Making a Song and Dance of it...for Mental Health

I haven't written much here about singing - something I used to do all the time in choirs, as a soloist, in musicals etc., perhaps as I sing so rarely (in public) these days, and only at people's weddings if they ask me. Singing has, though, always been a major part of my life, ever since I can remember (and actually even before that). I made myself extremely popular aged three when I participated enthusiastically with the singing of hymns in our local Catholic church by replacing the words and music to the hymns with the words and music to "Daisy Daisy", a much better and uplifting song in my three year old's opinion. (Clearly!)

"On a bicycle made for two" 

(FloridaMemory.com)

Having begun my singing career in front of audiences. Not appreciative audiences, mind, but audiences all the same, I found a joy in singing that I cannot say I have ever found in anything else.

"My heart wants to sing every song it hears."

I couldn't have said it better myself, Jules.

Aged five, I had memorised all the words (yes, I really do mean *all* the words) to The Sound of Music (among other things like "I Know Him So Well" and "Karma Chameleon". I enjoyed demonstrating my impressive memory for lyrics to Mrs Edley in the playground at break time, where the poor, poor woman had to listen to endless renditions of "The Hills are Alive" at 10am by a five year old. Another reason we need to respect teachers: their endless patience. I also joined my fellow TSOM enthusiasts organising short performances of "So Long, Farewell" during breaks, preceded by lengthy discussions on choreography and styling. Precocious, nous?

I'm about to burst into song here, can you tell?

Now then, there is a reason for telling you all these things about my brilliant childhood singing career, and that is that last week I was involved in two events where signing, and dare I say it, dancing even - were suddenly back in my life, front and centre stage.

On Friday night as I sat writing my post for the weekend a tweet popped up from Mind mentioning open auditions for a musical, to be put on (i.e. rehearsed and then performed) within forty-eight hours. Not only that, but auditions were to be held the following day!

Err YES. Yes, yes and YES!

At this point in the evening I knew that I had consciously committed myself to writing slides for a proposal at some point during the weekend, and my exhaustion levels were increasing, but still, I knew that I both had to have and wanted to have a break from work in order to be able to function and in order to decrease my anxiety levels. And, quite frankly, because I needed to have some fun - a work *life* balance. I decided that in support of Mind and to encourage myself to do something new and fun I would go and audition to show my support for this wonderful initiative which raises funds for a chosen charity with each 48 hour challenge.

Read Ian's blog for Mind about putting on shows and

managing his anxiety through his creativity

Saturday morning I went to bootcamp (which I've not done this week as I've been travelling) and after many, many squats, burpees and a whole host of exercises that made me wonder what mad decision had led me to commit to a Saturday class, in the rain, outside, where I was putting myself through a hell of endless press ups and sprints. Saturday afternoon (a glutton for 'punishment') I went to Paddington Academy to meet Ian and a whole host of extremely enthusiastic casting team, choreographers and more performers auditioning for this year's chosen show - Thoroughly Modern Millie - to be performed next year.

People who really can dance. Incredible.

Just for absolute clarity, since I have no video evidence to share with you (thank goodness) of my absolute inability to dance, I would like to make it clear that I can, in no way, dance. I can do the YMCA dance, the time warp, and I can do aerobics. And that's it. The wonderful women and men observing the dancers and teaching us the steps were kind and supportive in spite of this, and one of them has amazing photographic skills - she made it look like I can dance. Miraculous.

See? Doesn't this make it look like I can dance?

I really, really can't. At all.

I came away from the audition absolutely exhausted physically with the effort of performing and re-performing the jazz steps that I saw my fellow auditioners perform with an ease and snap I definitely did not exhibit, but it was just so, so much fun. The exertion and joy had eradicated my anxiety and I felt absolutely wonderful. I hope I remember more often the instant curative nature of dancing with others or alone, for the pure love of music and movement. Any exercise - running, walking, swimming and more helps my anxiety, but adding music is even more effective.

Me acting. I can actually act. Thank goodness

there's something I can do!

And there's more! On Sunday through Tuesday this week I was fortunate enough to attend the Power Shift Forum at the Said Business School in Oxford. More on that in a future post, but at the networking drinks in the Ashmoleum Museum on Sunday evening I was again so so lucky to be surrounded by music and kindness. The super cool and hugely talented In The Pink came to sing at the event, In The Pink are an all-female acapella group in Oxford comprising students both from Oxford and Oxford Brookes universities. And they are INCREDIBLE. Thirteen young women with a shared passion for music, just singing their hearts out in a way that made me laugh, grin, cry and just love everything about them.

