I'm Still Breathing...Have No Fear

I don't know what it's like in other countries, but in England when you're in hospital, waiting, without knowing quite what will happen, is the majority of how you spend your day. If you're an outpatient you check in and are on a list somewhere. If you know who your surgeon or consultant is you might be lucky and catch a glimpse of this lesser-spotted member of the medical species, but that's no guarantee they'll be seeing you. Checking into hospital last night I knew I wouldn't see my doctor till he next day.

I did know that I'd be checked in by a doctor, a nurse, a pharmacist and an anaesthetist, all asking the same questions and variously putting in a cannula, giving me a gown, reminding me about nil by mouth etc. At this point I'm not in pain so there's no rush. It's when I start to expect the surgery to happen and there are often claims that what I've been told is different to their understanding: "Your surgeon said you'd be next. But we have you down as number three." 

Short of calling my surgeon's secretary or making better friends with surgery schedulers or A&E I've no clue as to how to resolve this and concentrate in the main in just staying put and as calm as I can, trying not to believe too hard that it will happen - to avoid disappointment - and trying not to believe too hard that it will - at any minute - lest I am caught unprepared. An unsent text to Mat, not finishing this post (in case it's the last one). Not done.

I'm in hospital again. This time, not for anything to do with depression or mental health, but because it appears that the quite miraculous job that my surgeon Mr Laban did to save me and my back a year and a few months ago has worked a treat, and the screws in my spine have done their job and that my back is now healed enough for the screws to be taken out.

So here I am, in a small room where I can see south London outside of my bedroom window, waiting, just as I said, for my drip to be hung, for my surgical stockings to be brought and put on my legs to make them look as unattractive as possible whilst hopefully preventing clotting and DVT, and any hope of bein featured in Stylist magazine.

I had an amusing baptism of fire to the hospital on arrival last night around 8 PM, when being introduced to my private room (I am here as a private patient this time in the hope that it means that the procedure will go ahead on that date part, rather than the risk of being sent home possibly more than once which would negatively affect my mental health by increasing my anxiety about what is already a simple-but-dangerous operation). I found when I went to go to the toilet that it was already occupied... By a suddenly mortified nurse or orderly who, on being discovered, could not even look me in the face but eyes to the floor shuffled, stooped, at pace, out of my room and back into the anonymity of the hospital corridor. Something tells me that nurses are not meant to do this sort of thing!

A super-stylish surgical stocking tantalisingly emerged

Being here is a sign of the future, a sign that perhaps, after all the difficulties caused by the accident, this is the last step to putting it all behind me, then moving forwards, hopefully literally, since of course this operation is not without its risks.

(Image credit: theemotionmachine.com)

I do want the future to come, even on my darkest days I believe in the future. I believe that good things are going to come to and from me and others, the people that I care about so much. It's progress from the days that I can still remember, although perhaps not as clearly as when I am experiencing those days, when I feel that everything is hopeless, because I am hopeless, broken, useless, no good to anyone. Thankfully today is not one of those days.

Yesterday I had the most fantastic day off from work, spending the entire day at Maudsley Learning (@maudslearn) in Denmark Hill to speak several times during their #whymentalhealthmattets about my personal experiences of depression and mental health problems and my beliefs and perspective on the things that have helped me continue to work, and continued to make progress in my career, despite the fact that my depression became so severe in 2014 and still continues to bother me much more than I thought it might after such a lot of therapy and medication. I was moved by how many people (many from HR, recognising that this is a relatively new area but a wide-reaching one) have made the effort to attend from their various companies. Of course, I believe that everyone should be taking an interest in this because mental health and physical health are indivisible and whatever health needs are we should have support from our organisations.

It's so rewarding to speak openly about what my experiences of depression, support, stigma, progress and life have been when it follows with people telling me either something of their own story or telling me that my story has helped them to understand a little bit more about these conditions the people are still so afraid to talk about or think that they might have themselves – even mild stress.

