Wow. I honestly can’t believe the response I got from my last post.

It was an eye-opener to actually tell you guys the truth about how I’ve been feeling. It made me happy knowing people have got my back, but I also did that post to stop myself from going down a depression rabbit hole.

Thankfully, I didn’t go down a big hole. I went down a small one, if you know what I mean.

I haven’t been in the shed as much as I wanted to lately because of how some people have reacted to me doing woodwork. And when it comes from people very, very close to you, it hurts more than you can imagine.

But I suppose that’s life, isn’t it?

People always say the same things:

“Oh well, just get on with it.”
“If they’re picking on you, they’re leaving someone else alone.”
“There’s always someone worse off than you, so cheer up.”

Why do we keep saying these stupid things?

Everyone is an individual. Everyone should be able to tell their friends and family how they really feel without being made to feel weak, dramatic, or ungrateful.

But we don’t.

And I think that needs to stop.

I don’t really go out with friends as much anymore, because I can see it on their faces sometimes. I don’t get angry, but I do get frustrated when people talk to my friends instead of talking to me. And yes, sometimes I will take a stand and say something.

Most of my friends understand. Most of them will stand by me, stand up with me, or we’ll go home afterwards and they’ll help me write an email complaining if something has happened.

But there are some people who take five steps backwards, like they’re embarrassed that I’ve spoken up.

And that hurts.

Because if you’re going to be my friend, you need to understand there are going to be awkward situations sometimes. That’s part of being around a disabled person in a world that still doesn’t know how to act around us.

And if you can’t have my back in those moments, then it makes me feel awkward. It makes me feel ashamed.

When really, I shouldn’t be ashamed of who I am.

I shouldn’t be ashamed of how I was born.

It’s nature. It’s life. It’s not something I chose.

Nature made me the way I am.

And yes, I know people say “just get on with it”, but sometimes people don’t need advice. Sometimes they don’t need someone to fix things.

Sometimes they just need someone to sit there and say:

“I’ve got your back.”

Because that means more than people realise.

I must admit, I can be like that sometimes too. I can be out with a friend or an ex-girlfriend, and they’ll get judged because they’re with me. Sometimes people stare at them because of the way they look or sound, and they won’t say anything at the time. They’ll wait until we get back to the car.

And that bothers me a bit.

Because I respect them, and when they don’t say anything in the moment, it can make me feel like they think I’m weak or that I can’t handle it.

But I can.

I know some people don’t want to make a scene, and I understand that. But if you care about me, I want you to feel like you can tell me there and then. Because if we don’t stand up for ourselves, or for each other, then nothing changes.

I don’t expect everyone to fight every battle for me. But I do want people around me who have my back.

Or is it because some people still think disabled people are weak?

Because we’re not weak.

We might do blogs like this. We might make videos about our experiences and how we get treated. But the truth is, the government still isn’t educating the world properly about disability. So a lot of the time, it feels like it’s down to us to educate people ourselves.

No one is really going to speak up for us unless we do it ourselves.

There are some brilliant people in politics who do care about disabled people. I know there are some people in Labour who champion disabled rights, and the Lib Dems have always had our back when it comes to respecting disabled people and helping us live better lives.

That is why Blue Badge Bunch is so important to me and the team. We want to get out there more into schools, libraries, businesses, and corporate events to help educate people about disability awareness.

I aim to help educate people about disability awareness, and we have fun in the process, because I believe laughter is one of the best ways to educate people about disability.

Because let’s face it — most of us disabled people laugh about our disabilities. That’s how we cope. That’s how our families cope. If we didn’t laugh sometimes, we’d probably spend most of our lives upset.

That’s why comedy matters to me so much.

So if you’re reading this and you know a team, business, school, or organisation that would like a disability workshop, please give us an email at bluebadgebunch@gmail.com.

It’s like the whole benefits situation.

Trust me, I don’t want to be on benefits. The only reason I claim them is because the money from the farm, comedy, Blue Badge Bunch, and woodwork isn’t enough to live on by itself.

That’s why you’ll see me doing lots of different jobs all at once, because I can’t survive on just one thing.

The farm takes a lot out of me physically, but I enjoy it. That’s why I keep going back. Being around nature helps me reset, and it gives me ideas for comedy, children’s shows, and all the other things I do.

Comedy takes a lot out of me as well, both physically and mentally, but I love it. There’s something about telling that first joke to an audience and hearing them laugh — it gives you a buzz you can’t really explain.

I remember years ago, a former employer told me, “Stop being the joker at work. You’ll never get respect.”

At the time, I listened. I believed him.

But look at me now.

Who’s laughing now?

I’m making people laugh for a living, and my comedy peers give me more respect than I could ever have dreamed of.

So yes, comedy is hard. Yes, it takes a lot out of me.

But I’ve made some bloody good friends through it.

So please don’t think, “Oh, I better not book him because he might have a meltdown.”

I know how to balance my life. I know when I need to stop. I know when I need a day off. And I know when I’m ready to get back on stage.

Blue Badge Bunch and Slugageddon take a lot out of me too, but seeing children enjoy the shows makes the pain go away for a bit. Knowing that I can help children learn about disability, gardening, nature, or just life in general — that means everything to me.

And the biggest bonus is when disabled children, neurodiverse children, or children with physical disabilities come into the workshops or watch the shows, and you can see their eyes light up because they’re thinking:

“There’s someone like me on stage.”
“I could do this.”
“I can live my life too.”

Woodwork takes a lot out of me as well. Even doing it for a couple of hours every other night can be painful, but I still do it because I enjoy it. I love creating artwork out of nothing.

And yes, some of it’s a bit wonky — but that’s me.

That’s who I am. The shaky, wonky person that people know, love, and respect.

That’s why it’s worth the pain. That’s why it’s worth the struggle.

Because you guys help me just as much as I help you.

Today I went back to a group called Scrambles. It’s a mental health photography group, and I’ve been part of it for about eight years now. This was the first time I’d been back in ages, and it was such a joy to sit there with everyone, tell them how I was feeling, and hear them say, “Yeah, we go through the same thing.”

That matters.

Sometimes you just need to be around people who understand.

So thank you to everyone at Scrambles.

If you want to know more about them, just look up their Facebook page. They meet every Thursday in Stobar in Nottingham from around 1 till 3. They chat, go around Nottingham taking photos, and it’s just another place where people can be honest about what they’re going through.

On a more positive note, I’ve spent the last month harvesting willow at the farm, and it’s been a real joy seeing what we’ve grown and how we’re going to use it.

This week I had my first go at making a willow obelisk in a plant pot. It’s one of those rustic woven structures that climbing plants can grow up, and I’m really proud of it. It’s a little bit wonky, but for my first attempt, I think it’s better than nothing.

That’s the thing with life sometimes — not everything has to be perfect. Sometimes it’s enough just to try something new, have a go, and see what happens.

And maybe that’s what I need to remember more often.

And maybe that’s what more of us need.

Not people telling us to “just get on with it.”

Just somewhere safe to talk.