What I Want What You Want it Kills Us

This morning, awake at 5am I read two pieces on touring as a musician and it's implications on mental and emotional wellbeing. The first, written in The Guardian  includes standpoints from many well known names, the second is an articulate piece by an creative and intelligent woman who experienced the touring lifestyle from the sidelines and had a full psychotic breakdown. It affected me personally.

Both pieces talk about the highs and lows of touring, the wins - travel and the exhilaration of performance and the lows - erratic schedules and a distorted sense of reality amongst them. I've never been on tour, never played an instrument competently in my life so that isn't my point here. What I can relate to it is my former career, working in PR. I wanted so badly to be part of the media, to work in the music industry, to write and create and learn. I did all of those things. I had big moments. I wrote press releases knowing my words would be replicated in the paper the next day. I supervised interviews. I stood at the side of the stage while bands I loved performed. I scheduled journalist meetings. And, although not to the extent that I craved, I travelled. 

I worked in the industry always thinking the next big thing was around the corner. What had begun to take it's toll with me was the insecurity of it all - working for days or weeks on a project, planning the release, hounding the media only to open the papers the next days with a heart sinking feeling as you found nothing. Some accounts were of course more reliable than others. Some I was even really good at: setting up media partnerships, running successful campaigns. After each win I'd coming crashing down - realising that clients and journalists would always want more. In a day I could be shining from getting coverage to Tatler then crying in the toilets because I knew it was not enough - and not enough was never ending. In our tiny office I'd feel like I was coming out of my skin, restless to not be sitting at desk anymore. 

When I landed a dream account working on a film festival I thought I was made.  That account broke me in so many ways - shitty press calls, demanding distributors, clients who dropped bombshells like sweeties.  What it made me realise more than anything was that it wasn't worth it. It felt like you could flog yourself to death and no-one would blink. Hyperbole of course. It wasn't what I wanted anymore. It wasn't what I needed. 

Fast forward to now. I teach English to teenagers and I love it. I laugh so many times in a day. I come home and cook watch TV and movies. I love my friends and family and spend time with them as a much happier person. I write stories. I do yoga. I want a puppy more than anything. I'm still on my medication. I actually realised that I needed medication, that I wasn't just fighting in my own head. I was only able to do that when I became more grounded and I was only able to become more grounded when I left the industry. 

When I think about my depression and how long it went undiagnosed for I used to wonder how I stuck at it PR as long as I did. It was for the highs. I'll always remember them. That's why I can understand the touring lifestyle, it makes sense to me. Just like PR people are eager to see the glamour, the privileges, the big moments. And just like PR those come at a price. 

Personally I have another investment - I am completely in love with a wonderfully talented musician who is going to spend a lot of the next year on tour. Unlike my own experience of misguidedly working in an industry that wasn't right for me I know that music is right for him. Love makes me feel like I want to hug someone all the time to make sure that they are ok. I want him to have the things that work for me. I want to cook him nice food, have a nice place to live, get proper sleep and fresh air. I also want him to play music and be happy, I just worry that those two things pull each other apart. 

I know one thing though - I'll be here. I hope that my own experiences can keep him grounded in reality. 

I also hope that some of that at least makes sense. 

Miss D xx 

Why Yoga is it's Own Little Miracle

A year and a half ago, when I was going through what turned out to be the point in my life where I was finally diagnosed with depression, I started doing bikram yoga. I had tried another type of yoga before but I thought this one, undertaken in a forty degree heat would be more worth my while.
For a long time exercise was my way of coping, and at times became an obsession. I'd gotten tired of the cycle - going for a run, going to the gym, going to a class - it had all begun to bore me. Bikram was different.

Firstly there are mirrors. So you have to look at yourself, for 90 minutes of intense poses, working external and internal organs. You see every slouch of your shoulders, every slump of your thighs. Sounds awful? Probably, but it's not I promise you. You see what you are doing wrong and then you correct it. You go as far as you can then you breath. You don't push into pain. All of that helps. Just think about it - shouldn't we all be doing that with our minds too?

Now I do a lot more yoga at home, although I still do Bikram every week. I sleep better and I always feel better after I have given myself time for yoga. The video below is by awesome Adriene, who does wonderful, supportive sequences.

This is one I found particularly up-lifting. Namaste my friends x

The Best Advice I Can Give You

I was talking to someone a couple of days ago about mental health and anxiety. He was struggling with their current situation, which wasn't at all unhappy. The only thing I could say to him was this:

IT'S OK NOT TO BE OK

More than that, for the majority of the time it's just how we (those millions of people who live with mental health issues) are. The pressure to be happy in the life that you have - when nothing is technically wrong - can be crushing. 