Why Mental Health Matters Conference 2016

We still have such a long way to go to understand these mysterious health conditions relating to our minds. Sometimes I do feel like a bit of a science experiment, knowing that I've been on six different types of antidepressants and I've had counselling many times. I suppose that just makes me a work in progress, which is what we all are. I'm not done, I'm still learning, learning to walk, learning to fall, learning to do things well, and learning to fail and fail better as Samuel Beckett said.

I've just seen the anaesthetist, so all being well I'll be off to surgery soon to have the screws taken out of my back. (I had spinal fusion surgery in October 14 after a minor fall caused a major fracture issue.) There were many complications in the last surgery, but I have to be optimistic that that won't be the case this time. The future, I'm hoping, is something that I'll have a chance to be a part of, and hopefully a part of as a well person without further physical complications (I'm sort of signed up and resigned to my continuing mental health management, so it would just be nice to know that despite the accident I'm okay to one extent!). 

(image credit: Pinterest)

However, at this time is one always reflects on the fact that something could go wrong and that I might lose the privilege of speaking out and saying something to the world that is just mine, as I have now in this blog for the last five years. For that reason then I'm posting this, so that all being well I will be writing a follow-up post soon. I'm very afraid, but trying not to be, telling myself not to be afraid, telling my husband and mum the same thing. Telling myself I'm still breathing. Whatever happens I really believe that we need to take care of each other and take care of ourselves.

Let's keep talking, shall we? Talking leads to openness which leads to us all being less afraid, which leads to more openness, and to the start of understanding. I'll see you soon for another conversation. Love to you all. Xxx

Out of the Blue and In The Pink

It comes, it goes, it stays, it leaves...

My last weekend's post is fragmented with ups and downs, and therefore late because my mental health has been fluctuating, but knowing that writing helps, here it is.

Monday 18th January.

I'm feeling so so about the day ahead. Neither good nor bad, neither despairing or excited, at least right now. Right now I'm concentrating on the essentials: getting out of bed. Making the bed. Showering. Drying my hair. Dressing for the day and packing up my rucksack. Then there's the rush or swift pacing towards the train. And on the platform beside me are hundreds of others who have just gone through all those same things and probably more. They might have children to rouse and cajole and chastise through all of those steps above, parents or other relatives to care for, or perhaps they have already been up for hours exercising. (It is, after all, still January.)

Last week I wrote a blog post for Mind on the so-called and fictitious Blue Monday, explaining as clearly as I could that anyone with with depression could be #blueanyday.

There's No Such Thing As A Depression Day

So here's a look at my week.

Monday last, I performed all of the above. With a new year goal to try to be healthy and fit, with a hope that as a side effect I would lose some of the two stone I've gained since breaking my back and being on a cocktail of drugs, at least one of which appears to have beaten down with a stick my ability to eat well, exercise regularly and manage (to a better extent, at least) my weight.

I was extremely busy all day with a number of meetings with team members, colleagues leading projects I'm involved with, my boss and with others. On these days I know I won't have created a document (or 'deliverable', the word my business seems - inexplicably - to prefer) in my hand at the end of the day, the management consultant's equivalent of a painting to take home to mummy and daddy to put on the fridge with proud faces. I rush around the building, knowing that I will certainly meet my daily target of 10,000 steps as my meetings are randomly situated over the fourteen-storey two-building expanse that is my office.

Working my brain into an oiled machine...it gets a little rusty over the weekends at time

There is a reason that I schedule all these meetings together though. One after the other the meetings happen, and I take "a mindful breath" before each one, and get through them. during the first I might feel my gears or cognitive cogs creaking into life after the weekend of luxurious lie-ins (till 7:45!). But as the first meets progresses my clanking cranium starts to move more steadily and stronger, the oil of my breathing and breakfast silently slithering around inside me so I start functioning properly. My point is: once the wheels are turning, I want to keep going as much as I can. 

