Down

Let me try to bring you into my world.

I feel the depression every day.  It dulls the way I feel.  It dulls the way I view people.  There's a certain frustration there. I used to be able to get sucked into a book or a film.  Escapism is great.  When you can escape.  When it doesn't tire you out to read a chapter.  I rarely sit down with a book these days. And film?  I remember what it was like after I did my Masters degree and I was constantly aware of my context within the viewers' experience.  Yeah, that's a bit wanky.  It's a hi falutin way of saying, I couldn't lose myself in the film.  Well, that's now too.

When I get up in the morning, I can be ready to meet the day.  I get up and feed the cats. And then I check with myself what I want for breakfast.  It can be, let's have the full breakfast or as close as your fridge can take us.  It can be, I guess it's toast and tea.  This gives me a hint.

But it's the loo of doom that decides things.  The lethargy hits there. The hopelessness.  The feeling of trudging through treacle or sand, or both. Sometimes I can fight it. Sometimes I can push through it.  Just not all of the time. If I go back down stairs I nod like my dad does when he fights a nap in front of afternoon quiz shows.  If I can push through the screaming in my head, I can get washed. On some days.

Today wasn't one of those days.  Today wasn't what they call in the mental health field a good 'self care' day.  I have taken my tablets.  I haven't got washed or dressed. I haven't brushed my teeth.  I've eaten a tin of soup at lunchtime (3pm) and I've ordered a pizza for the first time in weeks. I went back to bed at about 10.30am having fought myself for a good two hours. I slept for 4 hours ish, ate that soup and went back to bed, for another 4 hours.  And before you say, oh, you won't sleep tonight.  I believe you'll find that I can.  I can tell when I'm coming back up when I have a restless night and can't sleep.

So, getting things done on days when I can push through is important.  My dishes are washed.  My clothes are washed.  Things are just about clean enough.  If I have a day like this, I can catch up.  If I have a number of days like this, things go to pot. Even when I'm pulling my way out of a down, it just feels like too much to cope with.  My washing up in the kitchen becomes my kitchen monster.  I race through electricity when I have to do three weeks of washing at once. My bank account goes down when I have to get food delivered, as my agoraphobia also waves hello when I'm in a down.

Incidentally, the bi polar disorder affects your cognition too.  I have more difficulties than normal in finding words to express myself. Many of my friends smile with me when I say 'Hang on I'll get there eventually' while I dig for the appropriate word.  And it can be the most innocuous word going.  I might forget a friend's name.  I might forget your name. Or a landmark.  The word thingy comes up a great deal.  Not great for a woman whose livelihoood used to hang on her ability to express herself.  Not good at all.

So, people are right when they tell me that the loo of doom is a passing thing. It should be.  I should be able to say, give yourself 10 minutes, Jan and check in with what you feel then.  Or an hour.  But by that point, it's likely I'm asleep and there's 4 hours gone.

What can you do, but write a blog about it?

Organisation, solutions and being perfect.

At my last meeting with my psychiatrist, the new guy summed me up as being 'driven.'

Does that surprise you?  Well, you probably know my background - Masters degree, various professional qualifications, moving up through the ranks of communications in a university and a council.  And then my myriad of obsessions - the musical instruments, the spinning, the needlecraft, the pottery, etc.

So, yes, I may have been a bit driven.  But the only one driving me was me and my beliefs that other people were expecting me to do well.

I got organised, thanks to Ann Clayton-West for this.  If I wasn't organised when I joined her company, I was when I left.  Oh, boy, that was training in fire. By the time I left the council, I was noted for my organisation - to the point where my boss asked me to put at least some paper on my desk so it looked like I was doing some work.  All I needed was my day book and my computer and I organise what every you wanted.

And I became solution focused.  Not just focused, but being able to make contingency plans on contingency plans.  I always described my work as juggling whilst running through sand. Basically, you make a plan, but you have to know where you are going to go when your plan doesn't go as planned.  Just think American Secret Service, without the guns or the earpieces (well, sometimes walkie-talkies, but that way madness lies).

