Inclusion: a personal revelation about why I'm a librarian

I've been hearing a lot about inclusion lately; the recent UXLibs IV conference in Sheffield has meant it's been a constant feature in my Twitter feed for a week and it's made me more attuned to it. I see it in the anniversary of Grenfell Tower, with the emphasis on community. I see it in many articles about the football World Cup in Russia due to the country's attitude towards LGBTQ people. Obviously, I see it in MeToo and TimesUp. I see it in much of the commentary about a certain president across the water from us. I was woken up to it close to home by the EU referendum, or more aptly the opposite of inclusion: exclusion. However as a middle class white female living in a developed country with free healthcare and education, I thought that I'm in a privileged position. But I haven't always been. It was in reading Christian's blog post of his UXLibs IV keynote, that I realised I haven't always been so privileged, that I have felt exclusion. For a long time in my life I was excluded and it has affected me ever since, in ways I'm just beginning to discover. It has lead me to search for groups, people and institutions that provide that sense of inclusion and community, for better or worse. I have a strong sense of loyalty to people and place. And it's why, even when I have been included, that I haven't felt the full force of that inclusion no matter how welcoming it is, because of the exclusion I felt at an impressionable time in my life. I work in a great library, among great people, in a great School for a great institution in a great city. I've probably been here longer than I should have been because I feel so included here. It was in reading this particular paragraph of Christian's that it hit me:

"I find the concept of belonging very important and very closely related to inclusion. I see belongingness as a fundamental emotional need for human beings to be an accepted member of a group: Could be a family, co-workers, religion, a football team or the UXlibs community. If you tell me you don’t need to belong I say you either a psychopath or a liar. We have a desire to belong and be a significant part of something that is greater than ourselves."
https://christianlauersen.net/2018/06/07/inclusion-and-belonging-in-libraries-and-beyond/

Exclusion and inclusion

One of my key drivers is to include others, to put others before myself and it's why being a librarian is an ideal job for me: libraries are open places, the best librarians are inclusive people and the library community is special to be part of because of their inclusivity.

That's the problem with the librarian stereotype; it's all about exclusion with the shhhing, the rules and the stern woman in a cardigan and haired pulled back into a bun. Librarians are usually the complete opposite; we try to be inclusive as we can get away with and UXLibs IV was designed to help us do that.

Libraries feel like safe places to me: havens and sanctuaries. I can relax in a library, feel at home and importantly be part of something, among my people! It happens when I walk into any library, an immediate sigh of relief. I should have thought about becoming a librarian sooner!

Alone in a library

WARNING: you might want to stop reading here as things get a bit personal from hereon in.

Here's a little history to explain. At primary school, a wonderful school; it wasn't their fault, they did all they could, all any school can; at the age of 10, I experienced my first sustained bullying. Up until then, I had a best friend and various groups of friends I hung around with. I went to their birthday parties and I was part of several groups, even the cool kids. I was basically included everywhere, apart from the boys of course! Afterwards, I only really had my best friend and this intense attachment broke our friendship up, but gradually over many years. I don't blame the others, it's the way schools are; one person gets singled out for being different; for me it was my glasses, intelligence and awkwardness; the others join in. I thought I had got away lightly as it was nothing particularly terrible as it was only really name calling and nothing physical. But thinking back, I should have realised it was the exclusion that was the worst thing; it's the worst thing about any bullying: the alienation, the loneliness and watching the world from the sidelines.

The grip of belonging

So where the bully lead, pretty much everyone else followed. They didn't bully me, they just excluded me, stopped inviting me to things, hanging around with me and finally, talking to me, apart from taking advantage of my intelligence to help with schoolwork, which I gladly gave them because at least they were paying attention to me! I was persona non grata. I was invisible. When my parents found out and alerted the school, things got a little better. But the damage to my relationships, forget friendships, with my classmates was irrevocable and they were never the same since. When we started secondary school, I hoped things would change, but they didn't, even with the bully in the other half of the school, so no chance of any classes with them; everyone had moved on.