It's worth it to get my brain in gear and be productive

My mind is whirring eventually and I can actually think about each topic on the agenda and bring something valuable into what we discuss. And my second point is, that, I can't get any detailed work document compiled in a snatched half hour where I should also try to grab my lunch. So, at the end of Monday I feel surprised that it has arrived. I don't have anything in my hand to show for it, to prove I've done anything worthwhile, except a notebook of actions and considerations; but I did get through the day, which I always try to see as something positive these days, and attending so many meetings in a way makes the most of my mental and physical energy reserves to speak and contribute and to be in front of people.

My day can end with notes on a piece of paper, 

but those notes lead to decisions and - finally - to 'deliverables'

I go home and eat something for dinner. Something healthy, and watch television and then to bed. I didn't sleep properly on Sunday night so today, I hope, things will be different.

Tuesday 19th January

Just keep going. Get dressed, and do the things that come after that. 

Tuesday is usually the same, but last week a combination of needing to spend a large amount of time on teleconferences with colleagues in other locations meant I decided to stay at home. Without a three-hour round trip commute I can just get so much more done. Unfortunately I didn't sleep well again, so I indulged in an additional 45 minutes in bed. Some attempt that when I rose, finally, I would be able to push my mind into a state where I could work. I had more listening to do rather than talking, more notes to take, then, but also more time to be quiet even while listening to others talking.

The structure of Monday (with all its meetings stacked up) works for me, but I need both company and solitude to balance my mental health, and time away from the office is a great way to be fully involved in my work but not exposed to the anxieties of travel, dressing up, all the above "start the day" activities. Plus, no one can see my face or any part of me; I could be wearing my pyjamas or my jeans. (If I'm at home as I was for most of Tuesday, I'll likely be wearing jeans, thick socks, a woollen t shirt, two jumpers, a woolly snood, a rug-like scarf and a hat. Our central heating is either on and not very hot or off. Either way sitting still for hours is not the best if you want to stay warm.) the point of this alone time is to be able to carry on working on terms that help my mental health not get in the way of progress.

I ended the day with a treat to see a film - Room - at the cinema, alone. I love solo cinema trips, since it was always too late to organise spontaneous visits with friends most weekends. Alone in the cinema I can think whatever I want and it doesn't matter if others disagree. I won't need to be polite and listen and broker my way through the discussion; it's just me on my own in the dark watching a story unfold, and my review is in my head, not open for discussion or critique.

Wednesday 20th January

Wednesday was similar in form to Tuesday. I spent my working hours at home on calls and producing some documents in the time in between. I can't remember whether I slept well on Tuesday night or not, but I suspect I didn't. Somewhere along the way through Wednesday morning a combination of feeling numb and feeling desperate seep in and I notice by lunchtime that I feel like going to bed and not getting up for the rest of the day. 

I wasn't overworked, I was overwhelmed by depression.

Not the same thing. It can happen through over work,

but I'm still working on understanding this skittish illness

Where does it come from? I had therapy coming up later and so, so wanted to stay at home and slip under the duvet away from everything and everyone in the world until Mat finally got home. But the practical part of me somehow wrestled me into boots and out of the door. I didn't enjoy the fresh air on the walk as I felt the despair of myself - the self I cannot love - in spades. But I know that the exercise and air are natural remedies for better mental health. And luckily for me, it was beautiful. Rationally and unobjectionably beautiful.

The only thing I can think of ito explain what has become a regular mood dip is that the middle of the week is when I have involved myself in the work equivalent of a mess of wool and knitting needles of activity, and if I stop every stitch will perhaps unravel, or if I continue I must be unrelenting in my commitment to progress. You can't make an omelette, etc. Perhaps that is it. It's the second Wednesday in a row when I have felt like this. I can't remember if it came on at the same time, but by the time I'm through with crying in therapy and back at home in the evening, still crying, I did remember how it feels to feel desperate and that things won't get better.

