I’ve edited together a few clips from ‘How to Run Away,’ which was one of the winners of the New Wave Theatre scriptwriting opportunity to perform for three nights at the Bloomsbury Festival, October 2023 in London. We also received Arts Council Funding to produce the show.
Some of the audience feedback included:
“I laughed, shed tears and loved the passion in Lucy’s storytelling.”
“I was absolutely amazed by this show. I was totally mesmerised and fascinated by the storytelling and the dancing was fantastic.”
And in case you missed it… here’s the interview that Betty and I recorded with Bloomsbury Radio in September, ahead of the performances at the Bloomsbury Festival. Along with a few more snaps taken by the very talented at Will Gillham Headshots.
This is a slightly unusual post, but 2022 started with a bang (quite literally).
….
Yesterday, 10th Jan 2023, I was at the hospital. I felt tears welling up as I lay on the hospital bed.
“Are you ok?” they asked. “I’m good,” I squealed, as I felt the pain surge through my pelvis.
This has become a familiar situation for me. Gynaecological appointments always take an excruciatingly long time.
….
Throughout 2021, I’d had lots of odds symptoms: excessive bloating, bleeding at irregular times, constipation, constant pain. In September, I’d finished my two-year teaching contract and went to work as part of the animation team in a hotel; thinking this is a nice, fun job for six months. A good place to make the move back into the performance world.
I collapsed within three weeks. I was home a week later and in A + E.
It turned out I had an endometrioma (ovarian cyst filled with blood) on my right ovary. It was stuck to my bowel. My left ovary was stuck to the fossa. My tubes were twisted, my uterus retroverted and adhesions all over my pelvis. Surgery took about three hours. And as it turns out, my cervix curves off to one side.
I was genuinely terrified I wouldn’t dance again. And at a minimum, I wouldn’t be able to teach and travel again. I thought, I’ve got too many projects and ideas to be ill and stuck at home. And also, vainly, I didn’t want scars across my stomach, not when I was just about to start wearing bedlahs.
I rushed back to Cairo, which on reflection was a massively bad idea. But I did manage to improve my balance, fitness and ability fairly fast. I was offered 6 dance jobs (without much effort on my part) and I couldn’t take them. As much as I wanted to, I knew I’d crash and burn badly. Managing pain is ok when you’ve been in a career for a while, but starting out, you need huge amounts of energy and resilience, which I didn’t have at that moment.
What is frustrating is I am a go-getter. Without my pelvic problems, I am a naturally very positive and chilled person. Most of my mood changes come from my hormone fluctuations, fatigue and pelvic pain. I need a bucket of coffee in the morning to get me going.
It’s also hard to explain it to people. Everyone assumes that post surgery, everything is fine. But I have a period every month and I have to take huge amounts of self-care to ensure I can manage my day-to-day life. And I’m terrified of dating. It’s a lot to ask of someone.
It always feels ironic that I belly dance. I’ve had to accept that over the course of one month, my stomach can go from being tight and toned with precise movements to hugely bloated and it isn’t anything to worry about. That sometimes I can do certain movements and sometimes I can’t. And that I need regular rest. The fatigue can at times feel overwhelming. I’ve had to accept that I have regular pain and that despite my best efforts and constantly trying different medicine and holistic techniques, I will end up in hospital again before the menopause.
I’ve also had to accept I can’t have children (please don’t try and convince me it’s still possible). The thing is, I’ve spent 15 years working with young people, and I’m really good with kids, but I never wanted my own children. I’ve always wondered if that was my body acknowledging that it isn’t possible. Of course, in modern Britain, lots of people don’t have children. But it’s having the choice taken away from you and the consequential feeling of being lost. Knowing how to create a role for yourself in society and understanding where you can share all the love that would have been poured into them. I can feel the tears come up as I write that.
I rushed back to Egypt in February, two months after surgery and I really shouldn’t have done. And the universe agreed. I was violently sexually assaulted on the street.
For a month, I went into ‘I’m completely fine’ mode. And then I completely shut down after that. I was filled with so much anger. I realised I had to go home and really recover from everything, physically and mentally. And it has done me the world of good.
Something in my mind has changed. I’ve become more resilient. Things that terrified me before, don’t seem as scary. And I’ve put so many boundaries in place.
I’ve also discovered side hustles. I was determined to find activities I can do if I can’t move and have to sit in bed. I can write well. I set up my blog. I did a write your own one woman show course with Jane Postlewaite and completed my first script. It has won the New Wave theatre writing grant to perform at the Bloomsbury Festival 2023 in London. I’m also just about to start stand-up comedy – at least I can perform that, even if I’m in crippling pain. You can still sit on a stage and tell a joke. Jokes can be written anywhere (and it seems for me only between 10pm and 1am).
If I can belly dance, with a pelvic which fluctuates in size and is in near constant physical pain. You can do anything. I really mean it, don’t give up on anything. Step by step. And ignore everyone that criticises you. I’ve realised, so many people don’t like it when other people shine. Keep showing support for them, even when it isn’t returned. Only take advice from people you pay for their mentorship and teaching. You’re paying them for their trusted opinion.
When I get back to Cairo, I will start stretch classes again. I wanted to learn to do the splits and back bends last year. I dance much better and my balance is improved, but I’ve realised it’s actually important for me in terms of keeping my body going. Releasing the pressure on my pelvis. With endo, you have to learn about your body in ways you wouldn’t normally bother with.
If you have, what the NHS would describe as a chronic illness, you are incredibly strong. To get up every day and go to work, socialise, have a family, manage daily tasks. The constant searching for new techniques, the loss of income. It takes so much strength to do that and to keep picking yourself up when you feel you hit rock bottom again.
So, although it feels like déjà vu and I’ve gotta repeat my dance training again. 2023 is my year.
Hello everyone and welcome to my new blog. About six years ago I had a blog called the ceramics apprentice, where I charted my journey into ceramics and pottery – I loved it, it was quite niche, but ceramics is expensive and I had to go get a ‘proper’ job. But we’ll slip some pottery into the blog along the way. One of my first activities when I move to a country is to find the potteries and learn some new skills and about the local ceramics industry.
I’m an English teacher, an artist and bellydancer, who frequently runs away to experience different countries and cultures. Right now, I divide most of my time between the UK and Egypt. I’m also in the process of producing my first one woman show ‘How to Run Away,’ which will be performed in 2023 and 2024 initially in London.
My hopes for this blog are to chart my own journeys and activities in a diary form, reflecting on my experiences in different places and learning new creative skills. I will also write travel guides and advice for people who want to see the world, but on a tight budget. Working in the arts, I’ve always worked pretty low paid jobs and I’ve mastered the art of doing a lot for very little, and living the high life on a shoe string, so I hope to share some tips along the way! I’ve also always been about ‘living’ a country, rather than being a ‘touristic spectator.’
I will also keep the diary, because I don’t always go to places I would describe as ‘destinations.’ Sometimes, I go to places that are difficult and challenging – most recently Ukraine, where I worked for two weeks teaching English at a camp. It really was an experience and valuable to share, but, understandably, not somewhere I’d encourage others to go to right now.
The Bellydancing Backpacker 