Creating Meaning

One of the most challenging aspects of my mental health struggles has been overcoming my belief that my life was meaningless and therefore had no value. It became a self-perpetuating cycle: mental illness made me believe my life had no meaning and prevented me from doing anything which would give it meaning, which became evidence that my life was destined to be meaningless. I never realised I had the ability to create meaning in my life as it was, even during the worst times.

Apple blossom and sky

Choose your own path.

The first realisation was an obvious one: people create meaningful lives in different ways. Sometimes they focus on one aspect, such as having children or a specific career path. Many people create meaning “on the side” through art or charity work. There is no standard method of creating meaning, although there are many well-trodden paths.

http://steps2stardom.com.au/uncategorized/bonus-pill-with-every-order-can-i-take-nyquil-and-motrin-at-the-same-time-trackable-delivery/ Think about what you want — if I could grant all your wishes right now, what would your life look like? Choose what works for you: the values you prioritise, activities you enjoy, the goals you most want to achieve.

Creating meaning is about the process, not results, so don’t worry about whether you will be able to accomplish everything. Be open to changing direction as you learn more about yourself. At this stage, you are just beginning to explore how you find and create meaning.

 

 Create a meaningful narrative.

Storytelling is a fantastic way of creating meaning and making sense of your life. What narrative do you want to tell? What do you want to rewrite or edit? You get to decide. You can’t change your past, but you can choose the stories you tell about it.

Forming a clear narrative from the chaos of life is empowering. You can use your story to guide your decisions and create meaning. For example, I decided the story I want to tell is about using my suffering to connect with others through my writing, whether blogging or fiction. Along the way, I want to support, encourage and inspire other people who have mental health issues.

Think about the stories other people tell about their own lives, especially those who have overcome adversity and create positive outcomes. Do any of them resonate with you? Again, don’t stress about whether you can live up to the ending you want. Your story will change many times, even if the core narrative remains the same, often in amazing and unforeseen ways.

 

The mosaic approach.

If you are struggling to find a narrative thread, try thinking of your life as a mosaic: you can create meaning from discrete activities and relationships, without needing to tie it all together. For instance, you may enjoy running and create meaning by occasionally fundraising when you participate in longer races. Maybe you volunteer for your church and find meaning in helping meet others’ spiritual needs (as well as your own). Perhaps you are an infrequent traveller and find meaning in exploring new cultures when you are able to get away. You could do all of these or a combination of different things.

There doesn’t need to be a single, overarching meaning across all aspects of your life. Yes, some people seem to have it, but you don’t need to. In fact, there might already be a predominant meaning which you haven’t yet identified, or perhaps never will. Your life isn’t a business proposal: you don’t need to reduce it to an elevator pitch.

 

Make it personal.

Creating meaning is extremely individual. You don’t need to do anything “Important” or “Selfless”. If you don’t follow your own values and preferences, you will find it very difficult to create a life which is meaningful to you. Copying other people won’t work.

go here You don’t need to save the world to live a meaningful life. You can create meaning in small, precious ways: crafting a beautiful piece of furniture, growing roses, reading to your child.

 

Mine your past and present.

Where can you already find meaning in your life? Everyone can find meaning, so “nowhere” is not a valid answer. Do you create stuff? Cook for your family? Blog? Study? Spend time with people you love? Look after a pet? Read? Walk outside? You can find meaning in all of these activities.

Check your definition of “meaning” — remember, you don’t need to save the world — and think about how other people and yourself benefit from what you do/have done. Small acts of kindness, chatting with someone, hobbies you enjoy… these have a positive impact in themselves, but can also cause a ripple effect.

Simple tasks can have meaningful outcomes which emerge much later. For example, I started spending a lot of time watching films during the worst phases of depression (well, second worst — I did nothing during the very worst points), which reignited my love of film and eventually led to a Film Studies BA. Going to university helped my confidence a lot and I would be living a very different (worse) life without it. I stayed on to study for a Creative Writing MA and continue to pursue a career in writing fiction. I didn’t know any of this when I first started watching more films and 12 years later, I think I’m only beginning to recognise its impact.

http://thegrasswizard.com/etc8m/ljfgy-drmartens-womens-0979561.php Mining your life for meaning can be slow and you may have to chip away for ages before you find a vein of gold, but it’s invaluable. Time spent searching for meaning and experimenting with ways of creating meaning is never wasted.

 

Consider alternative perspectives.

Ask other people about what gives their life meaning. What makes them smile? What makes their lives a little easier? You might be surprised by their answers.

How can you look at your life in different ways? For example, if you work in a supermarket and don’t find the work interesting or enjoyable (I’ve been there!), there are several perspectives which demonstrate how it can be meaningful. Perhaps the money you earn supports your family or allows you to pursue your goals. You might be the only person some people talk to all week, therefore your work helps them feel less lonely. You are developing customer service skills which will serve you well in a future job or starting your own business. The hours might enable you to spend more time with your children or pets. Maybe you take pride in doing the best job you can, for its own sake, which increases your confidence and self-esteem.

There are advantages to most situations, even if they are outweighed by the negative aspects, and they can be used to create meaning. Experiencing mental health problems is horrible and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but I have learnt many lessons from the pain and challenges. I would never go as far as to say mental illness has made my life better, but it has led to positive outcomes.

Creating meaning is an ongoing process.

Life is ever-changing, so our ways of interpreting it need to continually adapt. We may discover something which we thought would be meaningful turns out not to be. Often, we can be surprised by where we find meaning. Sometimes meaning emerges only with hindsight. As I said, creating meaning is more about the process than results.

Keep experimenting. Ask other people how they create meaning. Google it. Read for inspiration — start with Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, which is impossible to recommend highly enough. Don’t judge yourself for finding meaning in stuff which other people deem superficial or unimportant. Avoid pressuring yourself to find all the answers straightaway. Don’t compare your path to other people’s, especially if their values differ from yours.

Start small. You are already doing many meaningful things every day, even if it’s just getting through the day. 

Getting The Message

I had a strange experience last week. Back in January/February, I booked an Arvon course called Editing Fiction. My plan was to use the opportunity to finish my novel and start submitting it to agents. The course was last week and it was amazing — I learnt a lot and felt inspired. However, by the end of the week, I had decided to abandon my novel.

Notebook

To say I hadn’t expected this outcome would be an understatement. One of my 2018 goals was to get The Novel up to a decent standard, making it the best I could. I was persuaded to read the opening chapter to my writing group and got encouraging feedback. I had redrafted it 4 times since I wrote the first draft 3/4 years ago. I was sure that working on this novel was what I should be doing.

And that was the problem. I was no longer enthusiastic about The Novel. Had fallen out of love with it.