Being driven means one thing - you are striving for perfection. This isn't generally a bad thing in life.  But if you identify your whole being with being perfect, that leads to problems.  For me, my value was in my work as it didn't look like romance was in my future.

When I was made redundant, my life's worth was ripped from me. But I was still being perfect.  I worked through my redundancy period with grace and good cheer.  Don't get me wrong - this wasn't put on. It was me.  And I got praise for it.  And that's my bag, man. Medal! Medal! Medal!

So, a couple of years and a bit of a nervous breakdown later and I'm still thinking like I did about five years ago.  I'm organising. I'm finding solutions for people.  Trying to be perfect.

And I need to stop.

I am treating my friends and relatives like children; not like grown ups who can make their own decisions and solutions.  I feel like I have to work five steps ahead.  This should make me great at chess ( I don't know). And being perfect is bloody hard work.

So here it is

1. I am done organising other people - I will sit back and let other people organise themselves.  If they need advice, I will give it.
2. I am done planning - it makes it hard to live in the moment.  I'm going to plan only when absolutely necessary.
3. I am done being perfect, but that doesn't mean I'm a failure. I don't have to feel guilty if I'm in my pajamas or not made up. (I may not get made up that much, but I still feel guilty when I don't.)
4. I don't have to be able to do things without effort or failures. I need to be kinder to myself about this. I keep having to think back to learning to play the violin.  It took painful finger tips, painful tunes to my mum and tears over exams to become satisfactory. Success needs time and failures.

Juggling the finances

These last two weeks have been pretty bloody awful when it comes to money.

I realised this quite early on when my mortgage had to come out of the same money as my mid-month bills. And it's been cold, so either my heating has been on, or I've gone to bed.  Under two duvets.

I get ESA every two weeks, and PIP every four, but there is one week in four which is marked in the diary as 'no funds'.  The last week has been a no funds week.   I've been able to pay the mortgage. But TV Licence, Water bill and Phone/Broadband bill are going to be playing Russian roulette over who actually gets paid in the next day or so.  I can pay two of them, but the third is going to have to wait until Monday.

I know this sounds really penny pinching, but my bank will stick me with an extra £20 if my direct debit bounces. That's why later in the month, many things have to be paid manually, so that I can be sure I don't get penalised for living from hand to mouth.

In the last two weeks, I think I've spent £5 on food. My friends have been fantastic with buying a loaf of bread or a 2l bottle of milk for me.  Little things like that really matter.  As usual, my family has stepped up to the plate. I've eaten out of the freezer or with my parents. I've actually eaten more healthily than usual, because I do tend to be quite lazy and delivered food is just that bit more, well easy.  I think I've had chicken in all it's various ethnic versions. I've found fish in the back of the freezer.  I have a slow cooker to save energy and easiness.

So, regarding the hard bills, I sat down last week and created a table saying

• Date
• Money in
• Money out
• Action

I have planned out when I get my benefits, where I need the money to pay for the important things, when I need to remember birthdays and when I can buy gifts. I've even put in bank holidays and how that will reflect in the cash flow. And I've planned that until June.  Well, things change don't they?

This made me feel better as it gives me the illusion of being in control of something. And I hope it works.  I'll only find out over the next couple of weeks when it actually gets put into practice.

That sinking feeling

I washed the dishes today (Friday 13 January).  It might not sound like much, it had been a week since I washed them last. That means I'm heading in the right direction again.

Monday, I got up and had an hour or so with my Peer Support Worker.  I told him that I was feeling like I was on my way down, or I'd caught the flu from my sister and sister-in-law. I also let my drawing and painting tutor know I wasn't going to be in the next day. Tuesday morning, I mostly slept - but was called to duty to deliver lentils and fags to my sister-in-law. I also walked their dog. On Wednesday, I got showered, got the parcel I was waiting for and went back to bed.

On Thursday, I was driving towards the Walker/Byker area towards a sewing class I'd enrolled on.  And bloody hell, the anxiety was crazy.

If I'd been sensible, I would have taken a ride over there the evening or day before, so that I knew where I was going.  I'm not always sensible.

