Hi Everyone
So here we are, on the cusp of a New Year. I don't believe in the New Year, New Me bollocks, but I do enjoy the looking back and seeing how far I've come (or not) and what that means for the path ahead.
2018 really tried to do me in. It's been a year of challenges, but crucially, a year of survival. It's been a year where depression got lonely, and invited anxiety in as an unruly housemate, and at times this year, that anxiety has been pure terror. Mentally, I've had some of my worst times this year, but I've also learnt more about how to manage it.
For me, control is quite important. Well, very important. Some of the worst times in my life have been when I've been stuck, whilst the best have been when I've been fearless and free. Money is integral to that, and the last few years have taken a huge toll on me financially - if I could do it all again, I definitely would.
Each month became a financial cringe. Anxiety about my bank balance left me on a constant seesaw - what was worse, not looking and not knowing, or looking and hating what I saw? I became adept at playing the system (use your credit card before the interest goes on to get a little extra spend out of it) but eventually the margins became tighter and tighter. It was time to grow up.
So finally, properly, I am living on a budget, with no credit cards. And it's terrifying. There is no spare cash for all those lovely little extras that make life fun, and without a partner or savings, there is no safety net either. Bills increase every month and I haven't had a pay rise in 2 years. I like that I am surviving, but I hate how scary it is.
Money has caused me a lot of anxiety this year, and as I said, that anxiety has often been pure terror. I spiral quickly from financial concern to homelessness, and it's sometimes taken every ounce of the little mental strength I have left to keep my mind under control.
Key to my mental survival this year has been Matt Haig, who wrote a brilliant book called Notes On A Nervous Planet. It's full of truth, perspective and illumination, all in small chapters that the scattered mind can absorb. It's taught me a lot about myself, particularly destructive thought patterns that I didn't realise I had. I recommend it to everyone.
Beth continues to be the centre of my world and a reminder of how fragile the world can make us. Her teenage challenges are so much more acute than they were in "my day" and I'm really glad I'm not part of her over-digitised generation. She's probably needed more parenting this year than ever before - but I think we've laughed more too. Parenthood is a proactive thing. We can't just let our child loose in this world and hope they will be okay. Yes, allow them freedom, but be concerned and interested in their travels. And more importantly, CARE.
I also had an epiphany late in the year. The last 10 years of my life have been tough, certainly not the years I envisaged for myself, and I've realised that I have been so focussed on survival that I have forgotten to focus on LIVING. I'm going to write about this separately because it's such a big topic, but I've become so lost in the struggle, that I literally stopped seeing the wood for the trees. And the wood can be so pretty, and magical. And my trees had thorns.
We all make mistakes in life, and we all fail sometimes. In fact, it's crucial. Without failing, we don't learn. As you look back on 2018, be kind to yourself. By all means identify your mistakes, reflect on them, and learn from them, but DON'T beat yourself up about them. They are what will shape the YOU you become in 2019 and beyond.
See you in 2019!
Hi Everyone
Sooooo, in the UK we were recently gripped by Bodyguard, a fab thriller on BBC1. That ended 4 weeks ago and a new series started - The Cry. From the trailers, it looked mesmerising - a child goes missing - with haunting echoes of Madeleine McCann, the dingo baby and a thousand other awful stories.
What I wasn't prepared for, was that the series would start with the nightmare of new motherhood, and specifically post-natal depression (and don't worry, there are no spoilers in this post.) It's one of the very first times I can remember PND being portrayed so accurately in a drama, and for me, as a survivor, most of that accuracy comes from how it is *under*played.
Post natal depression isn't some big blasting melodrama; it's the very opposite - silence, absence of self, a desire for everything to just fade away. We can be functional or semi-functional on the surface, but inside we're shitting ourselves, waiting to be found out, feeling useless and just wanting that baby to stop crying.
Jenna Coleman's portrayal is spot on. It's in the little moments. It's when she's so sick of the baby crying, she locks him in the bedroom and turns up the TV so that she doesn't have to keep hearing that DAMN noise. It's the filthy look she shoots her husband as he slumbers blissfully and she absorbs all the stress. It's the way she lies to a friend about loving motherhood, when every fibre of her being screams otherwise.
