Patience

I haven’t posted for a while because I have been going through a bad patch. The trouble with mental health problems is they can convince you that nothing you do will have an effect. There’s no point in writing a blog post, you think, because it will be crap, nobody will read it and it won’t help anyone. So you convince yourself it’s best not to do anything, which is easy since you don’t feel like doing anything. Nothing changes, of course, because you’re not taking action. You just feel worse and worse.

Rose

It’s frustrating when I feel this way, because downward spirals are hard to escape. I tell myself  I’m waiting until I feel better before I work towards my goals, but not working towards my goals usually makes me feel worse.

I’m finding things particularly difficult right now, because even when I have been working towards a goal on a regular basis, my progress seems very slow. Losing weight, for instance, is once of my priorities for this year. I have a lot to lose, so I hoped the first half would drop off quickly. It didn’t, but that was okay when I was losing weight at a steady pace. Then it stopped. For no apparent reason. I don’t think I’m a particularly stupid person, so I knew that plateaus are to be expected and I would lose more weight if I stuck to my plan, but it’s hard not to have an emotional reaction. While I knew I should lose weight again, because I was sticking to my diet and exercise plan, part of me was screaming “you are failing, you are useless, you are hopeless.”

buy Pregabalin in uk My plateau didn’t last for very long (about a month), but I realised it reflected my attitude towards many of my goals. I find it difficult to keep going when I don’t see results.

I recently read a book called Drive by Daniel H Pink, which highlights the importance of intrinsic motivation. I nodded along, recognising that focusing on external rewards is not conducive to motivation, but I also admit that I put too much emphasis on recognition. I feel insecure sometimes and need a gold star to boost my confidence. It feels pathetic to admit this, but tangible results keep me motivated and when they are absent, or not good enough (in my own opinion), I find it hard to stay the course. I start doubting myself.

I’m currently waiting for the final result of my first Psychology BSc module (I’m studying part time with the Open University) and it’s torture. My first 3 assignments got 95 apiece, so I would have to mess up in epic style to fail the module on the fourth assignment, which seems unlikely. But, again, while I realise this on a logical level, the part of me which is entangled with my mental health issues keeps shouting about how I’m stupid and must be an idiot to expect anything good to come of studying.

However, I was forced to take action in spite of these negative thoughts. I needed to enrol on my modules for the next academic year and apply for my student loan. I had to ignore the voice telling me I was jinxing myself, because the alternative would be to wait another year before continuing my studies. If I do that each year I complete a module, I would take 10 years to complete the degree, instead of the anticipated 5 years. Obviously, that would be ridiculous, so I did what I needed to do.

buy modafinil usa Taking action is almost always an act of faith. You have to trust that your actions will make a difference.

Keeping faith is especially difficult when you are working towards a big goal. I do my best to split big goals into smaller ones, acknowledging and celebrating small successes, but some goals are so big that you have to wait ages (so it seems) for even tiny signs of progress. The answer isn’t easy, but it’s essential: you need to focus on the process, not results.

Focusing on the process requires faith and patience. It’s about building the habits which will determine long term success. In short, it’s a long, hard slog.

I was googling “how to stay motivated during weight loss” earlier today and was reminded of something I already knew: motivation follows action. If you wait to feel motivated before taking action, you could be waiting forever. Time is always passing, whether you take action or not. What will you regret not doing 6 months, a year or several years from today?

So that’s why I’m forcing myself to keep going. It’s hard to make short term sacrifices without getting results, but my future self will thank me. I would rather turn down cake today than get diabetes in a few years. I would rather get stuck into studying this year than regret not seizing my opportunity 10 years down the line. I want to create healthy habits which will lead to my ideal life, or at least a better life than the one I’m living.

There’s a comment which writers often hear that has become a bit of a joke: “I would like to write a novel” — or its variant “I wish I had time to write a novel” — often accompanied by a wistful expression. The implication is that writing a novel is something people only do if they are privileged enough to have time and few other concerns, but this simply isn’t true. Thousands of novels have been written in segments of time snatched from busy days. If writing a novel (or doing anything else) is a priority for you, you can find a way to achieve it. The difference between people who say “I want to write a novel” but never do it and people who write novels is not a lack of time.

http://westwicklowfestival.com/wordpress/wp-admin/ We all have 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and you can choose how it’s spent. It always passes, whatever you do.

