Empire State of Mindfulness: Returning to New York City

The ever constant beauty of New York City

at the Central Park reservoir

The last time I set foot in New York I had sat on the hard wood floor of my stripped apartment and waved goodbye to my life there as if that process was as simple as packing up my furniture and bags into cardboard boxes and waving goodbye to them. After a last lunch with friends on a freezing cold sunny January day in 2014 my life as a New York resident ended and my life in London with Mat resumed full time.

Sean at Dublin airport helping me get from plane to plane despite feet, back, stomach etc. problems. If you meet him in the future, you've met a celebrity. The guy literally knows everyone in the place.

Perhaps you might understand then, especially if you read my earlier post, that I was very nervous about returning to a place that had given me so many mixed memories of bitter-sweetness. I loved (I love) New York that I didn’t know what would happen when I returned there for a great friend’s wedding. I’m not supposed to predict the future (meaning thinking about all the things that are coming up and considering each possible outcomes that could occur). It’s actually a thinking trap or a false perception that doing that – thinking about all the “maybes” and “mights” of future events makes me less worried or stressed about them. It actually makes it a lot worse.

This can be a pretty accurate picture of the concentration of my thoughts, 

and there's little room for mindfulness (or any activity) when this happens

Now sometimes I find this useful – at work it can help me to stay on the board with the list of to-dos (and to create things that aren’t on that list but might be valuable to add to it!). With moderation so that I don’t burn out I have found this to be a career enhancing skill to possess – that ability to switch my brain into overdrive mode so that I am not only thinking about the current to do list, but the non-existent to do list, plus the overall strategic approach to the pieces of work I’m leading. However, this time I am trying to take a chill pill and stop wondering what if, and just live a bit more in the moment.

When Harry Met Sally...a classic and a depiction of depression in New York because of lost love. (Plus a happy ending.)

"...when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." Harry Burns

The minute we arrived off the plane things were already so different. I wasn’t waiting in my apartment for a text from Mat saying he’d just got off the plane and was on his way; I was sitting beside him and he was holding my hand as we landed and looking out onto JFK. We held hands in the taxi and laughed about the traffic. (Okay, so we didn’t laugh about the traffic, we laughed about the fact that the traffic still sucked and wasn’t it annoying and he was still holding my hand when we arrived at the hotel.)

Back in NYC, the city that never sleeps. Luckily these days, for me, I do.

I guess a wedding-themed trip is always going to have a focus on romance, and I welled up like a true cliché when the beautiful bride walked down the aisle to meet her groom Phil, a friend from university. It reminded me how wonderful my life with Mat is and how lucky I am to have him – again and again. New York is very different returning as a visitor hand in hand with my husband and knowing that we’ll leave together. I am a big believer that we are all able to help to make ourselves better by working hard to put into practice the tools we’ve learned to combat those horrid thinking traps that seem to plague me in numbers akin to the number of cockroaches in this stunning and sordid city. But sometimes, it has to be said that I recognise that making an actual change in my life can make a huge difference to how I feel.

Getting hitched in the city. Perfect wedding and reminder of my own

amazing good fortune to have my wonderful husband.

When I returned home to the UK I let go of all the stresses that came with trying to have a functioning marriage on two continents, along with paying two sets of bills every month, paying for two properties and trying to live on whatever was left over. (Thank you, Subway, I am thankful for your $5 footlongs, though despite what you said the calorie count was the fact that I gained 10lbs living in the US for two years doesn’t inspire me with confidence. Sorry Jared Fogle.) The loneliness and stresses had really got to me and the physical process of releasing that, while sad, was also liberating and relaxing. Of course, then I started a new job and new challenges started, but it was great to let go of my double life.

A Picasso at MoMA. I can easily imagine the woman seeing her different reflection experiencing the challenges of existence, presenting an outward face of calm contrasting with an inward face of unrest.

New York living can be as high octane as you want to make it and I used to be someone who would just go, go, and keep going forever until at some late point it was time to stop working or partying…and sleep a bit until the next day when it started over and over again. This is truly the opposite of mindfulness. I could let three months go past and hardly notice that it had happened, because I’d never stopped the whole time. Now I am savouring my moments in New York. We have our list of the ‘must dos’ because my husband and I – in spite of all of the difficulties and loneliness - both felt we had some of happiest memories in this crazy, beautiful city.

