I had first entered the wizarding world by way of the Philosopher's Stone film, aged just 7. I lapped up the books, poring over each page and every individual word, reading them continuously until the next instalment was published. I pre-ordered the last three books, booked tickets to see the film adaptations, and even skived off school to see the Half-Blood Prince before anyone else. Harry Potter was a huge part of my life.
Although there were differences between the books and the films, I was happy. A world I had invested so much in was brought to life before my eyes, and for the most part they stayed true to the story and J.K. Rowling's vision.
I was also very shy. As a young child I had always been quick to hide behind my mother's legs when meeting someone new. In primary school I was too scared to put my hand up to even ask to go to the toilet, so much so that I had a few near-misses on numerous occasions. (... is that TMI?)
People sensed that weakness in me and bullied me for it. That coupled with the fact that I was a swot, made things pretty unbearable. But things would be alright as long as I could read or watch Harry Potter at the end of the day.
Thankfully I had teachers who discovered my strengths and encouraged them, and helped me to find myself. I left primary school with a small group of friends, feeling happy and excited about moving on to secondary school. However, as it turns out, not all secondary schools are as accepting or encouraging as Hogwarts.
I became quite ill in my second year. I was diagnosed with pleurisy, an inflammation of the lungs, and was forced to take a number of weeks off from school. I've always had weak lungs. Starting with whooping cough aged 3, I was diagnosed with chest infections multiple times every year, and asthma plagued my life, so illness wasn't unfamiliar to me. But having pleurisy made things so much worse.
I now know I developed social anxiety over that time. I was bedridden and had very limited social interaction. When I finally went back to school, people were eager to know why I had been absent for so long, and that terrified me.
It seemed to me that in the time I was off school, people had moved on. They had formed new friendships. I felt like an outsider in all things.
Whereas before I was occasionally off school thanks to a cheeky asthma attack during the night, now I found myself being unable to face anybody at all. The questioning looks or accusing glares from teacher and student alike was too much for me.
Of course, it's a cruel cycle of events, because I knew I would have endure this when inevitably I went back. It became far easier to say my asthma had flared up than to explain that I simply couldn't face people. It was a reliable excuse to me, but I imagine seemed disingenuous and unbelievable to other people.
Social anxiety is so much more than feeling awkward or uncomfortable around people. It's the fear of looking someone directly in the eye. It's your heart fluttering and sinking when you're home alone and the phone rings or someone knocks at the door. It's the never knowing quite what to say so saying nothing at all, knowing that the silence will deafen you too. It's the tight clenching knots in your stomach. It's the pain and bubbling in your temples like your brain is about to melt because you overthink and over-feel everything. And it is crippling.
Though I hated every minute, school was a safety-net in many ways, however. There was a routine, a structure to stick to, and so naturally I panicked once I left. I became a recluse, which is no exaggeration by any means. The fear of going outside was too much, so I just didn't.
My family really looked after me during that time. They were understanding (for the most part) and I see now how much they went out of their way to help me feel comfortable. Spontaneity was (and is) a great fear of mine. If I was required to go anywhere, I needed at least a few days to prepare myself for it or I was a no-show.
Family trips were easier. I would go with my sister to see touring productions of shows locally. Before long we'd venture down to London to see West End shows and concerts, because the city was the first place I'd felt at ease in public in a long time.
There's a certain anonymity about London, and I would frequently seek refuge in the hustle and bustle of busy people who wouldn't look twice at me in the street or smile at me on the Tube.
And then Cursed Child was announced.
Throughout the past few years when my anxiety was at its worst, Harry Potter was always there. I spent more time in that world than I did reality, which says a lot for J.K. Rowling's writing. The announcement of a theatrical production was like a dream to me.
I booked the tickets way back in October 2015, and my hype and excitement had only built up since then. I remember carefully watching Twitter on 7th June, the night of the first preview, for just a glimpse that my beloved world was in safe hands.
That night the official Cursed Child Twitter account tweeted a single photo; Cherrelle Skeete as Rose Granger-Weasley, who was about to be sorted. Seeing the house banners and the set for the first time settled my nerves somewhat, and I was content. And so I resumed counting down the weeks and days until I would finally see it.
