I’ve never been a person who’s particularly scared of change, especially when that comes to living in a new place. In fact, once I finished secondary school I worked three jobs so I’d have enough money to go travelling before I started my university degree. Then when it came to moving to university, I definitely cried when saying goodbye to my parents but that’s just because they’re both so much fun to be around; I don’t think that I was actually that daunted by moving away from home. But last week, with the help of my parents, I moved all of my things to London and even though I’ve lived in a lot of new places over the past six years, this time the first couple of days in my new home didn’t fill me with excitement; all I could feel was terror.

When I’ve travelled to different countries, I’ve always only been there for a certain amount of time. Therefore, even if I was living in a massive metropolis like Seoul or New York City, I could square all the walking distances and activities in my head because I knew that once I got home I’d be able to go to the same doctor who’d been seeing me since the age of three, she could treat me, and if I had done too much walking then it’d be fine because I could stay at home and rest for a couple of weeks before I went onto the next country or back to university.

So my utter panic at now living in London was/is that this is now my every day and I don’t have an opportunity to overdo it and then rest for a few weeks if the condition of my feet does worsen, because if I get the blister then I can’t go to work and if I can’t go to work then I can’t make my rent. Not to mention the fact that I now have to rely on totally new doctors who don’t know the nature of my disability and thus, may not be able to help me in the way someone who’s seen me through all the operations and every type of blister could. Plus, I don’t have a job yet because working in the broadcasting and radio industry requires you to 1) be in the place where it all happens, 2) be able to network your way into the buildings and then 3) work from the bottom to the top, if the bosses judge that you have the ability to make it up there. So, I have to find a part-time job in order to make my bills and give me enough time to put my graft into radio and broadcasting – that part sounds easy though, doesn’t it? “Just pick up some shifts at a bar, restaurant, or cafe!” I hear you say! Only, I physically can’t be on my feet all day and the hundreds of other people also looking for part-time work can, so my chances of getting the work are slimmer and waaayyy more stressful than when living in a smaller city.

Thus, I’m not frightened of this move because I think that I can’t do it; I’ve always been a total grafter. Nor am I frightened because I’m scared to live in a new place, far away from my family. The overwhelming panic that I’m trying not to think about comes from a fear that this ridiculously inaccessible world will stop me from being everything I know I can be, just because I can’t walk far or stand for long.

But it’s not helpful for me to wallow in this fear, because if I did, then I never would’ve gone travelling or anywhere further than twenty minutes down the road. So you have to push it aside and focus on controlling what you can, rather than catastrophising all the ways the risk you’ve taken could end in disaster.

Once I’d moved a couple of things into my new room my parents asked me how I felt, and I tried my best not to let the nerves show because I didn’t want them to drive away feeling worried about me, but they, and my closest friends, all assured me that it’s totally fine to be frightened of this; being scared doesn’t make you weak or foolish. Living in this city with a physical disability is no small feat and I’m bound to have a bit of a moment every now and then, so the best thing to do is to quite literally take everything one step at a time. Then, once I know how to look after my feet in the big city, I can explore!!!