The realisation came during a tutorial with one of my favourite writers. I went in babbling about not knowing whether I should be prioritising The Novel and feeling like an utter idiot. Luckily, the tutor is an excellent teacher and reader of humans: she saw something I hadn’t yet realised. She recounted her experience of writing a novel and losing it when her laptop was stolen. After the initial shock, she was relieved.

She asked me how I would feel if the same happened to me. My answer? Free.

Permission

The Novel isn’t right for me. Not at the moment, anyway. As the course tutor pointed out, if it had been right for me to keep working on it, I would have been offended and defensive when she suggested I quit. Instead, I was delighted to receive permission to stop.

I have thought a lot about permission in relation to writing. Like many other writers, I struggle with confidence and the paradox of assuming my work isn’t good enough and being arrogant enough to want people to read my stories. However, I had never considered seeking permission not to write — to abandon something in which I have invested a lot of time, effort and even (thanks to an online course on plot) money.

I don’t think twice about casting aside short stories that aren’t working for me, but The Novel felt different. I have never written a novel which is good enough to publish; perhaps I thought I had to prove myself. A lot of the writing advice I came across said to keep going, to finish projects, so I felt obliged to continue. To keep redrafting, even when I was no longer motivated.

Quitting feeds into a lot of my fears and negative beliefs: that I’m a failure, lazy, simply not good enough. Yet what is the point of pursuing a goal which I no longer want to achieve?

Lessons

The tutor reassured me that I hadn’t wasted my time on The Novel. It’s  an experience which has improved my writing and will help me to clarify my goals as a writer. I have learnt a lot through writing it, from the fact that spending 3/4 years on a project probably means I’m not lazy, to the Writers HQ course which developed my plotting skills. I’m not upset about giving up on it; I’m happier, lighter.

Although it’s early days, I believe that I will learn a lot from putting The Novel aside. It has made me wonder what else I’m clinging to in my life.

Signposts

The strangest part of this experience has been finding evidence that I knew — unconsciously — I should abandon The Novel before it was pointed out to me. In my lists of current goals, I have not prioritised The Novel. I was reluctant to show the other course tutor, an editor, my synopsis because I thought it was crap, which I now translate as knowing I didn’t believe in it, since it would have been sensible to ask her how to make the synopsis less crap. In my tutorial with the editor, she asked me questions about The Novel which I hadn’t considered. Why hadn’t I considered them? Because I didn’t care.

Other people on my course talked about their projects with enthusiasm, but I didn’t enjoy talking about The Novel. I was too ashamed to show it to the writer I admire — instead of my first chapter, I submitted a short story which I actually quite like.

With hindsight, it is clear I shouldn’t be working on The Novel. Yet I ignored the signs for months.

Again, it makes me wonder what else I’m overlooking. I am trying to trust my intuition, but I get swayed by what I “should” be doing. I “should” finish The Novel. I “should” focus on The Novel because its premise is commercial. I “should” be better at promoting myself and my work.

When I act on my intuition, the outcome is usually good. I can’t think of a time when I have regretted following my intuition; just loads of times I wish I had, but didn’t.

Doing

Forget what I “should” do. That’s the main lesson I took from the Arvon course. I can’t waste time and energy trying to be a different kind of writer, a different kind of person.

I’m not sure why I fight against my intuition so much — or why I fail to see the signs which point me towards what I really want. I think I’m getting better at recognising what I need to do, but this experience has taught me that I’m far more likely to listen to people I admire than to myself. It’s something I need to change.

Another issue which was mentioned in my tutorial is confidence. The self-doubt will never go away, says the writer whose books I buy as soon as I can (in print, no less). And it can be a good thing, because the best writers are those who are continually trying to improve, not the ones who believe their work is perfect.

Again, this is something I kind of knew, but it was reassuring to hear from one of my favourite writers. If I wait to feel confident before doing anything, especially writing/submitting stories, it won’t happen. I need to take action despite lacking confidence, to make it a habit.

When I take action towards goals which are important to me, I feel energised. Even if I was exhausted and demotivated before doing anything. I stopped feeling energised by The Novel long ago. I just needed someone else to give me the message.

Rushing and Waiting

Progress in anything is often slow and nonlinear, but these qualities are exacerbated when you have mental health problems. In particular, anxiety and depression can create conflicting symptoms: it feels like I’m progressing too slowly and have the urge to rush into everything, yet it’s difficult to find the energy and feel motivated, plus many activities are too challenging. It feels like being torn in different directions.

Dog waiting

I have been feeling this way a lot over the past few months. So much of my time has been lost to mental illness that I feel frustrated when it steals more time from me. I’m glad and grateful that nowadays these increments of time can be (usually) measured in hours, days and weeks — in the past, they were most commonly measured in months and years — but it’s still stolen time. Time I can never get back.

My frustration might be due to my experience of losing so much time during my teens and twenties, when most of my peers were achieving amazing things, changing their lives and having fun. I may never reach the milestones of adulthood which the majority of people consider “normal”, like living independently and supporting myself without relying on state benefits, so it feels like everyone has overtaken me. I feel a deep need to prove myself, to demonstrate that my goals are worthwhile and I can make a valuable contribution to the world.

I constantly worry I am failing at life. I tend to dismiss my achievements, because it feels ridiculous to be proud of them when I struggle with tasks that most people find easy. I pressure myself to reach high standards because I hope it can atone for my failures, which include relying on my parents and finding driving a huge challenge nearly 9 years after I passed my test. If I could choose to exchange my achievements for being able to do everyday tasks, like shopping on my own and holding down a full time job, I think I would. Other people, I suspect, would find me more acceptable.

 

Waiting times.

Lately, I have been in a reflective mood. I think it’s because I had to wait several weeks for my results from my first Psychology module. In the event, I got an overall score of 95 and surpassed my expectations, but I was anxious about failing because it would effectively terminate my pursuit of the degree. I managed to almost convince myself I had messed up my final assignment so much that I had failed the module. As frustrating as it was to waste yet more time worrying for no reason, my anxiety  sometimes gives me insights: studying Psychology is very important to me.

While it should be obvious that I’m not choosing to accumulate more student loan debt for no reason, I think part of me worried about my reasons for pursuing a Psychology BSc. I have no career path mapped out. No way of knowing how my mental health will affect my life when I complete the qualification. However, I do feel a strong desire to improve my understanding of psychology and mental health so that I can help others. Perhaps I will do this through my writing; perhaps it will be via research or something else. I don’t know the route I will take, but I have clarified my first steps and am heading in the right direction.