The mighty and magical In The Pink

A few of them were kind enough to come and meet me the next day and over drinks me made plans for do a couple of events together next year...so watch this space.

I don't know if singing or music is a passion of yours, but even if not, I have rediscovered how enriching and what a natural medicine doing something you love can be. I'm resolving to do more singing, bad piano playing, and even horrific dancing. I am smiling as I write this, and given that smiles are rare, I'll go in search of them in whatever way helps me to be here, smiling, writing this, living. Take care x

You Make Me Sick: My Week of Anxiety

This week has been distorted with a weird whirl of media because of public appearances (even though they were staged, pre-recorded, pre-written etc. weeks ahead of broadcasting / publication). Media distorts things, whereas the reality is very different. Tuesday and Wednesday were bizarre, as I was tagged on Facebook appearing on the BBC without knowing anything was going to be broadcast that day, and being published in Metro.co.uk writing a light-hearted piece about anxiety.

Metro piece - a lighter look at Anxiety

Of course, as I should have realised, Anxiety likes to have the last word, horrid sarcastic words that sting and endure. Anxiety showed up with bells on for the rest of the last week. I’m still trying to ask it, as nicely as I can, to get the hell out of town.

Talking about depression while pretty ill with it, on BBC London

So in case you read my Metro blog and thought I have only a humorous view of anxiety, that’s not true (would that I could see it from just that perspective, would that it never got any worse than the quirky behaviours I mentioned in that piece). There are many more serious things that come out of an anxiety condition. I will never stop making fun of myself for my quirky traits stemming from anxiety, but I will also take seriously the symptoms that debilitate me and that I must address if I am to have a chance at handling this condition in the longer term.

Tuesday 1^st September

I smiled when I heard colleagues in the elevator already exclaiming pressure over too many activities and an overextended "to do" list for a four day week. I had been careful with my planning and thought I could handle it. Anxiety doesn't care about my good diary management, though, it prefers when I over book myself to turn up unannounced.

I suppose I am only providing it with good reason to show up at those times. It's when I've made every effort to plan my week sensibly, though, that it is most annoying to experience. And despite making fun of my experiences of anxiety in my blog for Metro this week, and my firm belief that it's good for me to be able to laugh at the silly things I do because I suffer from anxiety (and, as I've said before, my medication escitalopram happens to affect me with anxiety as a side effect. Great). I'm changing to a new type of medication - which will be the sixth anti-depressant I've tried in 15 years. Hey, at least I still have new ones to try!)

For the very reason that today - Sunday - I'm still feeling pretty anxious and ill - I've written a blog that again is fragmented, because I can't calm down or focus long enough to feel able to write something consistent. What I can do is present something that is true - the peaks and troughs (panics and peaceful moments) of how a week with anxiety has been, for me.

These all resonate for me. It's amazing how physical the body's repsonse to anxiety is.

I can understand the sense of these repsonses in a situation of real danger. But attending a social event or a meeting? These symptoms in these situations are debilitating and (literally and figuratively) painful.

Friday 4^th September

Although I ate a salad for lunch today it may as well have been uncooked pastry or carelessly mixed cement, as far as my body is concerned. In my chest, among my main arteries and the networks of veins connecting my rapidly beating heart to the rest of me is a cold, glutinous congealing mass of something sticky that has got in there and won't budge. It nauseates me to the point where I push random fingers into my chest to try to find it and remove it; it won't go. I am breathing in and out slowly and deeply but still it doesn't move. It isn't digestible but makes me try to remove it through swallowing, gulping again and again without success. It isn't expiring with my outward breath. It is so constant that I hardly wonder why a couple of years ago I barely noticed it was there every day. This is one physical manifestation of what my anxiety feels like.

I times I bruise my chest by pushing at it trying

to shift what feels like a hard lump inside

I'm one of the lucky ones who isn't anxious all the time. In my past life living alone in New York in a very pressurised and stressful job, as I realised today when I felt the physical symptoms described above, and realised it had been at least three days without a let up.

