Category: Mental Health

Courage, dear heart

“But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, “Courage, dear heart,” and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.”

– C.S. Lewis The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I’m struggling a bit right now. My life is nothing but a messy sea of madness. Too many different paths ahead of me. I don’t know which one to take, which one is the best, for me, for my family, for my future. I’m confused.

Some paths will lead to happiness; some will be incredibly hard to traverse, but ultimately amazing; some mean playing the waiting game and I’m fed up of waiting; some paths have hidden dangers, vipers waiting under rocks. No path is clear to me, but I know I can’t stand here forever, but I don’t know where to go, so I’m stuck, rooted to the spot like I have been for years.

Last year I found the courage to change my career and go it alone. I found the courage to get the better of some personal demons and I found an inner strength which is almost beyond my comprehension.

I’ve got good people behind me, friends who know me almost better than myself. Friends who I can speak to about absolutely anything without fear of judgment or condemnation, only wise words, encouragement, hugs and whisperings of courage; courage, dear heart.

I am almost consumed by indecision now. I want to follow my heart, but my head often speaks loudest. My brain lives to plan, plot, organise and rationalise. It’ll find its own way, but the hardest thing will be to find the courage to walk the path I choose. To walk it with conviction and not turn back. To deal with the vipers under rocks, the things that will trip me up, the storm clouds overhead. To know that my choices are the right choices for me, for my family, for my life.

I need to find my inner courage. Courage in my convictions and I need to trust my instincts. Overthinking only causes paralysis. So, courage, dear heart. Courage.

Courage, dear heart

How positive thinking turned my life around

Low self esteem sucks. Feeling down on yourself the whole time and having that negative voice in your head pointing out all the bad things about you takes its toll. My negative voice tells me all kinds of “home truths”. It tells it like it is and is brutally honest. Whenever I tell someone else what this negative voice is saying they usually give me a whole list of reasons why it’s lying to me. Over the years I’ve worked to silence that negative voice. How? Through positive thinking and positive talk. Here’s how I did it.

A wise old man once sat me down and gave me a talking to. I needed to stop listening to the lies my negative voice told me and I need to drown it out with positivity. Every morning before the day got started I was to write down three positive things about me and my life. It could be about anything, including little wins I’d had in the previous 24 hours. Slowly this started to work. Slowly I stopped absolutely hating everything about me and my life and slowly I began to see positive things and make positive changes.

Positive thinking

In the spirit of sharing, I’ve decided to write down ten things which are good about me. A little bit of positive thinking never did anyone any harm, and for me forms part of my daily self care routine. Focus on the positives and less on what I think is bad. How’s that for real positive thinking?

♥     I am funny and quite quick witted.
♥     I’m creative and can think on my feet.
♥     I am a good mum. No, I’m a brilliant mum.
♥     I’m a good friend.
♥     I am very caring, I love to take care of people.
♥     I have nice, dark, soulful eyes.
♥     I’m honest and open.
♥     I have decent legs.
♥     I’m brave and stronger than I give myself credit for.
♥     I know I can and will survive what life throws at me.

It’s not all positivity. I could write a list of negatives more than twice the length of this little list, but I wont, because who wants and actual list of everything they think or imagine is wrong with them?

Positive thinking has changed my life. What I do can’t work for everyone, but it can’t hurt either. I know that drowning out my negative voice has helped me to step away from antidepressant medication (under supervision).

Positive thinking has helped me see more good in my life than ever before. I don’t skip through life carefree and bursting with positivity, but there is more of a balance between the good and the bad. If I find myself slipping, I just turn to my notebook of positive things and good memories and I’m reminded that I am ok. That I am worthy and I am valued and valuable.

Read more about how my low self esteem effects me here.

How positive thinking turned my life around

Mental Health Awareness Month 2014

This May is Mental Health Awareness Month. In the UK we have Mental Health Awareness Week, which this year is 12th-18th May. This year the focus is on anxiety which is something which affects a huge amount of people, me included.