The experience has highlighted a few truths:

1. There will always be waiting periods in my life, whether it’s waiting to hear about results or taking action in the face of excruciatingly slow progress

2. My mental health issues might mean I have more waiting periods than the average person

3. The only way to deal with waiting periods is to accept them

 

Acceptance is bloody hard.

Acceptance. It’s a simple concept, but difficult to practice. My instinct is to get upset: “why should I accept chronic mental illness when other people don’t experience it at all or for shorter periods?” And no, reminding myself that other people experience more severe mental illness for longer periods doesn’t help. Yet acceptance is the only way forward, because fighting against mental health problems doesn’t work — you have to take a collaborative approach, working within your constraints while pushing for progress.

Unfortunately, accepting my mental health issues can be difficult for other people. Many friends have dropped away because they couldn’t understand my symptoms, or why my symptoms differ from their own experiences of mental health problems. I know I’m better off without these “friends” but it’s still painful. Society in general doesn’t seem to accept mental illness. Even when people express understanding for “high functioning” people who have mental health issues, they are quick to judge those of us whose ability to work is affected. Stigma still prevails: people assume you are lazy if you need to rely on benefits, many express sympathy while acting in unsympathetic ways and judge you based on how you appear on your good days, without considering how they might be outweighed by bad days.

It’s difficult to accept your own situation when other people send negative messages. Even common assumptions can be hurtful for those of us who don’t fit the “norm” and these assumptions seem to increase as I get older. People assume a woman in her mid 30s should have her own home, be in a serious relationship, work full time, want or have children, socialise at least a few times a week, etc. I don’t fit the pattern and probably never will.

Yet everything boils down to the same old truth: improving my situation requires acceptance.

 

Learning to be patient.

I know comparing myself to others is ridiculous. Everyone’s situation, experiences and challenges are unique to themselves. All I can do is work on my own goals, try to improve my mental health and hope it all works out in the end. Oh, and I should probably try to enjoy my life along the way!

Maybe that’s the key to self-care, achieving goals, managing mental health and life in general: to aim for progress, not perfection, and have fun whenever you can.

Setting deadlines for myself isn’t always healthy, although they can sometimes help me to feel motivated. Sure, I would love to turn my life around in an instant, but that’s not realistic. I need to hold on to the positive aspects of my life, especially when they are overshadowed by the negatives, and see what happens.

 

Leaping Forward

A year ago today, I started a 4 day trek to Machu Picchu. It was the biggest and most difficult challenge I have voluntarily undertaken, but also one of the best. While it didn’t immediately transform my life, as I had hoped, it has changed me in ways I’m just beginning to realise. The greatest effect is cutting through my excuses. I completed a major life goal, despite struggling with my mental health. Why shouldn’t I achieve more goals?

Parachuting
Photo credit: my dad, Darryl Jones.

In this spirit. I set myself a lot of goals this year. Some are boring and mundane (adding to savings, submitting more short stories), but a few are more exciting. One of them was to complete a tandem skydive from 15,000 feet.

As you can probably guess from the photo, I did the skydive yesterday — which happened to be my birthday. 

Last year, I spent my birthday doing an acclimatisation trek in Peru and being serenaded in a restaurant with the world’s longest version of Happy Birthday. I was surrounded by a wonderful group of people who have become my friends, but I was thousands of miles from home and had woken up very early, sobbing because I was scared I was making a huge mistake. I was worried I wasn’t capable of achieving any of my dreams, including walking miles up very high mountains.

My birthday this year was very different: I was at home and spent the day with my parents. However, I also wanted it to be as memorable as last year, so I scheduled the skydive and hoped for good weather.

Although the skydive was on a much smaller scale than Machu Picchu, it involved a lot of preparation. My first task was to get under the 210lb weight limit (the website says you can jump if you are heavier, but you have to tell them in advance and pay a surplus, so I wanted to avoid that), which was a big commitment since I started the year at 244lbs. I weighed in at 201.5lb yesterday morning and a few pounds heavier in my clothes and trainers when I got to the airfield, which was a relief!

I also needed to have my doctor sign a medical form to state that I was allowed to jump, because I have received treatment for mental health problems within the past 2 years and have a history of self-harm. I had an appointment a couple of weeks ago and my GP declared that I was at no extra risk compared to any fit, healthy person.

I understand the reasons for needing my GP to sign the form, but it feels disempowering to be told that I can’t sign my own medical form. I know my own mind very well precisely because I have mental health issues. Managing my mental health effectively involves monitoring my mood and motivation for doing certain activities. Far from being a form of self-harm or method to boost fragile self-esteem, the skydive was my way of celebrating my achievements and rewarding myself for getting through the almost constant struggles.

Because I still struggle. Every small achievement, from walking the dog on my own to completing an assignment, involves facing my anxiety, depression and BPD and managing my current symptoms. 

My symptoms are less apparent to other people nowadays; partly because they have lessened in intensity, but mostly because I am much better at managing them. I was anxious yesterday, for example, but didn’t appear more nervous than anyone about to be hurled out of a plane for the first time. I was focusing on controlling my breathing and being mindful, rather than listening to my worries and letting them escalate — though, truth be told, my anxiety disorder is concentrated on the possibility of humiliation rather than harm or death, so I was more worried about doing the wrong thing or puking!

Tandem skydive
Photo credit: my instructor at Skydive Buzz

In addition to being a celebration and reward, skydiving was also a reminder that I need to take chances in order to experience fun and excitement. I need to leap forward, despite being anxious and having other obstacles in my way. I may never “recover” from my mental health problems, but I can manage them alongside achieving goals and chasing my dreams.

I think the main difference between my life now and the episodes during which I was trapped by my mental illness, is that my fears have shifted. I am more afraid of not trying to achieve my goals than the potential for humiliation. I’m more scared of spending the rest of my life confined to the house than chasing my dreams. I’m still fearful of failure and rejection, but my greatest fear is living without trying to create a better life for myself.

Which is another change: I believe I’m worth the effort.

I used to hate myself and thought I deserved nothing, but that has gradually changed over the past 10 years and the change has accelerated since I trekked to Machu Picchu. It started with asking for help when I needed it and investing in myself, going to university after thinking I had “missed out” on the opportunity. Then I realised I could contribute to the world, through volunteering and using my skills to help local charities/organisations. Most of all, I gave myself permission to dream again, to consider the possibility of a different life.

Along the way, I have met more people who believe in me. I have had small successes which confirm that I’m worthy of support and investment, contribute a lot and can achieve things I once considered impossible for me. 

Sure, my life looks very different to how I expected and what I would have chosen, but you work with what you’ve got. I still struggle, but the truly awesome days I enjoy make the weeks and months of struggles less important than the triumphs. When I look back on my Machu Picchu trek, I don’t dwell on the panic attacks, throat infection, rain and altitude sickness: I remember arriving at the Sun Gate with my fellow trekkers, achieving our goal.