This happens to me again and again, so I have

 to step in and stop it until I unravel completely

The worst time this happened was at my job interview for KPMG. I was really, really ill at the time with depression / anxiety. I have always made the effort to ignore my anxiety and go for things anyway (I suppose, that cliche "Feel the fear and do it anyway" applies perfectly to one of the ways that I operate (see below - overcompensate), It was in the very first exercise that I was presenting back to a large panel at my assessment centre when I needed to refer to the consulting firm in a 'mock client proposal pitch' that the word "Del- " (Deloitte) slipped out of my mouth in my mock-confident pitch patter. Even though the director observing said, "We'll pretend we didn't hear that", I was absolutely horrified. 

Me at my interview in reality. 

How I presented myself at interview. 

Hiding behind a suit and a smile

Every physical response - the fight or flight mechanism in its rawest form - suddenly invaded my body and overwhelmed me. I felt dreadfully sick and wanted to leave immediately, but it was only 10am and the first part of a whole-day interview. I couldn't leave. I had to stay. My brain does not work properly in a period of intense anxiety. My brain needed to work for me to get the job. Worry. Stress. Sweat. Nausea. Trying to ignore all of these and carry on through other case studies, partner interviews, even through 'lunch'. I have no idea how I got the job given how unwell I was. I did go back for a final interview another day, and at that point I was not in the primal phase of panic, thank goodness.

I now try to deploy the measures that I've learned can help of course. I do breathe deeply because at least I can reassure myself that there are genuine physical and mental benefits to this, even if it doesn't remove or lessen my anxiety: I know rationally that I'm supplying my brain with oxygen, which means that I am giving myself the best chance of being able to think and operate even though I feel physically so unwell.

I do practise mindfulness, which means I put my brain to work focusing on things other than the physical feeling of anxiety. It's a distracting technique that requires effort and a discourse with my brain where I ask it to pay attention to a single thing at my command, and politely wave or tap it in the shoulder when it drifts off to thinking about the fact that I need to send off the proposal tomorrow, that I need to go for a run, to the bank, to get the car through its MOT and buy more loo roll and answer my emails and update my time sheet and so on and on and on.

It is hard for me to practise mindfulness lying down without falling asleep- largely because if I do manage to get my mind to focus on some one thing then my brain has a chance to sense my body's total exhaustion and takes advantage of the time to shut down and rest. I have to try to sit up, and then I struggle so much to keep my mind on one thing, even for ten minutes. In anxiety I find my mind rushes here and there and everywhere but on the body scan or shape to which I'm meant to be paying attention.

Also I know mindfulness is what I should be doing, but mid-anxiety I find I often feel overwhelmed and that in adding mindfulness to my list of things to do I will cope even less well with an even longer list of expectations.

However, “I should I should I should” isn't helpful. I need to be well. I need to look after myself. I need to provide some comfort and support to myself.

Saturday 5^th September

I am now sitting here on Saturday evening wishing today had been what I thought it might be: an anxiety-free day. I’m not working; I haven’t had to spend ages cleaning the house or doing other admin chores; I even went to have my hair cut (which is usually enjoyable not stressful since I see the same person each time). Unfortunately it hasn’t worked out that way, and the physical nausea of my anxiety, my shakiness, my racing thoughts, and every other symptom, are still with me to quite a significant degree.

What else do I do when I'm anxious? Panic. It is not an exaggeration to say that it affects the brain in the same way as if there were a genuine fire, an attack or another calamity.

We are programmed to respond primitively in these situations and what that means is a release of adrenaline and cortisol to the brain. This allows us to flee or fight- giving us a spur of energy and stamina for a period of time. What happens to me is that this reaction occurs when I am in a variety of situations where this is completely unhelpful. In place of the rational person who can make decisions and lead teams, organise the house sale, my career, my blog and volunteering, among other things, appears a vastly debilitated version of myself, paralysed by fear and stress to the point where rational thought is almost impossible and the ability to do anything other than flee (whether from the office or under the duvet or whatever) is massively limited.

It repeats and repeats and repeats unless I work at fighting it. 

Unfortunately if I'm already exhausted by it it feels an impossible task.

I have to soothe myself first. Breathe, rest, walk, eat, take a moment. I can’t do anything until that’s done. When it is, that’s when I can do is split things up into manageable chunks. Maybe one small thing from the to-do list. The one thing I can do. Then the next. Then the next.

Sometimes it's more like 25% calm. At that point I could potentially achieve something.

