Beauty Can Flourish Amidst Devastation

Nature regenerates when faced with disaster
Nature regenerates when faced with disaster

Three years ago, in the location of the above photo, were hundreds of trees. I used to walk my old dog there regularly and it’s where my current dog had his first walk. Then, one winter night, a storm flattened all but a few of the trees. The woods became a wasteland.

But this year, just over 2 years after this loss, a field of foxgloves blossomed amongst the debris. The space is beautiful once again, in a different way.

I have been drawing some parallels with my own life: just as I would rather the trees hadn’t been uprooted, I would rather not have experienced mental illness, but the experience has enabled some good things to happen. My life isn’t a wasteland, though it may have appeared so for a while, because new growth is possible. New growth that might be more beautiful than what came before.

You can find beauty in your own life
You can find beauty in your own life

After all, if I didn’t struggle with mental health problems, I wouldn’t have been forced to focus on my priorities. I wouldn’t have found the courage to take risks or to actively pursue a writing career. Mental illness also shows you who your friends are — and which people in your life are unsupportive and best cut out.

I think we often forget that beauty can flourish amidst devastation. Yet we are all conscious of famous examples, such as the fields of World War One erupting in poppies. The same is true on a human scale: Malala Yousafzai comes from a war torn area of Pakistan and nearly lost her life when she was shot by the Taliban, yet she is a strong, intelligent, inspiring woman whose message is so far-reaching precisely because of what she has suffered.

Why shouldn’t the same apply to you?

Why shouldn’t beauty flourish in your life? No matter how disastrous your current situation appears, the laws of nature apply to you — that’s part of being human. You can go on to achieve things you never thought possible.

My own achievements (so far!) are very modest, but there were times when I thought they were impossible. I believed I could never go to university, let alone gain a BA and MA. I didn’t even think I would learn to drive. Sure, I have had to do things in somewhat unconventional ways, such as living at home with my parents throughout university, but I still did them.

Nowadays when I feel hopeless and useless, I try to remind myself of how stupid and ignorant I was when I thought that going to university and driving were beyond me. I don’t know what I am capable of achieving — but I do know I will never find out until I try.

Look for the beauty in your own life

Search for the shoots of potential foxgloves. It might be as simple as deciding you would like to do something. It might be acknowledging a couple of wonderful people in your life. But even if it all looks disastrous, remember that there is hope — beauty can flourish.

Anxiety Isn’t Logical

The news that Zayn Malik pulled out of a recent gig due to anxiety arrived at an appropriate time for me — over the weekend, my anxiety had taken a sideswipe at me. I managed to go to an open day held by a writing group I would like to join, a prospect which would have been beyond my consideration a few months ago, since it involved walking into a room full of strangers and talking to them. I was pleased with how it went; despite feeling too nervous to approach people, I talked to those who approached me and enjoyed myself. A couple of hours later, my anxiety prevented me from doing something which should have been relatively easy.

I had arranged to meet a friend for her birthday drinks in a pub I have frequented since I was 16. Sure, it was bound to be busy (there was football on, don’t you know), but I was familiar with the place and knew at least a few of the people who would be attending. Then, as I was reading and waiting for the time of my friends’ arrival, everything got on top of me and I freaked out.

I was overwhelmed by anxiety. I wanted to go home, to run away, to get out of there. I tried to calm myself down, but it didn’t work. I was drowning in a sea of fear and dread.

I did all I could do in that situation — phoned my dad and asked him to come and get me ASAP, then waited and tried to hold it together enough to disguise the fact that I was crying. I think I did quite well, especially considering I wanted to sob very loudly.

When I got home, I felt better anxiety-wise. I was safe. However, when anxiety prevents you from participating in an activity, especially one as important to you as celebrating a friend’s birthday, it is followed by the gamut of associated negative emotions: guilt, frustration, anger, sadness, loneliness…

Given this, it shows how ridiculous are the opinions of people who criticise Zayn Malik and others who suffer from anxiety. No matter what these ignorant idiots say, you can bet that the person suffering with anxiety has told themselves the same — and worse. You can bet that we are kicking ourselves for “letting” anxiety get the better of us. You can bet that we are astounded by the sheer illogicality of anxiety preventing us from doing something similar to what we have done many times before.

Yet anxiety is illogical. I have observed this many times throughout my life, yet the senselessness of this fact still confounds me.

Whether anxiety stops you from meeting your friends, performing onstage or leaving the house, it feels the same. There is still the overwhelming fear — it might be fear of looking stupid, fear of getting hurt or simply an unidentifiable fear.

Because of the vague nature of anxiety, it is difficult to explain to those who have never experienced anxiety. How can I explain that I’m afraid to enter a shop alone when I don’t know what precisely I am afraid of? How can I explain that I fear something worse than anything that can be pinpointed, even death?

I’m glad that Zayn Malik was courageous enough to be honest about his anxiety, because we need to talk about it a lot more. I haven’t read any of the comments about Zayn Malik on social media, but from what I have heard about some of these comments, there are a lot of people who need to be educated about anxiety and its effects.

Anxiety isn’t something sufferers use as a convenient excuse not to do something — it’s a debilitating condition which often prevents us from doing things we want to do. Regardless of whether or not we have done those things in the past.

Permission to Be Fabulous

Two weeks ago today, I was panicking. It was the first day of my Arvon short story course at Totleigh Barton and I had no idea what to expect. Meeting new people is nerve wracking for most people, but it’s one of my biggest triggers for anxiety, which has been severe in the past, so I was especially worried.