I hated new motherhood. Not going to lie. Hated it. I felt out of control (not a control freak's favourite modus operandi), hopelessly unprepared, thrown in, and worst, alone. I had no nearby family, no nearby friends. I am an only child so babies weren't something I'd ever been around. And the day after I got home from hospital, my husband went back to work.
I was terrified. I used to the count the minutes down, to prove that I was getting through. I had no clue what to do with the baby between meal times. I didn't want to leave the house, but I didn't want to be stuck inside either. And oh, I so badly wanted to run away.
The isolation of early motherhood is extreme. You are thrown completely out of yourself and into an existence you are completely unprepared for. You live only to serve the baby-tyrant, and if you're not naturally maternal, there's not a lot of joy to be had in this phase. I am so thrilled for all the mums out there who enjoy motherhood, but for some of us, it's a struggle, as alien as trying to juggle knives without stabbing ourselves.
I see myself in the moments where the husband, as hero, and after he is glutted with sleep, takes the baby and tells Jo to get some sleep. What a joke. In a state of stress and fever-pitch anxiety, we can't just go "oh ok" and switch off - although men, maddeningly, can. Even when we are given help, it's hard to take the time back for yourself, to repair yourself, because PND has taken you so far away from yourself that it takes a long long time to travel back.
When the baby is taken in The Cry, Jo barely reacts. She stands, not quite comprehending what is happening, as the husband-hero goes into rescue mode. Her disconnection from the world is profound and this is the kicker - the mother terrorised by PND doesn't know what's just come true, her worst nightmare, or her dream.
For a split second, for Jo, the trauma is over. The crying has stopped. The tyranny is over. It's as if a tumour has been removed. She's still too stunned to speak and react, and her lack of emotion scares others, and implies her guilt. But how do you convey that although you would do anything to get your baby back, you're secretly relieved to have this breather? That secretly, a version of this is what you've wanted since you came home from the hospital?
One final point. At some point in the future, Jo is asked how she got through it. She tells us she remembered she used to be strong. Motherhood can slay anybody. It is all-consuming and never-ending. In the process, most of us lose ourselves (some willingly, some not). We step out of our own lives and into the life of our baby, and each day it gets harder to step back. We become absent from our own lives, and our own selves. We forget who we were. But when we remember, the strength comes back to save us.
Post natal depression is akin to suffering a trauma. Those of you who have never felt this way may feel this is an exaggeration, but I promise you it's not. It's a profound place of shock, sadly with very little awe. If you have any of these symptoms, please see a doctor -
* struggling to get out of bed
* lack of personal hygiene - not showering, getting dressed
* not eating
* resentful of your partner
* wanting to escape
And if you can, these are the best ways to get through it -
* see a doctor. I know not everyone likes medication, but it can help and it helped me
* accept absolutely every offer of help and support - don't say no!
* if you're on your own, invite people round. Being less alone will ease the struggle for a little while
* time-keeping. I was a control freak. Counting down to when I next had to feed Beth / take her to the doctors / bathe her, helped me get through the minutes LITERALLY 1 AT A TIME
* don't be ashamed to tell people how you feel. The myth of motherhood as something that completes us and gives us nothing but joy is just that - a myth. Tell people how you feel and you'll not only feel less alone, you'll find out some of them felt that way too.
Love.
Well hello!
This week, we crept into autumn. For most of my life, it's been my favourite season - the tumble of leaves, the kaleidoscope of colours, the blessed relief of cooler temperatures and (yes, I was that child), the excitement of going back to school.
Autumn always felt like the season that matched my soul. In many ways it was like the rebirth of my year (echoes of back to school, I think) and I used to adore the slow, thrilling slide towards Christmas and all things darker (including the season of the witch).
Nearly 20 years ago that all changed when my mother died, and now, Autumn is just a long, drawn out, painful echo of everything I lost when she died, and it puts me in a 4 month funk that is really hard to break. It leaves me weak, and depression gleefully sneaks into my cracks.
So why specifically does Autumn break me? Well, for a start the Autumn Equinox is on September 23rd, my mother's birthday. It's like the very shift of the season rings a death bell and peels the scab off my loss. It's September 23rd, welcome to absence.
