An alternative Christmas message

It's that time of year. Expectations are high and the pressure to have fun is immense. We will hear all the classics "Oh come on, smile", "Cheer up, it's Christmas" etc and while we smile through clenched teeth and fists, we know deep down that people are just trying to help. It's Christmas, the prearranged time of the year when we all have to be ok. It's just not that easy, but that is ok. Really, it is.

This is a difficult time of year for many people, not just depressives. It is a time when anxiety levels will go through the roof as we are confronted with many of our fears and triggers. It is also a time to feel. Maybe you will feel a roller coaster of emotions, from excited and happy to crushed and full of dread, I know I do. But whatever you feel, just feel it.

I told my boyfriend today that I was terrified I would have a breakdown over Christmas. He told me maybe I would, but I have to just let it happen. That it is temporary, much like the season. I know this is true, there is nothing I can really do to stop the feelings, but pretending that they are not there is never going to help me. Burying them under a pile of wrapping paper and sweet wrappers won't help.

Maybe I will just need to take some breaks, go hide on my own and allow myself to feel what I need to. Maybe everything will be fine and nothing will surface, I don't know. What I do know is, it doesn't matter either way. I am still loved, I am still wanted, I am still me.

A ball of fluff is enough

A while back I wrote a blog about my tree. I am proud to report that I did look after the tree (sorry, "the tree" has a name - it is Bruce) He has grown and stayed healthy and he is currently living it up as the king of all trees, the Christmas tree. Decorated and twinkling in my living room in all his splendor.

Having a focus is always good for me. Knowing I have something to direct my brain towards, to absorb my thinking time into something productive and positive, is something I really strive for. For me, this was always a pet, I wanted a pet so badly. Whilst the tree has been a lovely thing to see grow, it doesn't need me and it definitely doesn't interact with me. I needed something in return.

This week, those dreams finally came true when I adopted a rabbit from the RSPCA. The process of adoption was a roller coaster of emotions, anxiety and worry. I was both excited and terrified, happy but waiting for it to all go wrong. Thankfully it didn't go wrong and I now have a ball of fluff in my life who I named Howard Moon.

Her presence has had an immediate change on my life. My mood has lifted and my thoughts are more focused and useful. I can't say I haven't been anxious, because I definitely have. But they have been, at least for the most part, more useful thoughts such as "Have I fed the bunny enough?" rather than the more destructive and unproductive thoughts that had been bombarding my mind previously.

I have found myself much more able to get up in the morning, feeling like I have so much more purpose and knowing that someone is relying on me to look after her. My thoughts during the day drift to wondering what she is doing, rather than ruminating on the endless worries I may have. I want to be there to look after her and occasionally get to stroke her ears when she isn't running away from me in terror. I want to be present. I want to be me.

I have read articles that say that having an animal in your life is a great help to your mental health. I can say that even after four days, I can see a difference. Even my counsellor noticed the difference in me. I have already found myself talking endlessly about the 'hilarious' things the bunny did, showing off photos and generally being a boring, pet owner. I don't care. I want everyone to know that I am happy and I am happy because of a grumpy little rabbit who is currently too afraid to venture further than the door to her run.

I was told that her back story involved horrible abuse and neglect and as a result of this she had both physical and mental problems, including anorexia. I knew that she was the one for me, that we could both help each other to become better versions of ourself. Even if one is a helpless, wide eyed bundle of nerves and the other is a rabbit.

I know that a pet isn't a cure all, but I also know that it is a big change and shift in my life for the better. I have a responsibility now and need to make sure that I stay well so I can take care of her. She makes me take care of myself and for that I will always be grateful. Now I just need to work on getting more bunny hugs, as they definitely are a cure all.

Same Changes

I am not a fan of change. I am not a lover of inconsistency and I certainly don't like being let down. I struggle to deal with any of those things and I probably take much longer to get over these things than "normal"* people do. I just like things to stay the same, which is pretty unrealistic.

Changes make me anxious. Being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of change makes me on edge. My company is moving offices and we had a removal company in on Friday, packing away our things. It was loud, busy and confronting. I had to leave the room to breathe. My head was spinning, I was short of breath and felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. All because a man was wrapping office furniture in bubble wrap. It doesn't make sense.

I don't know why I don't like change. I have moved house so many times I can't tell you a number. I don't know if that makes it ironic or understandable. And even though once change happens, I adapt pretty quickly, I just... don't want change to happen. The anticipation of change is awful. Thinking of all the scenarios that will ultimately go horribly wrong and ruin everything, over thinking every decision that had lead you to this change, thinking about thinking.

Inconsistency, is much the same as change. I just don't like it. I just want things to be steady and the same and reliable. There is comfort in consistency and patterns, I don't care how boring it is. Routine is safe. You know where you are with a routine, it's like a blanket, comforting and familiar. I think that if you have a lot going on in your head, and wow, I do, then a routine is the easiest way to get through life. Taking the thought process out of as many simple tasks as possible. Some would even say, automating the process.

Routine is important for mental health. I think it means that you can spot warning signs earlier and know if you may be falling into a bad cycle. Making life as calm and as reliable as possible is helpful when you are doubting everything you think. Making your brain as quiet as possible is always preferable. For me, that is achievable by disrupting as little as possible.

That's not to say that I don't make any changes at all. Of course I do. I mean deep seated routine, plans made far in advance, "the way things are"; they are all the hardest to change. Last minute changes to plans can throw me off balance, they can whip the carpet out from under me and sometimes I don't react well. Mostly, things aren't as bad as I think they will be, but the prospect of change and the reality of change don't even each other out. I still fear change. I just need to learn to remember, not all change is bad.

You can't, however account for other people's behaviour in all of this. People will always let you down. It's sad but true. You can only ever rely on yourself and to be fair, even you screw up from time to time. People can't be expected to never change and you can't think that they won't have to change up your plans. It's just that you have to learn to go with it. You can't control everything and you will never be able to. Sometimes you just have to embrace change. Well, maybe give it a small pat on the back, let's not go too far.

*I know there is no such thing as normal, but when I say normal, I pretty much mean people who don't feel like I do

Here is a nice song - enjoy!

Safe mode

I have recently found myself pretending to be ok. I have been pretending not only to others, but to myself. It was like catching someone telling a lie, discovering that they were hiding something from you... but it's yourself. You really don't have any excuses, lying to yourself is futile, you'll always be found out.

I realised I was just holding it in and not coping well. As soon as I realised this, I had a breakdown. I slipped back horribly into old thinking patterns, low mood, physical symptoms and harmful thoughts. My brain hurt. It was painful and all too real and felt like it would never end. I found myself trying to walk home but immobilised by the feelings, unable to think straight and crying uncontrollably. At one point, a very concerned man stopped and asked if I was ok. I, of course, said yes.

He clearly knew at this point that I was far from ok but apart from offering to get a taxi for me (which I refused) there was little more that he could do. I thanked him profusely before he left me where I was standing, snotty and crying and "ok". Obviously that wasn't going to be the moment for me to stop pretending. This kind stranger didn't really want me to start talking. His concern was for my safety but I'm sure had I said "Well, seeing as you asked...." he may have retreated rather quickly.

I was hard on myself and I felt that I had no choice in letting the feelings engulf me. The next day, walking home, again it hit me. I realised that only a few days earlier, it had been a year since I had decided I was going to commit suicide. Suddenly I felt like nothing had changed and I was no further forward. I couldn't see any of the progress that I had made, I could only see the black cloud that was surrounding me and dragging me down and I let it. I felt helpless. My brain, however, decided upon a different course of action.

I call it safe mode.

I know for a fact that when my brain goes into safe mode, I act weirdly. I feel it, I watch it happen, but I am not in control. Several things happen; I retreat into myself a lot, I am very wary of other people and even jumpy, noises startle me and I say almost anything that comes into my mind, my filter is broken. I become wide eyed, fragile and somewhat childlike but my brain stops hurting. This lasts as long as it needs to, just to get me over the worst of it.

