A Day in the Life Part Three: An Ordinary Day Between Anxiety and Side Effects

It's that time of the year again - time for post 3 in the Day in the Life of MH series #dayinthelifemh. I found this one harder to write because I didn't really feel particularly like writing anything, and in any case the entire day appears to have been one I spent either eating or drinking, sleeping, or reflecting on the day gone and the day to come.

Still, I believe that in this week, Mental Health Awareness Week 2015 (#MHAW2015) which has #Mindfulness as its theme it's a good chance for everyone to think a bit about his or her days and whether they pass us by or are something that we take notice of, or do sometimes at least.

Find out more on how you can contribute to the exciting and 

important #dayinthelifemh project below

If you haven't already and would like to you can still post your entry for 10th May by clicking on this link. I encourage you to share if you have / or know someone who has a mental illness close to you so that we can all work together to raise awareness and understanding of this much misunderstood group of illnesses. Here's my entry. Tomorrow I'm off to Rome...expect #mindful posts on #gelato and #pasta. And then posts on doing a lot of exercising and juicing when I'm back. Till soon! x

I woke up feeling a little more rested than on some other days. Sometimes the medication means that my husband and I sleep in separate rooms because the level of snoring from the clonazepam that I take on and off to combat (partially) the intense restless legs syndrome that I used to think was some kind of made up condition, but actually is a very real and unpleasant one I have as a side effect of escitalopram. On this night my husband had the Hobson’s choice of napping with me or with his best friend from school. All things not being always equal where love and childhood friendships are concerned, in this case my poor husband was caught between a rock and a hard place – both of us snore like fluey walruses.

"Who me? No, I don't snore."

When I don’t take the clonazepam I find myself withdrawing on those in-between days, causing massive anxiety (or perhaps not combatting it…anxiety is also a side effect of escitalopram, which for an anti-depressant is kind of, erm, depressing…)

Fun times with information on escitalopram side effects from the NHS website

Because my depression has been very bad again recently I went to hospital for day patient care the week prior to this day in the life, completing treatment on Friday and going back to work tomorrow (Monday 11^th). By today I’m feeling more normal again than I did a couple of days back. I’m looking forward to a slap up lunch which I’m helping aforementioned husband and friend cook. Not, though, before we go for a slap up breakfast to give us the energy to cook. They certainly can both eat, I’ll give them that.

Lunch is served. Pork belly for three. Needless to say we could have fed six.

On some days I don’t want to wear makeup or make an effort but I nearly always do because I feel better looking okay on the outside, even if on the inside I feel horrendous. Eating out can be an effort because it requires not only engaging with people at the table, but with waiting staff, greeters and potentially members of the public also. Sometimes the sound of plates clanking, knives and forks scraping and chatter and muzak above it all overwhelms me, but today, thankfully, it was relatively quiet in the restaurant.

Luckily it wasn't one of these days...

Added to which I’m thankful for a whole lot more: the fact that I was among close friends and with my husband; the fact that there was no expectation of me beyond being just as I was; the fact that I didn't expect anything of me than that. That last one’s the hardest, and one I keep working on. And on. And on.

I had to get something in about ice cream. It's on my mind...

After a big lunch and a few drinks I was ready for bed much earlier than usual, and aware how much I needed to get a decent rest before the day in the office ahead.

More lunch. It was that kind of a day.

I spent about an hour reading and resting before finally nodding off. It's good to have some down time when I'm enjoying reading. Sometimes I'm too distracted to work on it, but luckily today I was feeling just calm enough to enjoy rather than endure it - it can be a good distraction, but it's not fun when I know that distracting rather than de-stressing is what I'm doing.

Duck or you'll miss it!

As I read through this piece, I’m focusing on the day before and the day ahead, not so much on the day itself. All in all things went fine – I coped with socialising, having house guests, and managed to try and get some rest both before and afterwards. That’s a pretty good day. Not the most exciting, but I’m fine with that.

Me, Myself and I Part Two: A Day In The Life of MH Tuesday 10th February

Back in November I took part in A Day if the Life MH, to catalogue in four days across a year the different days experienced by the many, many of us who suffer with mental health conditions. 7th February saw part two of this. 

It was interesting re-reading my first contribution from November and then the entry I wrote (below). How much has changed; how much has stayed the same. Physically I am so much stronger than I was only a month after my accident; mentally I've also come a long way, but there is a difference between the physical injuries that I sustained, which are temporary in so many ways, and the depression I've been battling against (or with...sometimes perhaps that is a better way to put it) for most of my life.

Sometimes I hate Mondays. And sometimes Tuesdays. 

And Wednesdays. And...well, you get the picture.

Luckily day two of this four day project didn't fall on pancake day or I may have been tempted to write a piece as if talking wiv my maaf full of so you cnt tarl wurt m sehng. 

