Easily Missed

I was born in North West England in a slowly recovering mill town called Wigan. Some might say it was easily missed, nothing special, but it was home. As a youth the best weekend activity you could hope for was finding a spot downtown to hang out with your friends without the police moving you on. Even George Orwell in his book “The Road to Wigan Pier” didn’t seem to be able to find much cause for excitement, overlooking our cherished four-foot pier on the Leeds to Liverpool Canal, saying “Well, I am afraid I must tell you that Wigan Pier doesn't exist. I made a journey specially to see it in 1936 and I couldn't find it.” I can’t blame Orwell, in truth all of Wigan is easily missed, so much so that as an adult who has lived in North America for a decade, I tend to introduce myself as from Manchester, save any confusion about my geographical origins.

“Easily missed” might have been the theme for my life, as it is for many in my hometown, but thankfully I was given a leg up in life that many aren’t afforded. My parents are well educated and crucially remained together, a novel concept for too many of my school friends. My father, director of his own company, yet still attentive to home life. My mother, committed to serving her family with all she had, yet creative and outgoing. My problem wasn’t my origins, it was me. To say that I struggled in my early years is an understatement; I was kicked out of school at the age of four and it wouldn’t be the last time. I went through three elementary schools, never quite fitting in, never quite knowing how to engage with academia, and always wondering why things came so easily to others. Everything at school seemed to be in an alien language to me. I was going nowhere, and giving everyone a hard time about it; I no doubt owe an apology to every teacher, classroom assistant, and tutor who encountered me at that age. If you’re one of those, lunch is on me, thank you for putting up with me and fighting to get me on track.

Things were difficult, education brought out extreme anxiety in me, I lashed out, and I hated myself for it. I was still in single digits and considered how the world might benefit from my absence - thankfully, Jesus stepped in and taught me a much better reality.