Taking It In Your Stride

“Just take it in your stride.” Good advice, right? Nobody wants to be derailed by obstacles and challenges. However, those of us who have mental health problems can find it difficult (often impossible) to take things in our stride.

Even small and/or anticipated problems can knock us off course. Setbacks seem to confirm the negative beliefs we hold or have held about ourselves:

“I am a failure and always will be.”

“I’m not good enough.”

“I can’t cope.”

We feel people are judging us for making mistakes or not being able to cope with our problems. Our thoughts can spiral out of control, so that a tiny setback leads us to think our entire lives are catastrophes.

 

So how can you help someone gain perspective?

First of all, please don’t contradict what they are saying. You may think you are showing the person concerned that they don’t need to worry, but minimising and dismissing other people’s problems is unhelpful and potentially harmful. They are already judging themselves for not being able to take the situation in their stride; suggesting their problems are unimportant and they are therefore overreacting piles on more judgment. It may not be your intention to belittle them, but that’s how your words can be perceived.

By not being sensitive to how the person in question feels, you imply that their emotional reaction is the problem. This can be easily translated as “I am the problem”, thus confirming their negative beliefs and leaving them feeling worse.

Instead, try a more compassionate and productive approach:

1. Acknowledge how they feel. They are entitled to their emotions and none of us can control our emotional reactions, though we can learn to control how we express our feelings, emotions and thoughts. Don’t start giving advice straightaway — listen.

2. Try to understand their perspective. Keep listening. Ask questions to clarify how they feel. Try to connect and empathise, so that you can learn why they believe the problem, challenge or setback is a disaster.

3. Support them. Let them know you will help in any way you can and reassure them that they can improve the situation. If they ask for advice, give it, but don’t dictate what you think they should do. Ask them questions which help them consider their options and plan their own course of action — if they feel able to take action.

 

Check your language.

An issue I have encountered a lot when talking about my problems is people dismissing my concerns, often implying that because my life has improved since my worst periods of depression and anxiety, my current situation shouldn’t bother me. I’m sure most people don’t intend to make me feel worse, but many phrases which are supposed to be reassuring can have darker implications.

For example, “look how far you’ve come” can be motivating if someone is in a positive frame of mind, but can also be interpreted as “you should be grateful for the improvements in your life and not expect more.” I find it especially patronising when spoken by people who have led relatively “normal” lives, usually when they try to tell me that my current situation is better than I think — as though I have no right to be frustrated about my mental health, financial situation and living with my parents.

Other phrases which people think are motivating or reassuring, but actually leave a lot of us feeling worse, include:

“There are plenty of people worse off than you.” True, but there are many people better off than me — including the people who like to “remind” me that things could be worse.

“Things will change soon.” Maybe, but often nothing significant seems to change for years on end.

.”You’re lucky to have X.” Again, braodly true, but when X is my dog or parents who haven’t chucked me out on the street, it feels like whoever says this is scraping the barrel.

Before you try to reassure someone, consider:

1. Are they in the right frame of mind to hear this without misinterpreting it? Often, people just want to be heard. They aren’t expecting you to solve their problems or give them a pep talk. They may want to vent or express their emotions without being told they should feel differently.

2. Would hearing this actually help them? In most cases, especially when emotions are high, the answer is no. When I’m depressed, the most inspiring stories can make me feel worse because I feel so pathetic and unable to change.

 

What can you do if you can’t take things in your stride?

Try to stay afloat. Practice self-care and do what you can to stop things getting worse.

If you can, that is. Sometimes problems and setbacks can make us feel as though we are drowning and we can’t stop struggling. Instead of letting go and hoping we rise to the surface, we try to cling to things in desperation — though clinging to them will keep us trapped underwater for longer. We cling to unhealthy relationships, harmful habits and negative beliefs. We can keep clinging, or we can let go and accept our current situation.

Acceptance is bloody hard, but it’s the only way we can stay afloat. And unless we learn to stay afloat first, our attempts to swim against the tide and change our lives will keep sucking us under. It’s a lesson I’m learning over and over.

Berating yourself (and the world in general) gets you nowhere, because you get sucked down into the same old negative thought patterns. Practicing self-care and self-love lead to acceptance. Unfortunately, as the word “practice” suggests, it’s difficult to learn to love and care for yourself, so you need to pay attention and take active steps on a regular basis.

If you feel unable to cope, please seek help and support. Your GP is a good first port of call, but there are also various helplines, therapists and counsellors. Talking to a trusted friend or family member and asking them to help you access appropriate sources of support is a good idea.

 

Long term strategy.

When you have chronic mental health issues, feeling blown off course by life events which others seem to take in their stride is a frequent occurrence. I think the trick is to recognise when you need to stop swimming and float for a while.

Doing this can feel like you are taking a step backwards, but it actually prevents you from losing progress.

Constantly swimming against the tide is exhausting, so we all need a break sometimes. If you are experiencing mental health problems, you may need more breaks than other people — perhaps more than you would like — but it’s essential to float when you need to float. In fact, it’s the best strategy for your long term success and fulfilment.

Self-care helps you to swim further in the long run 🙂

Reconnecting with Goals

February is a great time to reconnect with your goals, because the “new year, new you” hype is subsiding and you can gauge which of your New Year Resolutions are actually important to you. You have over a month’s feedback on how you have approached your goals. You might have made huge progress on some, while others have fallen by the wayside — and now is the time to figure out why.

Stepping stones

How do your goals make you feel?

Are you excited by them? Scared of them? Frustrated that you haven’t made more progress? Feeling any emotion at all is a good sign, because it means you care about the goal. It’s not something you have chosen arbitrarily.

Examine these emotions. Ask yourself why you are feeling each particular emotion. Sometimes this will be straightforward: you might be excited by your goal to start a particular course because it’s something you have wanted to do for a long time and you are passionate about te subject. Sometimes you will have to pick apart the thoughts and beliefs you hold about a particular goal to figure out why you are feeling an emotion.

Here is an example of a more complex process of unpacking an emotion: you feel angry about your goal to lose weight. You want to lose weight to be healthier and aren’t feeling pressured by anyone else, so why are you angry? What does the goal say about you? It says you are carrying excess weight (in your opinion), so what beliefs do you hold about this excess weight? You might think it means you have been lazy or greedy. You used to be slim and fit, but you have let yourself down. You are angry because you gained weight and now you have to make an effort to lose it.