My fears were somewhat allayed by the Arvon staff and my fellow students, who were all warm and welcoming. As the week went on, I grew increasingly comfortable around everyone. Our tutors, Clare Wigfall and Tod Wodicka, were also friendly and supportive. It was a fantastic week — intense, challenging and inspiring.

As my anxiety shifted its focus from whether everyone would hate me and think I’m stupid (aided by vast quantities of wine…), I became preoccupied with my major concerns relating to my writing. These can be summed up as:

• Who the fuck am I to try to make a living from writing?

• Who the fuck am I to write this particular story?

• Who the fuck am I to have goals and dreams?

I realised that these issues all relate to one concept:

Permission

Permission to write, permission to write what I want, permission to take myself seriously as a writer.

I recalled an interesting blog post by Tania Hershman about permission and was surprised to find, upon rereading it, that she refers to an Arvon short story course she taught at Totleigh Barton. She discusses how permission can be gained from the example set by other people’s writing — how other writers have found ideas, written in certain styles or formats, about specific subjects, etc. All of which I wholeheartedly agree with; I have been inspired by various writers to experiment in my writing.

In fact, during the short story course, I hit upon an idea which made me uncomfortable because I felt I didn’t have permission to write about the topic at its core. Strangely, when I consider other writers, I am adamant that anybody can write about anything — as long as they seek the emotional truth at the heart of their story. Nobody owns a particular story until they write it; you can write about your own experiences, of course, but you can also write about experiences which are vastly different to your own. However, I find it difficult to give myself permission.

External Permission

My course tutors were brilliant at giving me external permission to write about whatever comes up. Their tutoring styles were contrasting but complementary: Clare reassured me to continue exploring my ideas and Tod challenged me to think more deeply about my ideas. I continued to work on my story and will complete it at some point (hopefully) in the near future.

I also received external permission when I won the Devon prize in the Exeter Writers short story competition: somebody thought my story was good! Maybe I’m not completely deluded in trying to write. Ditto whenever I receive any encouragement in my writing — it feels like I’m being given permission to continue writing.

Yet as much as I enjoy receiving external permission, I know that I need to give myself permission.

Internal Permission

The more I think about this, the more parallels I find between writing and recovering from mental illness. I spend so much time seeking permission from others, too scared to push my boundaries without it, that I often play it too safe. I shy away from risks, despite experience having taught me that the biggest risks have the biggest payoffs.

There simply isn’t time to hang around waiting for somebody else to give you permission to pursue your goals. Most people are too busy worrying about whether they have permission to follow their own dreams to stop and give you permission to follow yours. Even if you have close friends or relatives who act as permission givers, encouraging you to take risks and push your boundaries, you ultimately need to give yourself permission.

No matter how we pretend to be mature and sophisticated, I think most of us have internalised aspects of fairy tales which do us no favours. We might not literally believe that Prince Charming will rescue us from a life of drudgery, but we bestow this wish onto other things which we (mistakenly) believe will transform our lives and make everything better — winning the lottery being a prime example. We know we don’t have a fairy godmother, but we still wait for someone else to give us permission to go to the ball.

I need to give myself permission. Both in writing and in life. It also needs to be continuous, rather than letting myself take risks sometimes and letting myself hide behind my anxiety at other times.

Consistent Permission

Consistency is key to any success. As a big tennis fan, I see that what divides players at every level is not innate talent or luck, but consistency in training, mental attitude and skill. Every aspiring writer gets told about the famous examples whose manuscripts were rejected many times before hitting the big time (JK Rowling, anyone?), but that’s merely the most visible kind of consistency.

Success in writing usually depends on consistently practicing and improving your craft, finishing projects and submitting work. I need to keep giving myself permission to write and to be a writer.

The same is true of any goal — giving yourself permission every once in a while is not enough. You need to give yourself permission every day to prioritise what matters to you. Even if you don’t actively work towards your goal every day, the permission needs to be given on a daily basis as a reminder that your goals are important.

All-Encompassing Permission

Over the past week, since finishing my Arvon course, I have been learning about how permission applies to all areas of my life. I have realised that part of managing my mental health is giving myself permission, every day, to monitor how I’m feeling and to work with my symptoms, not against them. Sometimes this can be counterintuitive — it’s hard not to berate myself for being lazy when I know that I’m not well enough to work. Sometimes it involves challenging myself more than I find comfortable, because I know it’s better for my long term mental health.

Giving yourself permission isn’t easy, but it is necessary if you want to lead a fulfilling life.

Think of the people you admire most — your heroes and role models. Whoever they are, I bet they didn’t wait for someone to give them permission most of the time. I bet they gave themselves permission frequently and consistently.

Imagine if people like Helen Keller, Martin Luther King Jr, Gandhi, Marie Curie, Nelson Mandela and Rosa Parks waited for someone to give them permission before they took action. None of them would have achieved as much as they did. In all probability, they would have led unremarkable lives.

So who are you not to give yourself permission?

You could be just as amazing as the people I mentioned above and anyone else you find inspiring. How can you know if you don’t give yourself permission to achieve your goals? The only guarantee is that if you don’t give yourself permission to do what you want to do, you will be lucky to fulfil 1% of your potential.

That’s my single piece of clarity as I struggle towards my goals: my chances of success might be low, but if I don’t try, my chances are zero.

So I will continue making the effort to give myself permission, though it’s never easy, because it’s the only way I will achieve anything.

And that Arvon course I have been talking about? It took me over 3 years to give myself permission to apply. I kept making excuses, thinking I couldn’t cope with completing the course or that I stood no chance of getting a grant which would cover enough of the cost. I was wrong. Giving myself permission to do the course was one of the best decisions of my life.

Go ahead — give yourself permission to be fabulous!