Just Another Manic Monday: Lists of Then and Now to Fight My Anxiety and Depression

At the weekend I planned to write a piece on authenticity. As a business woman I am exploring what this means. We all have our work personas, and our others. One of the most interesting things I've read is that we can change - we won't stay the same and shouldn't expect other people to either. It's part of our evolution. That's why we do performance development and change management. Because we need to change. However, one thing that isn't going to change is my list making...(see below!)

I don't believe we have to show everything to be 'authentic', but at the same time, being able to be honest about the part of me that has depression and anxiety.

Today I'm feeling really unwell, so this is what I can do. I'm hoping to write more on authenticity - especially in business. For now, here is a blog about how I've made changes to try and combat Monday morning anxiety.

Five years ago, if you asked me what Sunday night looked like, I'd say this:

Just to avoid misinterpretation, no, dear reader, I am not George Clooney.

1. I would pack my suitcase for the week ahead, make a note of all the things I needed to remember to do (that I hadn't remembered to make a note of on Friday)
2. I'd look forward to a cold, crisp glass of sherry and a delicious Sunday dinner.
3. I knew I probably wouldn't sleep well because I'd be thinking of all the activities ahead of me (which despite taking careful note of, were whirring around my little head like a carousel whirring and blurring at 100 MPH).
4. I'd be aware of the earlier-than-normal time I needed to wake up to ensure I got the train to wherever work was taking me, and this would mean my sleep would be broken - I'd wake up half a dozen times to watch the clock, even though I would have set an alarm.
5. I might have dreams about work - often - and I might think of new things to add to that to do list. All in all, I'd have a fairly rough start to the week, which I'd treat with a bottle of diet coke (or two), a fair breakfast bought at the station and a blurry Monday trying to get through various meetings whilst not falling asleep or seeming manic because of the amount of caffeine I'd consumed to make Monday working even a possibility.

Overcaffeinated? Yep.

What has changed? It's Monday morning.  I woke up feeling horrific, but now I know that I can employ various things to try to ease this and help me get through the day.

I feel terribly anxious after a nightmare-filled broken night of sleep where I dreamed of a wider to-do list including both life things (like trying to sell the house, tidy the flat, clean, and a long list of work activities). This means that I'm feeling physically sick, with bile present in my chest and rising in my throat.

There is nothing I can do about that, or my bad dreams if I've practised healthy behaviours before bed. Here are my best behaviours. I try to do these every day.

1. I go to bed in time to be awake for a decent amount of time getting comfortable in bed and 'finishing' the day in my head. 
2. I drink water with my tablets and only drink water (and plenty of it) after bed and beforehand. I don't drink any caffeine at all but I used to not drink any after 2pm
3. I read something that is not too challenging and not upsetting before bed on my Kindle, on the lowest possible light setting that I can manage during the dark. I find that looking at my ipad or iphone before bed can disturb my brain with the backlighting and make it harder for me to get to sleep.
4. I put on a programme to listen to before sleep which my brain will focus on (meaning not on the 1000 alternatives possible) and this concentration relaxes my brain and usually is the magic silver bullet to make me go the f*** to sleep.

You can buy this excellent book here.

Having done these last night, I'm feeling just as tired as I would have been five years ago, and have a list in front of me that I'm crossing things off from. A list is helpful to me for these reasons:

1. It helps me to realise that it's unlikely I've forgotten something, and stops my mind from racing around trying to repeat the things I have to do the next day / in general again and again. 
2. When I cross things off (even if it's just writing an email) I feel like I'm making progress and it makes me feel more in control. (And yes, I am one of those people who even puts things already achieved onto that list...it's good to remember that you've achieved something already!)
3. I can build on it throughout the week and decide to allocate some of the items to other later days depending on how my health is.

On the other hand, I didn't have anything to drink on Sunday night (or at any time on Sunday in fact); I didn't have a suitcase to pack because currently I don't have to work on client work away from home, because of the project types I'm working on. I didn't eat a Sunday roast.

