Energy

Alan touched my life
and gave me energy,
gave me hope,
pushed at boundaries
I had once accepted.

Then I walked ahead
into the unknown.

Alan had to stop.
Work, life, everything else
needed his energy too.

But I kept moving.

I performed at Pontio,
made people listen —
really listen —
and take note.

I published a book,
The Biennial Beginning,
and inside its pages
I thanked Voicebox,
Gig Buddies,
and Alan too.

Now I’m standing here,
without him beside me,
telling a room
what having him there
allowed me to become.

I’m trying not to fade.

I’m not a one-and-done person.
I’ll have another Gig Buddy,
Alan and I will still be friends,
and I’ll still write
what I see,
what I don’t,
and everything in between.

But lately,
I’m struggling for energy.

Mental energy.
Physical energy.

The journey here today
took hours, not minutes.

And when you have a disability,
hours cost more than hours.

Every train,
every change,
every unfamiliar place,
every moment of concentration
takes something from the battery.

Perhaps that’s what I miss most.

Not Alan himself —
he’s still my friend —
but the energy we created together.

The push to go somewhere new.
The confidence to try.
The feeling that someone
was walking beside me.

I can keep going alone.
I have proved that.

But keeping going
and feeling energised
are not quite the same thing.

One day,
another Gig Buddy will walk beside me.

They won’t replace Alan.
They shouldn’t.

But perhaps they’ll bring
a different kind of energy,
a new push,
another beginning.

Because all of this takes energy.

And sometimes,
the people beside us,
and the tools around us,
help us find the energy
we already had.