I lived with the question for more than a decade: "Why aren't I just happy?" I'd cry over it frequently, feeling like a failure because everything I had in live wasn't enough for me; feeling ungrateful because I had so much; feeling horribly confused because at times I could be so very happy, then the emptiness would come. As much as I wish I known my diagnosis and understood my symptoms sooner I suppose it's a part of me that made me stronger. I did fight through it. I still got up every day. I had an incredible job and incredible friends. In a way that almost made things harder: my symptoms weren't severe enough to really be noticed. 

I suppose it might possible to fight your own way through depression alone, without acknowledgement or support, but it's a hell of a lot better not to. 

It's ok to not be ok. Most of us aren't. 

Hailstones

Today I drove home in a hailstorm. Thousands of tiny frozen particles ricocheted madly off my windscreen, like they were attacking me, attacking the ground, attacking people with a glacial force. Three hours later it's a gorgeous day again, you'd never know it happened. When I started thinking I wanted to write something here it came into my mind and I started to think about how my brain can act just like the weather, and kind of attack me when I least expect it. Now I suppose I'm more able to know when it's happening, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hit me with some force. When it used to happen I supposed it was just being a fucking horrible person. It manifested itself like that, a fault of my own, and that feeling didn't leave me for years and years.

Blaming yourself for the weather? That's just crazy.

What I'm Listening to Today: Damien Jurado, Reel to Reel Demos (Where Shall You Take Me) on vinyl, a really beautiful record by a genius who shows all of us struggle.

Rain or Shine?

Hello there

I feel like I haven't written here in a long time, longer than it actually is. Perception is puzzling. That's what we deal with I suppose, working out if what we think is an actual truth. And if not then why do we think it. Or at least that's how it is for me. It's like this bunch of daffodils.

This is how they actually look; a sunny yellow burst of happiness.

Play around with them on a photo app and this is how you can make them look:

Rainy, troubled and withering. 

I think it's the same with my brain. Things happen and I change them. It feels unconscious but I have to question myself, or at least that's what I hope I have started to do. 

Right now I am going through a time in my life where I am trying to change bad habits. I know what they are, why I do them and why they are bad for me. The problem it's learnt behaviour - imbedded deep down in me as a false way to cope. So that makes it hard to change. My perception is that I do these things, that they are part of me. I don't know how to be without them - and I'm worried that a storm will come. Just writing that makes me think about it more. It's the truth, they are like my crutch, my solid support even though they also hurt me. Weird huh? 

I think you have to accept that there is no magic wand. What I try to do now it take a step back from myself - recognise how I am feeling and ask myself if it's really true. Question your brain and why you are seeing rain. Maybe, just acknowledging that you create it internally is some kind of help. 

Dating and Depression

If there is one thing that I know it's this - dating and depression don't go. First of all, when you are in the midst of low time, it feels like nothing is hopeful. The thought of meeting a random person and chatting about yourself is inconceivable. Secondly, when you are in a better place it's just the thing to tip you up or down. Somehow I've found myself still doing it.

It used to be the 'thing' that I didn't have - a boyfriend who loved me and would make everything meaningful. I waited for a glance across the room that would change my life, the moment that you see in the movies. I'm old enough now to know that's pretty unlikely - more importantly I know fixating on someone else is never going to solve anything. You can only have someone in your life if they are enhancing what you already have - for me that's a great job, amazing friends and family, real loves (books, music, travel) and a sense of adventure.

I'm dating and yes it can be fun - but sometimes I walk away thinking 'Is this what love feels like?'. A great emptiness swells in my belly.

But still, I continue.

How it feels: An Average Day

I wrote this when I was very low. I hope it might help to explain how depression feels, at least to me. 

I sat by the pond today. I say pond where others might say lake; to me the pool of grey water, dappled with long grasses and framed by ragged green, only had the stature of a pond. Ducks traversed in the water, sending out smooth circles of movement. Their slick feathers were dark grey, tinged with black tips. In the air there was ripples of chatter. Stones poked up through the pond, although in parts there was only water. I imagined putting my hand down into the murky water, diving down into the thick mud - stones and weeds underneath. On the surface it reflected a fiercely blue sky, no clouds to break up the colour.