That was the thing, the bully was one of my closest friends. I had recently gone to a sleepover round their house and not a group sleepover either. Then suddenly they turned on me. So it wasn't just the exclusion that was the problem, it was the withdrawal of inclusion. So for the rest of my life, throughout my friendships, professional relationships, let alone personal ones, I have always been on tenterhooks, not getting too close for fear of the future exclusion.

Standing out

It was only a year until secondary school, so I handled it by retreating to the library, the one place the bully wouldn't go and therefore find me. It's why libraries are the one place, apart from home and churches, where "my soul can rest".

I tried to move on, but I still saw the bully in the halls who'd take any chance they could to pick on me. When others saw, they caught on and it allowed various others to bully me. It was tacit permission to bully. I didn't help matters; my shyness, introversion and passivity stopped me from sticking up for myself. Friends I made came and went, often literally moving away, which didn't help my sense of abandonment. It wasn't until I was 16 that things got better, when I did my A-levels; I found a new group of friends, potential boyfriend and finally an identity of my own rather than just following what everyone else was doing in a desperate bid to belong, but then the anxiety and panic attacks hit.

Now I'm in the best place with my anxiety, realising the reasons behind my desire to be inclusive and actually using my intense aversion to exclusion for good and in my professional life, that can only be progress. My need to belong though, that is something I'm going to be working on for the rest of my life.

The Truth About Birthdays

You should be happy on your birthday, that's what everyone tells you, it's what the cards tell you in any case. Just like you should be merry at Christmas. It's true, there is more opportunity to be happy when it's your birthday, with the presents, food, family and friends. But all the reasons why are designed to make me anxious; the expectation when you unwrap a gift, enforced activities and being the centre of attention are too much pressure. There's also the food. I have an uneasy relationship with food; I had an eating disorder when I was a teenager and I am a picky eater, which makes menu decisions a lot easier! Luckily, this year, we had a takeaway at home as a treat, instead of going to a restaurant.

My favourite Beatrix Potter character in figurine form

No, birthdays are bittersweet. You think about who's not there to share it with you. My birthday is the same as my Dad's Mum who I don't remember, because I haven't seen her since I was one, her choice; she died relatively recently. My Mum's Mum, my beloved Granny, used to give me a Beatrix Potter figure every birthday. My family have continued the tradition. So I always think of those two ladies on my birthday every year. You think about birthdays past and what you've done in the last year, similar to New Year's. Obviously, you're happy you've made it through one more year in this world, but what have you done with it? Last year, I ticked something off my bucket list, visiting the Bronte's home: Haworth Parsonage. But I'm struggling to think of anything else of note since.

Haworth Parsonage

My nature is not inclined towards contentment. I'm always comparing myself to others, with myself. Contentment is lasting, happiness is momentary. For my birthday this year, it has been about living vicariously through others. I spent the actual day with my niece, taking her over the park and happiness was in witnessing hers, when she said "weeeeee" every time she went down the slide, somehow saying it differently each time. Happiness was in seeing how much she's developed since last I saw her. And happiness was in her sitting on my lap as I read her one of my favourite books at her age and her listening attentively. Children have a way of teaching you to live in the moment, just for a moment.

The next day, I watched a long-awaited film at the cinema, the third best escape after the ultimate reading a book and the second best watching a favourite TV series. It's been 19 films coming and I knew it would be bittersweet. Inside Out taught me that the brightest happiness comes hand-in-hand with sadness.

Me ready for the cinema: Loki dress, (Guardians of the) Galaxy leggings and Hulk socks

On the last day of my birthday long weekend, on the bank holiday, we carried on a growing tradition over the past few years of visiting a bluebell wood for my birthday. Bluebells are my favourite flower and they come out around my birthday, so it's perfect timing. Last year, it was Fountains Abbey. The first year, it was Waresley Wood. This year's wood wasn't the best, but it was where it hit me, why I love bluebells so much. It's not because bluebells, true English bluebells, not the Spanish literal usurpers, are actually purple; all blue flowers are actually purple to my eyes. It's not because they're melancholy, they way they hang down, unlike the Spanish whose bells are better balanced on either side. It's because they require solidity, security and stability; they only grow in older established woodland amidst long-lasting potentially ancient trees. I empathise with them as in order to grow, develop and bloom, I also need time, safety and strong foundations. I'm a real tree-hugger as it's a great way to feel grounded, essential for anyone with anxiety issues. Happiness for me is being part of nature. I like to feel something that was there before me and will be there after me. That's a good thing to remember on a birthday.

