METTLE MONDAY – STANDING ON MY OWN TWO FEET

Most girls dream of their big day, meeting the love of their life and having the most beautiful wedding. They have a dream dress in mind sometimes well before even knowing the person they might marry. But for me it was different, I never dreamt of that day. In fact I had a perspective that was quite the opposite.

When Brin and I brought our first house, we were beyond excited to finally have our own space. We moved in together in June 2015 and couldn't wait to start our next chapter. A few days before Christmas 2015, we were both going on our annual works night out, I dropped him off at the pub, he told me he loved me and that was to be the last time I saw him.

Written by Wendy Searle When I reached the South Pole in 2020, I was exhausted, elated and not a little relieved. I had just completed a 42-day solo, unsupported expedition; over 700 miles of vast, white nothingness. Those feelings persisted throughout the flight back from Pole (which took only 4 hours, to do what had taken me five weeks), throughout the return to the UK via South America. I had already been delayed at the start, thanks to bad weather, so I returned to work after a long weekend at home. My colleagues seemed genuinely glad to see me back, and were interested in my journey. For the first week or so, I couldn’t sleep, despite being achingly tired. (I also couldn’t stop eating, after losing 10 kilos in just over a month, so much so that I once had to stop for supplies during a 15-minute walk.) I was high as a kite, and still so wired after the continual focus of expedition life. It’s akin to climbing, or skydiving, where your whole focus is in the moment. Was I too cold? That could be fatal. Was I too hot? A surprising risk in polar latitudes, as if you sweat it will freeze. Was my kit OK? How long to the next break? And on and on, for what felt like forever when I was actually out on the ice. It’s that element of total immersion, of being so far removed from the everyday – emails, traffic, work; that is at once so daunting and so addictive. After the initial high dropped to merely walking around being more back there than present here, I started to think about going back to training. For what though? I had nothing to train for, and very little in reserve. I took to tyre hauling, which is what I spent so much of my time doing in the run up to the expedition – the traditional method of building leg strength and endurance for pulling a sled (or pulk) for 11-12 hours a day. As soon as I strapped on my pulk harness, I could transport myself back to Antarctica. And that helped, because I was struggling to readjust to life after expedition. It wasn’t just those weeks alone on skis that I missed. I’d been planning, training and fundraising for what amounted to just over 1,000 hours, for five years. I’d met a team of soldiers who were traversing Antarctica, and I became more and more drawn to this extraordinary continent. I read some polar history, some accounts of the first Polar expeditions, when they were true explorers. Despite not having any kind of adventure experience to speak of, I was hooked. I dedicated my life to making the expedition happen. Everything was in pursuit of the Pole. If I read a book, it was about Antarctica, if I had free time, it was spent attending events where potential sponsors might be found. I spoke to everyone who had ever been to the South Pole that I could. After working out what training and experience would be required, I set about ticking it off; Norway training, a spectacular crossing of the Greenland ice sheet, time alone in Iceland. The training was, if not at the level of an Olympic athlete, was certainly dedicated. Twice a day, for six days a week, I hauled tyres, ran up hills, lay in rivers and ice baths, and put up my tent in my house, over and over so I’d have the muscle memory ingrained when I was tired at the end of a long day skiing. Once I was back, I decided the only cure for the huge gap in my life that all those things had left, was another expedition. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard, but I actually missed the build-up, the nurturing of this idea, which became the expedition, which eventually took on a life of its own. I missed the slightly-sick feeling in my stomach when I thought about actually having to go ahead with what I set out to do, the uncertainty of my ability to complete the journey. When COVID stopped all travel outside the UK, my plans took a hit. The world became smaller overnight – so small it really only included Wiltshire, where I live. I’d gone from an all-or-nothing challenge to, well, nothing. Ideas, plans, even talks with sponsors, were pushed into the long grass. Ironically, after finding the South Pole on my own, I felt a bit lost. But gradually I began to see that the adventure can lie in the everyday. I had to if I wasn’t going to lose my mind. I bought a mountain bike for the first time, and began to explore the local off-road routes and tiny jumps. I wrote a book proposal about my journey. In the end, I think that period of quiet gave me to time to reflect on the enormity of what I’d done – being only the seventh woman in history to complete the journey solo, unsupported, from Hercules Inlet to the geographic South Pole. Instead of jumping into another trip, I allowed that to sink in, for it to become part of who I was. And now I’m ready for the next adventure.

A few hours later, I’d be called back to the hospital under the pretense my consultant had a cancellation. He sat me down and told me that I had a brain tumour. It was an acoustic neuroma (sometimes known as a vestibular schwannoma), a low grade, but in my case, uncharacteristically fast-growing, cystic tumour that was growing on the hearing and balance nerves within the confined space of my skull. This explained many of the symptoms I’d been experiencing recently, but not all.

I lost all of my hair at age 2, due to the autoimmune condition, Alopecia. It was extremely hard to navigate not knowing anyone else with my condition. I felt very alone and isolated. I began to wear a wig since I can remember to fit in with everyone else. I never truly felt like “me” but I didn’t know how to be ok with my Alopecia and the emotional roller coaster that was being bald. Kids were extremely mean to me and bullied me a lot for my wig and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes.

I don’t recall much about the call. It was a dead guy, or girl. I helped the coroner collect the body and went outside. It was night-time and the lights from our overheads were swirling in the darkness. I began speaking with another deputy, and suddenly became aware that I was seeing his face as he would look if he were dead. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just happened. It wasn’t as shocking as one might think. I blinked and even laughed to myself about it, but I couldn’t shake myself free from what I was seeing. It should have been a sign; I should have questioned what I was seeing, but I didn’t. My mind had begun to operate on its own. I should have questioned what was happening, but I didn’t. I told myself it must be a natural repercussion of seeing so many dead people. But it didn’t stop.