It started in the house.  I was sitting on the loo (a decisive place in most of my decisions) and the whole feeling of the depression and dread crept over me.  Imagine your body has suddenly undergone an increase in gravity and you're trying to drag every movement so very slowly.  And the one thought in your head is 'Just go back to bed.  It's what your body wants.  You can get rid of this feeling by going back to bed and hiding under the duvet'.

On the other hand, I could actually hear my heart thumping in my chest. And the hairs on my neck lift.  They actually do that you know.  And not just in horror movies.

So, I reached out.  My friend (12 days without alcohol, thank you very much) basically talked me up to going over Messenger. It was a bit like being a toddler, getting coached to go from one foot to the next.  A 45 year old, overweight toddler, who felt like she was going to spit her dummy and opt out of the day.

Getting out of the house is a good thing.  Having money for the Tyne Tunnel is also a good thing, although I could have done it over the Tyne Bridge etc. Having to find your way to a road which you haven't used since there has been an extra Tyne Tunnel and a road rearrangement wasn't clever. Even when I was on the road, I could feel my hands clenching and unclenching on the wheel.

What the heck was I doing travelling to blooming Byker? I mean, it's all well and good to trek there for a poetry reading, but this was extending myself. I am more than a bit rusty when it comes to using a sewing machine.  I was getting that screaming in my head - the negative thoughts that plague me.

'You know you can't bluff your way through this.'

'You can't even remember how to set up a sewing machine, let alone sew in a straight line.'

'You are so slapdash with things like this.'

'You should be perfect.'

'Think yourself intelligent, I bet you can't master this/do this first time'.

It's a good job I was driving. I had something else to distract me. (Yes I know that driving should be my main focus and not my distraction, Dad.)

I got there way to early, as I am usually to something new.  I explained to Lyn, the tutor, before others got there that I have bipolar disorder and I see this as part of my recovery - just getting to the class.

The ladies there were lovely, but I reckon they'd have been nightmares at school.  Talking while Lyn was trying to give them information, for Pete's sake!

I also met a lady who I hope is going to be a new friend.  Jackie is a former English teacher who loves cats, books and geeky stuff.  She uses a lovely plush self drive wheel chair to get around because she's crippled with arthritis.  She's given the WEA a run for their money, as they are going to have to find a way to get a sewing machine for someone who can't get their foot to the ground without getting out of her chair.  I'll tell you something, though. Meeting Jackie has been like meeting myself in 17 years time.  Although, no offence to Jackie, I hope I'm a bit more mobile.

So, the point of this blog?  Mostly, having to get over the negative thoughts.  Which I did this time.  And I'm very pleased about it.

Recovery and overcoming barriers

In marketing, one of the key things to do is to overcome your customer's barriers to buying your service or service once you've got their attention.

Now, you're probably thinking, Janet, I came here to read what you have to say about your recovery from a pretty wild period in your life.  But hang on.  This is relevant.

Since I've been poorly I've had one aim - to get back to work. So, what are the barriers for me doing that and how am I dealing with that.

1. I need to update my skills to make sure I can compete in an increasingly digitally focused field.
   This isn't really important at the moment.  It's a hurdle further down the track.
2. I need to have more days when I get out of bed than when I stay in.
   This is quite difficult because I really don't know day to day whether I'm going to be Tigger or Eeyore.  I can, on occasion, be Rabbit at the same time.  I really need to be Poohbear, just making his way through life.
3. I need to prove to myself that I can leave the house and do something consistently.
   Flunked this with pottery.  Also flunked it with Woodwork.  I did make something like 6 out of 10 sessions in Drawing and Painting. I can improve on that.
4. I need to build on the foundations until I'm comfortable (or at least not running screaming) in a workplace
   So, once I get to 9 out of 10 sessions in Drawing and Painting, I move on to something else.
5. I need to establish a work/life balance
   This is ridiculously important. I need to balance what I do outside the house with cleaning and maintaining the house, looking out for what I eat and how much exercise I do. I also need time to indulge myself in things I like to do.  And I don't mean slobbing on the mothership (settee), drinking gin and watching Hallmark movies. I mean taking time to play music and create crafty things, read and write and annoy the cats.  I have to make sure I'm aware when the balance is tipping.  It is important,but it's going to be a challenge to do.  If I can get this levelled out, we're on our way.
6. I need to recognise that this is a recovery period.
   I have to remember that this is not going to happen overnight.  I do get frustrated by it. I just want it to be like it used to be.  But it's not ever going to be like it was.  Nothing ever is.  I just need to look forward to the next stage of whatever I do.