If you are experiencing negative emotions in relation to your goals, see if you can reframe your feelings. Anger, in the above example, could be channelled into determination if you make an effort to be more compassionate towards yourself and stop focusing on the weight gain. Fear is often mixed with excitement — they share a lot of symptoms, like an increased heartbeat and feeling jittery — so practice telling yourself you are excited when you feel scared. It’s a different way of interpreting the uncertainty of what will happen when you work towards your goal.

 

Why did you choose your goals?

It’s easy to set goals which don’t really matter to you. We all get influenced by the people in our lives and society in general. We convince ourselves that achieving a particular goal will make us happy, because that’s how it’s sold to us.

Think about why you selected your goals. Are you hoping it will have potential side effects, such as making you more confident or assertive? If so, why not choose a goal to work on these side effects? It would give you a greater chance of success. Focus on guaranteed results (or as close as you can get): losing weight might or might not improve your confidence, but it will make you healthier if you choose an appropriate target and methods. Finishing writing your novel probably won’t result in a fantasy publishing deal, but it will help you develop your craft and increase your chances of success.

Having a clear vision for why you chose each goal will help you to stay on track when your motivation slips. If it’s someone else’s vision or a vision you know is a lie, it ain’t going to work.

 

Recommit, adapt, sideline or drop.

Use the information you gathered from asking yourself the above questions to decide whether to keep pursuing your goals. There is no shame in dropping goals if they are not what you want. It’s fine to sideline goals which you would like to tackle in future, but can’t or don’t want to prioritise now. Adapting goals isn’t cheating; it’s about refining them so they resemble what you want and how you want to approach them.

Rewrite your goals, even if you haven’t changed them, and recommit to working towards them. Reconnect with your whys. Visualise both working towards and achieving your goals. Be motivated by them. Imagine how you will feel when you achieve your goals.

Don’t judge your goals. So what if they might seem too big or too small to other people? These are your goals and they should be all about you,.

A goal is simply something you want. It can be exotic or mundane. Easy or difficult. Safe or adventurous. Try not to care about what other people think (I know, easier said than done…) and remember, you don’t need to share your goals with anyone who might be unsupportive. You are changing your life — you’re the person who gets the final say on what you want.

 

Sort out your steps.

You don’t need to plan every stage of working towards your goal, but it helps. If nothing else, have a broad idea of the route. There will be inevitable detours and obstacles, but mapping the terrain will help you stay on track.

The most important thing is to plan your first steps. Make them small and easy, so you can cut through your excuses. If you need money to achieve your goal, your first step could be arranging a few extra hours at work or cutting a couple of nonessentials from your budget. Once you complete the first few steps, figure out the next few.

Take action and keep taking action. It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

When you feel demotivated, remind yourself of your whys and keep taking action. Even if it feels pointless. Keep moving. You might not feel like you are making progress, but simply working towards your goal is an achievement in itself. There will be setbacks and times when you feel like you haven’t made progress for weeks or months. You will get angry, frustrated and disappointed from time to time. No matter — just keep breaking down your goal into tiny steps and don’t stop.

 

Cut through your own bullshit.

We are brilliant at lying to ourselves. We say we are working towards our goals when we haven’t made progress in ages. We tell ourselves we haven’t achieved our goals because we lack money, time or good mental health. We give up on goals because believing they are too hard is easier than giving them a fair shot.

Be aware of your favourite excuses and be ready to knock them down whenever they crop up. If your goals have fallen to the wayside, be honest with yourself as to why that is. Have your priorities changed? Are you scared of failure or success? Have you psyched yourself out because your goal seems too complicated?

Stop kidding yourself. If you think you need more time/money/better health to achieve your goal, incorporate those mini-goals into your ultimate goal. Or figure out a way to achieve your goal without getting those things. Seriously. There are millions of examples of people who have achieved goals without having access to resources we view as necessary. Why shouldn’t you do the same?

If you no longer want to pursue your goal — and you’re being honest with yourself about it — have the courage to admit it. Don’t keep saying you want it when you have generated more excuses than action steps. You are allowed to stop, even if you have invested a lot of time, money and energy. Even if other people have sacrificed a lot. Spending more time, money and energy on a goal you no longer want to achieve is pointless, more likely to lead to failure and soul-destroying.

Bullshitting yourself uses up a lot of energy, so save that energy for the stuff you really want to do.

 

Choose your own path.

Setting and working towards goals is a personal endeavour. That’s why it’s important to connect with your goals and stay connected. If your heart isn’t in it, don’t waste your time — choose to do something you will actually enjoy and find fulfilling.

If you are choosing to abandon your New Year Resolutions now it’s February, examine why. Have you honestly stopped wanting to achieve your goals in the past five weeks? Did you choose a goal based on what you thought you should want? Or are you trying to convince yourself you don’t really want to achieve your goals because they involve a lot of hard work and potential failure?

Everyone is scared of failure, even those of us who try to embrace it. I know it’s a cliché to say the only sure way to fail is to never try, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Another cliché that’s true: we tend to regret the stuff we never tried, not the stuff we tried and failed to do. I try to celebrate failure nowadays, because it’s a sign that I’m trying to change my life — after years of being resigned to misery and despair, it’s refreshing.

So set forth and follow your own path, because you can’t live your life in the constant maelstrom of paying more attention to other people’s opinions and judgements than your own goals and desires. And have you noticed that people who ridicule failure the most, tend to be those who are too scared to work towards significant goals?

Upgrading, Not Transforming

Happy new year! I’m sorry I haven’t blogged for ages. My depression got worse before Christmas and once I was feeling better, I had a lot of work and studying with which I needed to catch up. It’s been difficult, but the worst is over and I feel better for the days getting (gradually) longer and lighter.

I find it interesting that everyone seems to be divided at the start of a new year: they either buy into the “new year, new you” thing or rail against it. Personally, I believe both approaches have their benefits and a moderate approach is best. You are perfectly good as you are and self-acceptance is important, but there is a lot of value in setting and working towards goals.

I have a list of things I would like to achieve this year, but I’m also trying to appreciate my life as it is.

I have a lot of things to be grateful for, not least of which is having the opportunity to achieve (what I considered to be) a major life goal last year. I also feel I belong in my own life more, which is hard to explain. I suppose it’s about feeling as though I am doing meaningful things and contributing to the world in my own small way.

 

My approach: upgrading

I have been frustrated in the past (the recent past, too) that achieving a big goal hasn’t totally transformed my life. I know it was unrealistic to have those expectations, but I’m human and I tend to think “I would be so much happier and more successful if only I could do X.” I *think* I have finally learnt that while certain accomplishments or experiences may change my life, this is most likely to happen gradually rather than overnight.