Given that a lot of people who Google “Anxiety” seem to end up on my blog, reading about my struggles, mainly with anxiety, but also depression, self harming and suicidal thoughts, I thought it was about time I pulled together an anthology of my misery and musings on mental health.

Some are hopeful and positive, some are me bouncing off the walls bonkers, most are me just getting things out of my head and making me feel better. Have a root around, please have a read about what takes your fancy, ignore what doesn’t. If you find something useful, or something that resonates then great.

If you’re struggling reach out, reach out to a friend, a lover, your GP, The Samaritans, anyone. Someone will listen and although it might not feel like it right now or when you’re in a dark hole, someone will care. You are not alone.

So in no particular order…

mental health

Empty

I’m busy. I’m always out and about meeting people. I smile, I chat, I am genuinely pleased to see and chat to most people. But I’m an introvert, so this is hard for me. I like my alone time. I like the quiet. I like hanging out with just me.

It’s been a busy week, lots of things going on, seeing lots of people, doing lots of things. I do like being busy. I’ve given myself the morning off today to sit in bed and catch up with my thoughts, rest a while and think about projects and personal things. Thinking time is really important to me.

Now I’m thinking. All I can hear is the ticking of a clock and some birds in the trees outside. I’ve been busy and now I’ve stopped, something has been niggling me for days but I’ve not been able to pinpoint what or why. Not until now. Not until I gave myself the space to do it.

I feel empty inside. I feel dead. Devoid of life. Just empty. Don’t get me wrong, when I think about my son I fill up again with love for him, but otherwise, I’m dead inside. Dead.

I know I get like this every so often. Play dead and the snake won’t bite you. I know it’s my way of distancing myself from hurtful or harmful feelings, emotions and situations. Things that will break me if I let them. If I can’t feel them, I can’t acknowledge them and they can’t hurt me. But they do.

They always do.

Even though I’m dead inside.

Dead inside

Mental Health: How PTSD impacts my life

Today we took my son to hospital for his pre-op appointment. In just over two weeks he’ll be having grommets put in both ears. It is by any standards a very simple, straightforward operation. He’s a day case, he’ll be home before we know it. Practically my main worry is the nil by mouth thing, have you ever tried refusing a toddler food? So what’s my problem? PTSD, that’s the tricky little fella currently pecking at my head.

When my son was born we had a rough ride, you can read about it here if you’re keen, but the overview is, tricky pregnancy, very tricky birth, poorly baby requiring some horrific tests. His screams still haunt me.

Afterwards I thought I had PND. I mentioned it to a nurse about 10 months after he was born, I reached out for help and she dismissed me. I struggled on and when he was 18 months old I flipped and finally found a GP who would listen to me. He assessed me and quickly concluded I had PTSD.

It was a fairly textbook case. I have nightmares, flashbacks, hyper-vigilance and panic attacks. If I go near a hospital I flip out. If I had to take him to the GP or to see anyone medical I’d panic. I worry for days, have nightmares and then the flashbacks start. 

I’ve sought help. I found a lovely therapist who helped me work through a lot of the hurt and it did get me to the point where I could take him to the GP. But this, this is different. He’ll be in the place where he was born. The place where he had the horrible tests where his screams echoed down the corridors; bringing all the new mums in the post-natal ward to their doors wondering who was harming a baby.

Just thinking about that now while I type it I can hardly breathe. Today went well. His appointment was fine, the nurses were lovely. It couldn’t have gone better. But now we are home, night has fallen, he is asleep in his bed and I don’t have to be outwardly calm and strong for him, the doubts and demons have crept in.

I am full of panic and concern for him. My inability to protect him; guilt that my shoddy DNA means he has to go through this; worry about what is to come and how he will react and how I will respond. I am full to the brim of panic and I hate myself.

I can see it now, it’s like a chain reaction. The PTSD is linked to my anxiety which is linked to my depression. I can see myself spiralling and circling in a mess of self-loathing, anxiety and bitterness unless I pull myself out sharply.