It's as if my brain just dulls itself. I think less and I listen less. Inside my head becomes a little bit quieter but this comes at the cost of me being less able to have a conversation. Short bursts of perhaps off topic subjects and an overwhelming tiredness.

I wish I could turn it on and off myself but I am not in control of it, just as I don't control my depression or anxiety. It is yet another part of myself that I don't understand and probably never will. Right now I am still running safe mode partially, though I am definitely regaining the controls.

I am not ok but I am also not "ok".

Those who come along for the ride

I recently read a very interesting article entitled '13 Things to Remember If You Love A Person With Anxiety' which was passed on to me by a friend who recognised many of the points that related to him and his very supportive wife. When I read it, I too recognised the elements of myself that make me hard to be around, that make me wonder how someone has the patience to love me.

Whilst no one is perfect, it can often be a real test of character to be there for someone with mental health issues. To be there without judgement or annoyance and for the feeling not to be absorbed yourself. Sometimes it can be extremely contagious.

The article focused on what the person can do for the anxiety sufferer. Tips on what to say or do and what not to. It was great, but it made me think, what are the 'Things to Remember if You Love a Person Who Loves You and Your Anxiety?' Granted, the title isn't as snappy, but hey ho.

1. Tell them you appreciate them when you can
Every time they take your hand because they notice your mood change, hold you tight because it crushes some of the feelings or talk at you because you can't talk, try to remember that moment. Tell them later how it helped, how you may not be able to say it at the time, but when they are there for you it means more than they know.

2. Give them some space
Just like you need some time to gather your thoughts, centre yourself and hide from the world, your loved one needs some time to themselves. They need to recharge, it's not personal, it's just impossible to be there constantly for anyone.

3. Understand when they don't understand
Sometimes you just need to have experienced something to really get it. If your loved one has never felt the crush of anxiety (and even if they have), don't be mad if they just don't always get it. Explain as best as you can and know that they do their best to try to understand. Be thankful that they have never felt how you feel, you wouldn't want them to.

4. Tell them when something they do helps
They might do something without even realising how much it helps but the effect is great. Tell them, no matter how small.

5. Try things
This may sound terrifying, but try things for them. I used to be terrible, I would never try new things, I was always too afraid to. Encouraged by my boyfriend, I tried new things things I thought I'd be terrible at or couldn't do. Nothing was as bad as I thought it would be. I learned so many new things.

6. Look after them
Do little things for them, let them know you care and think about them. Knowing that the concern isn't one sided is important. This is obvious for any relationship, but people with anxiety can often feel like they are a burden to their loved ones. Keeping a balance is important.

7. Be yourself
Never hide your feelings from them. They know anyway, they can see right through you, they know when you are pretending you are ok. They know that you spend so much of your energy being 'ok'. You can be yourself, that's who they love.

Whilst none of these things are particularly revelational, it can become pretty easy to take someone for granted. Sometimes we can become so wrapped up in our feelings as they are overwhelming, paralysing and all consuming, that we forget that we are not going through this alone. Many of us have someone who is along for the ride and quite often need just as much help as we do.

To my very own Person Who Loves Me and My Anxiety, you will never know how much you have done for me. I will be forever grateful for the person you have helped me become. In the words of someone infinitely more wonderful than me:

"I love you for who you are and will never ask nor expect you to change"

This is the original article

Mouldy tuna nightmares

I'm going to tell you something terrible. Something that I am ashamed to admit to. It involves tuna.

Months ago, I made a sandwich. It was delicious, all my sandwiches are. Sandwich making is one of my few skills in life. I made an awesome mix of tuna, cheese and mustard and as there was too much for one, I put the rest in a bowl in the fridge. I then left it there.

I just left it there.

For days.

Weeks.

Months. I'd say it's been a couple of months.

I can't even tell you why. I am an adult. In the time it has been in there festering, I have cleaned my house. I know I haven't cleaned it as much as I should and every time I do clean I congratulate myself. A grown woman, saying 'Well done, you cleaned up your own filth!' I know it's pathetic, but motivation is seriously eluding me. I don't even think I'm that lazy. If something needs to be done, I used to be able to just get it done with, but more and more I find myself putting things off. Procrastinating, sitting, staring into space, having a lie down, eating ice cream, thinking 'hmmm I really should throw out that tuna, but I think the couch really needs my attention right now.'

Today I found my motivation. The tuna had to go, as did the new forms of life it was spawning. A few seconds later and it was all gone. Not sure what the fuss had been about really. Of course I congratulated myself. Well done, adult woman, you have successfully performed the role of 'normal person'. I hate that this is how I measure myself some days. Have I been able to perform a normal human task?

I just want these things to happen without breaking into song.

I think that motivation goes hand in hand with concentration and both of those things have gone off for a break, leaving me to flounder a little. Of course there are many more examples of this than just the tuna incident. The tuna was just the most fitting anecdote. It's way less interesting to know that I started a new book two weeks ago and haven't gotten past the first 5 pages. Mouldy tuna nightmares are far more interesting.

Finding the motivation to continue this blog has been a struggle. I love writing it, I find it therapeutic and beyond helpful, but I have to make myself do it. Despite it being way more pleasurable than cleaning the bathroom, the motivation to do either is almost as hard to find. I don't know when my motivation will return and I hope isn't gone for good. I just need to know that whilst it may feel like it will never change, my life won't always require a Cliff Richard soundtrack every time I take the bin out. In fact, the threat of that is motivation enough.

Making an effort

I have never really been one to be so concerned about my appearance. I don't take long to get ready and I frequently leave the house without looking in the mirror. I would say I am far from vain and don't take an interest in fashion. I have an eclectic taste in clothes and accessories and I always thought that I didn't care what anyone thought. Until now.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend told me that I wasn't making much of an effort any more. This felt like a bit of a slap in the face and to be honest, I was a bit hurt by it. As an obsessive thinker, his words swirled around my head for days. At first I had a bit of a defiant reaction; there was nothing wrong with how I looked. I work in a very casual environment so I don't need to be dressed up, my weekday and weekend attire are one and the same. I thought how dare he comment on the way I dress! How mean!

After defiance came analysis. I started to think about it more critically. Was there some truth in it? I never took the time to do much more to my hair than tie it up. I was very happy in jeans and a t-shirt, but was it the easy option? Was I really thinking about what I was throwing on in the morning? And why should it matter?

Next came action of sorts. I thought to hell with it, I will make an effort. I will make a big effort and I will show him! So I did. I thought about what I should wear and I took some time to do my hair and with every day that I did that, I would ask the same question: "Am I making an effort?" I was told "yes" each time. I was, in my mind, really just making a point. I thought it would point out how wrong he had been and he would realise that his comment had been misjudged.

After a few days of this effort making, I once again asked the question and this time I was given a different answer. He told me that he had noticed the effort I had been making, but more than that, he had noticed the change in me. He could see that I was brighter, more confident and noticeably happier. He told me that it wasn't about what I was wearing, but it was about the affect it had on me. That it brought about a change in my mood and outlook.

Next came realisation. In his own charming way, my boyfriend had pushed me to make a change for the better. I had sometimes been just throwing any old thing on and frequently did little more than wash and leave my hair tied up. These things didn't make me feel good, they didn't make me feel confident or myself. I hadn't been giving myself enough focus. I had let myself get lost along the way a little bit and he knew I was still there and whether it was intentional or not, he found a clever way to get me back.

I know clothes can't and won't help to rid me of my issues, I'm not that daft or shallow. And yes, we shouldn't care what people think about us and we should be able to wear whatever we want. The moral of the story isn't about the clothes or hair or even the lack of effort, it is about that one thing that gives you a boost. Something that lifts you and makes you feel more you. In the last week or so I have begun to feel much more clear headed and like I have turned a corner.