Take trekking to Machu Picchu, for instance. I didn’t quite believe I could do it, right up to the point that I arrived at the Sun Gate, but I had all these assumptions about what it would mean if I did reach my goal. I thought I would be fearless, confident, unstoppable. I thought I would be able to change my life within weeks of returning home. I thought it would change me.

And it has changed me, but not as much or as quickly as I had hoped. I am more confident, although I still struggle at certain and in certain situations. I know I’m capable of committing to a huge goal and achieving it. Even of 99% of what I attempt results in failure, I know success is possible.

I alluded to the biggest change in my life in the openings paragraph of this post — my trek inspired me to embark on a Psychology BSc with the Open University. I have no idea what impact it will have on my life, but I know it’s a step in the right direction. I will probably be able to join the dots only in hindsight, several years or more down the line. All I know is that studying is the right thing for me to do for now and it will provide me with more opportunities.

I have decided to view changes like my Psychology course as upgrades. They haven’t transformed my life, but they have set me on a path which may lead to transformation.

I have also decided to view my goals for 2018 as upgrades. Achieving all of my goals may not change my life a great deal, certainly not on a daily basis, but my life will improve. I hope to end this year fitter, healthier and with better finances. I probably won’t be able to solve the major problems in my life (poor mental health, a lot of debt, living with my parents), but I can make improvements.

 

Focusing on the process

A major lesson which life has taught me over and over again is that I can’t control the results of anything — I can only control what I do. I find this easier to accept in some areas of my life more than others.

Submitting short stories, for example. I know I can’t control whether my story will win a prize or get published; all I can to is submit it to the competition or literary journal. However, I got very frustrated when obstacles threatened my Machu Picchu trek. It was annoying, being on a once-in-a-lifetime challenge and struggling with altitude sickness, panic attacks and a throat infection. It wasn’t fair. But every time I started thinking about the unfairness, I had a panic attack. This made my situation worse. The only way I could make progress was to focus on the process, putting one foot in front of the other without thinking about how hard it was or how much further I had to go.

So my goals for 2018 are all about focusing on the process. I won’t bore you by listing them, but suffice to say that they are all within my control and achieving them should be possible as long as I focus on execution and not results.

Getting caught up in results often harms execution. For instance, if your goal is to lose weight and you have a specific time frame in mind, it can be demotivating when you have a disappointing week. You convince yourself you’re off track, even if you have been following your eating and exercise plan. You might wonder why you bother and get sucked into a downward spiral, comfort eating so much that you jeopardise the next week’s weight loss. Chances are your disappointing weigh-in was down to normal weight fluctuation, but focusing on it and losing sight of the process can turn a blip into an abandoned goal.

Focusing on the process doesn’t mean you ignore the results: it’s about giving the process a fair shot before you change or abandon it. 

The type of results for which you are aiming also bear consideration. How much are they within your control? Weight loss, for example, is within the control of most of us. While you may have medical conditions which make it harder to lose weight, it’s possible for most people (with some exceptions; I’m not denying that). You may have to tackle psychological issues and/or physical problems along the way, but you can do it. Other results are almost completely outside your control: winning a Nobel Prize or getting married to a celebrity you fancy, for example. These are not good goals, because you will be setting yourself up for disappointment (again, with a few exceptions).

 

Prioritising a healthy attitude

The biggest problem for me is that working towards goals can trigger my mental health problems. Facing a setback can exacerbate my depression and/or anxiety. I can quickly convince myself that I’m doomed to failure and might as well give up.

Conversely, working towards goals also has a positive impact on my mental health. It gives my life meaning and purpose. It bolsters my self-esteem and helps me develop resilience. 

Bearing this in mind, I have to be careful about how I approach goals. I need to keep a sense of perspective and remind myself of the progress I have already made, both towards a particular goal and in other areas of my life. I know my red flags — becoming obsessed about a goal, letting a goal affect my mood — so when my attitude is becoming unhealthy, I can stop and remind myself of what is most important in my life, i.e. maintaining the optimal level of mental health I can at any time.

I like using charts to measure my progress, especially those that focus on the process. For example, ticking or colouring in a box every time I go for a run or put £5 in my savings account. Having a visual representation of my progress helps me to keep perspective. Plus there’s something really satisfying about ticking or colouring a box!

 

Will you join me?

I believe setting goals is a (note: not the) key to a healthy and fulfilling life. I get sick of all the “new year, new you” stuff, especially when I see adverts claiming that losing weight will have magical effects on your life (I lost a lot of weight in the past and it didn’t make me happier or more successful and though I was physically healthier, my mental health was worse). However, I also know that almost everything I like about my life has been created through setting goals. Even when I haven’t achieved a goal, I have learnt from the process and often made progress.

So I encourage you to set healthy, exciting goals which will lead you closer to your ideal life.You might want to change your life completely, but change starts with improving the areas of your life which matter most to you. These small improvements snowball over time and lead to you doing things you never believed possible.

Go for it. You can make your life a little better. You might transform your life this year, but you might not — and that’s okay. Good luck!

Accumulating Expertise

Living with long term mental health problems involves a lot of trial and error. While some treatments and strategies have a high success rate in general, the only way to find out what works for you is experimentation – repeated experimentation. Strategies can vary in their effectiveness, both across time and in different situations. Some treatments are more difficult to access than others, such as talking therapies, which can be all but impossible to secure over long periods of time unless you can afford to pay for a private therapist or counsellor. Sometimes life gets in the way of your ability to implement strategies. During particularly bad episodes, nothing seems to work.

 

Capturing Information

One of the most challenging aspects of mental health is its pervasiveness. It affects every area of your life: career, finance, relationships, fitness, etc. – all of which also affect your mental health. Combined with fluctuations in symptoms, these factors make it difficult to assess the effectiveness of the various treatments and strategies you use to manage your mental health. Pinpointing correlations is difficult, let alone determining potential causes and effects.

Recording information about your symptoms, treatments and coping strategies presents more challenges. When you are experiencing a bad episode, symptoms saturate your everyday life and making notes is the last thing on your mind. When you feel relatively well, recording information seems like an unnecessary hassle. Achieving any level of consistency is improbable.

There are also benefits and disadvantages to different types of record keeping. Writing in a journal is my preferred method, because it helps me to process my thoughts and feelings. It captures a lot of rich, complex information and gives me insights into my mental health which would not otherwise be recorded. However, using a journal takes time to write and more time to review. Since the information is purely qualitative, it can be difficult to measure progress or decline.