TV. Food. Sleep. I think the sleep worked this time. I didn't have anxiety in my stomach and tingling all over me the next day. That's all I've got. So that has to be good enough.

Thursday 21st January

Thursday was unusual. I had to go to Tooting for a hospital appointment and walked all the way there from home, rising very early, to try to use the walking and fresh air I know - rationally - that I have to include in my life for better mental health. My feet hurt by the time I arrived but I focussed more on hope that my brain would be flooded with positive endorphins of the exercise rather than the dull, murky and lumpy vessels of whatever chemicals are causing my depression to come back and dip my mood again. I also wondered whether two days at home consecutively had made me lonely, so I` don't know. I'm just trying a lot of things I know are good for me and hoping for a better day tomorrow if today is rubbish.

 

I had a reason to feel somewhat abnormal. I was nervous about seeing my neuro-spinal surgeon a whole year after our last meeting. He is both a brilliant surgeon and a thoroughly nice man but I was terrified that I wouldn't be deemed fit and well to have the screws taken out of my spine and afraid in equal measure that I would. I had to call my health insurer to gain an authorisation code for the surgery which is another worry for me, as the representatives are trained to the precise words that come from their mouths to offer a balance of sympathy and firmness, the latter in particular when one of them tells you that you aren't covered for that and that there is nothing that they can do, even if you might find your life at risk because of that seemingly irrational and quite silly conclusion. (To be fair this has only happened once, for suspected sleep apnoea.)

When I've got a lot on my mind, my thoughts

weight twice as much as my body

The rest of Thursday was part triumph and part disappointment. There are so many days like that, where hour to hour I feel elated one moment, but the next in a slough of despond. I had a couple of great meetings but also several where no one showed up. If this happens once, great, I can use the time to get things updated for one project or another, find the resources to fee fulfilled. Three or four cancellations, though, and I'm slightly panicked that I won't be able to achieve the things I was meant to, feeling sick. These things happen; I have to tell myself that, and that there's no reason that it's me. 

This sometimes worries me... 

I am, after all a control freak... so I can control scheduling the meeting,

but not who attends them!

Sunday 23rd January

I'm skipping forward to Sunday as its getting late and I'm very tired. Even blogging, which I love, takes energy, and I need some reserves for Monday. Continuing to try exercise for health, I  had run on Saturday morning and struggled but running on Sunday was easier. Reading through the above makes me feel sad, because it really wasn't a bad week at all, but I hate how a small thing can make me feel really dragged down. Meeting up with two lovely women from the In The Pink a cappella group to discuss International Women's Day and their performance at my work was a delight and so much fun. We laughed and shared our love of music and its powerful means to make me (and everyone) feel good. and walking around beautiful Oxford with Mat lifted me up again. Not necessarily forever, but the inspiration of music and beautiful buildings, happy memories and fantastic people are always going to be magical medication, and make me feel well again. 

Doing what I can to stay in the pink and out of the blue

So here's to another week of ups and downs that leave me somewhere along the narrow road to tomorrow. Take care. x

Merry ParkRun to All and to All a Good Flight! In Praise of ParkRun

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, how lovely are thy cheapo hats

After a few days of indulging in every delicious food and drink we now have the delight of New Year's Eve ahead of us, with its perceived obligations to look glittery and make grand schemes, or 'resolutions' to be better and achieve more in the new year. Last year I wrote about feeling anxious about this event, a day when one looks in the closet or on the sales racks for sequins and spandex, hoping that the two will come together in a wonderful symbiosis which belies the enormous quantities of stuffing that we've just cheerfully crammed into ourselves without a care for our waistlines or coronaries.

The closest I shall come to the above (and I do have dresses like this that don't fit)

is this: sequin spanx. (marilynmeetsjohnny.com)

This year I started a little better on the journey towards eating one's own body weight, by taking part on two consecutive days in my local park run at Bushy Park. Have you heard of ParkRun? Here's a little about them from the website:

Click this link for more about Park Run

"parkrun organise[s] free, weekly, 5km timed runs around the world. They are open to everyone, free, and are safe and easy to take part in.These events take place in pleasant parkland surroundings and we encourage people of every ability to take part; from those taking their first steps in running to Olympians; from juniors to those with more experience; we welcome you all."