Remembering this is, for me, a work in progress. I waste a lot of time; mental illness wastes a lot of time. But when I am well enough to take action, I try to force myself to take action. Waiting for results is frustrating, but waiting for motivation is a massive waste of time.

I will keep slogging, trying to achieve my goals, because not doing anything guarantees failure. It won’t be easy and I doubt I will ever learn to become patient all the time, but it’s necessary if I want to improve my life. Right now, it’s challenging. Maybe next week, month or year I will feel more motivated and gain more results. Either way, I plan to keep going.

I just hope Future Hayley will be grateful!

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.

Changing Set Points

I have been finding things difficult lately, which feels strange to admit because my life is, in general, better than it has been for years. While I still have bad days (and some really awful days), my typical daily mood has been turned up a few notches.

Apple blossom and sky

This means I can (usually) practice basic self-care without huge effort, such as going for a walk and cooking healthy meals instead of grabbing junk food. Other tasks are harder to accomplish, like finding the confidence to submit my short stories and attending appointments on my own. It seems my “set point” of mood and ability has increased.

An improved set point is, of course, a Good Thing. I have no idea whether I will ever recover completely from my mental illnesses, but this improvement is an encouraging sign. It gives me hope.

Life is also easier to bear, because my bad days are less intense than they were at the end of last year. Feeling lethargic, unmotivated and low in mood isn’t great, but it’s preferable to being suicidal and self-harming on a daily basis. It might take a huge effort to get out of bed, but I can do it. That’s progress.

But there is a darker side to an increased set point and the hope it brings: I feel more pressure to do better.

Acknowledging Progress

A conversation I had last week highlighted this issue. I was asked if I had had a good week and I replied that it was neither good nor bad. Nothing terrible had happened, but nothing particularly good had occurred. I felt as if I hadn’t achieved anything. I was then asked about my week in more detail. I can’t remember my precise response,but it was something along the lines of “oh yeah, I walked the dog and went to gym classes, did some writing, studied… the usual.”

“The usual.”

Not so long ago, these things were not “usual” for me. Even a year ago, I was not going to gym classes or studying. Longer ago, I couldn’t walk the dog (let alone on my own!) or sustain any kind of regular writing practice. I realised that I wasn’t giving myself credit for how far I have come and that I expect more of myself.

Expecting more of yourself can be empowering. It has motivated me to challenge myself. The possibility that I can manage my mental health well enough to prevent it from limiting my life encourages me to dream, to plan, to take action.

On the other hand, expecting more of yourself can bring disappointment. Failure is inevitable in life, but raising your hopes enough to expect the odd success can make constant failure harder to handle. In many ways, it was easier when I expected nothing good to happen to me.

Accepting The Positive

Perhaps the problem is a disconnect between accepting myself as I am and wanting more for myself. Maybe, on some level, I still consider those things a paradox. It’s a kind of superstition: if I accept myself as is, I might be jinxing the possibility of a better life.

Paradox or not, in my experience, acceptance is usually necessary before I can change things for the better. When you are fighting against your current situation, it’s difficult to achieve anything. Once you accept where you are, you can create a map and move forward.

I tend to think of acceptance as admitting and owning the negative aspects of my life. A lot of the work I did in counselling last year was about accepting my mental health issues, plus the problems that have been directly or indirectly caused by them (finances, work, relying on my parents, etc). I might not like having mental health problems, or the effects, but I need to accept them as part of my life.

However, thinking about my recent weeks has made me wonder whether I am making enough effort to accept the positive aspects of my life. I suppose my default is to think of my achievements and successes as anomalies; brief, glorious moments rising out of the dross of my everyday life. I rarely acknowledge them, especially if I consider them to be small and insignificant.

Yet the small things are important. Vital, in fact.

During my worst episodes, I couldn’t enjoy the very activities I now consider “small”. I didn’t read much, because I couldn’t concentrate. Ditto watching films. If someone did something nice for me, or even if the weather was good, I would get upset because I believed I didn’t deserve anything good. Back then, if you had told me that I would be where I am now, I would have scoffed because it seemed impossible.

I need to be more mindful about the good things in my life right now, as well as being hopeful that I can achieve things I currently think of as impossible. A few years ago, I would never have dismissed the past few weeks as “neither good nor bad” — I would have considered them to be fabulous, amazing, wonderful! Instead of letting my new set point skew my reality, making me dismissive of the positive aspects of my life, I should celebrate reaching this new version of “normal”.