Another popular method of tracking mental health is using a system which asks you to rate your mood and/or other symptoms at regular intervals. You can do this through using an app or one of the questionnaires used by mental health professionals, such as the Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Wellbeing Scale. Bear in mind that when an assessment tool is designed to be used by professionals, it may not be user-friendly or suitable for self-assessment. If you would like to try the Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Wellbeing Scale, the NHS has a handy guide for using it to assess yourself: http://www.nhs.uk/Tools/Documents/Wellbeing%20self-assessment.htm

The main drawback of using a quantitative rating or tracking system is that the information captured is reductive. It tells you nothing about the context of your symptoms, unless you make additional notes. These systems are best used in combination with qualitative information – at the very least, noting which treatments/strategies you are using and any major contextual factors, like whether you have been having family problems or have an important deadline looming. However, it provides measurements which you can evaluate over time to spot patterns and determine which treatments/strategies work for you.

Full disclosure: I think tracking your mental health with quantitative methods is a great idea in theory, but it hasn’t worked for me in practice. I used an app called Moodtrack for a while and it was useful – when I remembered and felt able to use it. It allows you to make notes when you assess your mood, so you can record other symptoms, any activities in which you are engaged, external influences, current preoccupations… anything which you think might have an impact on your mental health. The information is easy to review, but doesn’t give me the same insights as journaling. Neither does tracking my mood and symptoms improve my mood in the short term, whereas using a journal makes me immediately feel better.

 

Research and Development

Finding the strategies which work for you involves a vital first step: being aware of potential strategies. You can learn about what works for other people from a variety of sources, including books, forums, blogs, social media and chatting – just beware of people who portray a certain treatment or strategy as a miracle cure. Most people find they have to use a variety of treatments and strategies to manage their mental health, although one or two strategies may be at the core of their approach.

Try to keep an open mind when considering strategies; often, activities which seem insignificant or a little strange can have a big impact. For example, meditation is frequently dismissed as being too hippy-dippy or a waste of time, but scientific studies and anecdotal evidence testify to its efficacy. You may not realise the value of a strategy until you stop doing it, which is what happened when I failed to use my SAD lamp regularly last winter. It’s fine to give up on strategies if they are too time-consuming or otherwise impractical, but commit to giving them a fair shot first.

Choose one or two strategies at a time: trying to incorporate too many at once is tricky, puts you under too much pressure and makes it difficult to tell which strategies (if any) are having a positive effect. Start with the ones which you think might make the most difference to you, or which are easiest for you to implement. Activities which don’t need any special equipment, like walking and meditation, are good starting points. Strategies which can be done inside your home also tend to be more accessible, like mindfulness colouring and yoga.

Anything you can do to make it easier to try certain strategies is a great idea. This could mean exercising with a friend for support, joining a class to keep motivated or setting reminders on your phone for self-care activities. Think about what you need. What are your particular preferences and obstacles? Selecting strategies which you believe you will enjoy is a good way to ensure you keep doing them long enough to assess their effects. Think about how you can increase the enjoyment factor of specific strategies, such as listening to your favourite music when you run.

Keep reading about mental health, but remember that you can find strategies which can help you to manage your mental health in other fields. For example, I find that decluttering lifts my mood and helps reduce my anxiety. I also feel better when I watch films, read and study. You may discover that different strategies work at different time, so have another shot at strategies which previously haven’t worked for you to see if anything has changed. This was the case for me with running: I tried it in my late teens and hated it, but now use it (along with other types of exercise) as one of my core strategies.

 

Expectations and Judgments

Mental health problems can be unpredictable. Everything can be going well and then, without warning, your symptoms worsen and your mental health plummets. It isn’t fair and you think there must be a logical reason for the decline, so you blame yourself. Maybe you didn’t implement your strategies as well as you could have, or you think you should have done more. You expected your mental health to improve or remain constant, but it didn’t – so you judge yourself for failing to live up to your expectations.

In an ideal world, you would be full of self-compassion and never judge yourself, expecting nothing and accepting everything with gratitude. That obviously isn’t going to work in real life: it is normal and natural to feel frustrated, angry and disappointed when your mental health dips. We grow up with the myth that if we work hard, we will be rewarded. We don’t like to be reminded that this isn’t always true, especially when we are the ones disproving the myth. Mental illness sucks precisely because you can everything to the best of your ability, incorporating coping strategies and seeking treatment when needed, only to slide into another awful episode.

I haven’t found a solution which enables me to control my expectations and stop judging myself – but I’m better than I used to be. You have to keep reminding yourself that you are not to blame for your mental illness. You have to try to enjoy the relatively good episodes and appreciate them. Most of all, you have to keep hoping you will get the balance right.

 

Achieving Balance

Managing long term mental health conditions is a balancing act. There will be times when you wobble and times when you topple over; the trick is learning how to regain balance. Picking yourself up after a bad episode is horrible. It feels like all your hard work has been erased and you are back to square one. But this is never true.

Every time a bad episode knocks you off balance, you learn something. It can take a long time to realise what you have learnt, but it is true. Every time you dust yourself off and manage your mental health well enough to see infinitesimal improvements in your symptoms, you learn something. Maybe you learn that you are stronger and more resilient than you believe. Or perhaps you find support in unexpected places, from new friends or acquaintances who have always been at the periphery of your life but now step up to help. You might learn about which values contribute to your wellbeing, finding hope in creativity, generosity or nurturing.

I think experiencing long term mental health issues is a process of learning. You are accumulating expertise about yourself and your particular mental health problems. You learn about what feeling mentally well means for you and which strategies help you get there. You learn to notice when your symptoms worsen and you need to increase self-care activities. You learn when to ask for help and what help you need.

You learn a lot about other people, too. You learn that some people are insensitive bastards who spread negativity wherever they go. You learn that others are ignorant and have no idea what impact their words and behaviour have on vulnerable people. You learn that some people are spiteful and will use your mental illness as an excuse to bully and abuse you.

However, you also learn that a lot of people are kind and caring. There are people who dedicate huge amounts of their time to helping you, both in official capacities and through friendship. You learn that your true friends will listen without dismissing your problems or telling you about people who are worse off. You learn who you can rely on for support during the darkest times, when you can’t even trust yourself.

Most of all, you learn a great deal about yourself when you experience mental health problems. It forces you to examine your life and what you would like it to be. You learn that you can cope with more than you thought possible. You learn about true strength, courage and confidence, which are not about presenting yourself as imperturbable and indestructible, but are about following your own path even when you feel like giving up.

Accumulating expertise in your own life is hard work and difficult, but brings many rewards. It helps you deal with the bad times, but also helps you seize opportunities during the good times. It helps you to recognise your vulnerability as strength and develop empathy for others. It helps you to live your life.

Changing Tides

It’s the end of summer and everything feels distinctly autumnal. I’m particularly sensitive to this feeling because my mental health usually dips over the winter months, plus there are a couple of major beginnings and endings on the horizon.

