Help, I need somebody.

This week I have been sharing blog posts that I have written about Mental Health Awareness Week. I had one all written for today which I was going to publish tonight. I logged in to update it and somehow it just vanished. I thought I had saved it, but nope it was gone. Those carefully crafted words that I was so pleased with and the nuggets of wisdom that I thought were so eloquent. Only this evening my heart just wasn't in it really.

Earlier this week I shared a missing person's report - something I never do usually. It was different this time, however because I knew Spencer. We first met through our shared experience of blogging. He was campaigning to persuade Amazon to stop selling a book that advocated beating your children to discipline them. I interviewed him on my radio show and a while later we met in person at a blogging event that we had taken our kids to. He was a lovely guy. We chatted about the Beatles, how we liked our tea the same colour and living and growing up in London.

We stayed in touch even after he moved up north to be with his lovely partner. They would listen to my radio show and contact me while I was on air to request songs and to tell me how much they were enjoying it. I loved knowing that they were listening. I hadn't seen Spencer since he moved to Barnsley. We stayed in touch via Twitter and I often asked how he was doing as he suffered chronic pain. He was struggling and I felt for him, but his humour was always intact in his public persona.

Then earlier this week I saw a tweet that showed his face on a missing person's report. He had distinctive blue eyes so you couldn't miss him really. I was really surprised, but I shared it on social media as he used to live in London. It was worth casting the net as wide as possible to encourage him to get in touch and say he was ok.

Today Spencer's partner K shared the tragic news that his body had been found. It was such a shock to all who knew him. It also reminded me that we had many conversations about depression and childhood spent living with an alcoholic parent. I cannot imagine how K is feeling right now, nor his beloved children. Is it any wonder that my words were lost. How do you express a loss that isn't yours, but that you feel connected with ?

The headlines I wanted to share about Mental Health Awareness Week are even more relevant in light of this. There are some recurring themes that come up whenever mental health is talked about:  

It is not shameful - and yet it is still so difficult to tell the truth about being depressed. Recently someone I trust talked about my being depressed as a justification for his own terrible behaviour. Had I been less broken he wouldn't have done what he did. So on top of my own mental health issues I now have to deal with the guilt of making life difficult for another person. As well as the judgement of those he told. They looked at me and said, "Well that makes sense now."

Be open and honest - ok so I write about it on here, but I've never spoken about it to my family. I don't want them to see me as weak or a failure. I already think that about myself why would I want other people to think it too ? Last year a friend said, "Talk to me about it. If I know I can try and understand." So I trusted him and told him about the anxiety that cripples my capacity for rational thought. I told him that my responses are impaired by my inability to tell actual threats from perceived ones. As things in my head became more complicated he eventually walked away. It was too much to expect any support. Should I just have pretended I was fine ?

Take care of yourself - when your self worth is non existent why would you think that you are worthy of self care ? Taking time for myself has always induced guilt. As if my own wellbeing is inconsequential. People can be so blasé about 'me time' and 'self care' as if it's as simple as going for a spa day. I'm finding ways to take care of myself, but they are things like going for a walk or a swim or a run. Space to just be.

So do I regret talking about mental health and letting people in ? I guess to a point it would have saved a friendship if I hadn't. It might have been less painful if I'd just carried on as if nothing was wrong. However my real friends reassure me and know that a hug is like magic when I'm struggling. They remind me that I am strong, determined and kind. When I surround myself with those who love me I feel like a warrior.

Tonight I raise a glass to Spencer and wish he had found a way that would have enabled him to still be here. I'm also thinking of K and hoping she has hugs and love to hold her through this pain.

I am so thankful for those who keep me going. You are precious and I am so lucky to have you.

I close my eyes... and press publish.

A few weeks ago I took off my wedding ring and engagement ring and put them away. The indent in my finger took a few days to wear off - I've worn them for 12 years so I guess it does take time. I've removed my married name from social media - all of my work and social contacts are in that name, so it's not like I can just change it overnight in every walk of life. A few people have been in touch to ask if this was a significant thing and to commiserate when I have told them.

Friends have been amazing - they have been there in person, by phone, by message and at every turn have told me that this is not my fault. I did not make this happen by being unwell, or angry or not attractive enough. I did not drive away someone who lied, cheated and betrayed me and my family. This is squarely at their feet, not mine. It is impossible, however, to feel entirely free of responsibility. After all if I wasn't such a horrible person why would it have happened ? Did I not care enough ? Am I not kind enough ? Was I not pretty enough ? Did I not do enough ? What is enough ?

I've been scared that I'd lose friends and loved ones by being so messed up for so long. I tried to apologise and save a relationship with someone I love very much. This person has borne the brunt of my unhappiness for a long time, so I spoke from the heart and bared my soul. Nope - it cut no ice. I was unceremoniously ditched. What was I expecting ? Well, a chance to explain. To say that this isn't me. It's the situation I'm in. Still, I guess ripping off the plaster has to be the way to do it.

You know how I've been talking about anxiety and depression for so long ? How I wasn't entirely sure why I was so ungrateful as to be unhappy when I have so much to be thankful for ? Turns out that my instincts that something wasn't quite right were spot on. There was something afoot and it was not good. In fact the thing I suspected wouldn't have been nearly as bad. Then on top of my world being turned inside out I had to deal with other people's reactions. The disbelief. The horror. Then I have to comfort the person I've just told.

Sleep is a distant memory now - punctuated by failure dreams and wakefulness. Not even the useful kind where you can rage clean or write novels, but the useless self-loathing kind. Looking at the clock is self-defeating so I don't do it. The cat pins me to the bed to stop me from roaming around, which is odd considering he walks over my face to wake me up in the morning when I do finally drop off. He has never done that before so I'm not sure why he's doing it now.

Brown Bear is also having bad dreams - of our family breaking up and how sad that will be. Blue Bear is being cheerful to the point of suspicion during the day. I know this isn't entirely his real self as he's screaming in anxiety at night. Like he did when he first came to live with us. This is hurting all of us so much. Well, not all of us clearly. I mean the person whose behaviour has caused all of this seems to have little self awareness that their poor choices have had so much impact.

It wasn't like I was supposed to know. I found out and have had to deal with whatever has unravelled since then. And oh so much has come to light. Each week something new and more horrific than the last. Like a massive spike filled ball of wool slowly rolling along leaving blood and scars and pain. That's all I am right now. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Anxiety. Self-loathing. Oh and I've still been parenting and working. Mostly with a smile on my face and acting like it's all fine.

So please don't ask if I'm ok. I'm not. I will be. This is what is happening right now and it sucks, but it won't be forever.

I have other rings I can wear.

Not today

Today is not a good day

I keep thinking that years ago when that woman at work told me I'm stupid I she was right.

All those times Mum said I wasn't nice or kind it was the truth - she wasn't being cruel, she was telling me for my own sake.

That ex who told me I'm negative about everything and critical about people and always looking to find offence - he had a point. 

The feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me everything going wrong is all because of me - that's self awareness right there. 

Tears rolling down my face as I drive remind me that I wouldn't feel this way if I didn't deserve it 

Waking up at 3 am, 4am, 5am and not being able to lift my head off the pillow at 6am when the alarm goes off is happening because I am rubbish. 

Today is not a good day. 

I still have to parent my boys. 

Today is not a good day.

The things I do still have to be done.

Today is not a good day.

Being upset and sad around others isn't ok. 

Today is not a good day. 

I'm not up for polite chit chat and pleasantries.