Maybe this is how recovery will work for me, increasing my set point until mental illness is no longer a controlling shareholder in my life.

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 🙂

Choosing Is Hard

If you read about mental health, wellbeing and/or self-improvement, you have probably read a lot about ‘choice’. A lot of the information is true and basic common sense: our choices do determine our lives, no matter what has happened to us. We can choose how to react to life events, including mental illness. However, what the rhetoric often misses out is that making these choices is bloody hard.

For a start, you might not realise you have a choice. Mental illness makes you believe you are powerless. Depression, anxiety and other conditions change your thought patterns. You think you are useless, worthless, hopeless. You think your life is pointless. These thoughts often spiral out of control so all you can see is the negative fog of your illness.

I have certainly felt like this – I still do, during bad days or weeks. In the past, this mindset has lasted for months on end – perhaps years – and I truly believed there was no way out. I didn’t know I had a choice, even when I made choices like going to the doctor and taking my medication. I did those things because my parents said I should, not because I thought I could be helped.

Any discussion of ‘choice’ should acknowledge the vital roles of opportunity and support.

If you have no support, making choices is more difficult. You have no reassurance that you are doing the right thing – assuming it’s possible to identity ‘the right thing’. There is always an element of risk in making different choices, because results are never guaranteed. Without support, this risk often feels too high and you are too afraid to change, because you don’t know whether anyone will have your back if you fail.

Professional support, from doctors, counsellors and/or therapists, is very valuable. Sometimes, it feels like they are the only ones who have a degree or understanding and want you to get better, as opposed to wishing you would keep the status quo even if it’s painful for you. However, professional support works best when it is complemented by support in your personal life, from family and friends. If you have little support from those who are closest to you, it is more challenging to make decisions which might have long term benefits but cause discomfort (or even pain) in the short term.

Having support in other aspects of your life makes a difference, too. At work, for instance, you have more options when you have a supportive employers, managers and colleagues. They have the scope to offer opportunities which unsupportive people will not, such as training and mentorship. It also helps if you know you can have time off when you need it, without worrying that you will face a formal warning when you return to work (which happened to me, when I was employed by a certain supermarket).

Other sources of support could be accessed through education, hobbies and groups. Unfortunately, mental illness tends to narrow your life and makes you withdraw from these potential sources of support, which means it can take a great deal of effort to continue pursuing an interest or attending a class. During my worst episodes, I feel unable to do the things which help me feel supported and purposeful.

All potential choices may seem undesirable.

How do you make choices when all of the options have massive drawbacks? Sure, at least one choice probably has the potential to lead you in the direction of long term success, fulfilment and/or happiness, but it may also have huge risks involved. For example, I used to be too scared to walk my dog on my own. I had walked the route thousands of times over the years, often on my own, yet the idea of walking out of the house alone terrified me. Why? Walking on my own had numerous potential benefits, including enjoying the countryside and improving my mood, but it also carried the risk that I would have (another) panic attack in public.

Every time I have had a panic attack in public, I have experienced humiliation on top of the dread and discomfort which every other panic attack brings. It had an impact on my mood and other symptoms for weeks afterwards (sometimes months) and led to more restrictions in my life, such as not going out at all when I had previously been fine with my friends or family members. It also affected my confidence, meaning I would avoid doing anything which might result in failure.

So my options were: go for a walk alone and risk a panic attack which would have a devastating impact on my mental health, or stay at home and risk nothing other than living the rest of my life feeling bad but not as bad as I might feel after a panic attack. Neither option was desirable. Especially during times when I was experiencing a lot of panic attacks, so the chance of having one in public was greatly increased.

I was only able to make the choice to go for a walk on my own after receiving a lot of treatment and support, including medication, therapy and counselling. I also had people in my life who understood enough to help me, instead of forcing me to make certain choices before I was ready.

It’s hard to keep making choices without seeing results.

Many of the choices we make do not have instant effects. Some do not reveal their full effects for months or years. This makes it difficult to choose certain courses of action and to keep going after you have made the initial decision.

Often, I only realise the effects of my choices in hindsight. Something reminds me of how life used to be and when I compare it to my present, I can see which choices have led to the difference. Several years ago, I was extremely unfit. I was at university full time and prioritised my studies over everything, because I believed I had something to prove after assuming I would never have the opportunity to pursue a degree. I walked less, especially after I passed my driving test just before starting the second year, and did no other exercise. Walking to and from the car park was a challenge because I had become so unfit.