Seascape

An Ending

I’m approaching the “end” of my current novel. I have been rewriting it for several months and hope to have it in decent shape within a month. Of course, the “end” will hopefully be the beginning, if I’m fortunate enough to attract an agent. If I’m even luckier and get a publishing deal, there will be a lot of extra work ahead, including more rewriting and editing.

Yet completing the novel means letting go. It means exposing it to readers — potential agents, publishers, competition judges, editors, perhaps people who decide to buy the book (if it gets published). I will have to send it out into the world.

My main concern isn’t receiving criticism of my writing: I’m used to criticism and rejections, which are inevitable for every writer. In fact, I prefer getting constructive criticism rather than a vague “not for us” rejection. I like to know how my writing comes across; how I can improve. I want to get better at writing and critiques are essential if I am to improve.

I suppose I’m worried that the novel might have no potential. That I’m wasting my time trying to write novels. There might be a fear of moving on to the next and trying to apply the lessons I have learnt. What if I can’t improve? What if I never write a publishable novel?

Perhaps the real problem is the uncertainty. If a time traveller from 2020 (or beyond) told me my current novel was terrible and never published, I would just shrug and move on. I would consider it a time-consuming but worthwhile exercise, helping me to learn my craft — like my last attempt at writing a novel. If the time traveller told me it got published and was reasonably well received, I would be ecstatic. I don’t like not knowing.

Ending a major phase of any project makes me feel reflective. I question my goals and achievements. I fence with self-doubt. I worry that I won’t complete the next phase, that things will go wrong or that I’m just not good enough. Mental illness takes these normal feelings and blends them with my symptoms, creating a lot of turmoil. It can be intense, but I can ride it out.

 

 

A Beginning.

I will start my Psychology BSc with the Open University in October. I’m excited, but also nervous — which I suppose is normal. It’s a big commitment, since studying will form a large proportion of my life for the next 5 years, but it’s also incredibly important to me.

I wouldn’t be so nervous if I didn’t care. I’m worried that my mental health will affect my studies because I want to learn as much as I can. I don’t want to put my studies on hold or scrape through by the skin of my teeth. I want to be able to engage with the material and complete assignments to the best of my ability.

I’m especially wary because of past experience. When I did my Film Studies BA, a decline in my mental health in the final year (not helped by also being diagnosed with a serious eye condition which could lead to blindness) meant my grades dropped by 10%. I went from being on course for a 1:1 from the first semester, earning a Dean’s Commendation in my second year, to getting a good-but-disappointing 2:1. I know I should be proud to have done so well when facing tough challenges, but it’s frustrating when my mental health prevents me from doing my best.

I appreciate the irony of worrying about my mental health affecting my degree, when my experience of mental illness has motivated my decision to study Psychology. I’m fed up with repeating the same patterns, battling and working like mad only to fall short in the end. Yes, I do the best I can in my particular circumstances, but that’s not very reassuring when I know I’m capable of more.

I hope studying Psychology will be a fresh start. My mental health is better (in general) than it has been for a long time and I have good coping strategies. Grades and results aren’t as important to me nowadays — instead of setting out to prove something to myself (and/or others who doubt me), I want to use what I learn to help myself and others.

 

Adjusting

I want to change my life, which involves a large degree of uncertainty and a lot of learning to cope with the effects. The changing seasons emphasise how life follows cycles; how natural it is to change direction and evolve. However, accepting — even embracing — the inevitability of change doesn’t make it easy.

When you have mental health issues, it feels like your whole life is filtered through them — determined by them, at the worst points. It’s annoying and frustrating. It can make you feel sad, angry, hopeless. I often wish I had never experienced mental illness.

But… without experiencing mental health problems, I doubt I would have tried to write a novel or studied the subjects I’m truly passionate about at university. I often feel like I’m not living a full life, because mental illness prevents me from doing so many “normal” things, yet many perfectly healthy people lead half-lives and don’t follow their dreams. They limit themselves and don’t set goals or take risks. If I didn’t have mental health issues, I think I may have been one of those people.

 

 

What If You Don’t Have a Dream?

Last week, someone called James left an interesting comment on my post You Need to Chase Your Dreams, asking what if you don’t have any dreams? I wrote an extensive reply, which you can read by scrolling down to the comments section at the bottom of the post, but the question lingered in my mind. What if you don’t have any dreams?

Apple blossom and sky

This post is inspired by James’s comment and the thoughts his question generated. I hope you find it helpful.

1. Check your definition of “dream”.

I use the word “dream” when I talk about my most significant goals in life. These goals aren’t necessarily “big” or extraordinary. Some of them are very mundane — to the extent that other people take them for granted, considering them all but inevitable. For me, these types of dreams include living independently. For others, they encompass marriage, children, a steady job, etc.

The significance of your dreams might not be apparent to other people; that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you prioritise what you most want from life, whatever that happens to be.

 

2. Consider the impact of your mental health at any given time.

My dreams take a backseat during particularly bad episodes of mental illness — to the extent that they almost don’t exist. If this is the case for you, focus on anything you can do right now: big life dreams can wait until you can manage your mental health better. Sometimes coping with mental illness is just about trying to get through the day.

However, don’t let your mental health become an excuse for not following your dreams. I know my mental health will be a huge factor in whether or not I can achieve some of my dreams, but I also know I can’t let “what ifs” stop me trying to achieve them. My philosophy is to do what I can, when I can .

 

3. Don’t limit yourself.

Consider the impossible. Seriously. What would you do if there were no limits? How would you spend your days?

When you come up with answers, figure out how you might achieve them — or something similar. You might want to win the lottery so you can spend all day reading or gardening or taking pictures of trains. Okay, winning the lottery is out of your control (once you buy a ticket, anyway), but can you find ways to include more of your favourite activities in your life right now? Are there career paths you can follow so you can earn a living doing what you love? Can you create your own career path?

The creativity and problem-solving involved in chasing your dreams is all part of the fun. It’s a valuable learning process and in addition to preparing for the realisation of your dreams, brings a lot of satisfaction and pleasure in itself. And the crazier your dream, the more complex — and fun — this process will be!

 

4. It’s okay to be content with your life as it is.

If you are happy, there is no need to seek out experiences and achievements you don’t want. We don’t have to spend our time setting goals and chasing dreams. I personally like setting and achieving goals, but acknowledge that not everyone is like me. If there is nothing you want to change about your life, that’s truly wonderful — enjoy it.

 

5. Consider ways to add value to your life and other peoples’ lives.

If you have no other dreams, make this your goal — whether on a small scale or a big one. Perform small acts of kindness, volunteer for chairty, participate in a fundraising challenge. Make the world a better place.