Today is not a good day.

For now this is how it feels - I have to accept that things are not good. 

Not today. 

This too shall pass.

At lunchtime on Thursday this week I was sitting on a bench in Soho Square. It was only when I stood up to go to my meeting that I noticed the plaque on the bench. It was the one dedicated to Kirsty MacColl. Now you probably know that I love her music so that made this significant and moving.Not least as I had just been having a telephone assessment for counselling and it was not the easiest conversation to hold in a public place. I gave the general details of what's been going on in the last year and a bit - to recap, bereavement, breast cancer (not me) and return to working full time. The most recent events have, however, pushed me over the edge. While everything else was happening to people I love I was able to keep busy by helping them. It was possible to just keep going and avoid dealing with my own stuff the whole time. This most recent thing, however. is happening to me and I can't avoid it or 'do' my way out of it.

I spent the first week in shock and unable to speak to anyone without crying. It made talking to anyone very difficult. In conversation with friends I found myself saying, "I'm so, so sorry it's just one thing after another with me isn't it ?" It was like I was cashing in all my friendship chips in one big hit. Thankfully they didn't respond with, "Well it is a bit much actually and it's about time you just pulled yourself together." Instead I had the reassurance and kindness of those I love and who love me in return. However, I am the one who has to make decisions about my life and my kids. It's down to me to be the adult for all of us. No amount of advice from others can make that any easier, but it does help to have someone listen and sympathise. 

A counsellor doesn't sympathise, but the person doing the initial assessment can.

"It does sound like a very difficult time. I can hear in your voice that it's a struggle." 

A murmur of agreement.

"Now I have to ask this question."

Ok

"Have you considered harming yourself."

Silence

"I know it's not an easy question to answer."

Not recently. 

"What makes you stop yourself."

I wouldn't do that to my children. Or my family. I don't want to hurt anyone else.

"Do you know what to do if you have those thoughts or you feel you are at risk of harming yourself ?"

Yes I think so.

"What would you do ?"

I'd call Samaritans. 

"That's good. You can also call your GP for an urgent appointment or you can present yourself to A&E." 

Ok 

There's a bit more explanation of what happens next then she asks me,

"What are you doing for the rest of the day ?"

I'm going to meet a friend for coffee and a catch up. Then I'm picking up my boys and spending the evening with them.

"That sounds nice."

I walk to where I'm meeting my friend. We sit with her holding my hands for support. The tears start and just don't stop. I notice all the people around us. She looks me straight in the eye as I dart my eyes around to see who's looking at me. "Keep talking" she says, so I do. Everything. How I feel unloved, ugly, unwanted. The fear of getting things wrong for my kids. The inability to think straight or to make a single decision. "You are going to feel like this, but let me tell you that voice in your head is wrong." I need to keep reminding myself that the voice telling me I am rubbish, I am negative, I am a bad person and all manner of other stuff is a symptom of this. 

And this will pass. 

Is this real life - or just fakery ? (with apologies to Queen)

At some point faking it became ok. Actually not even just ok, but aspirational. False nails. fake eyelashes, those weird big eyebrow things, botox, fillers - well you get my point. It's absolutely fine to pretend to be something you're not - visually. If you want to be a blonde you bleach your hair. If you want to have long hair you can get extensions. If you want to be a celebrity you go on a TV show and make an idiot of yourself. It's always been ok to fake that you're ok. I've done it for years.

Not long after my first marriage ended I was taking a course in psychodynamic counselling and it was tough. I held it together while worrying about how to pay the fees and whether or not I could cope with the mind games that the tutors would play on us students. On one occasion the entire room turned on me and I broke down in tears. The woman who had led the onslaught jeered that I was faking it for attention. In my supervision with the tutor I said I had been shaken by this. He told me it was probably because, "You give the appearance of being bulletproof." I looked at him in disbelief. "No one is bulletproof. How can anyone think it's ok to do that ?" I never went back to the course. I couldn't face it. Also I had to deal with this characterisation of me as this ice maiden with no feelings and no capacity to be hurt. 

Years later I worked for a man who clearly didn't like me. I was always polite to him and offered to make tea and joined in with the boyish chat in the office, but it was pretty awkward. In a meeting with him one day he told me, "You're a fake." I asked what he meant by that. "You pretend to be ok when you're not. You smile and make tea and it's all fake." It was like a kick in the belly. How dare he call me a fake ? I was offended. However, when I thought about it he was absolutely spot on. Of course I was faking it. How could I not be ? No one is happy and cheery all the time. It isn't possible. I was making the best of things and ensuring the office atmosphere wasn't unpleasant and frosty. I worked with some alpha males who would 'banter' and practically chest bump their way through the working day. I couldn't join in with that. I didn't want to. 

So why did it bother me being seen as fake ? I'm not sure being real was an asset I wished to cultivate. Being real just didn't appeal. My messy, out of control, unmedicated self just wasn't safe to unveil at work. In what possible way would it be of benefit to be myself ? I was used to having to pretend to be ok. To not be unhappy, or angry, or anything other than polite and friendly. After a while it becomes the way you see yourself, so when the mask slips you are just as shocked as anyone else. I have had entire relationships based on the image of myself I wish to portray. The kind and generous and lovely person I want to be seen as. Not the flawed, angry, unreasonable, unremarkable person I really am. 

One the years I found ways to manage the unpalatable - running, swimming, going to the gym. I would pound the treadmill, lift weights, do whatever it took to  unfetter the badness. When I swim I process all the unpleasant thoughts I can't have on dry land. I furiously work out why this rubbish thing has happened and keep going until I am physically too tired to do any more. People have asked me how I can run for hours without any music to listen to. Well in yoga we use the term 'monkey mind' for those random thoughts that just keep flitting into and out of your head: 

- I've got to cross the road there - maybe I can do it without pressing the light

- Oh that's the shop where I went it for a tissue once

- Isn't that the dog that lives two doors down from Jill ? 

- Next time I go to the theatre I can leave my car there. 

- The hedges are all trimmed back - when did they do that ? 

There is so much going on in my head that I just don't need music. It gives me space to work out how to deal with things that I can't give my time to otherwise. Often I get home shattered, but feeling better about something that I was upset about earlier. 

It's really only been in the last year that these two worlds have collided. The one inside my head and the one outside. The mask of "I'm ok" "Like me I'm nice" has melted away and it's like I'm standing yelling into an abyss. No filter, an overwhelming sense that things are out of control and a startling inability to manage my own emotions. It's like 40+ years of crazy have just escaped and I now can't get them back inside the bottle. 

I'd give anything to be able to go back to before it was all out there. The "No, I'm not ok actually." "Yes this is me in all my crappy and unpleasant glory." I've been all, "Leave me alone ! Why are you ignoring me ?" A bit like Olivia Colman's Queen in The Favourite when she chastises a valet for not looking at her then for daring to look at her. You think it's a pain to be on the receiving end of it ? Well it's no picnic on this side - believe me. 

There is no reward for sharing the bits of yourself you don't like. I think I preferred when it was ok to fake it and I thought I was getting away with it. 

What are you doing for Christmas ?

I have been asked this question literally every day this week. Mostly by well meaning individuals and colleagues. I am baffled by it though. It is one day of the year. It's one meal and yet people go on a diet for it. They go into debt and seem to go loco about it. I just don't get it. I have had a cough for over a week and a few people have said. "oh you don't want to have that for Christmas." Really ? What difference will it make ?