Bluebells

Uninvited guest

Oh, hello Anxiety. Not content to stay in the background then. I could do without you today, or maybe that's why you're here; teaching your peers is way more nerve-wracking than students. You have company; a head cold is just being kept at bay, the stomach is flaring up and the vertigo is stronger than usual. Yet that's done me a favour as they're all cancelling each other, sapping your power. But my body is trolling me, that's what I call it when it seems to be attempting to sabotage my life. My monthly visitor has come early, bringing with it its troublesome attendants, the worst being emotional vulnerability. Hence, you again Anxiety.

You're getting easier to live with though. That's the right term; I can live with you Anxiety. Anxiety can be managed. You don't suffer from it, fight or battle it, but live with it. And I more than managed today. I coped. I didn't let you Anxiety stop me. You didn't stop me from having breakfast despite the nausea and stomach issues. I didn't let you make me smaller, hunch over; I stood with my head held high. I didn't let you take over, filling my brain with what ifs, thinking about what could go wrong, catastrophising (technical term) so I end up believing it will all go wrong. No panic attacks this time. I got through it and a few years ago, I wouldn't have been able to say that.

You're uninvited and unnannounced Anxiety. Sometimes I leave the door ajar for you and receive your warning signs. But the door was firmly shut this time and you gave me no warning. So, while you're here Anxiety as an uninvited guest, you won't mind me ignoring you, but I will say goodbye when you go.

A daffodil for this Spring day

Holiday inspiration

Wales will always have a special place in my heart, as do most of the places we went to on holiday when I was a child: Cornwall, Tenerife and Scotland. My holiday didn't get off to the best of starts as I was ill when we went and had to have the last day before we left off work. I was feverish, which is good for the imagination and the first few days, I wrote something whenever I had the time. I've written a poem that has always eluded me, finally managing to describe what a panic attack feels like in a poem. I'm going to save it for the book though. I just want to share a few holiday moments here that have inspired me, either for the book, for other pieces or in terms of mental clarity.

Aberglasney house and gardens

The previous times we went to Wales were either in the Summer or the Autumn half term, this is the first time we've been in daffodil season and they were everywhere! I finally understand what Wordsworth meant when he described them as a golden host. They never fail to brighten any mood.

Blue morpho butterfly

There is nothing better than achieving something you have long strived to get, for me this holiday it was a photo of a blue morpho butterfly with its wings open. There was a butterfly house at the National Botanic Garden of Wales and one was very obliging. They're my favourite butterfly and epitomise the ephemeral in my eyes: delicate, beautiful, powerful, ethereal and all too fleeting. They also represent my state of mind!

Laugharne estuary

As I said in my previous post, Laugharne has a hold on me unlike any other place I've been to. Going back after 20 years, seeing a view we used to see every day was pure nostalgia and gave me a boost I will never forget. Other things I barely remember, but not that view; it's ingrained in my memory.

My parents outside Laugharne Castle

We finally made it inside Laugharne Castle, after the fourth time of trying! I took inspiration from one of the greats, Dylan Thomas, who stayed at the castle and famously made Laugharne his home. His deep connection with his sense of place strikes a deep chord.

A blurry photo of an otter at Laugharne Castle

A day after I bought a cuddly otter at the National Botanic Garden of Wales; I picked it up and just couldn't put it down again; I saw a real live otter! I call it strange foresight. It's my first one in the wild and it was one of the highlights of my holiday.

Laugharne gravestone poem

Creative inspiration can be found in the weirdest of places, for instance a churchyard where I found this gravestone poetry. It sums up my feelings of revisiting Laugharne and how much of an impact it has had on me. I would love for my eternal resting place to have such a view.

The Mumbles causeway and lighthouse

Finally, spending time with my parents, having them all to myself, was a treasure. Even if we were silent, just sitting in each other's company, it was special. Going to a place my Mum had always wanted to go to, seeing another's pleasure, there is no greater inspiration, nor motivation.