Nowadays, I am pretty fit: I walk every day, go to three gym classes a week and try to run at least twice a week. This did not happen overnight. The first choice I made was to buy a treadmill, so I could walk inside (as previously mentioned, I could not walk outside alone at this time). I started walking very slowly and for short periods of time. It felt pathetic, being challenged by an activity I used to find easy, but I gradually built up my speed and distance. Looking back, those first walks on the treadmill represented some of the best choices I have made. But at the time, they were painful and frustrating because my progress seemed slow. Choosing to keep walking was difficult and if I did not have the treadmill, I doubt I would have persevered.

I could only make the choice(s) to continue walking because I was in the right headspace and had the right opportunity (access to credit so I could buy the treadmill). When you don’t have the right mindset, support and opportunities, it is extremely difficult to keep going.

You may not see the full impact of your choices for a long time.

Related to the previous point is the fact that the consequences of your choices, good and bad, might not be apparent for years. Looking back, I realise that I made a lot of mistakes. Every time I stayed at home because I felt too anxious to go out, my world got a little smaller and darker. Each time I struggled on my own instead of asking for help, I became more anxious and depressed. Would I have made different decisions if I knew the full effects? Maybe, but I did the best I could in the circumstances.

It is important not to blame yourself or other people for past actions taken in good faith. While the choices made might have led to an undesirable situation, most of us believe we are doing the right thing when we take those decisions. Every time I stayed at home, I thought I was sparing my friends and family the embarrassment of my anxiety symptoms. Each time I refused to ask for help, I believed I was sparing people from my causing them trouble or inconvenience. We are all experts with hindsight, but we should never forget how it feels when you make poor decisions because you think they are for the best.

Your choices may have unexpected consequences.

Your choices may have unforeseen effects, whether positive or negative, which can be difficult to cope with or understand. When you are trying your best to make positive changes in life, it’s difficult to respond to one of your choices backfiring.

Sometimes, your choices create problems because other people don’t understand your perspective. They may think you are causing unnecessary stress for yourself by choosing to pursue a certain goal. They may accuse you of being selfish for spending your time and money on your own priorities, instead of the things they think should be prioritised. When considering people’s reactions, it is important to remember that they have their own issues and sets of beliefs. Their responses say more about them than you.

Dealing with the unexpected can be hard. When you make choices, you often assume they will have specific consequences and unforeseen effects can make you question everything. The fear of unexpected consequences may cause indecision for some people: it may seem illogical, if you believe they can improve their lives through making a certain choice, but they may feel more comfortable sticking with what they know, even if it is making them unhappy. Their behaviour might not make sense to you, but trying to understand rather than berating them is more likely to enable them to change. People in this situation need support, not judgement.

Making the ‘wrong’ choices doesn’t make you less worthy of love, support or respect.

Some people talk about others making a ‘choice’ to do something which has negative effects, without considering whether they had any support or opportunities to make a different choice. It’s easy to judge and, unfortunately, many people who judge have experienced difficulties themselves and believe others should be able to overcome their problems simply because they themselves did. Their attitude is ‘I managed to cope, so why can’t you?’

There are, of course, a number of potential answers to this question. Different people have different life skills, coping abilities, levels of self-esteem, supportive factors in their lives, etc. Often, these differences cannot be appreciated by those on the outside. Someone who seems to have everything going for them, such as a good job and family, may have very low self-esteem and believe they are unworthy of the positive changes they can make. Somebody who appears to have supportive parents may actually be undermined by them at home, when nobody is there to witness it.

If you have helped yourself by making good choices, please don’t judge those who are not ready (and might never be ready) to do the same. You are not superior to them.

If you have made and/or continue to make poor choices, try not to judge yourself. You deserve support. You deserve a better life.

The bottom line is, making choices can be difficult and many people feel unable to choose courses of action which will help them in the long term. Judging and punishing people in this situation helps nobody. It is unlikely to persuade them to change their behaviour; in my experience, it makes them feel more wretched and more likely to make poor decisions. We all have a choice, but we might not feel able to choose.

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!

Write-Off Weeks

Last week was a struggle. Why? Because my anxiety and depression were worse than “usual” (which gets redefined regularly, depending on the variety and severity of symptoms I experience over a several weeks or so). That’s it. Nothing bad happened. I just felt worse.