It's funny how one comment can cause a change. Thankfully this was a good change. I realised that I needed to give myself a bit of time and attention. That my wellbeing was maybe being neglected. I had been so caught up in the struggle on the inside that I let go of the outside. I think I am in a good place to deal with both at once again. How I am looking on the outside is a good reflection of how I am feeling on the inside and for now, without blowing my own trumpet, I am looking and feeling so much better. Making an effort doesn't seem like such an effort any more.

Two depressives get on a train

Two depressives get on a train... It's not a joke, that was my weekend.

I haven't had the best week or so and I also hadn't seen a good friend in a long time. I decided to remedy both points by meeting up with said friend and having a day of fun. By calling it a day of fun beforehand, you can guarantee that it will be fun.

We decided to start the day (of fun) by meeting at the train station and getting the first train that was leaving to somewhere nice. Some time ago, this would have struck fear into my heart. Unplanned train travel? Gah. But not now; I was not only not phased, but I was actually looking forward to it. A phrase I had to dust the cobwebs off of a little.

Both my friend and I are depressives and have anxiety issues and many of our chats involve talking about such issues. We have talked over more cups of tea and sat in comfortable silence with each other more time than I can remember and are always on hand to try to get to the bottom of our feelings, whether we find an answer or not. But this day we just enjoyed being.

We walked in the sun by the river, visited an antiques fair, window shopped, ate well, drank tea and answered life's most important question: "Would you rather be a donkey or a horse?" Only today as I wrote this, did I realise that we didn't turn to our most frequent subject of our thoughts, feelings and moods. We were just us. Two people.

Towards the end of the day, as we walked to the train station, we crossed over a bridge and stopped to look over  the edge at the water below. I cannot stand on such a bridge without thinking of jumping off it or something falling over (such as my possessions). It's a terrible weakness of mine and I can't help but have to step back a little, just in case. This may have put me on edge a little, but that was nothing compared to the train home.

Each carriage was full when we pushed our way on and stood in the middle of the aisle. I imagined we probably looked quite funny as I gripped the seat as hard as I could and occasionally made noises to myself while my friend quietly gritted his teeth. Neither of us talked much and it was clear we were getting through it as best we could. Two stops later and almost everybody got off, we took our seats and breathed a sigh of relief and continued talking as if nothing had happened. That, my friends, is progress.

We promised each other that we would try to do things like that more often, knowing how good for us it had been. Not only as a way of spending time with a friend who understands, but because it really was good for our brains. To give them a day off from being a depressed person and just let them be a person. Being us was really good for us.

Is it ok to be ok?

My depression and anxiety, like many others, are not constant. They come and go, ebb and flow without real pattern and are as unpredictable as they are cruel. I imagine that some people with no experience of depression think that it's all or nothing. Either you are brought down to your knees or you are cured. It may be hard to accept that the smiling, laughing colleague who always has a joke at hand is actually a depressive. How can they be when they always seem happy enough? Of course, we are masters of disguise, but also, some days, we are just ok.

Not every day is a bad day. Not every mood is a bad one. Not every smile is fake. Sometimes it can be quite worrying when you realise that today, you feel ok. Shouldn't I be anxious? Shouldn't I feel like I am not ready for today? That I just want to hide? Is it really ok to be ok?

The short answer is yes. It is very ok.

A day without intrusive thoughts, sadness or fear. It may not even be an amazing and fun filled day, but whilst you might not be having the best day of your life, you are getting there. You have achieved things and made progress and it didn't hurt. Maybe you did your washing, maybe you finally met up with a friend after 6 months or maybe you had a breakthrough at work. It doesn't matter what you did, you did it.

I guess the absence of a feeling can sometimes be as worrying as the feeling itself and if you are prone to obsessive thinking (and many of us are) then your thoughts can get carried away with themselves.

"Why am I not a ball of sadness?? What is wrong with me?? What are these non sad feelings??"

But I have found that the more good days I get, the less I worry. I try to leave it until the bad days to worry, so I don't waste any of the good days. I know that every good day I get is something to be celebrated, not questioned. But a good day is not always possible and a bad day is not always welcome so I am happy with those ok days. They give you something to aim for and something to better, and I'm ok with that.

What my anxiety looks like

I have been feeling very anxious today. I tried to create a cartoon to show what my anxiety looks like but I just couldn't get it right. Then I looked at all the tat I have on my desk at work and I saw it. This is what my anxiety looks like:

The shell was a gift from a friend when he went diving, the eyes were given to me by another friend. I had combined them without thinking. When I look at the shell, all wide eyed and worried, this is how I think I look today. I am interested to know how other people's anxiety looks to them.

What to say when you don't know what to say

I have seen loads of articles, cartoons and tweets about how to help people with depression. Top 10 lists of things you should or shouldn't say to the depressed. Some are good, others are awful. I guess some things are just obvious. Don't say "Cheer up, it could be worse" unless you enjoy facing the wrath of a sad person. Do offer lots of support and endless cups of tea. When times are hard, tea makes all the difference.

So what should you be saying to us depressives? Or what do we want to hear? This is my own personal version of what to say when you don't know what to say. Just like me, it may be contradictory and confusing. Ah well!

Nothing.
What do you mean, nothing? I thought this was about what I should be saying? Well, sometimes, dear reader, less is more. Sometimes, just listening is enough. Hold our hand, look into our eyes and listen to what we have to say. Let us ramble and rant and cry and snot everywhere. Sometimes we just need to talk ourselves ok. If we really want you to respond, we will let you know. But as they say, silence is golden.

Do you want to play this game with me?
I love a good distraction. Something mindless and fun to keep my brain away from it's destructive thinking. Not only is a game just that, but you are asking me to come play it with you. You want to spend time with me, you want to be around me. That makes me feel better.

Do you want a hug?
Yes, yes I do.

Let me tell you a story...
Sit with me, talk to me, let me be the silent one. Tell me a long and detailed story, real or fiction, it doesn't matter. Don't get angry if it looks like I may not even be paying attention. You're there with me, your words are comforting.

I've noticed these improvements.
If you have seen positive improvements or changes, tell me, I won't be offended. You think I am coping with this better? Am I no longer as manic as I used to be? It's hard to notice the positive changes in yourself. Your feedback is useful. Just keep it positive.

It's ok to feel that way.
You may think that any sort of negative feeling and thinking should be discouraged. I disagree. Sometimes we need to know that we are not failing, we aren't letting anyone down by how we feel. Sometimes it is ok to be sad. You won't feel this way forever, it is ok to feel that way.

Do you want me to do that for you?
People need help from time to time and often they won't even realise how much they need it. Knowing that an offer of help is always there is great. Actually having someone ask you what they can do to help you is even better. Since I started getting better, my ability to keep my house in an obsessionally clean state has decreased, some days I'd say it was dirty. If someone would like to offer to come help me clean it, I would not be offended. Please... come and clean my house.

I got you this...
Who doesn't love a gift? Who doesn't like to know that someone was thinking about them? Whether it is a shell they picked up on a beach or the most expensive jewellery money can buy, it really is the thought that counts. Someone took the time out of their day to think of you, someone cares. Also - gifts... everyone loves gifts.

Can I ask for your advice?
It may not be the case for everyone, but I love to be distracted by other people's issues. It takes me away from my own and it allows me to concentrate on something else for a while. Other people have problems, I don't want to just be embroiled in my own. Let's talk about you.

I love you
It's simple enough, but more important than you'll ever know.

Separation anxiety - not just for dogs

One of the few childhood memories I have from living with both my parents is me standing on my bed, looking out of my window, looking for my mam as I cried. I was holding and smelling her scarf. My dad had disciplined me for something with a smack on the leg and in my beautiful childhood naivety, I rubbed some sort of body lotion on the perfect, red hand print and hoped more than anything that she would come home and fix everything with a hug.