A writing or writer's holiday

They say never go back. Nothing is ever as good as we remember. Sometimes they're right. I went to Scotland last year, to a hotel we went to years and years ago and had always wanted to return to and it wasn't the same. Mostly, because there were fewer red squirrels because they had cut down a lot of the trees. I also went back to the Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome Priory a few years ago and it was nowhere near as magical as the first time. But that place had grown to near mythic-like status in my mind, so much so, I constantly wear a ring on my left hand I bought there to remind me of the place and it helps me when I'm anxious; it centres me, grounds me and brings me serenity, taking me back to the first time I went there and luckily the second time hasn't marred the memory of bright sunshine after a rainy morning; the clouds literally parted as we got there; having the island almost to ourselves and the instant peace I felt as soon as I stepped off the boat and onto the island. I never take the ring off, even when I'm having a panic attack and all my jewellery and some clothes have to come off as it all feels constricting, that ring always stays on.

The Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome, so serene

However I'm returning to an area of the world I haven't been to for almost 20 years: Carmarthernshire. I went to Aberystwyth, Machynlleth and Ceredigion as recently as five years ago; Aberystwyth is where I did my library degree; but not further south. I love those three place names, spelling them, without help I might add, and mentally sounding them out. We had a favourite resort we stayed in many times near Laugharne, the home of the poet Dylan Thomas. We're not staying there as that would be a nostalgic step too far, but we will go back to Laugharne. I hope it lives up to the treasured memories. The last time we were there, I didn't have a digital camera, a mobile phone or any technology really other than a Tamagotchi! I'm hoping it will help clear my mind, shake off this fug and blow away this mental fog.

Laugharne beach

Basically I'm hoping this Easter holiday is going to force out this writer's block. Yes, I'm finally admitting I have writer's block. For me, that phrase makes me think about a lack of ideas, fear of the blank page and procrastination. However writer's block is at heart about a loss of confidence, fear of not being good enough and, okay, procrastination. Anyway, I've written about writer's block before and far more eloquently.

Mental veil

It feels like there's a veil between me and the world right now, where I'm existing, not living. I'm not experiencing anything other than on a shallow level, not making enough ties, bonds or relationships. Nothing is reaching me, tugging at my heart, funny bone or tear ducts. Apart from watching Harry Hill and Martin Kemp on Bake Off which did all three. Is it worrying that people I will never meet incite reactions far beyond those from the people I love and care about? It's difficult to explain, but I've felt this way many times during my life, sometimes so much I convince myself I'm an automaton, sometimes its only momentary. But this mental weather has set in. So, onward to Wales and forging deeper connections.

Just write too

Trust

Tells you what you want to hear

Tells you what you don’t want to hear

Doesn’t tell you what you should hear

Need to hear

Anxiety tells you your worst fears

Anxiety makes it so you can’t see the way forward

Anxiety is afraid of the future

Fears uncertainty

Depression tells you your worst thoughts about yourself

Depression makes you feel as nothing is worthwhile

Depression dwells on the past so you can’t live

Only exist

The voice of conscience is a liar

It makes it so all you can see is you

It colours the world so you can’t see through

Can’t see the truth

Everything is all or nothing

Everything is always and never

Everything is black and white

No shades of grey

You can’t trust your mind

You can’t trust your body

You can’t trust yourself

You can’t trust it

Mental health

I Weigh

A wonderful, patient and supportive family

Against a head full of thoughts that weigh me down 

The powerful resilience of half a lifetime living with daily anxiety

With the burden of a chronic illness, dizziness and vertigo

The need to express myself creatively

Alongside the frustration of unrealised potential

An ability to lose myself in books, films and TV

Beside a crippling lack of confidence and doubt

An insatiable curiosity and need to learn

Yet the knowledge it can never be fulfilled

A compassionate and empathetic nature

That comes with the burden of womanhood

Wide and wonderful hips

Together with a skewed self-image

My job, my vocation: a profession and a passion

Unmatched by a wearying personal loneliness

I weigh up a life full of contradictions

Dreamcatcher

We all need someone to catch us when we fall, but for most of us, the only person we can rely on is ourselves. Physical falls can be embarrassing, painful and potentially devastating, but time heals or allows us to become accustomed. Mental falls are hard to see, harder to deal with and can become physical, but they can be managed. Emotional falls are incapacitating, all-consuming and all-encompassing, but usually momentary either in the moment or for a period of time.