A lot of people find this hard to accept: how can someone feel significantly worse for no apparent reason? I find it hard to accept, though experience teaches me again and again that it happens.

I have given up trying to analyse every fluctuation in my mood, because often there is no reason for changes in my symptoms. Even when I can pinpoint potential reasons, I can’t be certain whether they are causes or correlations — sometimes “reasons” are present but don’t affect my mental health. Winter, of course, presents its own litany of potential reasons — cold, wet, dark… Yet my mood isn’t always constant throughout winter.

I’m trying to be more compassionate towards myself and practice self-care, so I didn’t pressure myself as much as I have in the past. I gave myself permission to do whatever I could, even if that meant I did nothing. I focused on my priorities, but didn’t have the energy to fulfil all of them. In fact, the week was pretty much a write-off.

I feel guilty for neglecting my work, studies and volunteering, but part of me realises I could have done nothing more. Actually, I managed to go to all of my gym classes and walk the dog on my own, despite the heightened anxiety, which means the week was more of a success than it felt at the time. I tend to be strict when it comes to exercise, because it’s one of the main ways I manage my mental health. Skipping a session leads to more depression and anxiety; it also makes the next session much harder to do, creating a downward spiral.

I’m focusing on combining self-compassion with being strict about completing activities which help me to manage my mental health in the run up to Christmas. Christmas is difficult for me, but I also love it. I like the sense of togetherness and celebrating the days getting (gradually) lighter again. I like making time to watch films and bake. I love Brussels sprouts, cinnamon and tinsel. I enjoy buying presents and seeing colourful lights everywhere.

Yet some aspects of Christmas aren’t easy to deal with. I get frustrated when I make an effort and other people can’t be bothered, despite being far more able than me. It’s not a fun time to be single either, though at least I don’t have to deal with someone else’s family as well as my own! I shall be referring to my Christmas Survival Guide (and Part Two and Part Three) to help me through.

I have been feeling better since Friday, so I wonder if getting November out of the way has helped. November is the worst month of the year, in my opinion, so it’s always hard to cope. My plan is to concentrate on the things I like about this time of year and look forward to 2018.

I’m also in a reflective mood, brough on by the combination of the end of the year and my final counselling session on Friday. I have achieved a lot this year, but it hasn’t made a great deal of difference to my daily life. I’m still earning next to nothing and relying on working tax credits. I still have an enormous amount of debt. I’m still stuck living with my parents. I still have mental health problems which convince me I’m worthless and better off dead.

Yet trekking to Machu Picchu and being an integral part of a crowdfunding campaign which raised £15,070 for The Project have given me touchstones. I have achieved significant things this year and nobody can take them away from me — not even my mental illness. 

I may not have transformed my life, but I have completed a long-held life goal and made a difference. I have inspired at least one other person to chase her dreams — despite also struggling with mental illness. I may not feel confident a lot of the time, but I think my self-esteem has improved and I’m more willing to take on challenges.

I need to remind myself that while some weeks, or even months, will be write-offs, it doesn’t mean my life as a whole is a write-off.

Losing Spoons

The past couple of weeks have been difficult for me, mainly because I have been losing spoons.

The Spoon Theory is an analogy which helps explain how long term illnesses or conditions can deplete one’s limited energy. It was created by Christine Miserandino, who explains it here. I have previously written about my interpretation of Spoon Theory here and here. The basic concept is that everyone has a limited number of spoons, or units of energy, and when your spoons are limited by an illness or condition, you need to be very selective about how you spend them.

Spoons aren’t guaranteed.

The number of spoons available to you on any given day can vary — sometimes a lot. For example, on a good day I might have 25 spoons whereas I might have only 10 on a bad day. Most days, I average 15-20. The problem is, I don’t know how many spoons I will get in the future. This make planning problematic…

It’s a bit like getting paid a daily wage and never knowing how much you will receive. The amount sometimes bears a resemblance to your actions, i.e. the “work” you do, but there often seems to be no correlation. All you can do is invest, save and spend your spoons wisely — or rather, in what you hope is a wise way!

My current issue is that the number of spoons available to me, on average, have dropped over the past couple of weeks.

I partly expected this, because I attended two very important but anxiety-inducing social events a couple of weeks ago. As I have explained before, even when social occasions have been pleasant and enjoyable, it takes me a few days to recover.