I went to bed at around 6-7pm because I wasn't feeling at all well. I also now have a host of drugs to try to help my depression and anxiety and the medication that I take to allow me to take that medication, that is, to help with side effects of insomnia, restless leg syndrome and, yes, anxiety.

What else do I do to make myself feel better? There are quite a few things that I know can work (even though they don't always). Here is a view of what I do to try to combat anxiety and depression and allow myself to work and get through the week ahead. Let's start with work things:

1. I decide to work from home (or I give myself the option to do this). I know this is not possible for everyone, and I feel that my current employer KPMG is absolutely essential to allowing me to do look after myself when I'm feeling really unwell. For some of the #selfcare activities I'll need to do, working from home for me is - today and on many other days - the difference between being able to work and having to take the day off sick. I'd much rather work if possible, especially because I enjoy my work and work is a welcome distraction from feelings of depression and the ruminating / worrying voices in my head, so, for me, this is the best possible outcome.
2. I make the list (hahaha, now you know I make lists!) (see above) both for work and for my non-work activities. It's really important to me that I set up my teams for success and that I set myself up for success (in spite of mental illness) by making a plan which I can put in place to support everyone I work with through the week, and enable me to be useful, work effectively, and not hold people or projects back (which would make me feel worse).
3. I am open with my colleagues about how I'm feeling. Today, for example, I can't take phone call after phone call as the constant contact might increase my anxiety levels, so I've made some calls and rescheduled others for tomorrow, ensuring we still make progress but not to the detriment of my health.
4. I arrange some critical meetings face to face for tomorrow, so that I can prepare for useful meetings on one day, in a reasonable (2/3 day) space of time to give me breaks to sit alone, quietly and have food and water between these. I need breaks to enable me to keep going.
5. I use technology (which is my business anyway!) to help myself to stay connected with colleagues and support them: Skype for Business (which allows desktop sharing and collaboration on group calls between India, USA...the world). I can review many of my fab team's work products through our online document storage options and lots more. It's good for my mental health if I can stay in touch with everyone - stay connected - and feel a part of my team even if I'm not well enough to go into the office.

And on the non-work front, here are the things that I have done (and do) to try to help myself feel as well as I can:

1. I get up and go for a run. My energy levels are better in the morning and if I manage to complete a run then, that's the best chance I'll be able to do exercise because after a day of work I'll be shattered.
2. I don't drink caffeine of any kind except very, very rarely (I've had 6 diet cokes this year). Caffeine can have an impact on my medication and make me high / then low after the post-caffeine crash. It's a mood altering drug so I'm avoiding it to try to give my medication the best change of working. This might mean I am more tired than normal in the day, so if I am shattered, I build in breaks (as above). 
3. I make myself (or buy) juice from breakfast (beetroot, carrot, apple and ginger). More from the Mayo clinic on anti-anxiety nutrition guidelines here. 
4. I drink plenty of water all the time. It's great that I don't like coffee, tea etc. but I do miss diet coke. I love the no added sugar fizzy drinks from Marks and Spencer and I certainly am not a perfect diet person - it's just some things I can do, but I'm not a paragon of nutritional virtue - far from it.
5. I eat nutritious food, but also nice food. Crisps are a non-negotiable. I also can't give up bread. I. Love. Bread. And I will eat cookies too. Refined sugar might not be the best thing, but it tastes nice.

It's only 12.03 and I've got a lot more hours to get through. So here goes. But I hope for anyone reading this and wondering how they're going to get through the next few hours. Me too.

#GetSetToGo How Running Helps My Mental Health

#GetSetToGo with @MindCharity

This time last year I was one week into my spell in hospital to treat my acute depression. Throughout this hospital stay, though, part of my treatment plan was to continue to exercise, whether this meant running or walking, every day, because I so identify with the benefits one can derive from physical exercise. At the time we were trying to address my sleeplessness problem where I would often wake at 5 or even earlier and be unable to sleep for the rest of the night, in addition to having a broken night of sleep throughout. And we were also trying to calm me down from the completely ‘on’ Jessica that has to keep moving at all times so that nothing gets missed, but which has the negative side of keeping my mind permanently switched to hyper speed, racing through hundreds of different items on my multiple, mental “to-do” lists.