There are people to go to for aid: medical professionals, family and friends. However, we let our dreams fall every day. We nurture them, build them up and work towards them. We look for people to help us realise them and some may succeed. Yet, the vast majority simply let them go. They drift unchecked from our lives. They are thrown to the ground in frustration and anger and disgust. They are lain tenderly to rest and then abandoned.

But what if there was someone there to catch them for you, keep them until you have need of them again, care for them while you make yourself ready for them? From the smallest that is barely visible to the human eye, to the biggest that sucks the oxygen out of the room. From the brightest that is full of hope, to the dimmest that is a fleeting thought. From the fullest that has physical presence, to the merest wisp of a thing. All are caught, captured and maintained, waiting for when all promise is lost and they fade away into the void of broken dreams, or they are taken up again, life is brought back into them and they are introduced to the world. What if there were a catcher of dreams?

Just write

In a view to actually writing this story and realising that to be a writer, I have to write, I've been doing some writing. It's mostly poems, free verse and rhyming verse inspired by snow, my first panic attack in months and other things. Let me know what you think!

Snow

Arriving delicately, gently, stealthily

It quietly covers the land, instilling hush

Feet powder through, leaving dark marks

marring the pure white and corrupting the purity

But the snow is relentless, pinpricking skin,

hiding the sins of dirt, rubbish and decay

It allows us a carte blanche we don’t deserve

Snow is the ultimate femme fatale,

all beauty and light yet bringing danger

It departs gradually or suddenly without warning

until not a trace can be found, like it was never there

Away without a backward glance

Caring not for the consequences

Leaving us with the chaos that is left in its wake 

Ice

Snow turns to ice if time is on its side

Where snow is a cool blanket, a white carpet,

Softening and veiling and concealing

Ice is transparent, a see-through wall

blocking you from what it is beneath

Where snow is a femme fatale

Ice is a plain, cold attempted killer

Grey and black and a clear and present danger

Shining with contempt and glittery in the light

It takes away solidity and complacence

Replacing it with pure uncertainty

Wheels slide, feet slip and paws skitter

Causing embarrassment and pain

Or potentially something more permanent

A Light Touch

A brush of the hand

One finger on the pulse

A toe in the water

A step instead of a foot

An inch instead of a mile

A hop instead of a leap

A rock instead of a shoulder

An anchor instead of a weight

A burden instead of a gift

A grip on the arm

A grip on reality

A grip on love

Holding something tangible

Holding on for dear life

Holding on to you

First grey hairs

The metallic sheen of copper tones is now laced with precious silver, in sharp relief against the dark brown. The first may have been cruelly untimely wrenched from their roots, but when they became more of a battalion than lone soldiers, entrenching in enemy territory until they could no longer be avoided, they were embraced like liberators. These grey strands are not a sign of a person on the wane, a gradual downfall, nor an ebbing of the tide, but a symbol of growing proof that anything can be survived with the right support, stubbornness and belief. They are strings of hard won battles and hard time done over many years, earned through pain, determination and resilience. They are a mark that you have lived and continue to live, reaching a time you thought you may not live to see.

Small Victories

When nothing you do seems to matter
When nothing you do seems to stick
When your thoughts scream and scatter
When your life goes by so quick
It is easy to see only the wrong
It is easy to see only the bad
Rather than seeing where you're strong
Rather than seeing what makes you glad

So a drift in focus, a forgotten task
A brief relapse and a bad night
Become something important in which to bask
An excuse to give in and give up the fight
Yes they are awful at the time
Yes they hurt those around you
They make the hill harder to climb
They make the day harder to get through

But each time they happen you learn
But each time they happen others see
You learn who can help, where to turn
Others see a glimpse of you, how to be
One step forward two steps back
Is still a positive, still means hope
So be kind to yourself, give yourself some slack
Because you know you and you know how to cope

You just may not see it right now
You will make it, get through somehow
Small victories are for the best, so take a bow