Ok, to be clear I am not bah humbug about Christmas and I don't have any problem with it. I just don't get why it's such a big deal. Why people eat so much food, why they spend so much money, why this one day is so significant. I get it if you have a faith and it means something to you in that regard, but if it's a celebration of food and presents then that is just beyond me. It's not cultural. I grew up in England and my parents always celebrated Christmas. It wasn't the biggest day of the year for us though. 

In some ways I do envy people who have that whole excitement about it all. The family side of things, the social side, the dressing up, the presents, I do get that. Brown Bear was only 3 months old for his first Christmas and our house was filled floor to ceiling with presents for him. He had absolutely no idea. I dressed him up as Santa and we took him to visit my parents on Christmas Eve (my Dad's birthday) and then Hubbie's parents so they all got to see the baby for his first Christmas. 

Now I am a parent I do like to make a fuss of the boys and to get into the whole spirit of the thing. We go to see Santa, we have a roast dinner at home, we have presents. However, we don't fill the house with tangerines, bowls full of nuts or masses of sweets. I will confess I have three fruit cakes bought at the school Christmas fair, but that is because the TA who made them has form and her cakes are absolutely amazeballs. 

Don't get me wrong there is no deep-seated trauma or childhood memory behind my lack of enthusiasm for end of year festivities. It is all tied in with anxiety and depression that always reaches a peak around this time of year. I know I'm not alone in that. The enforced socialising and jollity is just too much to take for some of us. I'm not saying anyone else shouldn't have a good time. Just don't expect me to be as enthused. I can't do it. 

It is this expectation of plenty that makes me uncomfortable. This year we have donated toys, food, clothes and I also gave a bag filled with make up from my days as an Avon lady to a refuge that requested gift items for the women. People donate to the children in refuges, but seem to overlook the women. At a time when it seems that we are being pushed into spending money and eating too much I am painfully aware that there are people who are struggling to manage to basics. 

We have enough and for that I am so very grateful. I have made it to the end of this year a significantly different woman from who I was this time last year. So much has altered in my life and for people I care about. It isn't a time of celebration for me. It is a time of gratitude. I am thankful.   

I have friends who will be experiencing their first Christmas without a partner, a parent and in the case of my brother in law his first without either of his parents. In my family we will spend time together knowing that we are so very lucky to have each other. My gorgeous baby niece will have her first  Christmas and Blue Bear and Brown Bear will fuss over and spoil her rotten.

The other day I found a post I had written in December 2009 when we were childless and desperate to be parents. It was titled, "Christmas is for kids." I had no idea how prophetic that would prove to be. Less than a month later I found out I was pregnant and the following Christmas we had our much longed for baby son. The point is nothing is forever. It's just a moment in time and that will pass. I won't stop having anxiety or depression, but I won't feel this way forever either. 

If you struggle with Christmas please don't suffer alone. Here are some organisations that will be open to help if you need it: 

www.samaritans.org

www.mind.org.uk

www.rethink.org

When enough is still not enough

The belief that we are enough is one I think a lot of us struggle with. I have a lovely bracelet engraved with the word 'enough' on it that is to remind me that however badly I think I'm doing it's ok. I don't feel that way though. It's been a struggle to get through this year and I previously wrote about how it felt like I was on a relentless upward ride that I was not in control of. If I'm honest it now feels as if I've hit the buffers. I kept going and going in the hope that this would not reach me, but it found me.

In the last year I have been running regularly - training for a half marathon - and this was helping to stave off the feelings of sadness. In the last two weeks I have been too unwell to run so my moods have been unpredictable and unstable. I'm not at my best when this happens. My emotions are all over the place and I get all sorts of weird physical symptoms that make no sense, but add up to anxiety. Then I have the outbursts brought on by self-loathing. Pushing people away so that they don't have to deal with my unreasonable needy self. The worst thing is I can't control who this happens with and often it's the wrong people who see this 'faulty' version of me. The ones who have little empathy or who like to say, "I care about you," so long as it doesn't involve actually doing anything. I care about people in a practical way - you know hugs, cups of tea, silly little gifts,  sending them a song to make them smile or an invitation to do something to cheer them up. Not just saying the words and getting on with my day.

At the moment I am not doing well at parenting. Since I returned to work the boys have had a change of routine that seems to have unsettled them (and us to be honest). It isn't as simple as saying if I was at home things would be better. After all we did that for years. I was fortunate enough to be around for the early days when they needed a lot of care and attention. Of course they still need that, but they are also independent, confident and at school all day so I decided I was ready to do something else. Now I have that dual guilt that comes from thinking about home when I'm at work and vice versa. I get the calls from school to tell me Blue Bear has bumped his head, but he's ok or Brown Bear has been in trouble during football club. The frequency of these calls has a direct impact on my ability to concentrate on my work. I realise I should be able to 'compartmentalise' these different areas, but for me it's all interconnected.

I went back to work full time this year which has meant the whole family has a new routine and new challenges. It is tiring. I leave the house before my kids wake up and some days I don't see Blue Bear at all if I'm out after work as well. It's not what I wanted for them and it is costing me in my relationship with them. I feel so disconnected from my sons sometimes that I really want to spend more time doing the mundane things like dropping them off to school. Not just the frantic pick up in the dark just before the cut-off time for late charges. I know they are in safe hands and they love being in after school clubs, but sometimes I would like to be there a bit more. I know they put up with the absence because they have to, not because it's what they want.

It feels like I am losing my grasp of the 'brave face,' I have been putting on for so long. If anyone asks how I am I barely hold it together to answer them. The banks burst open and I break down in tears and then I feel really embarrassed. I can't really justify being upset about the thing that has made me cry, but I find myself apologising and trying to find explanations to assure the person that it's ok and they didn't do anything wrong. They feel better and I'm still in bits and now I'm too ashamed to talk to them because I made a fool of myself.

The safest thing to do is to retreat into a space that is not filled with judgement or the potential to hurt anyone else. If I just keep myself on safe ground - silly jokes, amusing gifs and familiar memes I can turn their gaze away from how out of control it all feels. I can go through the motions of doing all the things you're supposed to and make small talk. I can't have any deep and meaningful discussions until this passes. I don't know when that will be.

For now I just want to get through one day without crying.

You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf

World Mental Health Day is an opportunity to talk about a topic that is still considered shameful by many. It is still uttered in hushed tones and avoided altogether in some communities. While we experience an upturn in young people reporting anxiety and depression we also need to offer support for these issues. A fellow adopter shared an article the other day about how anxiety can manifest as anger in children. This can be so difficult for all involved. The child has no explanation for why they are so angry / aggressive. The parent is frustrated by behaviour that makes no sense. Other adults just see a kid playing up and might make unhelpful remarks that add to the frustration and anger. I mention this because my children's school has introduced mindfulness sessions. If they have an incident of behaviour that falls short of the school policy they attend mindfulness during playtime instead of detention. It is an acknowledgement that children's mental health is important and I appreciate this more than I can say.

 

I've practised yoga with my boys since they were very young and I check in with them regularly about their feelings and wellbeing. They are used to me asking if they are hungry, tired or sleepy, but I also ask about their feelings. I want them to grow up knowing it is ok to be sad and to be open and honest about their feelings. If I don't give them the space for this how can I expect them to function in a world that asks them for so much ? There are times when I can see that they need quiet and space. Sometimes one of them needs to run around to use up some energy and the other needs to just lie down quietly and unwind. I have the luxury of being able to assess what they need and we have outdoor space for the running off energy and quiet indoor space for relaxing and resting.