Around the same time in my life, every Tuesday night I would stay at my Nana's house and every Tuesday night I would cry after I was put to bed. I just wanted to go home. When I think about four year old me, I just want to hug her, because without any problem, I can summon up those feelings and I know exactly how it felt. It's hard to process now, let alone as a confused kid. But I don't know if it get's any easier.

In the year or so before I started with any treatment, I spent a lot of time alone. I stayed home a lot and I sat on my own a lot. This didn't bother me, it was my preference. I was invited out, I would make my excuses. I felt like I didn't have anything to say or more often, I just felt like what I did have to say wasn't important enough to be heard. I would shrink into the background, I would want to go home, I would want to be alone.

There are a lot of turning points for depression. Mine, without any doubt, was meeting my boyfriend. He opened up the world to me and I found myself out and about more than ever. Admittedly, it's often just the two of us, but I like it that way and we are probably too annoying to hang out with other people all the time. I do however find myself in way more group situations and socialising without problems (not always, I'm not perfect, I still have wobbles). But this awesome change has also had it's issues.

When I think of the term 'Separation Anxiety' I think of dogs. I think of them locked in the house all day, pacing and howling, while their owner is off enjoying human fun without them. It certainly isn't just for dogs though, this puppy knows that all too well.

Separation Anxiety isn't just missing someone. It isn't that you're mad that they have gone somewhere without you, that they may be, god forbid, having fun when you're not there. It is deep and uncontrollable feelings of dread, being so unsettled that you can barely concentrate, spontaneous tears and a downward spiral of thinking that can only lead to bad things. No wonder dogs howl.

No matter how unreasonable you know you are being, it doesn't matter. It can manifest itself if you are left for 5 minutes while someone goes to the bar or any time you're home alone all night. I don't think any part of mental illness is reasonable, so why should this be any different...

Brain: He's gone, maybe he won't come back
Me: What? Hold on... he's just gone to get us drinks...
Brain: Are you sure? What if he goes missing?
Me: Oh god, missing?
Brain: Yeah, I mean can you see him?
Me: No! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!
Brain: Told you, he's gone...

Meanwhile, with stomach in knots and heart rate increasing, I begin to self comfort. My own personal mechanism is to hold my own hand, I clutch at my clothes (zips, cuffs, hems etc) and I bite my lip. Sure signs that I'm not ok. Just so you know.

Of course, he comes back with drinks, clocks my tell tale signs and comforts me. Nothing has gone wrong. No one went missing. Sometimes though, things like this do cause issue, it's inevitable. It can make you look clingy, it is a lot of pressure to put on one person. It's like you're saying "My happiness depends on you", of course that isn't the case, but when all they witness is tears streaming down your face because they aren't there, then it does suggest otherwise.

People don't want to be thought of as 'psychos', possessive or annoying girlfriends. That's not what it is about. It's not that you don't want someone to go and do their own thing, it's that you just sometimes cannot cope with the separation from someone who comforts you, who makes it ok. Incidents like this are few and far between these days, but there was a point in the relationship where I did really struggle to be alone (or more accurately, without him). Even if I was with others, the anxiety didn't ease, it wasn't company I needed, it was him. This sort of burden isn't easy, but I was always comforted when I needed it and hopefully I was understood.

Though I don't crave being alone like I used to, every now and again, time to myself is appreciated. I do though find that I seek to fill my time with people and I do prefer to have company. I don't necessarily mean that I want to be surrounded or to be somewhere busy, but to just have a friend over to visit is enough.

Being alone is neither the great comfort nor the distress that it has been in the past. It is just a state of being that I am (mostly) ok to be in. I know that nothing bad is going to happen and I know that it isn't the way to solve my issues. And although I am nowhere near being a pacing, howling canine when I am left alone, I can't deny that my imaginary tail starts wagging whenever my man walks through the door.

How thoughts spiral out of control (a cartoon)

Friends without benefits

I think it's true of any type of crisis you go through, that you learn who your real friends are. I have never had loads of friends, I am more reserved and it takes me a while to open up to people. Social anxiety doesn't help with this and it may come across that I am unfriendly or not interested. It's not the case, I'm just pretty terrified on the inside. Meeting new people is scary and starting up conversations is never easy. Who'd want to hear what I have to say?

Never the less, at some points in my life, I managed to convince people that I'm not all that bad and pluck up the courage to have more than one conversation that ultimately lead to a friendship. I would rather have a handful of close friends who I felt comfortable with, than hundreds of acquaintances who barely know more than my current Facebook status. I am happy with this friendship model. I am not the best at keeping in touch and I hate speaking on the phone, but the people I am closest to know this and never complain. I can see them after 6 months and it feels like it's barely been a week. These are the type of people I need in my life.

Having a mental illness does not stop at your own head, it has far reaching affects on the people you live with and those who care about you from a far. Neither is easy and it takes patience. Those people who live with mental health within a relationship (of any kind) also need to ensure they look after themselves and take time to look after their own brain too. I am lucky enough to have support from almost all corners of my life. I am able to talk honestly about how I feel and what is going on and know that I am supported.

Unfortunately, sometimes people aren't always so understanding and they take it almost as a personal insult to them that you are depressed. The fact that you were unable to tell them when you were at your lowest seems to annoy them, they don't understand how you could possibly be sad when they are around. They muse about how they clearly weren't a good enough friend to you and so it must be something they did wrong. That's it! That's the reason you are so sad!

Joking aside, it's a very sad thing when you lose a friend over the chemical imbalance in your brain that you cannot control. But hey ho, as I said, the good ones stick around. It has been a beautiful revelation to me how many people have reached out to me, or have said that they too have a dark cloud and they have found comfort in what I have written here.

Life is short, rich, complicated and messy, you need to know that the people you have along for the ride are there for the right reasons. As harsh as it may seem, you need to know when to let go of relationships that are merely bringing you down. Looking after yourself is critical.

Friends are hugely important to me, they are my second family and as I live away from my family, they are my first point of contact when I need help. They are all special individuals, each offering me something different and looking after me in different ways. So this one is for you, my friend. You all know who you are and you all know how much I care. Thank you for never giving up on me, for understanding who I am and accepting me as I am.

A fine line between excitement and dread

I don't think I'm alone in feeling immense dread before events, outings, getting out of bed... For most people with anxiety, it can be really hard to look forward to things, rather than turning them into write-offs before they even happen. I can't help myself, I have such a terrible, negative outlook. I don't want to think that way, I just do.

As soon as an event is announced or I am invited somewhere, my brain searches for ways to get out of it. This could be a fleeting thought or could last for days or weeks, but I will think of any and every reason why I shouldn't do something. Most times, I know that it's just my brain, trying to trip me up, sometimes I find that really should have listened to my brain.

Whilst I usually know myself quite well, sometimes I try to outsmart myself and go out even though I don't feel great. Always a big mistake. Panic attacks often ensue, no one wants that. However, more and more, I am finding that I actually end up having a good time... I surprise myself.

I have almost coined the catchphrase "I don't get excited about anything" my long suffering boyfriend  mocks me for this as he has witnessed the contrary to this many times (keep it clean, I don't mean that.) I also have a terrible "I shouldn't try that new thing cos I'll be terrible at it" attitude which I am challenging often, and again, to my horror, I'm usually NOT terrible at said activity.

I am going on holiday this week (a fact that hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone within 1000ft of me as I've been mentioning it hourly) and for the first time in so long, I am completely excited about it. Full on happy, excited, bouncy and optimistic. It is beautiful, I don't know when I last felt like this. I almost don't feel like me. I haven't had any negative thoughts and I am not dreading one single bit of it.