However, the effect has been more dramatic than I anticipated. I think I may be fighting off a cold-type virus, as I have been tired and achy recently and sometimes my throat is scratchy. My mood has dipped too, as it is wont to do at this time of year, so my depression is absorbing more of my energy and motivation.

Accepting low spoon levels.

Having fewer spoons sucks, especially as I had been getting into a good routine with my writing, Open University course and volunteer work. Unfortunately, getting upset about the situation just uses up more spoons! It’s frustrating, because I feel like there should be a reason for losing spoons — perhaps I did something wrong or neglected some of the activities which give me more energy — but I can’t find one. It’s part and parcel of experiencing long term mental health problems.

The most annoying aspect of having few spoons to spend is being forced to narrow my priorities further than usual.

Having little energy means I have had to neglect very important parts of my life, because I need to prioritise my mental health first and foremost, followed by my work. I have no other option. I hate having to do it, but I can’t spend spoons which aren’t available to me.

It’s hard not to feel anxious about this state of affairs. I feel guilty for havig to cut back on my volunteer work and not seeing my friends very often. However, anxiety costs more spoons so I’m trying to avoid stressing out about the situation, since I have very little control over it (though that’s easier said than done!).

Moving through the mist.

All I can do is keep moving, even when my way is obscured. Giving in to frustration is detrimental — it won’t help myself or the people I think I’m letting down. I also try to remind myself that I’m not as depressed and anxious as I have been in the past: I may have fewer spoons, but at least I have spoons.

I will make an effort to acknowledge and appreciate what I am managing to do, though I wish I could do more. I submitted my first Open University assignment today, after neglecting it for the past few weeks. I wish I had been able to prepare it over a longer period of time, instead of writing it over the few days before it was due, but I’m glad I got it done.

I hope to get more spoons again soon, but I’m coping with the number I’m getting — which I suppose is good.

Self-Care: Simple and Complex

Self-care is a popular topic — and for good reason — but it tends to be oversimplified. 90% of the posts about self-care I see on social media don’t mention any of the issues involved. Lists of “100 acts of self-care”  make good clickbait and seem fun to share, but for many of us with mental health issues, they are intimidating and patronising.

All too often, self-care is promoted as a simple solution to mental health problems. The tasks advocated seem easy — to people whose mental health is relatively good — so we are told there is no excuse for not doing them. It’s rarely acknowledged that these “simple” tasks are almost impossible during bad episodes of mental illness.

There are exceptions to this glib approach to self-care, usually in social media posts and other materials produced by mental health organisations. The Blurt Foundation is particularly good at promoting self-care whilst addressing how difficult it can be and has a good self-care section on its website. However, many people and organisations have a lot to learn about how to present self-care in ways which are relevant to everybody.

Since it’s self-care week, I thought I would take the opportunity to discuss why self-care is more complex than it appears — especially for people, like me, who experience long term mental health issues.

 

There are different types of self-care — which vary in accessibility.

A major problem with any list of self-care activities is that a proportion of them will be difficult for many people to access or complete. When you see “20 easy ways to practice self-care” as a heading, bear in mind that none of them is easy for people experiencing mental illness and many will be impossible for people whose symptoms are moderate to severe. The ability to perform these tasks may also vary over the course of time — even from one hour to the next.

During the worst episodes of my mental illnesses, I was unable to do many of the “simple” self-care activities which people recommend most frequently: preparing a healthy meal, writing in my journal, seeing friends, going for a walk… In fact, the only act of self-care I was able to complete most days was getting out of bed. Usually because I needed to let the dog out.

You can try to practice self-care during relatively bad episodes of mental illness, but it’s important to select tasks which are appropriate for your current symptoms and situation. Getting dressed, taking a shower and making yourself a cup of tea are all acts of self-care which can make a difference to how you feel. They may seem ridiculously easy to someone who hasn’t experienced severe mental illness,but are very difficult when you are at your lowest ebb.

Tailoring your self-care plans to your current symptoms means they won’t always make sense to other people. For example, when my anxiety is bad but my depression is relatively good, I can do “difficult” tasks at home (cooking complex recipes, introspective exercises, running on the treadmill) but struggle to do anything outside, even a task which I have done many times before (walking the dog, going to the supermarket). You don’t need to explain yourself, but make sure you don’t judge yourself when other people express the assumptions and judgments they make about you. Mental illness isn’t logical.