 

Maybe I am more tuned into their mental health because of all the assessments and training we underwent in order to adopt. It's possible that my being at home with my children (which I appreciate is again not a situation we can all afford) meant I picked up on the nuances of attitude and behaviour that I might otherwise miss. In fact I think it is more that I had mental health issues as a child and I struggled to maintain 'normality' in my family or at school. As a result I pick up on any small sign of concern or worry. Of course that might be a symptom of my own anxiety.

Blue Bear has thrown his toys down the stairs. Is that a tantrum or is it to put off going to bed as he has nightmares ?


Brown Bear keeps going to the toilet during meals. Is it disruptive behaviour or an eating disorder ?

Blue Bear screams at night, but is still asleep. Is it a bad dream or a trauma from his early life ?

Brown Bear keeps making random noises for no reason. Is he just annoying or is it a sign of anxiety ?

 

I had no language to describe my depression as a child. I  mean what has an eleven year old got to be depressed about really ? I was no more able to explain why I was anxious all the time than I was capable of asking why it was my responsibility to care for siblings when I feared they might get hurt or lost in my care. They did and I felt so guilty for that despite it having nothing to do with me. Kids have accidents and fall over and get hurt, but I would be held responsible for them even though I was a kid myself. It is possible I already had anxiety at this point, but it certainly didn't help.

 

Now my anxiety manifests as a compulsive need for order and planning. I keep a diary and a kitchen calendar so I know where I and everyone else is supposed to be. The kids' timetables are printed and laminated and on the bedroom wall and by the front door. We know what clothes they need for school, when they have swimming or after school clubs and what parties they have been invited to this week. Hubbie and I check in regularly so we know each other's plans and if he is even a minute later than he said he would be I am already talking myself out of the possibility that I am now a single parent as he has been killed in an accident on the way home. If I hear sirens it is even worse.
 

I've played the part of a 'normal' for much of my life. I pretend it's fine to have loose plans with friends when actually it creates massive panic in me if I don't know what time or where we are meeting. If they cancel or change plans at short notice it is really difficult for me. I need certainty and sometimes the laissez faire attitude is just too frightening. It can take me weeks to stop being upset about a last minute change of plan that they think nothing of, but that I had built myself up towards and was taken away from me at short notice. This is why I reiterate to my kids what we are doing and when. I remind them what they will be doing at school, after school or at the weekend. They may not even have the need I do for a long term forecast, but I do it for myself as much as them.

 

Managing other's mental health when managing your own is a big ask. I have been doing this for over 30 years - with varying degrees of success. I was in a relationship that tested my mental capacity and made me doubt my sanity. It took a long time to stop thinking negatively about myself after that. I still do sometimes. It is far easier to blame myself for not being good enough and if the other person knows the triggers they can do a lot of damage. The only reason I can do this now is because I have a husband who is concerned for my mental wellbeing and a prescription that helps keeps things level. I know that if I swim or run I feel better and taking care of myself is a necessity. Others need me to be well.

 

I don't want my kids - or anyone else's - to take a lifetime to work this out. I talk to my kids about mental health. I am honest with them about my struggle to keep well. Silence helps no one.

 

Today is World Mental Health Day.

 

If you or anyone you know needs help there are amazing organisations out there:

 

www.mind.org.uk
www.rethink.org
www.samaritans.org

 

 

How much is too much

It's been a long and tiring week. I've been up at 5am most days and have still been at work full time and also had a few late evenings. It's fair to say the boys have barely seen me and Brown Bear has been playing up to get my attention. It was yesterday that I realised that others think I'm doing too much. Friends have been messaging to check if I'm ok, they've been offering to hug me and Hubbie suggested I should lie in instead of getting up early at the weekend. If I have things to do it's just easier to get up and do them early - if I'm going for a run I'd rather it's at the start of the day, however, I'm not always at my best first thing.

I was told I worry too much. Of course I do. It's a side effect of anxiety, but actually I have always been this way. I can't recall a time when I didn't worry. As the oldest child I was always worried about my siblings. It was my responsibility to look after them a lot of the time and I would get the blame if anything happened to them on my watch. I also blamed myself if they got injured or if anyone did them wrong. I don't know why. I was also the typical worried first time Mum, protecting Brown Bear with a tigress' instinct. Woe betide anyone who fell foul of me in my first year of parenting, I was permanently worried. Then there was the whole adoption process and Blue Bear coming to live with us - that was fraught with worry. It's only now - more than three years later - that I can breathe and look at him and smile with happiness that he's happy and funny and boisterous like his brother. I do still worry, just about different things. It's who I am.

Is it possible to think too much ? I've always been told I do, so it's probably true. Of course I think too much. I wasn't one of cool kids, I wasn't popular and I was never a great beauty so I had plenty of time to think. I didn't have that instant appeal that cuts through having to make any effort. I learned to observe, to notice and to comment on life. My friend Ajay once said to me, "average looking people like us have to make more of an effort." I happen to think he's well above average looking, but that's not the point here. Really beautiful folk often don't have to try hard in life, with people flocking to them and being nice to them. The rest of us don't occupy that privileged place, so we have other skills. Mine is to analyse and try to make sense of the world around me. It's not for everyone.

For years I took offence at the assertion that I talk too much. I do, but I didn't like to hear it. I would fill silences with inane chat, make small talk and just talk over people all the time. I drove myself crazy with it, so I can imagine how much it bothered other people. It's not because I think I'm interesting or anything, it's nerves. If I have to keep filling the gaps with chatter it's because I'm uncomfortable. I have learned to stop and just let silence be. I also realised some years ago that people like to be heard so I learned to listen and reflect back what they said. It can be unsettling when they notice I haven't just been nodding along, waiting for a gap in the conversation to say my bit. I've actually heard what they've been saying and am responding to it.

I do too much. Ok this one I will admit to. I don't like to let anyone down so if I've said I'm going to do something I will do it. Even if it's to my own detriment. If it has a negative impact on those I love then I get annoyed with myself, but I will always try to do whatever I'm asked. This comes down to being unable to say no. I've read the books, I've got the prompts on the fridge door, I've even done mantras about it. I still struggle to say no. I practise on my children, it doesn't help. The people-pleaser part of me is much too established. However much I try, the instinct to say yes to everything is stronger than the realisation that I need to take care of myself.

So this week, when a friend sent me flowers and a message saying she was worried about me it touched my heart. Another assured me if I wanted to talk or not talk, be serious or silly she was there for me. When Hubbie said I needed to rest I realised he was worrying about me. When my Mum thanked me for taking the time to be around (why wouldn't I ?) it reminded me that I'm still her baby. More that anything it made me feel noticed. There was no criticism of me for not doing something or for being too much anything. It was genuine concern and kindness. I don't often need or ask for anything from others. I don't like to take or to impose.

How much is too much ? Well when it comes to feeling cared about it would appear there's no such thing.

Welcome, come on in, the kettle has just boiled.

Inside my head is a busy and often confusing place. Some days I wake up and things are fine. Things are going ok then something ever so minor will cause me to feel bad. That feeling will stay with me all day. I might not even recall what it was that caused the feeling, but it will be there.

Other times getting up will be an actual struggle. Physically I will feel heavy and immobile. My head will barely lift off the pillow and my body will shiver at the thought of moving. When I do get up I will be clumsy, uncoordinated and more than a little cranky.