People maybe don't understand why people wouldn't feel excited about doing things, but I really believe that there is a very fine line between excitement and dread. They are so intertwined, sometimes it's too close to call. My brain has, for once, settled on full on excitement. Though this may be intolerable for anyone within 1000ft of me right now, I don't care - I am happy, I am excited, I am going to have fun.

Keeping the weird in

Some days it can be a struggle to fake smile, to put on an act and go about your day and just be. But other days, I'm finding more and more, it's a struggle to keep in the weird. Maybe it's just me, but I have a feeling that we're all doing this to some extent. Some days I let it out a little. Those are some of the best days.

I guess I have always been a bit eccentric. I was recently described as "weird, but good weird" after meeting someone for the first time. I don't mind that, I think it's nice. I don't want to be normal. But I do wonder exactly how much good weird I am withholding from the world, and if I let it out, would I just be "weird weird"?

Certain things bring out my weird, such as caffeine. I am not good after a coffee. I twitch, make noises, move a lot, get really big eyes, perhaps do a dance. But I know the cause, and therefore avoid caffeine. No one wants a constantly bouncy, wide eyed colleague. Other times, it just comes out without a stimulant. I have wondered if these are manias (specifically, hypomania), it would be a fair assumption, I suppose.

Yesterday, for example, I found myself dancing across the office, making a high pitched noise. Wide eyed and waving my arms around. I have worked there for more than three years, so I am comfortable in my environment. Comfortable enough to let the weird out. But I don't even know if I'm in control of it.

I make a lot of noises, I let them out without knowing sometimes. But I also hold in many, many noises I would like to make. Squeaks, screams, songs. The more comfortable I am with someone, the more noises escape. I think that's normal? To be honest, I wish I could just let it all out, walk along the street making as many sounds as I like, talking to myself, singing along to the song in my head. Some people do that, but they are either called crazy or they are children.  I guess it sucks to be a functioning grown up.

I guess there is a fine line between being a "normal" person and being whatever the hell you like. People are not sure about those of us who don't conform, they are not used to honesty, letting go of inhibitions or aquatic inspired dance moves in the middle of the office. I think it's a shame.

So why are we holding back our weird? Is it to not worry other people? Is it because we are scared of letting go and being our weird and wonderful selves? Maybe it's because our weird is deeply buried and we aren't even sure about it our self. For me, I think it is just that it is suppressed by sadness, anxiety and worry so often that it sometimes forgets to surface. On especially good days, I embrace my weird and let it out for all to see, crab dance and all.

Is honesty always the best policy?

A few weeks ago I took some time off work to get my head in order and rest. I was hoping that when I went back to work, things would improve and I would get some further support. I had been very honest about what was happening and how I felt and had really believed that it had been the best course of action. I may have been wrong.

It has taken me a while to talk about this as, to be honest, I was actually very upset by how the whole thing turned out. It left me thinking, how honest should you be? Should we really have to keep our mental illnesses hidden for fear of making things worse with honesty? Who should you tell and who shouldn't you tell? Where is the line drawn?

I have always taken a very honest approach. I was upfront with my team mates and manager and I knew that the info had been filtered through to management etc. I have always been happy to talk to people about how I feel and how it could affect my work. Many of my colleagues have read my blog and have told me so, I imagine that some are reading it without mentioning it and I don't mind at all.

When I got back to work after my 3 days off, I was feeling very positive and ready to get back into things. Unfortunately, the meeting I had that morning didn't go as I had hoped and I was left feeling upset, let down and discouraged. I was asked to explain why I was feeling the way I was, I was told that I probably needed to increase my medication, I was mocked. I ended up in tears and barely able to speak.

I felt stupid for ever being as honest and open as I had. It hadn't helped me really, here I was feeling guilty for taking time off and feeling like I had to explain myself. If it was as easy as knowing why I felt like this, I wouldn't need three days off to get my brain in order. I felt angry and let down. Now I am in an awkward position of not knowing what to do from now on. Should I continue to be honest and talk about it all and ask for help or time when I need it? Or do I just shut myself off from it all and always say "I'm fine" when asked?

Of course the answer should be to carry on as I always have, to not let this beat me and to be myself, but I can't help but wonder how much trouble that will get me into. As soon as you let people into your head and have been honest with them, they feel like they are entitled to something. That they are allowed to question you, demand answers, give advice.

I am grateful that I have a job and am able to get myself here and that for the most part, I am able to get through the day without issue. I just don't know if I made a mistake by opening up, revealing something about myself that opens me up to be treated differently, maybe even unfairly. For now I am going to stick to the classic "I'm fine", we are all so well rehearsed with this line that no one will know any different.

Whistle While You Work... Or don't

I cannot abide the sound of someone whistling. I have a theory that the only people who whistle are people who can't whistle. It's a horrible noise and frankly should banned alongside noisy eating, loud breathing, tapping, nail biting, mouth noises of any kind... I could go on and on.

Now, I used to think that this was just me. That it was perfectly normal to be driven to absolute distraction by the noises other people make, to not be able to concentrate on anything but the noises other people make. It is very much not normal. It also has a name, and we all know, if it has a name, it's easier to deal with. The name of this particular beast is Misophonia.

To quote Wikipedia:

Misophonia, literally "hatred of sound", is a rarely diagnosed disorder, commonly thought to be of neurological origin, in which negative emotions (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. The sounds can be loud or soft. The term was coined by American neuroscientists Pawel Jastreboff and Margaret Jastreboff and is sometimes referred to as selective sound sensitivity syndrome.

People tend not to take you seriously when you suffer from something like this. They either mock you for reacting or complaining or they go out of their way to make the noises you are triggered by, in order to wind you up or get a reaction from you. I guess in a way, it's understandable, people like to tease each other and I guess they really do think you are just overreacting. It's not a well known condition and as per anything else that is mental health related, people often fail to grasp what it is about and assume that it is something you can just "get over". Believe me, if I could, I would.

There have been many times when I have had to leave a room because of the sound of someone eating, had to move seats in the cinema because someone was chewing, had to move to a different train carriage because someone was tapping. It's not just that the noise is unpleasant, it is the effect it has on me. I feel completely uncomfortable, I can't focus on anything but the sound, it fills my head and makes me feel panicky and agitated. I have to get away from it or at the very least, block my ears. I can often be seen sitting in meetings with a finger in my ear to counter the sound that someone next to me is making.

Headphones are a blessing. I don't think I could get through a work day without them. An office is a hive of noises, both that people can control and those that they can't. Some days it can be an aural assault. For those days, only really big headphones will do. The cinema is a place I can't really enjoy much anymore. A combination of my anxiety and the absolute inability for cinema goers to STFU and not add their own soundtrack of whispering, crunching, feet tapping and texting has made watching films a way less enjoyable experience for me. My huge lack of concentration doesn't help either... I'd rather wait for it to come to Netflix.

Exposure does help though. The more I am made to face whatever sound I have an issue with, the better I get at tolerating it. But it is just that; I am better able to tolerate it. I don't "get over it" and I certainly don't learn to like it. This is a very difficult thing to explain to "normal" people and I sometimes think that I must sound like I am a hypochondriac but essentially, all of these issues go hand in hand. A heady mixture of depression, anxiety, OCD and noise aversion, I guess they all belong to the same family. Christmases around their house must be fun.

Unlike the other mental health issues that I have, Misophonia can't really be treated. CBT may help and as I mentioned before, exposure to noises can be slightly helpful. This is the one of the things that I experience where I do feel the most helpless. Last week, the fire alarm in my building was going off and would not turn off or reset, it appeared to be broken. The noise was deafening and really affected me. I didn't know what to do, so as my boyfriend did all the sensible actions of an adult, I held 2 cushions to my head and repeated the mantra "please make it stop, please make it stop."

