars. Surprisingly, they are incredibly close, not out of reach. My focus comes back. I stop myself from falling. I keep going heel, toe, heel toe to reach the end of my first solo walk. But it is not enough when I get there so I turn myself around and walk back. Finding my feet are strong enough to carry me means I have stated my own walk to my personal freedom. Now, if I could just learn to talk properly there will be no stopping me.

What is it all about

I always think that starting a blog is a difficult thing because you don't really want to seem like a big head who is lives to self promote. In saying this, for the last number of years, I have told anyone who would listen that I want to be a writer and yet to get me to share my work, can be like getting blood out of a stone. Well - it is going to change. This is a blog all about me. Please keep reading.

It is about me and cerebral palsy and the journey I have been on in my life to be accepted and treated like an equal - which I would say that 99.5% of the populations does it. I want to write all this down as I want to motivate and reach out to anyone who is sitting on their own world thinking whether they are able to do something, because of who they are. My message is to you - yes you can - if you truly believe it possible, then somehow, somewhere it will happen. Anita Roderick, founder of the Body Shop said: "Nothing of worth is created without passion". This is your life - live it passionately, boldly, brightly and above all live it your way.