Beforehand, nothing's going to happen unless I bring my anxiety levels below 80%

I do these when the countering, healthy behaviours I know are better but which are just too bloody hard to do at times. The closest I come to helping myself when I’m really panicking is – at best - to climb into bed and shut out everything that is causing me such stress and worry.

Also, no caffeine. I have caffeine once in a while, but 

any more than once a month or so and it negatively affects my mental state

I’m trying to learn to do this in advance of anxiety reaching its full force. I know that I am prone to pushing myself so hard in many directions that anxiety can paralyse me. I have to try to plan ahead so that I’m less likely to have an anxiety attack with the above, with a balance between work, life and rest, with the right amount of exercise (not too little, not too much).  

Sunday 6^th September

I made it to today. Doing the right things today were: 

1. Going for a run and loving seeing the deer. (Exercise also helps digestion, raises my endorphin levels, uses up some of that nervous energy, and gets me out into the fresh air to breathe.) 
2. Eating lunch with my husband. Burgers. Chips. Chat. 
3. Having a rest: this is controversial (as sleeping during the day can disrupt sleep at night), but since I cannot catch up on tiredness at any point in the day during the week, it's a real luxury for me to be able to lie down and read, watch a film or listen to a podcast without the need to go back to my calendar and prep for the next meeting.

Bushy Park today. It was glorious, and I'm happy I made it out

 and won a small victory over my anxiety

On the other hand, the horrid lump in my chest is still there. I'm trying not to worry about it! I'm still breathing. I'm still here. Small victories, even if the war with anxiety isn't over.

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.

Will it Be Lonely This Christmas? Ho Ho Ho or Hu- Hu- Humbug?

“It’s coming on Christmas, they’re cutting down trees, they’re putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. I wish I had a river I could skate away on.” Joni Mitchell knew a thing or two about Christmas in my view. Although she goes on to sing about lost love in her song ”River” and her own failings, the mention of reindeer and singing are just as important for many people who find this time of year less than easy to get through, for whatever reason.

You don’t find “River” featured on many editions of The Best Christmas Album In the World, Ever. It’s not exactly uplifting and although the beginning of the song pays homage to Jingle Bells there’s no other evidence of jingling, bells, tinsel or untold joy, so I suppose even I have to be admit this song would be a tough sell to record executives targeting the Office Christmas Party market.

Shots, Santa, Snogging, More Shots. Now that's what I call Christmas (at the office)

Yes, River is rather unique as a Christmas song, and in one more that I can think of: it tells the truth about Christmas. There are people putting up decorations, but there are also people struggling to get through December and the holiday season.

One in four people are suffering from a mental illness right now. Which one is it?

This year, mental health charity Mind is targeting loneliness as the theme of its Christmas appeal. It makes the point that loneliness takes many forms, but the key point of all is this: you do not have to be alone to feel lonely at Christmas. Someone who has recently lost someone or has had a change of circumstances might feel lonely; but perhaps someone, or many ‘someones’, are at one of those office parties feeling like the most isolated person in the world, despite the laughing, raucous crowds around them.

 

For the last few years Christmas has needed to come earlier for many, I have felt. As soon as Halloween is out of the way Christmas lights, advent calendars, chocolate of course, and booze, booze, booze foretells the coming not of a child or a miracle, but the pressure to consumer more, earlier, for longer.

Poorer, more pressurised, but pretty. Pretty dangerous to think spending can make us happy.

The recession has left us poorer and more pressurised. Christmas advertisements proclaim omnipresent happiness mandatory for all, and party on party is presented in ever increasing displays of glamour and splendour. Viewers may not be dashing through the snow, but through Black Friday and Cyber Monday. Yes, even though we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in the UK we’re grasping its commerciality by both reins.

Our ability to live up to the commercial expectations we might put on ourselves dwindles with the rate of inflation year on year. However, with money such an unfashionable topic of polite conversation, I’m guessing that none of the parties being created in real life to mimic the fiction of advertising include discussions of money troubles. Hardly talk of a Christmas Carol, more like Hard Times. And what we have to hide through all of this, and pretend through makes us all lonely.

A Christmas Carol. Hard Times for Some.

My hope is that Christmas will not lead us to want to skate away but to experience Christmas realistically, or in whatever way not to make us poorer or sadder than we would anyway be. So, no jingle bells perhaps; no skating. I’d settle for a silent night.