As I type this, someone nearby has started to whistle. The low, tuneless, horrendous sound produced by someone who cannot whistle. Headphones straight in, disaster averted. In a world that never seems to be quiet, all I can do is hope that I become more tolerant. Or just turn up the volume. After all, loud music never hurt anyone...

A tree is for life, not just for Christmas

I bought a tree yesterday. This may seem trivial but it isn't - on several levels. I have a tree and plant based phobia and just the thought of some plants makes my skin itch and my throat feel like it's closing up. I'm itching just typing this. It's not all plants and trees, it's just the creepy disgusting ones, like sunflowers. I can't explain it. It's not my only phobia. I also list skin diseases & rashes, moths, being trapped in clothing and most forms of pasta.

Yes, you read that right.

Again, I can't explain the pasta thing. My ultimate pasta enemy is the large, shell shaped pasta. I would provide a picture but I don't want to do that to myself. It's heinous. Anyway, I digress, back to the tree. It is a small Norwegian Blue Spruce which I have naturally named Bruce and to me this signifies something quite awesome. It means I am ok. I bought a tree, I will take care of the tree and I will watch it grow to a big old tree. I will decorate it at Christmas and I will water it every day. If I can look after a tree, it means I'm looking after myself.

I guess I have let a lot of things slip over the last year or so. I used to be extremely tidy and to be honest, I'm glad that I've let that slip. It was a big part of my OCD that everything had to be in place, it was hard to maintain and made me very uptight. I was at the point where if something in the fridge wasn't in the right place I had to put it right, I couldn't let it be. Being able to let go of that has been a huge improvement, butter doesn't need a special and specific place. While I do like to have a tidy up and get rid of the mess, it by no way drives me anymore nor does it makes me anxious, so I guess it makes me much easier to live with.

Admittedly I don't treat myself as well as I should. I don't eat especially well, I do far less exercise than I used to and I don't make a huge effort with my appearance; but these are all things I can build up to and am trying with. Every now and again I will buy lots of vegetables and actually do eat them. But I am honest enough with myself to know that I will also end up just getting a pizza when I can't be bothered to even think about cooking. Making small, positive changes is the best way forward and means that there is less room to be disappointed with myself if I slip sometimes. But ultimately, I am taking care of myself, the most important part, the boss, my brain. I function. I am human.

Bruce (the tree) has joined the household at a good time. He will be looked after and when his time comes at Christmas, he'll be decorated in twinkling lights to signify the end of a year that has been difficult but worth every moment of hurt. That will be a great gift.

Is a rest as good as a change?

So I am nearing the end of my 3 days off work and although I haven't done everything on my to-do list, I have gotten through a lot of them and most importantly, I have had some time for my brain to rest. I was concerned that I may just spend the time moping and unable to get off the couch, but I did find myself doing things and not only that, I enjoyed them.

On my first day I did have a lie in and then sat on the couch, eating breakfast and watching Netfix. I then made myself get up, showered and dressed and took myself to the countryside for a bit of wandering. I ate lunch (including the to-do list essential - vegetables!) while reading my book then perused the charity shops. It rained and I didn't care. I ate a cake. I bought a barometer.

The second day I found it easier to get up and go. I went out on my bike. It rained and I didn't care. I ate a cake. I made myself lunch (veg included), listened to music and then in the afternoon I joined the library and went to sit in the park to read. I treated myself to some Netflix and drawing in the evening. I felt calm and ok.

This was yesterday's drawing - it depicts the inside of my brain:

My third day has been much quieter. I have been sanding and varnishing some woodwork projects that my boyfriend and I are working on. I made pancakes for the first time ever on my own. I set the fire alarm off and I didn't care. I ate the pancakes. I rode my bike around in my living room just because I could. I tidied up my flat and felt much better for it.

So tomorrow I go back to work and I'm not sure how I will feel. People will ask me if I am ok and I think I can honestly say yes. I am ok. A rest can do that for you. But am I just hiding away at home? Thankfully I am going to have a meeting to discuss options for me and where I can go from here. I need to find a way to become engaged again, to challenge my brain and not give it time to fade away and turn to mush. That isn't always easy so I just wonder what is to come.

At least I know now that I am able to give myself a bit of a break and that being kind to yourself is extremely beneficial. I guess some people forget to take time for themselves and to just do the things that they like to do and just do them for themselves. It's ok to be selfish, we need to be sometimes to protect ourselves.

The final item on my to do list was "Say something nice to a stranger who seems sad" and whilst I achieved this by talking to an old man at the bus stop and also to a cat who had a poorly eye, I will say this to whoever may read this:  Do something today or tomorrow that will make you smile. Look after yourself and be kind to yourself and remember:

Wading through soup

I have arranged some much needed time off work for a few days this week and have decided to use my time productively. I need to rest my brain and have a bit of downtime but I don't want to spend all day in pyjamas watching Netflix, as tempting as that sounds. So I wrote myself a list and I also asked a few friends to add things to it as suggested things that I could do. So far it is looking pretty good and almost fully achievable:

The first seven items were my own and the rest were added by other people. More Sweep tweets will be appearing here and I have already finished the penguin (blackboard):

I have been having a lot of concentration issues and have been finding it so hard to focus, especially on work, I asked if I could take some time just to rest and reset my brain and they were really good and accommodating of this. This made things so much easier for me. I didn't want to have too long off as I think that would be worse for me, I don't need to lose touch with what is going on, I just need to take a bit of time for myself. My brain feels like soup and every time I need to make a decision or plan, it is a fight to wade through it. 

At first, I wasn't sure if it was ok to make plans - after all, this is time off work; "sick days." Maybe I should be at home, in bed, eating soup. But I am tired of soup, soup is what I am trying to get away from. I decided that it wasn't the same as being sick, I am not contagious. I need to treat my mental health, my own sanity, be kind to myself and certainly not wallow in any way - which I would be hugely tempted to do if I just stayed at home. 

So I am going to take the next three days and do exactly that. I may have a bit of a lie in, but I will get up, get washed and dressed and go out and do something. Get some air even if it's raining, attempt to complete as many items on the list as possible and try to enjoy myself. It doesn't sound that much, but I think it is enough of a plan to really get my brain in motion. 

I am looking forward to the next few days (something I rarely say) and I just hope that my brain appreciates the effort I am making for it. I will provide it with rest, fun activities and good food, just as long as it stays off the soup in return. I think we'll be just fine.

How to be me

Several months ago, during a particularity distressing episode of panic and low mood, I saw my own face in the mirror and did not recognise myself. I started to freak out even more because I thought it wasn't my own face. This is hard to describe and sounds a bit crazy, I know. I just kept repeating "That isn't my face" over and over as I looked at the tear stained, snotty, contorted face reflected back at me. Maybe the point was, this wasn't me, or at least the "me" I wanted to be. It's hard to lose yourself in depression and allow it to swallow you up.  So how do you continue to be yourself in the face of it?

I lost myself almost completely at some points. I became a shell that existed and did the things necessary to keep the human alive; I ate, I worked, I went home, I attempted (and failed) to sleep. I attended gatherings and sat quietly on the outskirts, having nothing to contribute and no desire to participate. I recently looked at some photos of me around Christmas last year when I was at a very low point, I can see that I am quite simply "doing a happy face" there is no warmth in my smile, my eyes are glassy and I look worn out. I was tired of pretending.

The New Year brought me a new outlook. My meds were kicking in and I started to address issue in my life and I started to realise that I could be myself. More than that, I had found that people liked me when I was myself. Hiding away had been my brain's way of coping and protecting me, but I needed to find a better way. I couldn't let it win. I had oppressed the real me and it was time I let myself be, well, me.

In January I got my first tattoo. I had been wanting something for a while but had never been able to find something that I wanted. I eventually found the image that reached out to me and made sense. It is a simple design of birds flying across my arm. Each one of those birds represents a change and an improvement and release for me. They are there to remind me that I have come a long way and even though I have a way still to go, I am moving in the right direction.