The days when I bounce out of bed are almost worse. Everything will be done in record time. The house will look spotless and I will be moving constantly. By the time the boys come home I will be worn out, but I'll keep going anyway. My fitbit is pretty much overheating and I'm far too wired to sleep.

It's not always possible to know how someone will react when you open up about mental health. I was careful for over 30 years to not share with anyone in case they judged me for it. I kept up the facade of being cheery and 'normal' so that no one would know there was anything wrong with me.  The quiet challenge of keeping myself together was tough and required more strength than I thought I had a lot of the time.

Then I spoke up on this blog and it felt safe to say that I'm not ok a lot of the time. It's taken far longer to realise that it doesn't make me 'mad' and that I don't have to be ashamed. I still don't talk to my family about my mental health. They have experienced me in the worst of it, but it just doesn't feel like something I can do.

This year has been exceptionally difficult in terms of my mental wellbeing. In addition to the ever present depression and anxiety I've experienced bereavement which has knocked me right off my feet. I tried to talk to real life people about what I was struggling with - some of them were there with me, in the same state of grief. In this big shared space of sadness I found others who knew what it felt like too.

When people have been kind or praised me I've dismissed it as, 'well they obviously don't really know how horrible I really am.' After all what do they know about the 'real' me ? This was reaffirmed when I opened up to someone I've known for many years. I made the difficult and terrifying decision to talk to them honestly about my mental health. It wasn't the right thing to do. All my fears of rejection and being judged and despised for not being 'normal' were proven right. It reminded my why it's not safe to tell the truth about what goes on inside my not quite right head.

Even after all these years I really don't understand why I am like this, but the people who matter accept me. They are there for the times when I'm on good form and for the times when I'm a mess and can't cope with anything. There are dark days and even darker thoughts, but I know I am not alone.

In that I am very lucky.

I don't recall ever sitting down with Hubbie and saying, "here is what's wrong with my head." One day he said something that made me realise he was on my side and he wasn't afraid. That made it possible for me to feel less afraid too. He works around whatever is going on for me and if he sees I am struggling he finds a way to tell me he has noticed. It is such a relief to have an ally who isn't judging or trying to 'fix' me. He holds me metaphorically and literally through the worst of times and is with me for the best ones.

If I could make one thing happen during mental health awareness week it would be to take away the stigma and fear. Even if I could just do that for the people I know that would be something wouldn't it ?

Mental Health Awareness Week is from 14th-20th May 

www.rethink.org.uk
www.mentalhealth.org.uk
www.mind.org.uk
www.samaritans.org.uk

I love you, but get out of my face before I punch you in yours.

I admit it's not a mantra that will rival anything by Rumi, Khalil Gibran or His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It's just that sometimes I have that Edward Norton in Fight Club vibe. No not the urge to steal women's thigh fat to make soap - and eww if you thought that !! I mean the fantasy where you punch someone to a pulp - not in a toothless and puffy faced Jared Leto, "I had to destroy something beautiful" way. Despite talking it up I am actually non-violent in my actions. So the intense feeling of wanting to punch and hit is not something I have ever acted upon.

I'm grateful that there is a movie that can vicariously deal with these emotions for me. It's important to be able to park feelings in a safe place when we can't deal with them. It's not always possible to 'resolve' difficult emotions so to be able to watch a movie and sob or laugh or grit my teeth in empathy with the characters is the next best thing to fixing it.

I've been reading about a Hindu goddess whose existence is all about being broken and growing from that brokeness. The idea is that in our lowest moments lie the seeds of great growth and personal development - I'm not sure about that, but I am pretty sure that feeling bad isn't going to kill me. I might find myself swearing or shouting at nothing in particular or in fact everything in the understairs cupboard that fell on me while I was trying to put some stuff away the other day.

Depression doesn't mean being down all the time. It may not even mean being sad a lot of the time. For me it often means being very angry for no reason at all. Being fine one minute and losing it the next over something so entirely meaningless that it's embarrassing.

Me: "Put your socks on boys."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."

5 minutes pass

"Put your socks on now please."
Brown Bear: "..."
Blue Bear: "In a minute Mummy."
Me: "NO NOW !!"
(there follows a 2 minute rant at full volume)

See what I mean ?

It's not even being a bad parent, although on the evidence above you could be forgiven for thinking that. I worry that my sons may inherit my irritability and not be able to control their moods or lose their temper at absolutely nothing. I fear what they think when they witness it and do my best to hide the sadness and badness. This means they're not seeing the real me very much.

I don't mean to be ungrateful or unappreciative. Of course I count my blessings and I realise that there are so many people worse off than I am. That just compounds the belief in how bad I am for not being able to be happy when I have so much to be thankful for. 

Agood friend of mine was a 'functioning alcoholic' and I suspect I'm a 'functioning depressive' ie. I do the day to day stuff, keep house, make meals, take care of the boys and even manage to hold a range of voluntary roles. Surely depression means not being able to get out of bed ? Well I can get out of bed - slowly, but still. There are days when I am already worn out before I've begun the day, but I usually manage to function enough to make it through. I collapse at the end of the day going through in my mind all the bad things that I have done that day that make me a bad person.

I make myself do the things that I think a 'good person' would do. I mimic what I think a good person is. It never occurs to me that the mythical good person that I'm being might do the same. I believe that if I were genuinely a good person I would just do nice things without thinking, "Oh look at me aren't I a good person doing this good thing?" That reminds me that I'm not really good after all. 

It's not always possible to dismiss bad thoughts or feelings and when other people remind me of my faults it reiterates how awful I am. I'm doing my best. It clearly isn't good enough. It's as if I'm not in control of my emotions. I've been feeling massive waves of grief. Earlier in the year I mentioned to Hubbie how I was really surprised that I was coping without breaking down. I had no idea it was waiting there for me. Just biding its time.

Hubbie was away overnight earlier this week and when the boys were asleep I was sitting on the sofa with Neo scrolling through facebook (me, not him). I saw a memory where I talked about taking part in the Moonwalk with Soraya and she had made a lovely comment. A few minutes later I was wracked with sobs and unable to stop myself from asking, "Why her ? It's not fair. It's just not fair."

This evening I was listening to Ruby Wax on Radio 4 talking about mental health. It's gone from being a topic that was never ok to discuss to being pretty much everywhere. I still feel odd talking about it. Not least as I worry the person I've told will use it against me. I've never talked about depression or anxiety with my family even though they have been directly affected by mine most of my life. Hubbie is the exception and I'm already trying to find age appropriate ways to talk to my sons. I want to reassure them that my outbursts are about me and not them.

I haven't watched Fight Club in ages. I haven't metaphorically kicked anyone in the head in a while. I run and swim to manage my moods. I make sure I eat regularly and drink plenty of water to keep well. This weekend we all spent a sunny afternoon in my parents' garden while the boys played with their cousin. As we were all there we bribed the boys with ice lollies and cake so they would sit still for photos. It was such a lovely family moment and yet I felt as if I was watching it all from behind glass.

At this point it is hard to believe I'll ever feel 'normal' ever again. It's like my head is under water and every so often I pop up to catch my breath. In those brief moments it seems possible that things will get better. All I have to do is keep having those moments and notice them.

Is this it ?