Right now I’m staring out of the window into the black of the night, the cold rain hitting the window, a perfect picture to match my dark mood. But I must snap out of this, if not for my sake then for his. I can’t help but feel that the next three weeks are going to test me and my resilience. Being calm and strong for my son is something I really need to focus on. I can and will be calm and strong for my son.

Mental Health: How PTSD impacts on my life

Read more of my mental health posts here.

Rejection

rejectionIf you’ve been reading my blog for a while you’ll know that I have some issues around mental health, most of which centre around my self esteem which took a tumble when I was about 3 years old and never quite recovered.

As and when issues occur, it’s not hard for me to trace their roots back to my self esteem or lack of it. I have a monumental deficit of self-worth and I can’t see that changing any time soon.

This week in the cray-cray mind of Miss Jane, I’ve been wrestling with the thorny topic of rejection. This is not new, I talked about my feelings about rejection in therapy last year, like most things discussed in therapy they take a little while for me to process, this has taken 3 months.

Everyone faces rejection; it’s a fact of life. But not everyone magnifies and twists it like I do, so it becomes something much bigger than it ought to be. Some examples…

I fancy a pint, I say to a friend “let’s go for a pint” my friend says they’re busy but maybe tomorrow. The little voice in my head suggests that my friend hates me because I’m a selfish cow. I’m ugly, unattractive, terrible company, I’m not really their friend, that I’m pathetic and don’t deserve to live.

I ask my husband for a cuddle, he says no because he’s tidying the kitchen. The little voice in my head suggests that he hates me because I’m a selfish cow. He’s bored of me and our marriage. He finds me physically repugnant and can’t bear to touch me. He’s ashamed of me, being with me was a mistake and I don’t deserve to live.

Just two examples there of just everyday brush offs which I mentally work up into massive issues in my head. I know that my husband loves me and is just cleaning the kitchen; I know my friend is busy elsewhere. When I’m sane and thinking straight then it’s all ok, but when self esteem is biting, I really struggle not to have dark thoughts.

When something bigger happens, a greater rejection or a betrayal, then my world crumbles. Then my dark thoughts become a self-harming, suicidal reality.

I almost certainly have Daddy issues (who doesn’t? Take a ticket and get to the back of the queue lady). My Dad is the most difficult man in the world to please. I will never, ever make him happy or proud of me, not overtly anyway, not so he’d ever be moved to tell me or show me.

When I was growing up he rejected me over and over, this and lots of other things destroyed my self esteem. So the little voice in my head that tells me I’m worth so little I don’t deserve to live also, tells me that my Daddy doesn’t love me, and I’ll never, ever be good enough for him or for anyone.

So each and every rejection, small or large just underlines the fact that I am unworthy, I am a terrible, unattractive, miserable, pathetic waste of an existence. Those all might well be true. They might well just be the nasty little voice in my head. I’m trying to find another voice who can defend me, who’ll tell me I’m ok and funny and a little bit cute. It’s a whisper right now, but maybe someday it’ll become a roar.

Sleep But Don’t Dream

At some time in our lives most of us have a patch of sleepless nights. I’ve been struggling to sleep for a few years now. Medication and mental health (anxiety and depression) have a lot to do with it. It’s got better lately since I came off the antidepressants and reduced my pain meds but last night, last night agh!

It doesn’t take much at the moment to make my anxiety spring into action. I had a niggly “he said – she said” conversation with a friend just before bed. It unsettled me. I don’t like being gossiped about, I don’t like my words and actions being twisted and used against me. I caper about life wide-eyed and innocent, trying to do right by everyone. Someone misconstrued something and got upset. Which got me upset, which kicked my anxiety off.

I lay awake for a few hours, tossing and turning. I gave up and went downstairs, thought about stuff, tried to make sense of things but no sense could be made. I just started thinking about the failures in my life, the dark times and it just got worse, I was slipping into panic attack territory. It was now 4am and I was cold and miserable so I went back to bed. I tossed and turned some more until my husband could stand no more and got up. I promptly fell asleep.