I now have 6 tattoos (and counting) and have never felt more like myself. Most of my family (on my dad's side) are tattooed and my boyfriend is beautifully inked. We even have matching anchor tattoos on our elbows; as corny as it may sound, he is my anchor. He keeps me where I am, he keeps me safe.

I have found it easier to talk to people and to be more involved socially. Though I can't say I don't panic if I am left alone in a room full of people I don't know, I am now way better equipped for small talk and not making a huge idiot of myself in front of strangers when I panic and say something silly. Though to be honest, I think that's part of my "charm", rather than a symptom of social anxiety.  Here are some real examples of awkward first interactions I have had when meeting new people:

The first example was from my first day of group CBT, I ended up saying a lot more silly things to Paul. He eventually moved to another seat.

I have found that the more I become the real me, the more confident and happy I feel. When I have a low day I immediately retreat back into myself, don't want to socialise and tend to put my headphones on and keep my head down. But these days are getting fewer and far between.

The most important things in finding my way back to myself have most certainly been being able to talk about my problems, being kind to myself and finding someone who makes it easier to be me. I know that this isn't possible for everyone, but I just cannot deny that the unfaltering love of someone who likes who I am, when I am me, helps tremendously.

But I think that overall, I have to take credit for this one myself. I have worked really hard to get where I am today. I have been through counseling, two rounds of CBT and a whole load of ups and downs. I am writing this blog mainly for myself but I can't help but feel proud that so many people have told me that it has helped them in some way. For that, I am incredibly proud of myself. That is the me I want to be.

I just can't concentrate on anyt....

I wouldn't say that I originally had a great attention span, but recently my concentration is atrocious. I can't get through a film, struggle to read books and drift off during meetings and conversations. It's not that I'm not interested, it's just that my brain is so foggy that it's hard to take in extra info. It feels like I'm swimming through soup just to get my brain to function enough to even write this post. I am at my most comfortable, starring off into the distance and losing myself in a million thoughts. But unfortunately, as far as I know, that isn't a viable career option. So I suppose I need to learn how to focus again... oooh look, something shiny!

From what I have read on forums, Citalopram is one of the main culprits, as one of it's favourite side effects is to mess with your concentration. I have read many posts from people stating exactly that. I do feel that this is the only persistent side affect of the medication that I have, but as others have said - it is something that you can live with much easier than the the feelings that lead to your prescription in the first place.

Poor concentration is also a typical symptom of depression and it has been suggested that those who are depressed cannot take in information as quickly or efficiently as those "normal" people out there. The ability to make decisions is hindered, it is much harder to get enjoyment from reading and memory problems often ensue. Coupled with the fatigue and general malaise, this pretty much sucks. No other way to put it!

Though I haven't found a cure to my concentration problems, I have found several ways of dealing with it. Firstly though, I just had to accept that I was no longer the same and that my brain wasn't going to work the way it used to, at least not for now. This was very important because I was really getting down on myself about this. Within my CBT, I was able to talk through this and realise that there was nothing I could do and it wasn't my fault. This was an important step for me.

I knew that it was completely possible and entirely reasonable that my lack of concentration would become evident at work. I spoke to my colleagues about this and was completely honest about what was going on. I had some strategies in place to help me get by and I urged them to let me know if I was really slipping. No one has said anything, so I'm either doing ok or no one dares tell me! I started to take more regular beaks from my screen, get air whenever I felt overwhelmed and I always ask for help when I need it.

I have pretty much given up on films, I used to love going to the cinema but now I feel anxious thinking about going and I know that I will struggle to get through an entire film without fidgeting, clock watching and phone checking. More than that, I will drift off into my own thought and miss something vital or close my eyes at the exact wrong moment. To be honest, it's not much of a loss. 

I used to watch a lot more TV. I would say it used to be my best friend, but again, I struggle to concentrate or commit to a series now. That's not to say I don't go on an OITNB binge every now and again... I'm not a monster. But TV and books have been sidelined somewhat as I just don't find them as enjoyable as I used to.

Recently, I have found that I am able to focus on more creative things. As I have said, I colour a lot as it is an easy distraction but doesn't involve a lot of thinking or a decision harder than which coloured pen to choose. I have started on a new project recently with my boyfriend, to restore an old ship's wheel. It is involved and fun and hands on and a really good way of focusing. I can see it's progress easily and it gives me a sense of achievement and pride when I see our hard work paying off.

This sort of activity is the best thing I have found so far. It is a distraction from my thoughts, a great thing to focus on, a way to spend time together and a way to prove to myself that I can do new things and I can be good at them. All of these things have a positive effect on my mood and I have really noticed a change in myself and I think it will start to show.

I am already planning my next project and plan to embrace my rediscovered focus and drive for as long as it lasts. Or at least until the next shiny thing comes along...

Turning in a full circle

Turning in a full circle was completely impossible for me. I couldn't do it. It's not that I thought something bad was going to happen if I did, it's just that I couldn't. I felt like I had to be reset, I had to turn back the other way, no matter how much of the circle I turned in. I couldn't explain it. Often I would just keep it to myself and 'reset' myself without mentioning it. Other times I would kick and scream if someone tried to turn me in a circle. I still can't explain it, I just know that now I can do it. You might say, I've come full circle.

OCD isn't just about repetitive hand washing. It is about reoccurring intrusive thoughts, a need to do things one way, the inability to do some things that may seem silly to others. It makes you stand out and it makes you shrink into the background. You can seem like an annoying person, a fussy person and a pedant, but you cannot help it.

None of my OCD issues have been so bad that my life has been terribly affected, but this doesn't make them insignificant. Many of them have come and gone at different times of my life and now are something I look back on as the old me. The first instance I can remember is when I was probably about 5 years old and I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely convinced that I had to put all of my things under my bed, I was so driven by this that I got up and did just that. I did think that something would happen if I didn't and I couldn't risk that. I don't remember any fallout or anything after that. I just remember stashing everything away, Care Bear and all.

From junior school onwards, I was unable to throw out any wrappers or waste from my packed lunch. I had to take it home to throw it away. This was some overwhelming idea that everything in there was a gift from my mam and I could not throw it away or it would be like getting rid of that gift. This was easy to keep to myself and didn't seem to be something that would bother other people.

In senior school I made myself somewhat of a target as I could not enter my science classroom without touching the sign on the door. I would wait to be last in to the room if I had to, but I had to touch the sign. Obviously, other kids noticed me doing this, and being a target for meanness anyway, they revelled in trying to stop me from being able to touch that sign. I always did.

Later in life I developed an intense reaction if I was touched softly (for instance, if someone stroked my arm) I would have to wipe it off. If I didn't, I could feel where I had been touched, it would feel horrible, I had to get rid of it. I tried to stop this by sitting on my hands, waiting as long as I could but I always gave in. This particular compulsion stayed with me the longest. I only seemed to overcome it after starting on my meds and taking steps to sort out my life. I gradually forgot about this. I don't particularly liked to be touched by people I don't know well, but I certainly don't feel the intense reaction I used to.

Not everything has gone away. What does remain is my obsessive thinking. I will dwell on something, think it over a million times, make up scenarios in my head that upset me even more. I cannot let something go once I have a thought. I try to bury it but eventually it will surface. I obsess about the tiniest of things, nuances, hidden meanings, things that may or may not have been implied, things that could happen, things that should happen, things that won't happen. This is behaviour that is ingrained in me and will be so much harder to change.

CBT taught me that I should challenge these thoughts and look at them from another perspective, which I do try to do, but it isn't often easy at 4am or when you have allowed yourself down a rabbit hole of thoughts. Though this will be the hardest to break, I know that I have been able to shake off other habits and I know that I will make progress. Maybe not fully and maybe not soon. But hopefully I will be able to turn these thoughts around. Perhaps even in a full circle.