I think of myself as the hardcore parent in our family. The one who lays down the law, sets boundaries and follows through with consequences. However, this week I've seen this challenged and I feel a bit deflated. Brown Bear has surpassed his usual levels of self-importance and taken to just completely ignoring me. Blue Bear, however, has been with a childminder who told me he is a 'real pleasure to look after.' He has been playing with older children and growing in confidence by the day.   When I got him ready to have a bath last night he told me he could take off his t-shirt by himself and demonstrated very ably. Brown Bear, however, spent more time just doing his own thing and searching for TV programmes I'd asked him not to watch. By the time we all woke up this morning he was overtired and grumpy. As a result I was too.

I don't do well when I'm tired. I shout even more than usual and make ever escalating and insane threats. By the time I dropped him off at half term camp at 9am I had taken away the chance of going to McDonald's ever again, given all of his birthday presents to charity and banned all of his favourite programmes. It wasn't my best day. I came home from dropping both boys off and had something to eat. I felt better. If I'm running on empty I can't do this. It's not rocket science, I know, but sometimes it feels like I just don't know anything. 

Talking to another parent yesterday afternoon after a day spent with 'not my children' doing fun outdoor activities I wondered if my expectations of my children are too much. Maybe it's enough that they are happy, vibrant, funny and independent. It doesn't follow that they will also be good listeners, tidy or able to be together without duffing each other up. I have to get past thinking that everyone is looking at me and thinking, "wow she's so useless, her kids just don't sit still and listen."

Today has been a low point. I've shouted, misdirected my anger and broken down in tears. I've also upped my dosage in order to deal with my own emotional state. It might not help, but it can't make things any worse. I need to have something other than this anger and feeling of uselessness. Being mum is just not enough right now. I'm sorry.  

World Mental Health Day 2017

Today is World Mental Health Day and it's taken me all day to decide to share the post below that I wrote a few months ago. I didn't post it back then as it didn't make sense to me why I'd share it. Now I see that it shows how all over the place I can get. The anxiety and depression I've lived with since childhood manifests in different ways. I can be fine for ages and get things done then I might go through what I'm experiencing at the moment which is a debilitating sense of failure and lack of motivation. Don't get me wrong I can still function. The boys get fed and picked up from school and the cat gets taken to the vet, but in between is a blur. I have to remind myself to eat food, make myself go for a swim and run otherwise I find my moods are too extreme. I lose my shit because someone hasn't put the bread back in the bread bin. I burst into tears in the car the other day because I heard Sam Smith's new single. It opened an old emotional wound at that moment and I couldn't stop myself. So that's why I'm sharing this now:

"You know that thing when someone asks, "how are you ?" and you say, "I'm fine." If you are British that's as far as it goes. Unless you reciprocate and ask how they are and you both nod in recognition that things are fine and move on to talking about tea or the weather or something equally important. My father in law is much more Eeyore like and when asked how he's doing will often reply, "Oh you know, hanging on by a slender thread." Now I just say, 'hanging in there Grandpa ?" to save him the trouble.

So the reason I've mentioned this is because at the moment when anyone asks how I am I'm struggling to reply convincingly. "I'm ok" is as far as I can manage and at least one of my friends has already questioned further. To be fair Jo has known me nearly 30 years so it takes some to get anything past her. A more honest summary of my state of mind right now might be, 'a bit like Brown Bear's room.' ie. untidy, messy, full of noise and scattered with random unrelated items. Frankly, I'm not doing well right now. Partly it's the long summer holiday - which I always find challenging. Mostly it's a lot of factors that are causing stress and anxiety in my life right now.

Blue Bear is joining his brother's school next week and he's very excited about it. I am too and have been trying to get back to work as both my boys will be in school during the day now. So far I've had nothing but rejection and it's really getting me down. Most of my working life I was blessed with the ability to get an interview for a job and often to get a job offer. Since becoming a Mum this skill seems to have completely vanished and I'm baffled. I was aware of the phenomenon of the 'motherhood penalty,' but I had no idea how insidious it really is. My confidence is completely shot and I find myself wondering if I'm doomed to a life of rearranging the furniture and sorting socks - which frankly could be a full time job in this house. I've got lots of lovely friends (and lovely Hubbie) supporting me with this and advising me on how to keep positive. It all helps - to a point - but each time I get a rejection it leaves me feeling despondant.

Taking on other people's stresses is something I have always done - not deliberately you understand. It's just that when someone close to me has something painful going on in their life I take it on emotionally as well. When one of my lovely friends was diagnosed with cancer I talked to her while she was undergoing treatment to help her process the emotions and practical things that were going on. We talked, we shared and we laughed. We celebrated her successful treatment by taking part in the Moonwalk three years ago. Then earlier this year she found out that she was ill again. It just seems so unfair. She is amazing and pragmatic and - at the risk of sounding like a terrible cliche - incredibly brave. I'm very lucky to know her.

When my loved ones are struggling it breaks my heart. It also breaks me physically, but it takes me ages to notice myself. I've been taking care of myself and eating well and running again so that helps. I'm not much fun to be around right now. On edge, shouty, quick to tears and completely unpredictable. I don't know what to do to make things better. I wish I could fix the things that are making me feel like this, but some things are just out of my hands."

So that's how it feels in the middle of it all. I'm not entirely sure why it happens or how to get past it, but I know it's a moment in time. Sometimes the moment goes on for a while. What I do know is that I can do this. However difficult it seems at the time I always get through it.

What my boys need more than anything - me.

This morning I slept in. I'd had a very late night on Thursday evening and it was still catching up with me so I stayed in bed. By the time I was anything like conscious the boys had been up for hours, but Hubbie was with them so they were fine. I don't usually lie in, but today I needed it and I've been realising how much it matters that I take care of myself instead of running on empty all the time.

If I'm not able to clean the house it's not the end of the world. Ok it might be a health hazard if it goes on too long, but frankly I'm onto it before then.

If the washing doesn't get done it might mean Hubbie having to go to work in a dark blue shirt instead of a white one, but it's alright.

If I forget to get food in for dinner there will be some grumbling, but to be honest the cupboards are pretty well stocked so we're not going hungry any time soon.

If I don't feed the cat.. Ok bad example. Neo would never let me forget it if I didn't feed him. The miaowing is loud enough to alert emergency services in the next county.

If I can't get out of bed because I'm so tired, or I can't bring myself to take the kids to school in case I'm seen or have to talk to someone that's a problem.

If I don't feed myself properly I'm grumpy and not at my best. This in turn means I'm impatient and unkind to my children and that's not fair on them.

If I'm not feeling up to it and don't want to parent today, well that's just not an option.

I still have to.

It's not like I can just say, "I'm done now thanks. I'm taking a break from being a parent and I'll be back when I feel rested and well again."

I'm not talking about that normal level of sleep deprivation that leaves you unable to work out if you've brushed your teeth yet today or if your shoes really are a different colour or it's just the light at that time of the morning. Nor do I mean that forgetfulness that occurs when you're preoccupied with getting a small person ready and can't fathom those tiny poppers under the nappy. Not even the expected boredom of spending entire days in the company of either children or people with children and discussing nothing more taxing than when to wean and if it's ok to let them watch TV and eat McDonalds (yes it is - don't be a knob).

What I do mean is a debilitating form of depression that takes over when you're not looking. That takes over until it seems 'normal' to feel nothing. To barely function, but to find joy in nothing. To count the time until the kids will be home or go to bed. To close the kitchen door rather than listen to them plead for you to sit with them even for a moment.