I started to run in 2009, thinking that if I were to be able to keep eating as I desired (and desire, I did!) I would have to start keeping fit in order to allow for that. I was eating about 1200 calories a day or so to try to keep my weight down, but when a ‘normal’ restaurant meal (or in fact a meal of any kind) was afoot, let alone when wine was served with dinner, of course, that base level went out of the window, and I knew that in order to have more flexibility with my diet and try to make sure that my clothes still fitted. The fact that I was also getting married in 2010 also provided a time-bound incentive – the dress, the dress, the dress!

Running towards a dangling burger (nope sorry, a carrot won't do it).

At first I was hopeless at running. My biggest failure was a total inability to pace myself. Running outdoors was hopeless as in less than a minute I’d be perspiring and expiring from the sprinter’s pace I’d mistakenly put in. I tried the treadmill as an alternative, but this approach meant that I was constantly looking at the clock in front of me, panicking that I couldn’t keep going and hyperventilating myself into stopping. Interval training was one way to get out of this, but I knew if I were ever going to run any kind of distance I had to learn to pace myself.

A fair distance...ZZzzzz

I finally agreed to do a 10K and absolutely had to get past this, and eventually realised that it was more mind over matter. If I ignored the bits of my mind telling me to stop, slow down, lie down, and concentrated on the bits telling me to keep going, don’t give up, not much farther, I finally built up my stamina. And I started listening to music that drowned out the sound of my ragged wheezy breaths and (at times) made me feel like I was dancing along with Katy Perry, Florence and the Machine, and Britney and Madge. It became a treat to go and spend time with my tunes. And the fact that burgers could be wiped off the slate afterwards if I’d run far enough were a massive bonus too.

I was still running last year, but much less than before.

Running up that hill. And that road. 

And if I could swap places and not...sometimes I would

Depression affects me by killing any desire to do anything. I just want to stay in bed or on the sofa. I can just about foresee the next meal, but any other activity is hugely difficult to contemplate, let alone complete. On my day of admission, my psychiatrist and I had deliberately planned a 1-2 week stay, in order to support my depression, but without wanting to delve too deeply into buried issues and traumas that might have increased my feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness and general defectiveness and have needed a lot longer than a short term treatment plan to deal with the many past life experiences which act as triggers for my low mood and inability to function.

At five in the morning, then, I would get up (not before trying to go back to sleep) and head out for a morning walk / run in the nearby park. I wasn’t confined to the hospital grounds as some of my fellow patients needed to be, so could benefit from the stunning summer sunshine and the – just about – cool enough weather of the early morning to run / walk through a few miles and return just in time for showering, breakfast and that day’s groups to begin. It was the Elle Woods approach. “Exercise gives you endorphins. [Yes!] Endorphins make you happy. [Yes!] Happy people don’t kill their husbands.” [I guess not but I have no ability to comment…]

It certainly gives you endorphins, Elle!

I continued my exercise after hospital, determined to make it a part of my recovery plan, and even signed up to run my first half marathon in a couple of years with my husband in the early autumn. If I’m being honest, preparations hadn’t quite gone to plan. I was clinging to ‘mind over matter’ but even I knew I had to have run more than 6 miles to complete a distance over twice the length. I ran home, ten miles, from Waterloo towards the west on a sunny afternoon. I made it through sheer grit, nothing else, and had no idea whether I’d be able to complete the 13.1 miles on the day.

Then I found the excuse of all excuses to avoid the half marathon by accidentally chucking myself down the stairs, fracturing my back in two places and smashing my left elbow in (and my head, bye bye sense of smell and taste buds)… it was an original excuse, and certainly prevented running for a fair long time afterwards.