Insecurity is my middle name.

Insecurity is my middle name. OK, so it obviously isn't really my middle name, otherwise my initials would spell PIS and I would be extremely insecure over that. Anyway, I digress. Insecurity and anxiety go hand in hand and feed each other. Low mood can result in negative thinking which can result in insecurity which can result in anxiety which can result in low mood which... you get the idea.

Insecurity comes in many forms, personally, mine manifests itself in an unfaltering belief that I can't do things well. It used to stop me from trying new things, I just thought "Well, I'll fail at that, so why bother?" In recent times I have tried to work on this thought and turn it around. I have to admit, pretty much every time I have challenged this thought and tried something new, I have surprised myself. I am a perfectly capable human being. Yes, this surprises me.

I really have found myself having a lot more fun by being happier to try things. Even silly things like flying a kite. Year ago Pamela would have just sat and watched as someone else flew the kite. Today Pamela flies the kite like a boss and gets compliments from strangers while doing so. This gives me confidence. In your face, insecurity! But not all insecurities are so easy to challenge.

I am also extremely insecure when it comes to relationships, in all forms. This is described so well in the cartoon below by Sarah Andersen:

My insecurity tells me that no one could possibly like me enough to want to spend time with me, romantically or otherwise. I am surprised if someone asks me to do something, I am bemused that people want to be my friend and I am overwhelmed that someone loves me as much as they do.

Just like depression and anxiety, living with someone who is insecure is not much fun. Constant reassurance and affirmation is testing. Not that it is actually constant, I shouldn't be so hard on myself. There are just times when I get worried, maybe a little jealous or even needy. To some extent, this is just a normal part of any relationship. Again, as with all of these issues, it is just how they are dealt with that matters. Some days I am able to reason with myself that they are silly thoughts, other days I am consumed by them and cannot help but listen and believe that I am not enough. No amount of reassurance will change my mind.

I have no reason to be so insecure within my relationship, but logic doesn't feature too highly in my thought process when I am down. It is simply another layer added to my issues which nestles nicely amongst the others. Again, I don't think I am particularly unique in feeling this way. I know that you don't need to suffer with depression or anxiety to feel insecure, but I also know that it is an extra burden to carry if you do.

Unlike my depression and anxiety, I don't expect my insecurities to go away. I know that they will be fed less when the Black Dog goes to bed, but these are things that I just have to work on myself. No amount of meds, exercise or sleep will make a difference. Maybe I will always feel that way, but for now I will continue to try new things and to challenge my thoughts and always remember that I am so loved. Always.

Travel anxiety - My train of thought

This weekend my anxiety returned in full force. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, struggling with all my might not to slip, to stay on my feet and not let it overwhelm me. I had gotten used to my anxiety coming in small bursts, so a weekend without respite was almost unbearable. Time slowed down, it became an effort to have fun when I should have been having plenty and my mind raced constantly. This step back was a blow to me, I was disappointed with myself and worried that things were going in the wrong direction. So what happened? And more importantly, what did I do about it?

It all started with a misunderstanding.

A simple mix up of words, a wrong tone here and there, someone gets mad, someone else get mad at them for being mad. You know the story. Any kind of fall out makes me hugely anxious. I panic and ramble, I try to make things better and ultimately make them worse. Even when things are better I can remain highly on edge, terrified of saying or doing "the wrong thing". I find it hard to sleep. Add into the mix that I was travelling alone for a weekend away from home and you have the perfect recipe for one anxious lady.

Travelling. I love travelling. I have been round the world, far and wide and seen more of the world than most people. So why the hell does the thought of getting on a two hour train journey alone worry me so much? For me, the train is a stressful place, where people push and shove, sit in your reserved seat and talk unreasonably loudly on their phones. There is plenty that can go wrong with a train journey and it usually does.

So my time came on Friday when I had to leave to get the train and, as usual, I arrived at the train station way too early. 45 minutes is way too long to sit and stress, believe me. The train was of course, delayed. Due to the delay, they hadn't put out the reserved seat signs - cue chaos, pushing, shoving, snapping and shouting. After a hellish few minutes, I was in my seat and I only had to tell one woman she was being extremely rude (she admitted to this and apologised) and back up another lady who took to telling me how rude someone else was being. It was all going on.

As I mentioned in my last anxiety post, I find distraction is a good technique for my anxiety. Knowing this, I had purchased myself a Marvel Avengers activity book. Yes, I am 32 years old, no I do not care what anyone thinks.  Here are some of my awesome drawings:

This proved to be a great help, it was distracting and fun. Once I was settled into my seat and in full on Avengers mode, I no longer felt so anxious. I reached my destination in one piece and all was well.

But it's not just the travel that bothers me. Being away from home makes me anxious. I had been unable to speak to my boyfriend and that made me anxious. I was distracted and distant and constantly felt on edge. I wasn't having the fun I should have been having. This made me feel bad. At times I found myself clock watching, counting down the hours until I could go home. This wasn't what I wanted, but I couldn't help myself. I just thought that as soon as I walked in my front door, I would suddenly feel better.

I got a better night's sleep on the second night and I found myself feeling a lot better. My friend's little girl; a beautiful bundle of innocence, optimism and giggles, was a great help and distraction. Her hugs went a long way, as did her unconditional and uncomplicated love. Taking walks in the park, chatting with my friend, eating well and great deal of lounging were also a great help. I started to feel more present and human. I had taken a step back from the cliff edge.

My journey home was less fraught. But walking through my front door didn't cure me. Thankfully. I wouldn't want it to, I don't want to end up stuck here, unable to see the world. Though I will always love coming home, I love going places more, seeing people and proving to myself that I can get past this and even if I don't, I can work my way though it. One cartoon at a time.

How far we've come

It can often be so much easier to focus upon the negative. To only remember the bad things, to only think about what you failed at rather than everything you have achieved. I think that this is the same for anyone, but for anyone with depression, this can be a really big issue and a very hard habit to break. I think we all forget to take time to think about what has gone right and, as my counselor always encouraged me, to 'celebrate the small things'. So I think it's time for us to see how far we've come 

Yesterday I had a several cups of tea and a chat with a friend. I tend to ramble and over share and this was no different (I blame the caffeine) but something was different and it wasn't until I got home a few hours later that I realised what it was. Almost everything I had been talking about was something that I had overcome. It was past Pamela's issues and feelings. As much as I think that I haven't made any progress, I couldn't deny that I was pretty much a whole new person. Admittedly, I still had problems, but I was nowhere near the shell of a person I used to be.


This really got me thinking... How had I not noticed all of this change? Maybe it had been gradual or I had been too busy focusing on the fact that one bad day in ten had ruined the good days. I have real, tangible improvements and I can see this clearly when I think back to how I felt a year ago. This time last year I didn't want to go out, I barely slept and couldn't stand to be touched. I cried myself to sleep, spent a lot of time on my own and was so anxious about travelling anywhere it almost stopped me from going. I am pretty much the opposite of all of those things now. I can't deny it, I have come a long way.

That's not to say I am perfectly happy and don't have an entirely new set of issues, but some huge problems in my life have been left behind. I've shed some bad habits and I've replaced them with much more positive things and reached out to people so much more than I ever could. Being able to talk about this has really helped. Being able to get things off my mind not only helps me to empty my brain of all the noise, but also helps me to process my thoughts and realise that I am getting better.

There's nothing wrong with being proud of yourself and the the things you have overcome. It may be very hard to acknowledge them or even think about what they are and on some days it may seem like there is nothing good you can think of. But there is. No matter how small, you are making progress. I am making progress. I will continue to celebrate the small things and know that even on my darkest day, it is a step forward, away from past Pamela towards a whole new me.