Or another where I wrote: "I didn't get out of bed today because I felt too terrible." This is exactly the reason the project is so special, though: it allows all the many voices and experiences of mental health to speak side by side. I follow many sufferers on twitter whose illnesses mean they can't work because their conditions are utterly debilitating; others like me can work and function day to day, in spite of the (at times) horrendous demons we're fighting inside of us. This project sends such a fundamental message about mental health: we are not one or two diagnoses. We are all different and we are all functioning in different ways. 

"When Great British Bake Off ended. When will it start again. When?"

For me the most important aspect of this is for people everywhere to realise that, while mental illnesses can be exceptionally challenging, debilitating, ruthless in their devastating impact on sufferers, sufferers fight on through them. Sometimes people can't cope anymore and end their lives; sometimes people keep living with their illness. Sometimes people work, like me, because it is possible to live with an illness and still work; some cannot. I'm one of the lucky ones. I can work. I can go out - most of the time.

"Now how do I work this thing again?"

Here's my entry. And now you must excuse me, I'm going to get back into bed and eat ALL THE PANCAKES. All at once.

"Back off, Bart, those pancakes are MINE!"

"Tuesday was slightly better than Monday, in that I treated my restless leg syndrome and extreme anxiety (side effects of taking escitalopram) with a full clonazepam tablet and therefore managed to sleep, and have anxiety dreams only for the last two hours of the night, rather than all night long. It's hard to start a day when you feel that you've already been on the stress treadmill for 8 hours before 7am.

Thanks for the memories, scary dreams. You really help start my day with a bump in the night.

It had already been an overwhelming week, work-wise, with not one but three full time things to work on in only seven hours a day, at least in theory. In practice I worked twelve hours on Monday and was so tired out that I didn’t make it to my class in the evening. I am conscious of not wanting to let people down and not being seen as weak or less than because of my illness. I get told a lot that I’m still seen as valuable, but I’m not sure that I believe it myself, so I work very hard. Since the last day in the life in November I’ve worked at being more assertive about my needs, but I do wonder whether this will affect my career long term. I know that my company is supportive, but because I doubt myself and 'mind read' or 'fortune tell', I sometimes wonder whether anyone will ever promote me now that they know that I have a mental illness.

"There's not much room for mindfulness when my mind is full. Mmmmm, Donuts."

Yes, at times like these the worse angel within me likes to practise mind reading, where I concoct in my head a limitless list of scenarios of what people might think of me: “She’s good but always ill.” “She’s not working enough hours to have a chance of being promoted.” “She needs to do more work.” “She didn’t try hard enough.” I have to be careful not to push myself so hard that I break or burn out because that would be bad too: “She’s always pushing herself too hard and doesn’t know when to stop.” “She is always stressed because she isn’t working ‘smart’ enough.” And on it goes.

"You're crap."

"No you're not, you're great, you work really hard and do well!"

"No, you're crap, 'cause you have depression so you're defective. No one's ever going to value you."

On and on it goes

I start the day with a short run of two miles, slowly getting my body used to exercise after the horrific fall last year which nearly paralysed me / nearly ended me. The mind reading comes and distracts me from my run – a good thing. I manage to do the run without stopping and feel some of the nervous energy dissipate, which is a welcome relief.

Today I get some help with parts of my work, and I make more of an effort to list my tasks, prioritise and take action step by step, which makes me feel more in control.

I’m juicing breakfast, lunch and afternoon to try to improve my mood with added nutrients and after a break at the weekend, two days into the week and I’m already feeling calmer and healthier. After my physical accident last year I lost my sense of smell and most taste too, so gingery, veg and fruit-filled juices are something I can taste, and feel the benefit of in spades. I never thought I would go down this route but with all the medication I’m taking it’s hard to be healthy and I’m enjoying the mental benefits this is having.

"A ba-what?"

I make sure I take a short break in the afternoon over lunch because if I don’t take breaks I tend to become more stressed and less productive. It helps – a bit – but it’s hard to stop thinking about all the work items on my list and my head is spinning with a desire to do well and deliver what I said I would.

This is what taking breaks, prioritising and getting exercise helps me avoid. Most of the time.

The end of this day is better. I make it to my art class and really enjoy painting with acrylics – I learn some blending and mixing techniques and paint plausible looking autumn leaves (if more impressionist than a photo fit). Creativity makes me feel good. I come home, write a blog post, and get into bed to listen to Woman’s Hour, another technique for focusing my mind on interesting things and not on my negative thoughts. And I sleep. Today was quite a good day."

Christmas. Doing it My Way. Cards, Christmas Trees and Cuisine

Special walks in the park, wrapped up, hand in hand.

Following on from my last post, I've been thinking more about what I do, and what Mat and I do, to make Christmas special for us. With six sleeps to go until Christmas I have finally got around to getting organised. Ish. Organisation is difficult for people who have bouts of depression because doing anything at all is an effort, as I've said before. This is one of the most irritating contradictions, because doing things that you enjoy (or would usually enjoy if you weren't under the duvet feeling nothingness or just plain sad) actually helps us sufferers feel better. But once I get going, I can remember what feels good, and talk about them here.