I slept fitfully for 90 minutes or so, I knew I’d been flailing because the sheets were twisted all around me. I woke up with a start and looked at my hands, expecting to see them covered in blood. I’d had another of my nightmares. They terrify me because they’re so vivid. I rarely get them and when I do I know things are in a bad way.

In my nightmare I was wildly slashing at someone with a knife, stabbing and stabbing until there was nothing but blood. I looked at the face of the body in front of me, the body I’d attacked so ferociously. It was me.

Anxiety…again

If you’ve read my blog for any period of time you’ll know that I “suffer from” depression and I have anxiety disorder. Usually this is kept in check by living as stress-free as can be and living a fairly healthy and positive lifestyle. Sometimes, just sometimes I slip; shizzle happens, life takes a detour and I end up camping in anxiety town for a little while.

Anxiety GirlWell hello there anxiety town! It’s been a while, but I’m back. It’s pretty cold and grim here too. I don’t really know what’s caused it. A few personal knocks and positive lifestyle slips I reckon. Either way it’s not cool and I need to pull myself together before I end up signing a lease for a flat in crazy town. I’ve lived there before, again I repeat, it’s not cool.

I went out for dinner with friends the other night, we’d necked a decent amount of red wine between us. (Anxiety red flag number one, drinkies. Keep ’em coming, cheers!) I got home and flopped on the sofa, my foot was itchy so I started scratching it. I have psoriasis on my feet but they’d been pretty good lately, (watch out for anxiety flag number two) within minutes I’d basically scratched all the skin off the sole of my foot and it was a bloody mess, but it felt good so I carried on scratching until my hand was covered in blood and I had to bandage my foot to stop it bleeding everywhere.

I went to bed and slept like the dead. It was probably the red wine. With anxiety I either sleep all the time or not at all, and I twitch like a 1980s body-popper. It’s so annoying, but at least I slept. I woke up, did some work and went off to playgroup.

Notice anything missing there? Breakfast maybe? Yup, I’m back on the anxiety diet. It’s super-cool and helps me drop pounds! Though I won’t be writing a best selling diet book anytime soon. My Anxiety Diet™ consists of not eating at all, or if pushed I’ll have a bowl of Rice Krispies. I’ll exist on diet coke, but don’t worry, because my anxiety really ramps itself up so I’ll be adding fingernails to my diet. All the major anxiety food groups covered there – cereals fortified with vitamins and iron, a caffeine based drink and fingernails. Diet sorted.

It’s annoying to be back here again, but I guess the anxiety that started last year wasn’t a passing phase after all. I guess it’s here to stay and I just have to learn how to manage it on my terms. The annoying thing is I quite like some aspects of my anxiety symptoms. I love the diet which works wonders and saves a fortune. Rationally I know it’s terrible for me, but I enjoy the self control and the hunger pains. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. I know it’s not healthy. I know a lot of my anxiety behaviour isn’t healthy.

So my cheer up and stop stressing plan is as follows…

  • Throw yourself into family life, extra cuddles and park visits for the boy.
  • Throw yourself into work. Get cracking and clear that backlog.
  • Throw yourself into a swimming pool. Carry on with healthy exercise.
  • Be with people who love and appreciate me.
  • Love and appreciate me.
  • And lastly…find and deal with or eliminate the causes of my anxiety.

Easier said than done.

Positive Thoughts

I’ve spent the last few weeks at home with my family enjoying the various delights of Christmas, Chicken Pox and Potty Training, because of this I’ve had a little bit more online time on my hands and have re-discovered the joys of Pinterest.

One of my favourite things to browse and pin on Pinterest are quotes or words of wisdom. I have my own board called “Words of Inspiration” and I wager most Pinteresters have a similar board. Quotes, proverbs and inspirational phrases are big business.

We all have mottos that we live by, or mantras we say to ourselves in times of need. I start each day by coming up with a positive thought about me, about my life in the hopes that a smidge of positivity each day will make me feel and act in more positive ways. It’s a small tool I’m using to fight the depression I’m trying to shake off.