Running the reservoir. Always a must-do activity for me

On this five day trip I’ve had a rest each day, done at least one activity (e.g. visiting a museum, a landmark, taking a slow walk-run in Central Park), one meal (or maybe two, yep, definitely two) and drinks in one of our favourite places. I've also enjoyed writing postcards home to my friends and family. I used to write them every time I went away and I've missed not sending those missives of friendship and love from wherever I go to keep in touch on paper, rather than via our internet-focused existences.

Keeping on running. A glorious day for a run (/ walk!) in Central Park

Taking a slower approach to New York is very new for me, but I have been mindful of each experience. I’ve breathed more slowly (believe me, if this doesn’t sound like much, then it really is for me. 

Savouring the hot dogs at Schnippers. Oh yes...

...and savouring the art (the SHOE art) at MoMA (all by Andy Warhol)

I am Miss Hyperactivity…or at least I used to be), I’ve looked around and noticed what’s around me this time, tried to taste (tried a good few times to taste) the pasta, the burgers and the cocktails. I’ve made myself sit down and write this today while Mat goes shopping and relaxed. (Although, dear reader, I am just a little apprehensive at the prospect of his return from this mission given that he and I, partners and compatible in so many ways, are polar opposites in this regard, so I need to practise some deep breathing in case he shows up totally freaked out!) 

A night under the stars and bright lights of Manhattan.

All dressed up and telling myself to be confident in myself.

I’ve also tried to become a bit more body confident (which is another perpetual struggle, especially after all the weight-gaining meds, to wear my clothes with confidence and feel beautiful no matter how many size double (or triple) zero sharp New York women are wandering around, which used to bother me so.

The newly re-opened and beautifully refurbished Tavern on the Green. 

Here's the terrace on a stunning evening.

I have realised that I have spent so much time on previous holidays trying to race through everything and trying hard to have a good time that I made it almost impossible to have one. I’ve answered that question that everyone always asks you on your first day back at work (you know, “How was your holiday?”) with a lie. Nearly. Every. Single. Time. So you’ll see some holiday snaps throughout this post, some of the art I saw, some of the places I returned to and looked at with my new, clear and calmer and more content eyes. And if I’m stressed out tomorrow, well, at least I wasn’t today – or today so far. And that’s good enough for me. Till next time. x

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."

If You Could Read My Mind, What A Tale My Thoughts Would Tell...

I went for a run this morning and was reminded what a sucker I am for one of the big depression thinking traps: mind reading. Running is a step back into my previous life for me. As you may know from reading earlier posts, I had a bad fall last year which turned me (and my world) upside down for a while and resulted in me having spinal fusion surgery to prevent spinal paralysis and surgery to insert wires into my beautifully smashed up left elbow.

It's been a tiring road to recovery. No public transport. No exercise apart from walking (because swimming is the wrong kind of exercise for my elbow, though the right kind for my back); no ice cream (okay, this is a total lie, but I did try to eat somewhat healthily when I went from being a 20-26 mile a week runner to someone who occasionally made it out of bed to have a wash, and then a wash sitting down).

As of late January I got the green light from my spinal surgeon to start exercising again, because my fractured spine is healed. Thus with great trepidation a couple of weeks ago I made my first attempt at jogging and managed to run a mile. My body and mind were exceptionally shocked by the (slow) jerking movements of running after months of walking only and a lot of lying down.

"Should I go for a run or just eat ice cream?" What a tough call.

Body: What on earth do you think you're doing to me?
Me: I'm going for a run!
Body: Are you crazy? [Yes.] Get back to bed now and under those two comfy duvets. There's more Ugly Betty to be watched on Netflix
Mind: Yes, and what if you fall over? Oh, and by the way everyone's looking at you and thinking you're an idiot for running at about 1 mile an hour. That's not running, that's walking lopsided. You're a laughing stock.
Me: Shut up.

I've now run a second run and two miles. Then another couple of very short runs. And then on Saturday, finally, a 5K at my local park run.

First Park Run in 4 Months. Slow and steady finishes the race!

But back to mind reading. This is what we depressive types love to do when we're feeling low.

As a type A personality, I consider myself exceptional at mind reading. Unfortunately I don't think I'd be able to make any money at the local fun fair. I'm talking about a slightly different kind of mind reading. No, my mind reading is all about me, how rubbish I am and how everyone else is looking at me and thinking badly of me for all my many failures. "I know," I think, "I'm feeling utterly rubbish. Let's add to that by telling myself that everyone hates me and thinks I'm crap."