There was something comforting about turning up to the Palace Theatre and immediately seeing people wearing robes and house scarves despite it being a warm afternoon. People were brandishing wands, Time-Turners and Deathly Hallows symbols hung around their necks, and they hugged the freshly-published script close to their chests. It was like going to Hogwarts for the first time.
Along with the entire audience, I whooped and clapped when the Sorting Hat introduced the show. It was a gentle reminder to turn off all Muggle devices, (we were in the quiet coach, after all) but the simplicity was powerful enough to transport us all straight onto the Hogwarts Express. Our journey was about to begin.
I braced myself, suddenly overwhelmed with fear that Harry Potter would not work on stage after all, but all panic and doubt subsided as soon as Harry appeared.
I knew instantly that Scorpius Malfoy was my new favourite character. It wasn't unusual for me to favour the underdog, the outcast or the pariah, or the one who was just a bit different, because I felt like that too. You always look for something to relate to. But something about Scorpius struck a very different chord with me.
In truth, it was like looking in the mirror. The general awkwardness and limited social skills were so familiar to me (not to mention the failed attempts at humour which do us absolutely no favours.) The fact that he's a massive mammy's boy is another thing. The loss of Astoria early on in the play resonated so powerfully with me, as I came within an inch of losing my own mother only a matter of years ago.
Anthony Boyle's portrayal of Scorpius really helped heal my heart. I wouldn't ever wish to sound trite, but it really changed my life. As a whole, the play helped me come to terms with a lot of my past experiences
Seeing Cursed Child and meeting a character like Scorpius for the first time was also the first time I felt truly represented. I'd have to be incredibly stupid or ignorant to assume there has ever been a fight for representation for people like myself. I am very much aware that there are more than enough white male protagonist characters out there, but seeing a character like Scorpius had a profound effect on me. Representation, on all levels, is so, so important, and Cursed Child really helped me to appreciate that.
I stage-doored for the first time that night. As the show was still in its early days, it was more than hectic, but the actors handled it all with grace. To have them sign my programme felt like a real honour.
I was desperate to see the show again, but living so far away and having limited resources was a struggle. I found and interacted with fellow fans on Twitter, and discovered a large amount of tickets went on-sale for the performances for the 25th January. I got the cheapest possible seats in the Balcony (ouch!) but I was just happy to be there and experience everything again. I even noticed things I hadn't on my previous visit.
I stage-doored again afterwards, where I was able to meet some of the people I'd interacted with on Twitter. It was daunting for me, but I knew they were huge fans too, and of course we'd just experienced the same magical show.
Everything snowballed from then on. I made more friends, and we shared and bonded over the play's success at the Olivier's. We shared our stories, our love for some characters and dislike for others, memes (so, so many memes) and just really had a laugh.
I helped set up @ScoroseUpdate, a since retired Twitter account where we'd report on Cherrelle Skeete's antics as Rose as she teased and flirted with Scorpius in Act 4, Scene 14. Interacting with her was a really fun experience.
Soon the question about cast change cropped up. Would I be able to go? Of course I wanted to, but there didn't seem to be tickets anywhere and the cost of travel and accommodation was extremely daunting. Then the #GetCallumToCursedChild campaign happened.
It started off as a joke, but ended up actually happening. My new friends offered to help pay for my ticket and the brilliant Caz offered up her sofa. That whole weekend was one of the best experiences of my life.
It's obvious to me that I was a very different person pre-Cursed Child, and the change I've seen in myself has been phenomenal. The play helped teach me a lot of things about myself, and my group of friends have helped bring me out of my shell as our friendship has progressed over the months. They're the most amazing people.
Before Cursed Child I had resigned myself to loneliness. It's taught me that I'm an alright person. I'm likeable. There are actually people out there who find me funny. There are people who appreciate and accept my flaws, and actually find them endearing.
So to answer the question, I go back to Cursed Child because of it's warmth, it's ability to transform and transfigure people into better, stronger people. It's all about finding the family who love and care enough to bring out the best in you, and that's what Cursed Child is to me. Family.
No comments:
Post a Comment