Christmas, for all it’s special family moments can be a hard time. You’re forced to spent 24 hours a day with the people you love most, or if not that, then you’re related to them and love them grudgingly in your own special way. Regardless, it’s tough.

Being confined to barracks due to chicken pox hasn’t helped either, but browsing Pinterest and reading positive quotes, motivational quotes and 1001 things to do with quinoa has helped fend off a little of the black dog thinking.

I am desperate to get back into our routine on Monday. I know most people hate routine and I used to so I understand why. But if like me depression gives you a chaotic mind, then routine can help still that a little. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really just a bit down these days, but last year I was crazy depressed and now I know I have to look after myself to stop going down that road again.

So back to Pinterest, I found this when browsing last night and I thought “YES! I’m having that” so here it is. I think I might print it off and stick it on my fridge next to my “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” quote which I’ve clearly been ignoring recently.

You can't live a positive life with a negative mind

I will look at this quote every day in 2014 and reflect on living positively and what that means to me.

Do you have a favourite, inspirational quote? I’d love to hear yours, I need as much, inspiration, motivation and positivity as I can get my hands on.

Thanks for reading.

My Role Model

When you’re growing up, a lot of emphasis is put on having a role model. Someone you can look up to and aspire to be like; someone you can turn to with your troubles; someone who will praise you when it’s due.

For me, my role model (along with the rest of the school) was Mr Singh (RIP). He was my form tutor when I was 13. He was a chemistry teacher; he played in a band, went on Family Fortunes and was possibly the coolest, funniest man I’ve ever met. We all adored him. But he left at the end of the year, went on to bigger and better things, then sadly passed away at a depressingly young age.

Really your parents should be your role models and I think mine were for a while. Then I discovered their flaws and limitations. They also weren’t big on praise, problem solving or pushing yourself to achieve greatness. They tried, I’ll give them that.

After Mr Singh no one really stuck as a role model. People came into my life, nurtured me a little, then moved on. I had a couple of decent bosses who did what they could to push me forward, a few friends who encouraged me, but no one really slotting into that role model/mentor role that I craved and needed.

I know I’m constantly banging on about my brilliant husband. But he is well, brilliant. He’s not my role model though, but I hope very much that our son will look at him that way. He is wise, loving, patient, caring, hardworking and an all round good great amazing guy.

I’ve been massively lucky to stumble across some incredible people recently. Some top local bloggers have taken me under their wings, offering advice, guidance, contacts and some really fun plus one invitations. There are a couple of lads off Twitter who are refreshingly down to earth, and stop me being an idiot, whilst at the same time loving and caring for me as a brother would. I know I’m lucky, seriously amazing friends like that are hard to find.

I’m even luckier because I’ve found someone who’ll step into Mr Singh’s shoes. One of my recently acquired chums, (I will call him Dave because that’s his name) is a proper, stand up guy. He comes husband approved and is determined to make me stand on my own two feet and be the person he and everyone else knows I can be.

He’s currently trying to get me to write a novel. He believes in my writing and is determined to pull a book out of me. I’m not convinced, but he is, so I know it’ll happen one way or another. It’s great to have someone else apart from my husband, behind me who truly believes in me and helps me to clear any obstacles, real or imagined from my path. He’s no pushover and he challenges me if I try and make excuses.

He’s like a father, friend, editor, teacher and mentor rolled into one. He’s got a good job, isn’t a weirdo, he’s just a decent bloke who probably read Pygmalion at an early age and fancies himself as a bit of a Henry Higgins type.

I’ve floated aimlessly through life for years so it’s great to finally have a mentor, especially after the year I’ve had. I need someone not close to me to tell me my value, what my gifts are and to push me forward instead of me constantly taking a step back. I’m bored of hiding my light under a bushel, thanks to Dave and my wonderful husband and friends it’s my time to shine.

photo (47) (200x64)