Mind reading is one of the common negative thought patterns that people who suffer from depression can encounter as part of being ill. All part of the fun and games. You can read more about negative thought patterns here. Here's a quick statement that sums this up:  "I can tell people don't like me because of the way they behave." The simplest way to think about this statement is to consider the following scenario: imagine you walk down the street and see someone you know. You look at them and smile, but they don't look at you and walk on as if they didn't see you. In this situation what are you thinking? Are you wondering whether you've done something wrong? Or are you thinking that perhaps it's not you, but they might be having a bad day / be busy? If you are more likely to think the former, perhaps you also are someone whose mind likes to go off at a tangent from time to time.

So, running this morning, I didn't mention that this run came after a fun night of anxiety-filled dreams which make me feel like I haven't slept (thanks, anxiety) and need to take a day off (yeah, that won't be happening). Sometimes running can help, largely because if I am concentrating on not falling over, avoiding crashing into people and continuing to breathe I can often not think of other things. But on other days, when my mind reading comes out to play, it really goes to town.

"Some of us have to work for a living. And look miserable doing it. That's a job in itself!"

This is what my mind told me today:

1. I pass commuters rushing for the train looking at me with grim faces
My mind reading: "Look at you, running, well, jogging or not quite walking. Some of us have to work for a living, you know. You're probably one of those stay at home wives who thinks working is a slightly tough pilates class. I'm off to do my important job which I hate and you get to run. Stop looking so smug."
My response: "But I'm not smug, honest! I can hardly breathe and getting myself out of the door was difficult enough, and when I get home I have three different projects to work on for the whole day. I'm not smug at all!"
A More Likely reality: the poor commuters are thinking "Bugger, did I turn my hair straighteners off? Do I have any spare cash for a coffee. I'm really hungover. Surely it can't be only Tuesday? Oh God it is."

"I'm just making it look so easy. Like Road Runner. Except that I'm stupidly running in the middle of the road so may well be hit by a two ton truck any moment. Oh well. On I run..."

2. I pass other runners speeding past. (Obviously they're going in the other direction. Otherwise clearly they are passing me!)
My mind reading: "Call that running? I've been up since 5 am and I'm on mile 20 already. I'm just about to complete my 5th ultra of the year and it's only February. You should work harder, like me, you're just not trying"
My response: "Actually I've just recovered from spinal fusion surgery so I still have masses of metal work in my back and have to run slowly to get my body used to high impact activities again without damaging it. I do try to run properly honest! Give me a little credit for trying?"
A More Likely reality: "Must - [pant] - keep - [pant] -  breathing. Must - [pant] -  keep - [pant] -  going."

"I just love walking my little darling in high heels. 

Honest. With a buggy. It's just the way I am."

3. I pass a beautifully made up yummy mummy with her little treasures on the way to nursery, frowning slightly.
My mind reading: "My dear, if you're going to exercise in public, do try to think about styling. For one thing your running top and leggings don't go. Haven't you heard of Kate Hudson's new Fabletics range? Or Sweaty Betty at least. And do try to remember that just because you're running, doesn't mean you shouldn't look your best. a dab of concealer, a little tinted moisturiser and some mascara at least."
My response: "Mummy dearest, do sod off. It was hard enough to get out of bed this morning. I know that I look like a train wreck. I don't need you to remind me. At least I'm doing some exercise!"
A More Likely reality: "Shit. I definitely left the hair straighteners on. Must get home. And must call for another botox appointment. I'm sure I caught myself frowning in the mirror this morning."

"Phwooar"

4. I pass builders starting work on a new housing development nearby. 
My mind reading: "Phwooar look at the arse on that. Now where's my fags?" [Note, this doesn't strike me as a good or a bad comment. My negative, generalised and totally biased opinion of builders means that they could be commenting on the gargantuan size of my wobbling behind or the shapeliness of my buns of steel.]
My response: "Arrrgh! I don't dress like this to be looked at; lycra is my only option, and I had to wear this fleecy jacket 'cause it's freezing, not because I want you looking at my bum. Leave me alone!"
A More Likely reality: "Phwooar look at the arse on that. Now where's my fags?"

Today my mind was more involved with all of these thoughts. I hardly noticed I was running. There have got to be upsides to having a mind that's working overtime 'reading' other people's (fictional thoughts). Today I ran two miles. Tomorrow I wouldn't mind running again. But perhaps this time I'll focus on the fact that I can't breathe. It might just be less exhausting.