Impatience with even the smallest infraction. A dropped rice krispie or a t shirt left on the floor is the cause of an almighty tantrum. Me, not them. They look perplexed, but as luck would have it they are pretty resilient little boys. Blue Bear always greets me with a massive smile and gives the best cuddles. Brown Bear helped me in the garden this evening and took great pride and care when I showed him how to use the shears safely. It was even better when we agreed he could have some pocket money for being so helpful.

I've realised that being there for my boys is the most important thing. They don't judge me for being snappy or for making the same meal as they had yesterday, or for how I dress at school drop off. Brown Bear likes me to sit with him to watch TV and says, "Mummy put your arm round me." Blue Bear calls me over when he's building track and says, "Mummy help me." It's simple enough isn't it ?

Sleeping in might not fix everything, but it's a good start.

It's all been a bit of a blur...

At the beginning of 2015 I knew a couple of things:

1. I was signed up to do a 6 hour danceathon for Comic Relief with my Team Honk chums and
2. There was a possibility that we would have a new child joining our family. 

Yep we danced for 6 hours !! 

I was a bit blasé about taking part in the Danceathon at Wembley Arena, but as the date drew closer I started to realise that I couldn't take a lot with me so I would have to think about how much to carry. There were all sorts of transport issues so I had to work out a route which would enable me to get there - and home again - without too much hassle. In the end it was an amazing - and tiring - day. I learned lots of dance moves, kept going for the whole event, we raised a massive amount of money for charity and the entire audience (on TV too) saw Mummy Barrow's bum. 

On a more sober note the reality of adoption really hit home in the Spring. We talked to Big Boy about how he felt and prepared ourselves for the matching panel. It was nerve wracking and frightening, but we did the best we could. Thankfully we found out almost immediately that we had been matched and could proceed to meeting him a week later.

The world changed completely on the 2nd April when Baby Boy came to live with us.

It also opened the door to an old friend. I found myself enveloped by overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and the inability to cope with 2 boys fighting for my attention and sibling rivalry on a level that even as one of four I had never experienced. It took months before I said out loud that I might have post-adoption depression. Hardly surprising as I'd had post-natal depression, but I wasn't even aware of the phenomenon applying to adoption too. I'm still working through it, but at least it now has a name.

I did a skydive - on board a cruise ship ! 

Not long after he came to us we were invited by Royal Caribbean to take part in an inaugural cruise on the Anthem of the Seas. It worked out that me and Big Boy went on the cruise and Baby Boy and Hubbie went to stay with Grandma so we had some special one to one time with a boy each. I've never been on a cruise before so it was really exciting and me and Big Boy did some exciting things like going for a sky dive on the deck and I also learned trapeze. It was terrifying - you could hear the clanking of the scaffolding as I climbed up to the bar because I was shaking so much, but I'm so glad I finally did it. Big Boy loved the kids club so much that I barely saw him, but I did enjoy a lovely hot stone massage, went to watch a show and even managed to have some quiet time with champagne on the balcony. I hope we can all go next time - I'm sure Hubbie and Baby Boy would have a great time too.

Following a car accident in the Summer we missed a great friend's wedding and I have been having physiotherapy to help mend a bad knee and shoulder injury. I still don't know how I finished the Shine walk - even though it was the half and not the full marathon - but I'm glad that I did. After the danceathon and the walk I think I'll take a year off from fundraising events next year. Remind me of that won't you ?

Baby Boy loves the beach

We took the boys on holiday to Cornwall and stayed at our favourite family friendly location - Coombe Mill. Baby Boy went to the beach for the first time and met lots of different animals. He seems to have the family love of trains and animals, we just need to work on his tractor driving skills.

Big Boy turned five and his best present was a brand new cousin. He completely loves the baby and is already planning what role the new boy will have in the little 'boy gang' that he has planned consisting of his brother and cousin. This also fills in the gap left by the arrival of a baby brother who wasn't actually a baby. Most important of course is that fact that I am finally an auntie ! I love that little dude so much.

It was a big month in December as it was the first time Baby Boy has celebrated his birthday and Christmas with us. I was so keen to get it just right for all of us as these will be his memories. 

There has been so much going on that I made two big decisions in the later months.

• I was thinking about it for a while, but in the end the decision was really simple. I went to see a nice man called Alan and showed him a photo then he went ahead and cut my hair short. I love it. 

My snazzy shorter hair

• After more than 15 years I've decided to give up being an Avon lady. It's been fun, but I want to simplify my life and give myself more time. In the process of decluttering the house I have realised just how much make up, skincare and general stuff I have in my possession, so even if I didn't buy any for a year I wouldn't run out of anything.

At the end of last year we had just returned from a fab Christmas at Coombe Mill and were looking ahead to some massive family changes. As this one comes to a close we're all exhausted. So much has happened and there is so much more to come.

Baby Boy starts pre-school in January, Hubbie has a new found interest in cycling and Big Boy is training to be a Jedi.

I love these boys

And me ? Well I have no plans so far. I'm taking 2016 as it comes. I think it will be just fine.

I think I've got the terrible twos

The day started with me literally crying over spilled milk - it's a boring story so I won't go into it. Most days begin with some minor drama these days and often tears - mine.

The other day I was cried while swimming

Another day I burst into tears parking the car at Waitrose

Then there were tears while I was waiting for Hubbie to get home from work and relieve me from childcare

I've told a few people that I think I'm having a breakdown and they either nod or change the topic. I'm not sure if they think I'm joking or if it is just to difficult to respond to that kind of honesty.

This is not what I expected.

When we spent all those years wishing and wanting to have a child and then he came along and it was just amazing, but hard work. Then we tried for another and the road was longer and even harder than before, but here we are parents to two amazing and beautiful boys. I posted status updates with those sappy comments about how hard it would be, but worth it.

So why doesn't this feel better ? Why does it feel like I'm going into battle every single day ? I love my children and my every waking thought is about keeping them safe and making them happy. Yet, I look forward to packing my older boy off to school and count the minutes until the baby is down for his nap so I can just have some time not being shouted at or having my hair pulled or asking, "what did you do to make your brother cry ?" My normal volume these days is always 'shouty Mummy.'

Frankly I don't think I'm cut out for this. I keep reminding myself what other Mums tell me and hold onto the pearls of wisdom they've gained from being where I am right now.

"There will be shouting, a lot of it." - Yasmin, mum to 2 boys

"You have 2 children under 5, you are doing a great job." - Shirley mum to 2 grown up boys 

"Boys are like dogs, you need to run them around every day or they will tear your house up." - Christine, mother of 2 grown up boys 

"When they grow up they have fewer problems, but the problems are bigger." - Martin, father to 2 grown up boys 

Then tonight before I taught yoga I sat with big boy and we 'played lego' then he asked if we could watch 'the internet is made of cats' - google it, honestly you won't be sorry. We laughed and played together and it made me believe - just for a moment - that I might just be doing something right.

I'm working on having more 'lego and internet cats' moments and fewer of the 'spilled milk' ones.

Wish me luck :) 

Oh Captain, My Captain.

The sad news about Robin Williams' death on Monday was accompanied by talk about his 'battle with severe depression.' I didn't know him so I can't possibly know how it felt for him or how he dealt with his depression, but I'm sad for his family and for those who did know him.

It does seem that his untimely death has opened up the public conversation about depression and how to live with it. I don't say 'cope with it' as I'm not sure I, or anyone else, does, but I know that I live with it. Depression is a constant in my life and one that has taken most of my life to learn to live with. As part of the general conversation about what being depressed can be like here is my take on it. Please accept this with the proviso that we all have different ways of feeling and managing and at times 'not coping.' These are the things that help me, they may work for you, they may not. I offer them here in the spirit of openness and honesty.

