But what I feel most touched by, most often, is meeting other people with invisible disabilities and sharing our experiences of navigating a culture not versed in rest, or softness. Not versed in different experiences of time, or unstable bodies. Because it’s not the Brussels or Radio 4’s of this journey that have helped me feel less alone, it’s been in connecting with a community of people who ‘get it’, and it’s been in sharing my most vulnerable, or difficult or laughable moments.
Like the time I lay down to rest on the sofa of a local theatre, unbeknownst to me, in the middle of a tour for funders; they came down the corridor in a wave of expensive frocks and big glasses of wine and I lay there with my legs crossed over an armrest and my shoes kicked off on the floor beside me. Like the time I lay down in a consulting room of a hospital while waiting for my appointment, and when the doctor came in they thought I was dead. Like the time lay down at a Spanish airport and a security guard asked me if I was drunk, I wasn’t, and then told me to move on - I didn’t argue. Like the time I lay down at Wimbledon Court Number 1!
Those last 3 stories aren’t actually mine (although they could be), they are stories people have told me. And knowing them makes me feel far less alone when I need to draw on courage, take a deep breath, and lie down somewhere in public I know it’s not gonna go down well.
Because our world is at once vast, and small.
And I know somewhere out there, someone is resting is with me.
In this project I have the privilege of connecting and amplifying our stories and our voices; of making it possible for us to connect effortlessly when we rest via a bespoke App; and of making it possible for us to communicate our rest live with an audience, if we choose to.
Because our world is at once vast, and small.
And in connection, we don’t have to be alone.