In a typical week I try to do exercise as part of my week's activities, in order to boost the endorphin levels and (I would hope) to keep my mental health on an even keel or at least on the up (however minutely). Around Christmas, though, I tend to head squarely for the sofa from the desk and leave the thousands of emails unanswered with a to do list to rival the length of Santa's naughty and nice list, but the issue I then face is that my body starts to mould into the fabric of the sofa, and does not want to move, not one little bit. This is quite dangerous because the less I do, the less I want to do. The more I watch television and eat, and do nothing but that, the less I can do. And that could lead to a dissatisfaction with everything because I don't feel like doing things, but I certainly do not need any more sitting or scoffing.

You can find a parkrun near you every weekend, in the UK and around the world

It was probably good luck (and good management on the part of the Bushy Park's parkrun management committee) that I found myself down to write the run report for Christmas Day and Boxing Day, meaning that however many mince pies I'd managed to gorge myself on the night before, I wasn't going to be able to excuse myself from the festive fitness proceedings. 

A sea of Santa Hats getting ready to cover 5K...however they wanted

The 5K runs that parkrun organises gets everyone involved, and is a great way to kick start my weekend. Not only that, but when I feel totally reluctant to see another soul I can participate in the run with no obligation to speak to other people, but with the lovely sense of having joined in with something, even though my mind has closed itself off to callers.

Boxing day in a toned-down version of headgear. Just sparkly antlers.

My weight had already increased through Christmas consumption!

My stomach is not feeling very well eve n now as I type this because despite my attempts to moderate the consumption of meat, cheese, potatoes and, mainly, sausages, on a typical day I'd be more likely to eat carrot and lentil salad than chestnut stuffing, which means that I'm still overeating even when compared to the average calorie intake I've taken it pretty easy. It's annoying that this happens - and I'm sure I'm not the only one - who makes an effort not to overdo it, only for my stomach to tell me that I have been immoderate in my moderation. 

Anyway, I'm lucky that I had to run 10K in total over 25th and 26th. I also drank some vegetable juices to keep some semblance of normality in my diet. Tomorrow, I plan to run again to keep my hand in and (hopefully) my hips within their normal range on the lead up to New Year's Eve. And my mental health? It's hanging in there, but I certainly plan to keep it that way as far as possible with the amount of exercise that will start to return things to normal after five days of solid stodge.

View from the snug sofa.

It is pretty hard to leave these woodland animals to head for the, err, woods.

As something a little different I composed a poem for the run report I wrote for the Christmas and Boxing day Bushy Park runs. The point was to have a little bit of fun with the report, very much in the spirit of Bushy Park itself. This post serves for me as a 'check in' for my health - in every sense - and to remind me why I love parkrun and how helpful it is for me. It also serves as my community fitness contribution. I've written before about Mind's #GetSetToGo programme, which helps people to become more active for better mental health, but although this programme is currently working in a handful of locations, it's good to know that there are other community fitness schemes like the wonderful parkrun to help us to become active.

This is Andy, one of the key Bushy Park parkrun volunteers

If you are looking for a new way to keep fit in 2016, you can find a local park run here on the registration page (click for more) and even start your own. The next parkrun at Bushy is on New Year's Day, and you can walk, run, jog, hop or do a combination of all of these to join in with your community and do a bit for your fitness. Parkrun is a run, not a race. Everyone is welcome, and encouraged to do what they can. I share its desire to help people to participate at any level, for free, for better fitness for everyone. 

Runners go Crackers!

Take care in the remaining days of holiday, of yourself and others, and perhaps see you at a parkrun in 2016? x

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the town

No creature was stirring (we were all lying down).