PINK post Park Run

Tendonitis, thanks so much for adding to my list of medical complaints. And at this point any positive voice in my head was severely tested. I was so annoyed, frustrated, and fed up.

After a lot of physio I’ve been doing a Couch to 5K for the last few weeks, complete with orthotics in my shoes, more to accustom my battered feet to walking and running again than to get back to fitness. I have to say, I’ve been along to many more runs as a spectator than as a participant. I love the Park Run, where I regularly get trounced by yummy mummies, daddies (complete with single and double buggies), dogs and children, septuagenarians and more. 

You can get one of those T-Shirts if you do 50 Park Runs. I'm on 12. 

#GotToStartSomewhere

Today I accompanied Mat to the Harry Hawkes 10, a ten mile race along the Thames beginning and ending in Thames Ditton. I had dressed for a run, thinking to run a few miles and walk a bit while Mat ran the course; however, and I still can’t quite believe this as I write it, they were offering a last few ‘on the day’ entries, and I found myself handing over money in order to be allowed to try my luck on this course.

Harry Hawkes Ten. Done.

Surprisingly heavy medal!

I can only write with the primary emotion of surprise that I managed to complete it (with a snail’s pace and lots of stops for drinks, but I did it nonetheless). And I had the burger afterwards, with onion rings, fries and coleslaw too. (Come on, there have to be some perks). When I can get out of the house and on to the streets it makes such a difference to my mental health. I’m just glad I can say I’m well enough to get out of bed and get out for any kind of exercise. I feel so much better afterwards, but getting out there is the hugest step, the farthest distance, the hardest stage of the entire process. @MindCharity knows how beneficial physical exercise is, which is why they’ve launched their #GetSetToGo programme.When I’m out there doing it, particularly with a crowd, sometimes I just keep going. I hope this is the start of an upward slope for my running. (Just not literally, at least for now!) Take care. xxx

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.

Coastal Hashing and International Women's Day

Morning walk along the beach, Mankoadze

On Saturday morning Amanda and I set out on our adventure up the coast to the hash weekend, beginning, naturally with some lunch to set us up for the journey. We're heading up the coast for this once-a-month weekend away, which we're able to enjoy all the more since it's Independence Day in Ghana on Sunday, and everyone is taking a public holiday to celebrate 54 years of independence.

At Asanka Local, Chop Bar

Asanka Local is a 'chop' (food) bar in central Osu, a massive dance hall-like place with a very high ceiling and simple wooden tables and chairs. It seems it's a local institution, mainly for lunch, and fills up on Saturdays with a mixed crowd of couples out on a date, construction work men taking a break, and of course, the token white travellers. We are here to meet Neil, hash name Sleepy Dick(!) who is a Canadian-born farmer living in Accra, where he and his Ghanaian wife have a farm. Within the open kitchen we saw massive stainless steel bowls filled with dark red stews. They look very similar to me - in colour at any rate - but we're asked to choose between goat, chicken or tilapia, pepper sauce or soups and banku, fufu or rice, so in fact there are many different choices available.

Banku is a dense maize-based pattie shaped like a fat beef burger. With your right hand, you break off a piece of this and dip it into your bowl of sauce, soup and meat to scoop up some of the liquid and eat with some meat. Rather like the Ethiopian injera, the custom is to eat with your right hand and leave your left hand dry; unlike injera, however, the sauces accompanying the banku are runny in consistency, and only a Ghanaian old hand (no pun intended) would be able to eat this without getting sauce everywhere. Wearing a white t-shirt, I decided to opt for a safer option of redred with plantains, which I ate with a fork, but I tasted the banku and sauces, which were spicy and tasty. Most Ghanaians eat this sort of meal for lunch or late afternoon, as the density of banku will challenge the digestive system (and put even the most caffeinated individual to sleep for the rest of the day).

