Florence Gildea - Lessons I Have Unlearned: Because Life Doesnt Look Like It Did In The Pictures

I never thought I had a book in me until Caroline Heath-Taylor told me I did, and I would have likely deleted the manuscript without the cheerleading of Katherine Haylett. But I am indebted also to every one of my friends who has opened up to me and helped me to realise that maybe it wasnt just me who was learning to mind the gap between our expectations and reality.

Circle Books

CHRISTIAN FAITH

Circle Books explores a wide range of disciplines within the field of Christian faith and practice. It also draws on personal testimony and new ways of finding and expressing Gods presence in the world today.

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Supreme above our cravings for caffeine, crisps and chocolate is our addiction to control. Since the dawn of time, weve sought to satiate our longing for peace, contentment and security through owning and controlling what we can. From the first bite of the forbidden fruit, we have wanted God-like mastery over the world around us. Sometimes weve used spiritual means to tell us the future and shape it to our liking, as with the ancient practices of divination, sorcery and superstition. But now we mostly succour our addiction with technology it gives us say over the shape of our bodies through plastic surgery, over the DNA of potentially any living organism through genetic engineering, and, with virtual reality, can even allow us to create whole new worlds, just the way we want them. And if the independence of other people irritates your need for control, then you can always surround yourself with companion robots, virtual assistants, dating simulations and avatars programmed to heed your every command, answer your every query, and all without the risk of conflict or desertion.

The unknowable, the unpredictable, the unfathomable are all shrinking domains, crowded out by projections and strategies, forecasts and filters. Or, at least, we hope they are. Otherwise, wed have to face the fallibility and frailty of the human condition. Wed have to forego our certainty and to answer questions with I dont know. Wed have to accept our place on earth, often shrouded in fog, rather than aloof above it.

That impulse to minimise uncertainty runs deep within my own heart. In primary school, we were asked whether wed most like a jet-pack so we could fly or special X-ray glasses which would allow us to read minds. I picked the specs in a heartbeat, and my fantasy of having constant, real-time feedback about what people were thinking about me only grew more intoxicating over time. If I had that, Id be effectively immune from shame and rejection, which by my late teenage years, I had experienced enough to last a lifetime. Enough to convince me that there was something rotten at my core. Something that, as soon as anyone got close to me, acted like a reverse magnet, propelling them away. I wasnt sure what it was. I couldnt tell if I was too much, not enough, or somehow, paradoxically, both. The not-knowing made it even harder to accept.

I hadnt always felt so toxic. When I was younger, I had a near magical ability with my petite frame, my rosy cheeks and my bookishness to wrap grown-ups around my little finger. But when I went to secondary school, I hit a roadblock. Someone had rudely moved the goalposts without notifying me. If smarts and studiousness had hitherto served me well, they were now my downfall. Instead, well-applied make-up, an apathetic demeanour and popularity with boys were the keys to the top of the social ladder. I, unfortunately, was small, stumpy, with limp, unstyled hair. Evidently, I had peaked too soon.

So, I rearranged the furniture of my personality in an effort to protect myself, hiding the pieces I thought were repellent and adopting whichever traits seemed to earn others affirmation. I became like a Rubiks cube, twisting to suit every palette, to ensure maximum appeal and minimum conflict. But with each turn, the creak was a little louder, the rub a little more painful: it was obvious that I was playing a part and so I never ended up feeling like I belonged. I was always the one having to prove myself. The butt of the joke. The more people noticed my thin skin, the more they jabbed and prodded at it.

Tired of being exposed as a fraud and left behind, I wanted as much distance as possible from all the selves I had tried to be. There was one makeover left to try. One part of my personality that had been a constant which I could shed, to see if that was what had been the deal-breaker all along: my appetite. I was known for being unreserved around food: a whole loaf of bread for lunch, a family-sized chocolate bar after school, and ordering whatever came with chips and gravy when we went out to eat. I didnt think twice about it. Until now.