Fake it to make it: 
I smile, I make nice, I meet friends, I post happy photos on Facebook and make jokes on Twitter. It's not that I'm lying about how I feel, but sometimes you just don't need sympathy or empathy or platitudes. You just want to act like it's all ok. Also, when you're around a small child all day there are few opportunities for self -reflection or being morose, so there is a kind of enforced jollity that you find yourself employing. There can be few things more heartbreaking than a toddler asking "why are you so sad Mummy ?" and not having an answer.

Keep on moving: 
I have to exercise every day. If I don't I get agitated as all the anxiety courses around my body and my ability to deal with every day life becomes fraught. The irony is - of course - that with depression can come almost crippling exhaustion so I am constantly forcing myself to go to the swimming pool or to put on trainers to go for a run or a walk. I would much rather lie down on the sofa and try and sleep, but I know that exercise acts as a dopamine hit and for a moment it feels ok. It may not last, but to not exercise is just not an option for me.

Eat well, Sleep well:
I find that I either over or under eat when I am depressed. It isn't an exact science so I can't possibly say what will help me. Some days I want to eat lots of bread others I want chocolate and some days I don't eat for hours and I'm not hungry. I know that I should eat regularly or I feel horrid and that I must drink lots of water to feel well. Instead I often spend an entire day carrying round a full bottle of unopened water and lots of fruit. Then there is the sleep issue. I can be flat out dead on my feet tired and still not sleep. Or I'll get up at an unearthly hour, feed the cat, the goldfish and then go back to bed and fall asleep again for another few hours unaware of the time. There is no 'normal' for me and I'm sure that is not unusual.

Make space: 
Just as I try and keep company and be sociable I know that sometimes I need space. This means asking for help and I don't do that very well. Whether it is asking Hubbie to take the boy out so I can have some quiet time or asking family if they can have him overnight I am only just becoming able to do this. At it's worst a few weeks ago I wanted to take myself away and out of all of it. There are times when a bit of room and nothing to do just makes it all feel different. Not necessarily better, but different and that is ok.

Know who to tell: 
There are people who can hear you be honest and those who just can't. I know who these people are. Last week I spoke for a long time to a friend who I've known for almost 25 years (yes J, it's been that long !) about how it all felt. I spent a lot of the call in tears. In the time we've been friends we've been through and talked about our: 4 marriages, 2 divorces, many miscarriages, post-natal depression, love affairs and indiscretions.

Between us we now have 4 healthy, happy children and we are totally honest with each other - to the point of being beyond embarrassment when asked anything. If I ask J to be honest with me she will be. I do the same for her. It's not easy and it means there are periods of time when we just don't talk for a while as there is a lot to process and we know the conversation will be raw and the questions will be unavoidable. Just having even one person who will not judge when you tell them about the awfulness that is you makes a world of difference.

Knowing who not to tell:
Either because they will judge, or offer unwanted advice or just not listen. I shared a house at uni with 'friends' who sat me down for a chat/intervention and one of them harangued me to tell them "what is wrong with you ?" This neither inspired me to share, nor made me feel it was safe to with such a cold and unfeeling audience. Sometimes you want to spare other people's feelings and not worry them that you can't cope. Most days are functional and fine - some are difficult and require effort. Telling some people that you feel depressed might lead them to picture a neglected infant and to over-react. No-one wants that.

It's not going anywhere: 
Trying to pretend it will all go away and not be there any more is at best a wild dream and at worst a delusion. There is nothing wrong with being depressed. It's not who you are, it's how you are feeling. I've been feeling this for nigh on 33 years and there are times when I believe that it's just part of who I am. It isn't. I can't magically make it go away, but I can do my best to manage how I live through it. It is, however, persistent and always just there waiting to make itself known. Accepting that this is real and owning it is not giving in, it is ensuring that I am able to live with it.

Feelings are ok: 
I spend an inordinate amount of time telling myself not to be angry, or upset or to 'try and be normal' - whatever that is.  Don't punish yourself for having feelings. There are times when it seems like I feel too much, or I feel everything and am not able to disassociate from what is outside my head. Hearing the news at the moment is very difficult for me as I feel angry, sad, upset, powerless and this becomes overwhelming. I'm not alone in that, but if the feelings make you want to harm yourself or others then it's time to tell someone how you feel. That's not easy, I'm not saying it is, but you have to try.

Always look on the bright side:
Ok, this one is partly tongue in cheek. I succumb to such black clouds of depression that I really can't see anything else. While on holiday the boy was having a wonderful time and watching him I appreciated how lucky we are to have him and that he is active, healthy and cheerful. I wasn't always feeling things or wanting to be involved, but I did them anyway. Maybe somewhere along the line in the future I'll have a memory that might feel positive and happy, even if I wasn't happy while it was happening. I might feel it in hindsight because the depressive moods don't remain so photos and mementoes are really valuable reminders of what happened rather than what I was feeling.

I hope that something here might help someone else. I'm not an expert, I'm just another person living with depression and willing to talk about it. 

If you would like professional support here are some links you might find useful:

Mind - Mental Health charity

Rethink Mental Health Charity

Samaritans


I wish you the best of luck.

Black Thoughts and Blue Skies.

Today this cartoon appeared on my timeline and I felt so moved by it that I shared it. It's taken from a website called www.robot-hugs.com which you should check out - it really is quite lovely.

I was moved by this because the sentiment in it is so important for those who don't live with depression to understand. It's not always possible for someone with depression to express what is wrong or what they need. I remember my housemates in a shared house at Uni asking me why I was the way I was and being so confused and tearful I just didn't know what to say. It didn't matter how much Rachel harangued me to explain I just didn't know. I still don't really.

Just as one of my other Uni housemates used to play Pink Floyd and lock herself away sometimes and be really excited and happy at other times and we just accepted that was who she was. When she was sad we would be around, but not in her face and when she was manic we'd be carried along by her enthusiasm and rapid fire chat and laughter. I've since found out she has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and this was what we were witnessing, but without any knowledge of it. I like to think we were not a hindrance to her and that she knew it was a safe space to be herself in.

It's not always possible to know what you need to make you feel better. Equally it isn't always easy to know what to offer to do. When my closest friend almost died (actually she technically did die and came back) I went to see her in hospital and I asked what she needed. She said she had everything - her ipad, fruit, etc. I thought for a minute then said, "do you want me to wash your hair ?" She looked so relieved and said, "Yes ! That's just what I need." I'd taken a guess because I remembered being in hospital with my newborn son and just wanting clean hair. It made such a difference.

Sometimes is isn't much, but it's just something. When my first marriage broke up and I moved back to my parents' home I was in a daze. It was a miserable time and I didn't know what I was going to do. My sister was living at home and she came to the room where I was going to sleep and said, "shall I sit with you until you fall asleep ?" I had no idea what I needed or wanted, but at that moment I knew that I didn't want to be by myself. My sister brought in a chair and sat next to my bed in silence. She stayed there in the dark until I nodded off. It was the single most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

This is a difficult time of year for so many people. The weight of expectation is so high and we are all supposed to be having a wonderful time. If you aren't full of festive cheer it can be impossible to be around people who are. It's ok to feel sad, or angry, or fed up, or nothing.

If you are around someone who is depressed bear in mind that you may not be able to do anything. Just being there might also be just enough.







www.mind.org.uk

www.sane.org.uk