"Sleepy" drives us through Accra to the outskirts, where we sit in traffic jam after jam. Driving, incidentally, is not quite a blood sport in Ghana, but certainly an adventure in playing chicken. Lanes are poorly demarcated, if at all, and one needs to drive with a derring-do attitude that any Londoner would respect. Driving at cars or buses seems to be a necessity if one wants to change lanes or come off at a roundabout turning, in the hope that the cars threatened by this manoeuvre will be valued at a higher price by their drivers than being one space ahead in the endless stream of crawling cars.

The shore, Mankoadze on the second hash run

The outskirts of Accra seem endless; the newly constructed road leading all the way to Takoradi (some 200km away) and beyond has created new business opportunities along the way, and so we pass by a steady number of shops and buildings on our way, lining the street. Beyond them, back from the road, there are rarely more than a handful of houses. The life and industry of these suburban outposts is on the highway, where the vendors sell their fruits, packets of super glue and water bottles to the traffic-jammed travelers, or perhaps fix a flat tyre or provide a cold beer to those staying for a little longer.

Keke's Beach Resort, Makoadze

We head through Winneba to reach Makoadze, a town named originally 'Windy Bay' which then loosened by the Ghanaian accent morphed into Winneba. It's a university town, the buildings of which contrast with the simple roadside huts and grey concrete houses with their manicured lawns and fresh cream-painted stone and glass exteriors. On through this, though, we turn off the road some 10km farther, into the red-dust road leading to Mankoadze and Keke's, our weekend destination.

Setting out on the first hash run

The hashers are already kitted out for the first run when we arrive, so quickly into our trainers and down to meet them and we're suddenly running along the beach, 'On on!' along the hash trail. It's 4pm so the heat has died down from a temperature that could melt glass to one that might mere singe one's hair, and luckily the sea breeze takes the edge off. Over the next two days on the three runs that we do I develop an impressive range of scratches, mosquito bites and sporadic sun burn by running like the mad English woman that I am through the beautiful countryside. Thankfully at the end of every run there's hash circle time where stories and jokes are shared, and beers and ground nuts available in plentiful supply, and we can also run for a dip in the sea, still in running garb, to cool down a bit. Then food, time to chat and relax and read for the rest of the weekend, whilst the gigantic presence sea roars softly in the background. The photographs of Keke's speak for themselves.

Second hash run, where we pass boys paddling furiously out to sea to catch fish

On our final run we have a checkpoint (a chance for the walkers and runners to group together before running off on the next part of the trail) at a skeleton beach cottage a few hundred yards from our hotel. This is actually a cottage begun by none other than child star and sometime political candidate Shirley Temple, who was US ambassador to the Republic of Ghana, I learn, from 1974-1976. Unfortunately given the short length of her tenure, this little cottage was never completed and is probably one of the only reminders of her time spent in Ghana nearly four decades ago.

STC - Shirley Temple's Cottage by the sea

Refreshed after our holiday weekend, it's back to work in the office. Tuesday is International Women's day and the women of CARE Ghana's office have decided to 'warm the seats' of their superiors - most of whom are men - by taking over the desks of their line managers for the morning, whilst wearing traditional Ghanaian dress. Amanda and I have been primed for this activity and are escorted to buy fabric from Oxford Street in Osu, and then to a local dress-maker who keeps a tiny metal hut only a street away from our office, so that she can measure us for our outfits.

Modeling my traditional Ghanaian outfit

The dressmaker is a tiny woman, deafening herself with the religious pop hymns blaring out from her ancient stereo as she churns out vibrant-coloured garments for her clientele. We select our styles from a poster where a variety of styles and fabrics are modeled, and it's as simple as that. Returning from the weekend away to a quiet Monday afternoon, only four days after our first meeting with the dressmaker and our colourful outfits are ready to wear! After practising our walking - the skirts are cut tight traditionally, restricting movement - we head into the office decked out like peacocks for our day celebrating the women of the world. It feels great to be in Ghana contributing to CARE's strategic mission to lift 10 million women and girls out of poverty by 2015 on this day.

Celebrating International Women's Day