The running tights snug in their drawers all together,

As we shut out the wind, and cold winter weather.

Then at seven AM, arose such a clatter

I opened my eyes to see what was the matter.

My alarm had gone off, surely by some mistake?

On Christmas Day morning? No one else was awake.

But apparently no, it was meant to be done,

As today was the Christmas day Bushy ParkRun!

I rose from my bed, and put on the lights,

To avoid falling down as I put on my tights,

Then out of the door donning festive headwear,

Hoping some other runners would also be there.

A thousand one hundred plus forty five more

Turned up as elves, reindeer and Santas galore!

Double buggies and dogs in tinsel and bells,

Dodging puddles of mud just like graceful gazelles.

Congrats to Andrius Jak-sev-ic-i-us

Who finished in first (did he hop on a bus?)

Molly Renfer: first female, 18:11

A jolly good time for a mud-spattered run.

To Craig Jarman, Matt Reed, and to Richard Berry

Congrats on new PBs and hope you are merry.

Add on seventy eight with new personal bests

Well done all eighty one, now, have well-deserved rests!

Around forty park run volunteers ran the show

With a three-funnel finish to manage the flow.

Prosecco, mince pies and sweet treats were in store

For the finishers, volunteers, fam’lies and more,

So Christmas Day started in true ParkRun style

With goodwill shown to all for just over three miles

Our five K now ended we went home to our trees

Till we’d eaten our eight thousand (ish) calories

A warm glow in our cheeks till the next week’s park fun

No, wait, it’s tomorrow for the Boxing day run!

Boxing Day turnout of 700+ parkrunners. 

Perhaps a little slower in some cases (mine) but good to participate all the same!

Have Yourselves A Merry - Mindful - Christmas. #12DaysOfXmasMH

It's the night before Christmas and all through the flat...we're just about tidy, thank goodness for that.
Luckily for you, dear reader, I won't continue to write in rhyme for this post about the lead up to Christmas.

This year I've had to be more 'mindful' than in previous Christmasses of how I've felt every day. The idea behind the #12DaysOfXmasMH was to show what it is really like to manage a mental health condition every day.

Day 10 #12DaysOfXmasMH

As it turns out, it has been particularly educational for me because from being tired out and stressed at the end of the year's work, to absolutely calm and content a couple of days later, just from having the right amount of sleep, to it being the day before Christmas Day and waking up feeling the usual anxieties associated with the pressures of the season.

Mindfulness. Father Christmas Style... 

(Thanks to Raymond Briggs for lending me Santa)

I've heard a lot of negative opinions on mindfulness from people, especially in the city environment where I work. They've said that mindfulness is 'fluffy', 'pointless', 'embarrassing', 'strange', 'not my kind of thing' and 'something I tried but couldn't get into'. I would have to agree with some of these statements. Firstly, I'm really bad at relaxing.(I'm actually a lot better at it now, but that means I've gone from someone who needed to sit watching a film whilst washing was on while playing angry birds while writing my blog and twitching my toes in regular patterns, to someone who's writing her blog while watching a film. And the washing is on. But that's it, I promise.) Secondly, the first time I realised that I had been really stressed was last year, when for the first time in about twenty-something years, I was actually relaxed for the first time. It was definitely the biggest 'AHA' moment ever!

When I was in hospital last summer I attended mindfulness groups, which were part of the treatment plan to develop better ways to manage our mental health and improve our mood and self-care. I had to stop lying down for the exercises as I was totally unable to stay awake during the sessions, and now when I listen to my Headspace app (which I should do more as it's really helpful) I follow its guidelines when the soothing voice tells me that it's better to sit up straight rather than lie down. Plus, the videos at the beginning of the exercises are really cute. There are long exercises to learn for mindfulness practitioners eventually, but even an exercise of ten minutes in length is quite tricky to follow.

Gender stereotyping aside. This is me.