Written by Rachel wild I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my own father. Still feels like a taboo subject even currently. Therefore, it is so important for me to speak out. bravely... loudly... so everyone can hear. It was not my fault, sexual abuse is never the victim’s fault, but they carry it like it is.... they carry the shame and the guilt and the anger. The man who was meant to protect me from all evil in the world was the person who damaged me the most. Both parents were abusive physically and mentally, which I still struggle to understand as to how you can hurt your own child. I have been on an incredible journey and life has been made much harder because of this, however it has made me fight hard to do the right thing, it has made me resilient, it is developed my kindness and compassion. It also affects your ability to trust, I have nightmares, I have hyper independence as I have always had to do everything on my own. I went into care at 15, I got my own flat and three jobs at 16 and took myself to night college and studied to become a beauty therapist and Dental Nurse. I have always had a defiance, a drive, a determination to not let what has happened ruin me or use it as an excuse to behave poorly. I strive to do well in life, I have had so much stolen from me, I have a lot of life to live and make up for. I have slowly over the last two years started to process what has happened, I have felt incredible hot white rage, depression, panic, such sadness I have not wanted to go out, grief and loss of my childhood and all the things they stole from me. But I have grown as a person. I do not carry this secret alone, I feel empowered, calmer, more peaceful. It has given me kindness and compassion for myself. I want to help other survivors of sexual abuse, I want them to know life can be good, you can move forward you can heal. For me what has helped me heal, has been unburdening myself and sharing, reporting to the police, friends, support from counselling and specialist services, running, nature, mindfulness, meditation, and yoga and cheese and chocolate! Walking into the police station to report this was one of the most terrifying things I have ever done. What happens if they do not believe me? what happens if he comes and gets me and attacks me? what happens if other people attack me? I had the most incredible Detective, who listened whilst I told her some of the most intimate details of the abuse, feeling so ashamed. Not once did I feel judged, I felt listened to and cared for... and eventually so empowered. Not straight away, I felt exhausted after reporting, scared... I could see him everywhere. I had panic attacks, nightmares, I could not sleep... this lasted for about 12 months, and then eased slightly. It is normal to feel how you feel, it is important to acknowledge it and access help, the Independent Sexual Violence Advisor at the RASASC (Rape and sexual Assault Unit) probably saved my life, as did the support from my friends. If someone discloses abuse to you, be aware of the strength and vulnerability that it takes, you might be the first person they ever tell. It is so important to listen... just listen... please do not judge, please do not tell them how they should or should not feel. Just listen to them and do not interrupt, depending on the situation later ask them if they have ever spoken to anyone.... and would they like to talk to someone who deals with abuse/rape/assault like the RASASC unit. Just telling one person can start a domino effect on the path of healing. You do not have to report to the police, ringing an anonymous line, telling a friend, a counsellor, journaling can all start the process to you feeling lighter and getting on the road to peace and contentment. I reported sexual abuse by my father in 2018, he was being charged on the 15th of September and did not turn up to court. A warrant was issued for his arrest, he was found dead at home. Ten days earlier my Grandad died, he was my only family member so the past few years have been incredibly difficult. The last few months were so difficult, but also because my father is dead for the first time in my life, I feel safe. This will never go away for me, it will always have happened, so it is a life-long journey, it is part of who I am. Please do not tell survivors to put it behind them, forget about it, or move on, it is not that simple. Trauma is complex, I still have nightmares, I still think I see him, I still feel unsafe if out running and there is a man that looks like him. Even though my brain knows I am safe, my survival brain is trying to keep me safe. I have always been a very private person and kept things to myself. One of the things I have found most beneficial and helpful is talking to other survivors. I have always felt very alone and felt no-one understands (and I do not want anyone to have to experience this), especially with it being my own Father. The feelings I have had, and the experiences resonate with others and it has made me feel more understood, more normal almost. No two experiences are the same even if the circumstances are similar due to a multitude of factors, but there are some common denominators which have brought me comfort. The compassion, awe, and kindness I feel for other survivors, is something I have been able to start to apply to myself, which has been difficult. As a coping mechanism I downplayed, minimized, compared my situation, it is a survival technique that trauma victims use. This meant if I made it small it was not that bad, so therefore I did not have to deal with it. I am thankful for our incredible brains; I think it is fascinating how our brain protects us until we are ready to deal with a situation. Due to the abuse, I am a huge advocate of speaking out about abuse and rape and helping individuals to become empowered and hand the shame back to the abusers. I want to raise awareness so more people can speak out Bravely and be heard and supported and access the right help. I am working with RASASC (rape and sexual abuse Centre) this year to help provide training for the police and other agencies in how to help survivors. I am also going to train as an Independent Sexual Violence advisor, because how you are treated and supported is essential for the healing process. I also want to show people that with the right tools and support they can cope, they can have an amazing life....and that life can be great.

My sense of adventure and my love of sports started from a very early age. I grew up in a military family which meant we travelled the world as my Dad was posted from one country to another. I went to more than 15 different schools and lost count of the number of houses we lived in. For many children this is extremely daunting, but for some reason I loved it, I was always on an adventure.

I wrote this letter to articulate how the experience of post-traumatic growth has affected my life and through my own lived-experience, how my friend Pain was difficult to live with for many years. It also highlights how, pain must be present in our lives to experience the beautiful, the pure and the good. Life is a short and yet bittersweet journey, that to appreciate fully will require finding your strength that is forged from within.