Then the nights begin to darken, the days get shorter,and the mornings arrive in a shroud of gloom. Some days, it's very hard to get out of bed and greet the dark, especially when you know that for 3 solid months, it's just going to get darker every day. And suddenly, just like that, my mood syncs with the season, and each day gets darker, duller, drearier.
I used to laugh at people who claimed they had SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), but do you know what? These days, I love spring. I crave the crawl towards April and the moment the days get brighter and lighter - and I mean lighter in both senses of the word. It's as if the greater stamina of the sun lifts my soul.
So on we trawl through autumn, days getting darker, and markers of death at every turn - grandparents no longer here, relationships that ripped me to pieces, last memories of my mother. It all accumulates. Every day on dark roads filled with wankers and potholes, I feel I dodge my death as I travel back and forth to work. Me and the A1 and darkness, it's a combination which scares the crap out of me.
And then it's December 3rd, the anniversary of the day my mother died, and when my life changed forever. I didn't just lose a parent. I lost a best friend, a soulmate, a sounding board - my sanity. As the years have passed, this day passes more easily, but occasionally there will be a little pyschic hiccup to remind me of the pain.
What keeps me going at this point is that we're only 3 weeks from the Winter Solstice, the official shortest, darkest day. Once we hit here, I know it gets better. Everything will begin to lift and lighten ... as long as I get through Christmas.
Christmas used to bring me so much pleasure. Decorating the tree, picking exciting presents, drinking snowballs, driving people mad with my impatience. All that changes when you get divorced and you no longer get to have the child every Christmas. Even though you didn't choose to separate, you get to pay the price, and who wants to sit alone in a house where Christmas mocks you?
So I no longer do Christmas. Of course I buy gifts for the daughter, but I don't do the hoopla. It's pretty much like any other week in our house. I can't even be arsed with Christmas music anymore - they represent a happiness that is no longer mine, and frankly, they just piss me off.
So on Christmas Day, we eat what we want. One year we had sausage and mash, another year, curry (I'm not a fan of roasts). We treat ourselves, but non-traditionally, and as for Beth, well she gets the whole hoopla at the other house, so she's fine. And once Christmas is gone, (and the icy death trap roads are clear) things get easier. I know I'm past the worst, and soon Spring will be here.
So how am I today? Well, scattered. Scattered is my first stage symptom, where it's a battle to keep my mind on track, fearless, and WHOLE. It's when it gets hard to focus, do stuff and COMMIT to living (and I don't mean that not committing to living means wanting to die; no,it means wanting to do nothing).
But today I am a little brighter than yesterday (hence why there was no blog post yesterday), and with each year that passes I understand more how to keep myself on an even keel. Anxiety however, doesn't like to be left out, so currently my stomach is in knots waiting to get my car through it's MOT and the house through its inspection, and the extension of my tenancy.
But Matt Haig has helped. I've mentioned his book, Notes on a Nervous Planet, so often, but it's almost a form of medicine. My car gets MOT'd on Wednesday. Sat here on Sunday, there is NOTHING I can do to affect that outcome. I need to enjoy the moment until the moment changes, and not worry about it 1 second before. Of course that is sooooooooo much easier said than done, but at least I recognise it now, and I can try and keep the panic in the box.
Now for those of you who actually see me on a daily basis, you probably won't notice any change in me. One of the things about depression - we are MASTERS at having a game face. We're actors. We know how to cover the cracks externally whilst we're weeping and bleeding on the inside.
So, autumn. Bit shit. Christmas, can't be arsed. But soon, soon it will be Spring. And the darkest hour is ALWAYS before dawn.
Hi Everyone
Last week, I had a week off from work, and it was everything I needed it to be. I had started to become a bit frazzled, and by the Thursday of last week I realised I was completely and utterly relaxed and stress free, so much so in fact, that getting back to work this week has been a real struggle, something like waking up (slowly) from a blissful coma.
So, how on earth did I manage it, this Holy Grail of what we all would like a week off to be? I've only ever once felt this relaxed in my life, after a week in Ireland where life is lived ... differently.
Firstly, I made no plans or commitments. Often, when we have time off, we stuff it with all the things we don't get to do when we're too busy working - seeing friends, trips away, amusing the children, shopping. I had just 3 things to do - go to the hairdressers (hardly a chore), go for a check up the hospital (nicely booked for mid-week) and go for blood tests at the doctors (a 30 minute round trip). So really, pretty much nothing, and in my head it felt like just one thing required any effort - that mid-week trip to the hospital.