I repeat to myself, especially at this time of year.

So here are some things I've been thinking about this week, about Christmas. It gets to me in the end, you see. There are going to be more things to think about and write about: the wonderful books we can read this season and the films, promised in the last blog post. They'll come. But for now, here are three simple things to enjoy in the season, sad or ecstatic, alone or lonely or in a room of the happiest people alive. Bless us all.
.

Mini quiches. A true delight!

Enjoy good food, and share it. I love to cook and use cooking creatively to capture my imagination and my taste buds. Christmas food has so many origins and varieties. Favourites are delectable smoked salmon mini quiches with capers - a magical mouthful of creamy filling, smoky fish and the sharp bite of the caper. (Get the recipe and play around with it with Delia for inspiration.) Mince pies are a naughty treat with their buttery, just-crisp-enough pastry (I recommend Marco Pierre White's Lemon Tart pastry for these; the egg in the pastry makes for an additional richness in the pastry, and the lemon zest complements the mince meat with a zing. If you are at all interested in practising mindfulness, may I recommend it this holiday season.

Mince pies with heart shaped pastry

Here is an exercise in living in the moment: hold your mince pie (or whatever little treat you choose) in your hand to feel the texture of the pastry and its warmth in your hand. Smell the mixture of spices and the butter and lemon. Before you taste notice how the scent and the sensation feels, And when you taste hold the food in your mouth before you chew. If you do this with just one mince pie, one peanut butter cookie, or whatever your holiday treat may be, the magic of Christmas food will come alive in your senses.

My first ever attempt at a gingerbread house. Mat ate most of it - eventually - so can't have been that bad!

Remember the ones you love. I am always surprised and delighted by every Christmas card that I receive. At my most ill they always make me cry because right there when I'm in the middle of berating myself for being ill and useless, someone reminds me that they are thinking of me and Mat, and I am overjoyed by this. And crying because it's overwhelming to feel when you felt nothingness before.

A Sheep,  dressed for the weather, sent last year by a great friend

Writing every card this year has been a treasure for me, despite my faulty elbow (still not fixed, now awaiting a screw to replace the looped wires) and wonky back. I read through the cards I have kept from last year; there are some lovely messages and brilliant designs in that. I also keep cards from friends and family no longer with me - and I remember them with love and sadness, that bittersweet combination.I'll tell you about them sometime.

Thank you Mind for my Brussel Sprout e-card. It's been a pleasure working with you.

Decorate a beautiful home. I heard from a few people recently who are having a hard time at home because of our continuing financial problems as a world, and because of losses and hardships. At times like these it doesn't always feel great to be at home; it can feel more like a prison cell if you're trapped with the ghosts who have replaced the people who used to be there, or the things that were their's. And there are all the other times we don't feel ourselves, or feel ill that home - which should be a haven - feels cold and unfriendly. I felt a bit lost at home the other day. Usually I would have started decorating for Christmas much earlier. We had bought a tree a week ago, but it stood unadorned in the living room because I had not found the energy to decorate it. Yet.

Our Christmassy home. Tree. Baubles. Lights. Done.

I started decorating on Thursday. Mat and I have spent Christmas together for the last nine years. It's the best time together and as soon as the box of decorations came down (with Mat's help since I can't lift much more than a white card star) I started to feel what is our magic of the season.

Our tree by night. Beautiful.

We used to have very little cash to spare, and I was teaching high school children 11-16 who probably had more tinsel and tiaras than I could ever imagine; but I picked some simple white card, some glue and some white and silver glitter, and I made what for me were the most beautiful decorations, decorated just with white lights which blur in the night light.

Simple white stars and now white squirrels keeping them company. The tree.

Now we have a menagerie of small stuffed animals to keep us company; we have Christmas music - him - Wizard and Slade (played only once), me Mariah Carey (well, someone else can sing it!) and Chris de Burgh's A Spaceman Came Travelling.

The menagerie. Wishing you all a happy Christmas.

The star on the top of the Christmas tree is that Mat and I were married near to Christmas. Our wedding anniversary was yesterday. Four years married and nine years together and my best friend and beloved husband and I still feel like celebrating our togetherness. Honestly. He is the best gift of all.

Us on our wedding day. We're shy so we're playing the piano to avoid the cameras.

So that's me in the last few sleeps till Christmas. Tomorrow is our big family reunion, when we'll get together and exchange news and a few gifts. I'm looking forward to seeing the children rushing around the room. Well, I say that. I'm looking forward to it for about five minutes. And then I might have a bit of a headache and Mat will certainly need a lie down. But that's tomorrow, and maybe you'll hear about that next week.

Stay healthy out there. A lovely Christmas week to you all.