A free day. I had nothing to do. I sat by the pond alone, without direction. A pretty day; the sun warm on my ankles, a fresh breeze colouring my cheeks. Emptiness rattled around inside me, a pinball bouncing off my sides. I thought about all the things I could be doing, better things, more normal things, things that would make me whole. I thought about reading again, filling myself up with something. I thought about writing again, pouring myself out. I only sat. I watched a small, scruffy duck turn on its side, flipping its head beneath the water. I looked up at the sky. I looked at the time. I dug my fingers into the grass beneath me. I think, I think, I thought, I am, I am not, I think, I think, I thought, I wish I was, I wasn’t, I can, I can’t, I think, I think, I thought, I try, I’m trying. I think, I think, I thought, I feel hopeless - I hope. There is nothing here.  I am doing nothing. I am less than nothing, a negative force. It pulls inward, it tugs at me and I struggle.

This is it: the way I treat myself. Treat. It happens all the time now and I’m not sure why, or I am, or I could be, or I’m not. It’s just how I am. How I have always been.

I let that nothingness coil carefully around me. I block myself in, thought on top of thought balanced like heavy bricks. I don’t have the energy to push them.  

Today I sat by the pond and watched the ducks. How about you?

How to cope: Talk About It

Happy New Year! It's the first of January and I feel positive. Not because I want to write off last year, it was challenging and important. I'm also old enough to know that 'fresh starts' are a false promise. You have to acknowledge the past and make peace with mistakes. Last year it was the biggest hurdle for me. I feel like I am almost there. 

Mostly I feel positive because I am with my lovely friends and I just had an inadvertent conversation about depression. Talking is so important and cathartic, I spent years storing it all up and I know now that is the worst thing to do. Even if you think they don't understand the illness don't be afraid to confide in someone. It's the biggest and most important release. 

I hope

Today has gone quickly. 

I hope you have experienced some glimmers of joy this Christmas 

I hope they continue

I hope that you feel a little positive about the world 

I hope that you enjoy listening to this song as much as I do

Merry Christmas 

Miss D x

Struggles and Sparkle

Last Christmas Eve I spent time half writing a children's story. I wasn't in the best place. Mostly I felt like crying and you can't cry in front of your cheerful family for no reason at all. Not at Christmas anyway. It felt good to escape into something else. Writing calms me, centres me, helps me to understand what's going on. It comes naturally to me. If you have trouble chilling - just being - sometimes like I do I have a few other suggestions for helping.

1. Running/Walking 

Daylight hours are so important! Running works. I'd love to say even a ten minute walk will make you feel slightly better - sometimes it does make me feel lonely but I'm always grateful for the change of scene. Although I love my music sometimes it's also important to go headphone free and give yourself a chance to hear the world.

2. Colouring/Art

Choose a picture. Sit and colour.

3. Rocking Out 

Listen to something completely stupid and dance your socks off. Endorphins matter.

With hope and a Merry (almost) Christmas

Miss D
x

Life and Death

Sometimes things on the cusp of mortality hurtle in, swift winds riling the world with a full kind of sorrow. This week has been one of those weeks. On Saturday I discovered someone I used to work with tragically passed away: he was the loveliest man. At the same time my best friend had a beautiful baby boy, eight weeks before he was due. On Sunday they thought they'd have to operate on his tiny tummy. Then today there was a terrible, freak accident in Glasgow. It easily could have been me, or anyone I know, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. A victim of circumstance. I can't imagine how those affected are coping, to me it still seems unreal. 

At times like this I have the same thoughts I always have - that I should be incredibly grateful to be living and to be safe. It's like I'm jolted out of things and my problems seem so minute, so trivial, that I become ashamed to think or speak about them. Then they lurk, at the back or me, growing slowly into darkness. This year I finally understood it. When you suffer from anxiety or depression it's all that exists. It's not trivial, because you can't see past it. It's also not a choice. 

That's why I know, perhaps today more than ever, how important it is to fight to make it better. Time, quality time, is up for grabs. 

Miss D x

Positive Vibes

Five things that help me stay positive 

1) Dancing in my flat 

2) Going for walks to get my daylight hours 

3) Positive, caring people

4) Listening to James Brown and Etta James 

5) Looking at this hat

When I'm not positive it's because I can't see anything in colour. Tiny things help. I like to know if I can stay positive I can help to other people. #happything

How To Cope: #happything

Last February was when I cracked. I couldn't keep it in any longer, when my little sister asked me how I was I squeaked out "Not good", heated and violent tears tumbling down my cheeks. The next day she suggested that maybe if we shared one thing every day that made us feel happy it would help. Not a solution, but something. I found it centred me, rooted me more firmly to the ground. I still try to do it - here are some of my happy things.