ALL THE OTHER TIME WAS FOR ME TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANTED ... even if that was nothing.
I think one of the very important things about relaxation is that it has to be focused on YOU. You can't relax if you're running the kids around, tidying the house, ticking things off a list. YOU HAVE TO UNPLUG COMPLETELY.
So each morning when I woke up, I had no plans. I had vague things I thought I might want to do, but nothing concrete. No pressure. No commitments. No "if I don't do this I will verbally abuse myself for being a loser".
One of the most frustrating things about my depression is my difficulty reading. However, I learnt this month that if the book is about something I am OBSESSED about, diving into it, DROWNING in it, does not seem to be a problem! These last few weeks, lots of things have been happening about Sylvia Plath, and I actually managed to read 3 whole books relating to her or her life.
Reading is one of the best remedies in life. As is writing, I find. It's total immersion, and the best way to escape your real world anxieties, which is why I am so bitter that reading is often not an option for me. Sharing someone ELSE'S head space is crucial for rebalancing and countering yourself, and the other thing what worked here was Matt Haig's Notes On A Nervous Planet.
There will be a whole blog post devoted to that book at some point, but early in my week off, one evening, I sat and finished the last 150 pages of it, and at the end I felt calm, cleansed and recentred. It was almost a holy experience, and I think it's responsible for much of the calm I'm still feeling now.
Cooking. I am obsessed with food, love it, and given unlimited financial means, I would eat out every single night (and lunch .... and breakfast lol). I also enjoy cooking, and one of the things I often use time off for is to cook things I don't necessarily get the time to cook or experiement with in a normal week. Last week I perfected my chicken satay noodles, and as I always batch cook, it kept me happy through 6 lovely meals.
Netflix et al. It can sometimes feel like stolen time, but there is very little quite as decadent as waking up, snuggling down in bed, and devouring a whole box set over the course of that day, never leaving said amazing bed except to pee and eat. I devoted a whole day to The Sinner, watching it in one great big greedy gulp - and loving it. I caught up on Bodyguard and a load of other great new TV programmes and came out the other side ... chilled, my head less full of me, and in a more leisurely frame of mind.
What was interesting is that in having no fixed agenda, I probably got more done than if I'd had a list of things. I actually DID tidy the house. I actually DID do several loads of washing. I actually DID do a lot of decluttering. But because there was no pressure to do so, no obligation to myself, it was easier to CHOOSE to do it, and then feel smug about it afterwards lol.
There was really only one thing I did differently last week - I made sure I kept my normal sleep pattern. My natural body clock would have me fall asleep somewhere around 1 or 2 am and wake up at about 10 or 11. It only takes 2 or 3 days out of my normal routine for my body to find its way back to its preferred pattern.
Last week I made the conscious effort to still go to bed at my normal bedtime (10pm), thus ensuring I would be awake most days by about 8am. Did it make a difference? I think it did. I think we're more inclined to "do stuff" when we have the WHOLE day ahead of us. When you don't roll out of bed til 2pm, it's hard to muster much enthusiasm for anything other than more yawning and more chilling. It's about balance.
So here's your Top Tips if you really want to relax -
1. Don't make too many plans or commitments, you need FREE TIME
2. Know what makes you happy, and make sure you spend plenty of time doing this.
3. Be selfish. It's YOUR free time, so why should you spend it on someone else?
4. Get plenty of sleep. Sleep is key to a healthy mind.
5. Be kind to yourself. Don't have expectations or heap as much pressure on yourself as you would at work. When you have a week off, there is only ONE objective - to relax. Piling the pressure on, or running around after other people is not going to help that.
I'm a big advocate of being selfish to maintain my mental health. That doesn't mean I'm a shitbag to other people, but it does mean I prioritise MY needs and MY mental health above what other people need from me. Obviously this rule has to be flexible where children are concerned, but if YOU'RE not going to look after you, then who is?
Next time you have some time off - DO NOTHING. Resist the temptation to win awards for Best Parent / Friend or Most Productive Individual. Trust me, your mind, body and soul will thank you for it.