Some of the activities depicted as self-care are so fraught with issues for people with mental health problems that they can leave you feeling worse. Anything which involves unfamiliar situations/environments/people, for example, is incredibly stressful for me. Getting a massage is not an act of self-care for me; it’s a situation which provokes anxiety when I think about the possibility! Going out for afternoon tea is a treat, but I don’t consider it self-care — allowing myself to be quiet and inactive for a few days afterwards to recover, however, is self-care.

Varying definitions of self-care are inevitable, especially when people have different mental health issues and different symptoms. For this reason, it’s important to define what self-care means for you. It’s also helpful to have different self-care strategies in place for different times/situations, depending on your mental health.

 

Sometimes self-care means not doing something.

Giving yourself permission to opt out of events and activities which could cause you distress and/or make your symptoms worse is a form of self-care. It’s a way of protecting yourself. Putting your needs first is not selfish — it’s necessary. Some people may accuse you of causing problems, but taking care of yourself is your main responsibility.

I feel guilty for refusing invitations, but I know the consequences if I go along with something which causes me more stress and anxiety than it’s worth. The people who really care about you will try to understand. They will see that you’re not being difficult for the sake of it and while they may be disappointed by your decision, they won’t hold it against you.

Another aspect of self-care is not getting caught up in other people’s emotions and judgments. If you explain the situation clearly and they take offence or accuse you of being selfish and manipulative, it’s their problem — not yours. Set boundaries in place and refuse to be drawn in. Stand firm on what’s right for you — it won’t be easy, but it’s easier than dealing with the consequences of not protecting yourself.

A note to anyone reading this who doesn’t understand why someone with mental health problems would refuse an invitation: events and activities which seem pleasurable to you can provoke a lot of anxiety and negative emotions. You may believe a party means only a few hours of discomfort for someone with anxiety, for example, but this is not the case. Instead, it means days (sometimes weeks) of anxiety beforehand, which may cause unpleasant symptoms like indigestion, diarrhoea and tension headaches. The “few hours of discomfort” actually feel like torture to someone with anxiety. When the part is over for you, it’s not over for someone with anxiety — they are left exhausted for at least a week and often ruminate on every little detail, worrying that people thought they were rude because they were too nervous to speak or that they embarrassed themselves in a million different ways. When someone with mental health problems refuses an invitation, please don’t try to guilt trip them into changing their minds — accept that they know what’s best for them and try to empathise.

A paradox in self-care is that sometimes not performing an act of self-care is self-care. This means recognising when a certain activity won’t deliver the benefits you hope, for example, forcing yourself to do a vigorous workout when you are already tired. Give yourself permission to do what you most need right now, even if that’s lying on the couch for a while.

 

 

Self-care doesn’t negate the need for help and support from others.

Self-care is not a substitute for mental health treatments and services, though it can form an important element of mental health management. It complements treatments like medication and talking therapies, which in turn can make it easier to practice self-care. While self-care is about taking care of yourself, it doesn’t mean you should struggle alone instead of getting help from other people.

Self-care is often presented as taking responsibility for yourself, but it’s seldom acknowledged that being able to take responsibility for yourself is a privileged position. You need to be well enough to practice self-care. Most people who experience mental illness need support from other people, in both personal and professional capacities — which should not be a source of shame.

Unfortunately, the language used in many social media posts, blogs and articles about self-care is careless. It implies that people who are unable to practice self-care are unworthy of help from other sources. Some people write about self-care as if it is “the answer” to our mental health crisis, which is untrue and potentially harmful.

Self-care is not a substitute for treatment or support. It’s a habit which we should all try to develop, whether or not we have experienced mental illness, without judging those who are unable to practice self-care. It can help us to achieve and maintain good mental health, but is not the only way to manage mental health.

 

Self-care needs to be practiced with self-compassion.

It’s not about creating a to-do list of tasks you “should” be doing, which often makes you feel worse. Don’t berate yourself for not being able to do certain tasks. Don’t feel guilty if a day, a week or a month passes without you being able to practice self-care. Do what you can, when you can.

Self-care starts with self-compassion and vice versa. When you believe you deserve compassion, you are motivated to practice self-care. When you practice self-care, you realise you deserve compassion.

Self-care is effective because it engenders self-compassion, leading to a positive spiral which changes how you feel about yourself. I realised this a few years ago, when I started making the effort to apply body lotion every week. My main motivation was getting rid of the dry skin on my knees, shins and elbows, but after several weeks I noticed it was beginning to change how I felt about myself and my body. It forced me to connect with my body, which I had always regarded with disgust, and taking time to do something for myself was powerful — it raised the possibility that myself and my body were worthy of time and effort.  A simple task shifted my mindset.