Facing your demons

I have a friend who, like many people is having a dry January.  Well, a dry January and February. Unlike many people, my friend has PTSD and uses alcohol to self medicate.

So, I asked her what her strategy was for getting through that period was.

Reading, walking, crafting, cleaning was her response.

'And of course', I said, 'I'm going to support you in that and encourage your progress. But, what are you going to do when the night terrors come, or you can't sleep? Have you had a chat with your husband about how you're going to manage that? He's stopping because he's drinking too much, but it's different for you.'

She seemed certain that what she had put in place would work.  I wasn't sure that hoovering at 1am would endear her to her husband or the neighbours.  And walking at night can be, well, if not dangerous, then suspicious.  You don't want your neighbours to think you're a crazy lady going through their bins. (My neighbours already think I'm a bit crazy - I don't need them to think I'm going through their bins too).

So, this is what I suggested.

Get yourself a nice notebook and a good pen. You might want felt tips too. When you would have reached for the bottle, write down what you're feeling. Rather than drown your feelings, confront them.  Even if you just write 'FUCK!' in big letters or 'FUCK' as if you were writing lines at school, it's getting your feelings out.  Make fun of it - write it in bubble letters, or, if you're crafty decorate it. (Yes, mam, I wrote FUCK.  And yes, I do have a larger vocabulary than warrants that word, but sometimes you just have to use it.)

But also, don't just save it for the bad feelings.  Write down inspirational poems or words you see about you.  If you have a printer, print off memes and stick them in there. Decorate it, with colours you love.  Stick in pictures you love. Draw a picture of your best idea of you, now and in the future.  I'm sure you can think of loads of things.

And don't make it perfect.  It doesn't have to be, in fact I'd encourage you not to make it perfect. Rip a page out, screw it up, rip it into pieces, and then stick the pieces back together and the page back into the book.  You can use common or garden stick tape or be dramatic and use washi tape
.

Cover of Succulent Wild Woman by Sark

Now, none of these ideas are new and I'm happy to admit it.

Sark is a real eccentric, but her words are really freeing.

Cover of Wreck this Journal by Keri Smith/

Keri Smith is where I got the idea for ripping things out and sticking them back in. There are other wonderfully mad (and I use that word with experience) ideas, like sticking two pages together for no reason, or sticking stickers you find on fruit in there.

Keri Smith also writes on creativity, which also works in this setting

The thing these books don't have is a place to express your feelings. Sark advises getting a note book and some 'juicy felt tips'. Keri suggests ways to express your feelings, but doesn't really give you space to do that in words.

Journaling isn't new, but I always found it boring, even though I love writing.  'Blah, blah, blah, my life is so bad. Gawd, I'm boring myself. I'm never going to read this again.  I'm never going to want to be this upset again.' And ultimately 'this is wank!' (Yes, mam, I also wrote WANK and I refer you to the annotation above).  Almost literally. This is different. I want you not to be perfect and write in little precise handwriting.  I want you to deface the book, take up a whole page, maybe upside down, to use a word that expresses what you feel RIGHT NOW. (Or whenever you can pop off to the shops to get that notebook.)

Now, I don't know if it's going to work, but my friend is excited about it.

So, off you go and buy yourself a nice notebook. As a self-confessed stationery addict, I can recommend Sainsbury's if you want something that looks like Moleskine, but aren't in a position to start ripping up Moleskine.  Or Wilkinson's, which always have a nice range. Even pound shops have some really satisfying stuff.