2018 - A Year Survived

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!

A Week of Anxiety

Hi Everyone



I mentioned in yesterday's post that it had been a bit of a mare of a week, and to be honest, that's an understatement. I've had anxiety, migraines and sheer terror.   But I'm still standing.


Staying standing is quite the achievement.   Anxiety is paralysing, and scares the crap out of you.  All you want to do is hide under the duvet, or stop the world so that you can jump off.  Cruel fact - the only way to escape anxiety is to plough through it and confront the very thing that terrifies you.   As Winston Churchill said, when you're going through hell, keep going.



I find with my anxiety that the worst moments are before I keep going.   It's when I'm paralysed, incapable of action, mind spiralling on all the hideous possibilities that might await me.   Usually, once I've taken the first step, I'm "fine".   Not ok, but it feels like control starts to trickle back.


I liken this moment to the scene at the end of Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade where he has to cross that massive chasm to get to the Holy Grail.  There is no bridge, no walkway, no obvious way to "keep going", so he has to take a leap of faith.  And the moment he lifts his foot in the air and plants it down, a path appears.



Anxiety has so much in common with this. We stand on the edge of that chasm, paralysed, no way of getting across, terrified to get across, scared of staying put, getting more and more frantic.   We then do something that Matt Haig calls "catastrophising", where we imagine the worst possible outcome to our situation, or rather, the only possible outcome IS the worst possible outcome.



My terror this week came from knowing my tenancy is up for renewal, and it will only be renewed if I pass the next house inspection.  I had suggested a date for this in a couple of weeks time, to give me chance to get everything ship-shape (one of the realities of living with mental health issues is that it's hard to summon the energy for washing up and scrubbing floors; plus, Crumpets are not naturally tidy creatures).   That night, I panicked.  It's one of the worst terrors I've ever had.   It went something like this ....

what if they don't agree to my date

oh god, what if they say they're coming this weekend

well that doesn't give me enough time

the house will never be tidy enough

I won't pass the inspection

they won't renew the tenancy

they'll kick me out.  

I can't just move somewhere else because I don't have the spare cash to fund a deposit and the referencing fees

and fuck me, I certainly don't have the energy to pack everything up

oh my god I'm going to be homeless

Beth will have to go and live with her father

I'll end up sleeping in my car

I might as well die



See, from simple situation to suicide in a single bound.  And that's what it's like inside The Bell Jar. However, this week, there WAS a difference, and I credit Matt Haig (again) with this.   In his amazing book, Notes on a Nervous Planet, he talks about how we consume ourselves with worrying about a million different possibilities, when actually only one thing is true and real - the here and now.


So, too scattered to eat or think or do anything, I went to bed early with my trusty Radio 5 Live (if I listen to other voices, I can't hear my own.)    I snuggled down to sleep (even though it was only 8pm, mentally I was exhausted).   I felt my mind lean towards the terror, addicted.   I reminded myself there was nothing I could do, and worrying would not help.   I focussed very much on my breathing, and after about 20 minutes of repeating this, I managed to fall asleep.

It's taken me 30 years to learn this.



Anxiety feeds off us.  It feed off our powerlessness, making us more powerless as a result.  The only way to defeat it is to starve it.  Now, not for a minute am I pretending that's an easy thing to do, but you have to learn to indulge it a little, so that you can then triumph over it.  It's a little like the dieter who can stick to the diet if they have one small square of chocolate a day.   In the past, I've been made redundant (wow, you can imagine the catastrophising THAT produced), and in both cases, I allowed myself 1 day to wallow.  To succumb to the tears, the anger, the fear, the need to hide under the duvet.   I made a deal.   I would do this for one day, and then I would get up and solve the problem.



It worked for me, I can't say if it will work for you, but the hardest thing (and it's also the only thing) is to try and find a way to exercise power over a controlling beast, even though you're at your weakest.  Knowing your enemy, naming your enemy, is step 1.


Step 2 and beyond, that's what some of us spend a lifetime learning.


Sending you love and a massive hug if you've had a bad week too.

Hello Autumn, Goodbye Mental Health

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.