 

Self-care is not part of a reward/punishment system.

Self-care is not something you need to earn the right to practice: everyone deserves it. It’s not a reward for acting or feeling a certain way, or for doing something specific.  Conversely, it’s not a way of punishing yourself for not doing, thinking or feeling something different.

It’s about accepting yourself as you are, right now, and doing something to improve your mood, health or wellbeing. You don’t need to earn self-care or ask permission. You don’t need to tell anyone about it or keep it hidden. 

Neither is self-care a way to cancel out unhealthy or self-sabotaging behaviours. It’s not a column on a balance sheet, giving you permission to punish yourself as long as you counterbalance it with self-care. It’s not an excuse for not tackling unhealthy and harmful habits. It’s separate from your mental health issues and symptoms, although it influences your mental health in positive ways.

 

Check your self-care expectations.

Self-care is important and can have a big impact on your mental health and wellbeing, but it’s not a miracle cure. The effect is gradual and accumulates over time, especially as practicing self-care becomes a habit. It might make you feel better immediately, but it might not.

I find the best policy (for me) is to approach self-care with hope, but not expectation. I know there are possible benefits to any given act of self-care, but I don’t take them for granted. Most of the time, there are immediate benefits — often the satisfaction of completing a task! — but these are bonuses.

The long-term impact of self-care is also unpredictable and not guaranteed. Some of my self-care activities have produced positive results after months (or more) of seeming to have no impact; others have been effective after a short time. Many activities appear to be pointless until I stop doing them, at which point I notice my mood drops and other symptoms worsen.

I always find myself repeating that managing mental health involves a lot of trial and error, but it’s especially true for self-care. What works for you is often surprising. Something frivolous, like painting your nails, can have a bigger impact than it seems to merit. Other activities, like eating healthily, take so long to have an impact that it’s easy to get demotivated and give up. I think approaching self-care with the spirit of curiosity and experimentation is helpful.

The most powerful aspect of self-care is the act itself: by performing self-care you are telling yourself that you matter, you are valuable, you are worth the effort. And you are right!

Season of Mists

This picture sums up what mental illness feels like for me.

Mist behind gate

You can see nothing behind the gate, because it’s obscured by mist. If I tell you there is usually a picturesque view of trees, fields and a farmhouse, you have to either take my word for it or wait until the mist clears to see whether I’m right. For now, all you can see is the mist.

It’s the same when people tell me I can manage my mental health — or recover — enough to live the kind of life I want. To live my version of success, fulfilment and happiness. I can’t see past the mist, so I don’t know whether they are telling the truth.

It’s difficult to believe the mist will clear.

Even when I know what is behind the mist, i.e. my current life as I experience it when my mental health is relatively good, it’s hard to keep faith that the mist will clear. Or to believe, if it does clear, that the view will not have changed.

Part of me is always thinking “you can’t rely on anything” — every time I think I have something figured out, it has a tendency to fall apart. This isn’t always true, to be fair, but it has been true often enough in my experience that I tend to default to thinking everything will go wrong because that’s easier to deal with than the disappointment when I get my hopes up.

Long term mental illness wears you down that way. You think you can outrun it by working hard and using your coping strategies, but sometimes it catches you anyway and you lose stuff. Stuff like jobs, money, friends, self-esteem, confidence.

The mist is always ready to descend.

When things are going relatively well, you can’t fully relax or be optimistic because the mist is still hanging on the horizon. In a matter of minutes, it could creep up on you and obliterate the landscape.

With that in mind, I try to keep going in the right direction — even when I can’t see far ahead.

I use my compasses (life values like creativity, compassion and curiosity) and I hope that my next steps will become — and remain — clear.

Sometimes they do. Other times I’m wandering in the mist, lost, scared, alone and confused.

So when I talk about being scared of getting ill again, I’m not talking about the sniffles or feeling a bit subdued — I’m talking about the mist descending and obliterating everything in my life.

Mellow fruitfulness.

I keep reminding myself that according to Keats, autumn is not only the season of mists. There are blessings, which I try to seek out. I think I should think of my life in the same way: the mists may always be waiting to close in on me, but my life and experiences can still be fruitful.