But the point isn't to 'do an exercise' or 'complete' a fixed length of meditation (unless I've totally missed the point, that is). The point is for each of us to ask ourselves, "How are you doing right now?" "What's going on in your head?" "How well are you feeling?".

Day 7 #12DaysOfXmasMH

This could last 10 seconds or even 5 if you can answer it in that time. So, for the last eleven days, each time I've made a short video of myself out and about, waking up, exercising, walking, making juices, playing computer games or watching Netflix... Or all of them, I've had to tell my iphone video camera how I felt. And it has actually helped me to take better care of myself.

Thanks again Raymond Briggs.

I think the Snowman could teach me a few things about mindfulness

I was shaking with anxiety on day two so even though I felt like a big body-shaped bowl of jelly on a powerplate I made myself go to one of the bootcamp classes I'd signed up for for this month, and the jog there, the many squats and circuits, and finally the run back exhausted some of that nervous energy and made me feel better just one hour later.

Me. This. Definitely this.

(I should add that I could hardly sit or stand the next day, the day after, or the day after that because of the squats. So, whilst lurching around on days 3-5 attempting but failing to walk, but hey, at least I was distracting myself!) The learning: I needed to treat my anxiety there and then to prevent it from getting worse. And I did what I could.

Other days I felt exceptionally rested and relaxed after having a proper night of sleep. Having to notice that feeling first thing in the morning because of the video diaries was actually really helpful, because I was grateful for it. It's not just the bad times or the bad moments I want to notice throughout a life managing a mental health problem (and, of course, life, love, work and everything else... you know, the small stuff) but the times when I'm feeling happy, still, energised, rested, at peace and all of those wonderful other feelings that I bet I take for granted most of the time. The learning here - it's actually lovely to notice myself feeling good, and just stay with that feeling of contentment for a little while. It meant I stayed in bed a little longer than usual, but it felt good to do it, and it was the holiday, so why not?

Thanks Piglet and Pooh for reminding 

me to take each day at a time.

And yesterday I was hugely frustrated, angry, tired, worried, anxious, and totally restless. Making the #12DaysOfXmasMH meant that I noticed that too. I was cheerful and smiley with the sunshine and off to do the recycling (I know, the glamour) but on return home with our Christmas food and cheese we were locked out of our building and had to wait for a locksmith to charge us the delightful sum of £250+ for a new lock, new set of building keys for all the residents, only to find out later that they've given us a key that can only be re-made at a locksmith miles away for much more money. We didn't manage the walk we had planned and I was exhausted by the annoyance of it all. Low frustration tolerance stuck again.

My head. yesterday at about 15:15

This was truly not a big deal; a minor detail in a great week, and we'll even get the money refunded to us. But the point for suffering with depression has never been that 'there are people starving in Africa who are much worse off'... we all know that (I think, anyway), but it doesn't stop us from being ill just because someone else is worse off. We're just ill anyway. It might even make us feel worse that we can't feel better because we know our lives our good and we should.

My just-awake-hair in this video is particularly *special*

At the end of these fourteen days of Christmas, for mental health, what mindfulness has really meant is being aware of the good, the bad and the ugly feelings and handling them as needed. Noticing negative thoughts, restlessness, anxiety flutters, insomnia and disinterest in things as early as possible means I can (hopefully) take some steps to treat these nasty visitors before they become permanent house guests.

If noticing that means I am well more often, for longer, or that I avoid having to take time off from work because the niggling feelings have festered and grown, then good. That is the sort of mindfulness I can support fully, and advocate for others. And if I do feel like standing on one leg, completing a ten minute meditative exercise involving a raisin or whatever else, well, then, each to one's own...

Staying balanced is a balancing act in itself. 

(credit: Mindfulness Exchange)

To all of you, remember to take a breather whenever you need to this holiday, and have a Christmas that is as calm, contented and charming (in the best sense), and as you do, I'll be remembering the same thing and taking it one breath at a time. Love and peace to all. x

With credit to Disney, I think Olaf is pretty mindful of love