How the sky looks 

Loving yoga 

Being kinder to myself

Buying a sunflower for my sister

#happything 

#memories

#hope 

Empty

Sometimes when I leave a conversation I feel empty

Like there's not enough of me, or them, to make it meaningful.

Like I'm touching just the top of it

Wanting it to be more than it is

Willing it into poignancy.

Time to Yourself

I don’t know why I have been struggling with this - being here, having time to myself. I thought it was what I had always wanted, to be able to write and read but there’s something about me - I don’t do well on my own. I mean I want to, I really, really do - but it’s like something’s blocking that; stopping it from being possible. 

Or is there nothing? I am creating a path, an expectation of a blockage, when it doesn’t really exist? I am my own limitation - I can achieve anything and yet I choose not to, to sit and feel completely lost and alone, to focus on that feeling and let it overwhelm me. I am not here to judge, only to observe my life patterns and how I let them coil around me.

26th September 2014

I want to be a writer

"I want to be a writer". This thought has been in my head since I started reading books. I loved reading, I loved writing. Then I got older. I started using words to hurt myself. To write about how much I wasn't. And I lost faith. 

It went something like this:

The world: Everyone wants to be a writer

Me: You're not special, you're not talented, you'll never make it.

The world: Filled with literary genius, people who can create 

Me: Still scrawling how much I hate myself on to a page 

The world: There will always been someone better

Me: You're not good enough. Never will be 

The thing that I have only just come to realise is this: I am a writer. I have written for as long as I can remember and no-one can take that away from me. Now those words, ones I wrote in the midst of an ill-understood pain, help me realise how much I hated myself, how not ok it was and how far I have come. The help me to understand I wasn't just a moody teenager. I didn't just eat too much or not eat at all. I wasn't unattractive and horrible. I was just extremely good at pushing everything good away. 

I am a writer. 

Christmas is Cruel

This is the thought I had today - there's a cruelty in Christmas. 

Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly love Christmas. Every year it's one of my favourite times. Just hours ago It's a Wonderful Life made me whimsical and weepy. I don't love it because I'm madly religious; I'm not all and that in itself is a topic for another time. I love it because I get to go home, see my family, dress up nice and go out. I get to play games and watch TV - to do all the things I never have time for usually. In short, I get, to be indulged. 

Therein lies the cruelty. Indulgence breeds a kind of guilt.  Or it does with me. 

If you're like me and you have (or have had a problem with food) it's can pull you apart. Like the rest of my family and friends I love food. I love eating.  Every Christmas I can remember I've felt guilty about doing it. Sometimes before, mostly during, always after. The first time I made myself sick on Christmas day I felt relieved. Like I could be unaffected by surging all of it out of me, straining my heart. There'd be an acidic taste on my tongue and I'd dispense of it with more chocolate. And the circle continued. 

I don't know if there is a kind of hope here - maybe if you recognise what you're doing it's easier to stop it? I'll speak more about triggers soon but Christmas is one. It's something that hugs you tight then pull you back fast into darkness. 

Miss D x 

Hello there

Hello reader, 

Welcome to my blog. It's about living with Mental Health problems. Sometimes ones you might not know you have. 

You need to know something about the name, I think, to start with. When I was a teenager I remember one birthday present in particular - a Mr Men door sign 'Little Miss Sunshine'. My friend said to me "it's because you're always so happy".  I thought: inside I'm screaming and you do not know me at all. 

I've been living with depression for as long as I can remember, although I only realised what depression was about a year ago. Before then I thought I had an eating disorder, or at times just a really moody temper. Sometimes I'd get anxious. I always seemed angry. Then I started to cry too much. The same questions tugged at me - Why am I not happy? What is wrong with me? 

Cliche? Cliches exist for a reason. We all think we are wildly original when actually we go through the same things, the same kind of pain. 

It took me a long time to answer those questions. In the end I only got there because I was tired. So tired of years of it, coming at me when I least expected it. In between I had good times and great times. So I knew that things could be better. 

I spent most of my younger years covering it up, blaming myself for the way I was feeling - tearing myself apart physically and mentally. 

The reason I'm here is to share what I've been through and what helped me get better. 

I always wanted to a be a writer, but for a long time everything I wrote was a reflection of what I didn't want to be - myself. 

Here's hoping.
x