Categories
memories The Power of Belief

The Power of Belief: Miriam Drori

Yes, this week, I’m going to tell a story of my own, partly to show that this series doesn’t have to be about writing and you don’t have to be “a writer” to join in. The story doesn’t even have to be true; it can be one you made up, or one you read or watched on a screen.

For A-level, I took Pure Maths, Applied Maths and Music. I spent two years studying those subjects, but the teachers didn’t instil in me any belief in my abilities. There was one girl who was brilliant at Maths and always going to get straight As, and others who were clever. I was mediocre and mostly ignored. In Music lessons, I was the only pupil. I struggled with that and never shined in the lessons. My homework, in all subjects, suffered from my lack of self-confidence.

My father, who was a Maths teacher, wanted to help me. He was disappointed when I refused his help, but it didn’t seem right that he should do my homework for me. However, when lessons and homework finished and we were given time to revise before the final exams, I let him go through the whole syllabus with me, and that made all the difference. Suddenly, it all became clear and I knew that I could do this stuff.

I ended up doing extremely well in the exams, surprising myself and everyone else except for my father – or so he said. He hadn’t helped with Music, but I think that extra confidence spilled over into that subject. Also, I was conscious that the teacher wouldn’t see what I’d written in this external exam. This made me feel free to express my thoughts, uninhibited by her potential comments.

Belief produced results that took me to university, where I didn’t excel, but I did have a good time, meeting some lovely people with whom I’m still in contact.

About Miriam

Miriam Drori survived growing up in the UK and now enjoys her life in Israel (although she misses the UK and is looking forward to being able to visit again). Following careers in computer programming and technical writing, she now writes mostly fiction. Her next novel, Style and the Solitary, launches on 26th April.

Miriam is passionate about raising awareness of social anxiety. Not all her writing includes it, but she never fails to mention it in her bio and elsewhere.

Miriam’s Links

Facebook, Twitter, Amazon and many other places, including this website.

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Next week’s post in this series will be from… you, whoever comes first. Remember, belief doesn’t have to be connected to writing, and these posts don’t even have to be about true stories.

If you want to take part, do let me know via Contact above or social media.

Categories
Books Social anxiety

Spreading the Word

I’m looking for places to give more talks about Social Anxiety in the UK during the first half of March. Because everyone should know about it but so few do.

Maybe you belong to a social group where they’d be interested. Or you have connections with a library, college, uni, school or…. The possibilities are endless.

I will be there anyway to lead an NUT workshop and to give talks.

Cover
Social Anxiety Revealed

Categories
Reunions

Reunions II: To every reunion there is a different reaction

I’ve been to three reunions altogether. Each time I was left with a different feeling, although two of the reunions were mostly with the same people.

The first one was with people from my secondary school. (That’s high school in the US. Maybe even in Britain now – I don’t know.) I spent seven years at that all-girls’ school – from age 11 to age 17 – and when I left I didn’t want any connection with any of those girls. It was that bad. And so it would have remained if it weren’t for the Internet and getting in touch with four lovely women who happened to be former colleagues. These women, via numerous emails, helped me to come to terms with the events of the long-distant past. It wasn’t that I blamed them or any of the girls at school; just that I wanted to block it all out. But, as I’ve said before, I think that was a mistake.

Anyway, the four all invited me to stay in their homes before the reunion, and by the day of the reunion, I wasn’t feeling too nervous about it. The event turned out to be very enjoyable and the best part of it, for me, was that everyone there treated me as a normal person – as opposed to our school years when they didn’t, as I remember. Actually, the hardest part was the conversation between those four and me after the reunion, which foreshadowed the subsequent reunion, but I ignored that and revelled in my feelings about the main event.

My next reunion was at my college of London University. It brought back memories of living in the impressive Victorian building, but not many memories of the students. In fact, in contrast to the people I went to school with, hardly any of the former students were familiar to me – apart from the few I’d kept in contact with. So the reunion was enjoyable but disappointing. I decided to give the next reunion, to be held this month, a miss.

The third reunion, again of my school, left me feeling very different from the way I felt after the first one, despite the fact that most of the participants had been at the first one, and they were all just as pleasant. We sat around a table and remembered our shared past, as one does at reunions. And I realised that we didn’t really share a past. That I didn’t remember the things they remembered, and they didn’t remember the things I remembered. And also, that the things I remembered were things they probably didn’t want to hear. They wanted to talk about the fun times and I didn’t remember any, because I wasn’t part of them.

So, it seems I’ve had my fill of reunions. How about you? From the comments to my previous post, I see I’m not alone.

Categories
Uncategorized

Time Limitations

The magazine of my university college arrived yesterday. My son can’t understand why I want to read about the place where I studied for just three years so many years ago. But I am interested. I like to read about current activities at the college, and about alumni and how they’ve fared since leaving the college. I also glance at the “In memoriam” section and was saddened this time to recognize two names: one who lectured me although he wasn’t much older than I and one who studied with me. The section also included some who had only just completed their studies.

Until recently, all those of my generation in my family were still alive. Sadly, three first cousins have since passed away.

Apart from feelings for the people whose lives were cut off, this also reminds me that time doesn’t stop. It’s not enough to have goals; they have to be fulfilled.