Burn Out Versus Balance: The (Almost) Eternal Flame

I have had a wonderful week in so many respects, despite having an horrific cold. Seriously, this time I think it was man flu. I genuinely didn't get out of bed last Sunday. It was the real deal. Scary.

Last week was the week after Inclusion Week at work and some wonderful experiences speaking on a Women's Network panel, a Mental Health 101 panel and more. Little surprise then that I would perhaps get sick and need to do more self care than usual. I wrote a long post about taking care (both of ourselves and one another) when we think about our mental health. Not just our mental health, in fact, but our entire health. Every bit of it. But for me I do want to treat myself as being an ordinary person, for whom depression is just one part - one - of who I am. One of the questions I was asked was: "What are some things that you do to take care of yourself?"

I have never been good at this. I've been hopeless at it in fact. If I set myself a goal, I'll want to achieve it, even if it means studying for longer, training for that marathon just a little bit harder, working extra hours, skipping breaks, all to get those goals checked off.

In reality this is not sustainable. To use the same sports metaphor I tell my colleagues - particularly the graduates coming in - life is a marathon not a sprint, whether at work or away from work: we have a long way to go and if we're going to have the best chance of making it to the end we have to take care of ourselves and find that balance between being ambitious and stretching ourselves, and trying to make sure that we don't achieve that (too often named) condition that affects every bit of us: "burn out".

I hate this phrase because it suggests that there's nothing left; a blackened match with no fire power left, completely useless. In some very extreme cases of burn out I imagine that people would need months (years maybe) to recover, depending on the personal circumstances of whatever led you to be there.

I have probably only burned out during a project in the USA where the clients were challenging, the hours punishing and the goals almost unattainable (I say almost because I attained them, but at tremendous personal cost to my health and wellbeing.)

Even in the above circumstance however, it wasn't as if there was nothing left at all: I could still go out for a meal, go for a run, visit a museum, walk in the park. I could even write my blog and carry on working. This is why I am so adamant that even with a mental health condition I can still be 'resilient' and why I'm working to make sure we have those conversations to #RedefineResilience : and not equating the word 'resilient' with bouncing back better and stronger than ever and never ever again having a slight off moment. Ever.

I don't bounce. I think I established that last year when I broke my back.

but I. Come. Back. Eventually.

Now, had I been a lottery winner, I'd be the first to admit that given the choice I would have just left work and booked myself at least a year of recovery time. But unfortunately, knowing that the chances of winning the lottery 1 in 32,441,381,280. 32 Billion - thanks Lotto for adding those extra numbers - I think I'll focus on a little thing I like to call REALITY.

So here's my a view of what balance looks like for me:

1. I eat some fresh juices courtesy of my own recipes and those of +JuiceMaster Jason Vale and @Joethejuicer Joe Cross) because the juices give me the vitamins I so need as well as reducing my anxiety levels and helping me to maintain a healthy weight. I also eat burgers with fries, onion rings and coleslaw. Because. I. Love. Them. And no matter that I will never have the waist of Kate Moss (that ship has sailed so far out I can't even see it. In fact I can't even see the horizon. Because I'm in a town.) I love good tasting food and for me it makes me happy to eat nice food.

   

   Yes, not my usual ingredients for a glass shaped like this. But juices help

   . 

   

   And NOW we are talking.

2. I see friends and go into the office because seeing people and having a chance to be social is good for me. If I'm in a slump it gets me out of the house and if I'm not it's energising. This assumes that I surround myself with people who are nice, mostly positive (or at least realistic!) and who are caring, kind, generally lovely and smart. In these cases my life is made immeasurably better by spending a few hours in their company. If, on the other hand, the people are rude, negative, life-haters, like Stuart the Virgin Trains man on the train from Manchester to London who once gave me a ten minute lecture for asking for the sandwich which (as someone who had a first class ticket) I had already paid for, finishing with "You know you're wrong. You ask your mother if I'm right..." then no, I won't feel better, and I tend to avoid these people like I would the currently rutting stags in the park.

   

   Yep. I'm not keen on these types of people.

   I might not die, but I'll certainly feel worse. On the other hand, I can't have too much contact with people because it is very tiring to be face-to-face all the time, so I have a couple of days at home each week at least, go to bed early and don't socialise too much, and spend a lot of the weekend having 'quiet time': hello Netflix and Kindle.
3. I exercise - for me it's running - a few times a week. I channel my inner Paula Radcliffe (the non-peeing-outside-part-of-Paula-Radcliffe, just to be clear)

   

   Did she or didn't she?

   and take to the streets or park for fresh air and fitness that will provide natural endorphins to boost my medication. I also walk up the escalators on tubes and walk around as much as I can. But I do not do too much. So I'm not currently running every day - more like 4 days a week (although clearly, see above, not with a cold...man flu no less!). And on those rest days I do, really, rest.
   
4. I work and love to work, but I don't work much outside of my 40 hour week.

   

   I also 'don't work'. I.e. I have a life outside of work. And I'm not just talking about writing this blog or talking about mental health. I'm talking real life outside of work stuff - whatever that is. Rest, painting, drawing, talking to people, watching Grand Designs and Bake Off and so on. I might make an exception to this, (the work, not Bake Off)

   

   Do. Not. Mess. With. My. Bake Off.

   but if I do, then I compensate for it. E.g. I recently went to a two day training course which completely shattered me. I therefore (suspecting this would be the case) took the day off the next day and spent it recovering. Eating, meeting my mum, sleeping. Feeling a bit better. I do make myself write a blog post every week because it makes me feel so good to be writing and - especially if I reach just one person and help them know that other people like me are also feeling a bit, frankly, rubbish, and that they deserve help, then that just makes me so happy. (Crying happy, smiley happy. The whole thing.)

Selfie fun with @Dawnoporter and @NimcoAli

For the last one - I should add that fun is in the mix. So with this in mind I went to Stylist Live on Thursday. I practically tackled Nimco Ali to the floor when I saw she was there, I pouted while taking selfies with Nimco and Dawn O'Porter (who I confirmed to that I didn't know who she was - or at least I didn't recognise her by sight!) and I told Stella I didn't know who she was, and then found out that Stella was Stella Creasy. And of course I knew! Surrrlightly embarrassed.

Dannie and Stella Creasy. 

But I did talk to all of them about mental health. I managed somehow to stand up in a room full of people and simultaneously 'come out' about my mental health (again, but this time...) to Caitlin Moran while I asked her what the last taboo was (that we could talk about) and she said she said 'everything' was still taboo - so a lot more work to be done! But the best thing about the day was talking to all of the great people there: Mosama, Zoe, Nancy, Fareeda, Linda, to @ThisWorks sleep and other beauty products) and to @YullShoes,

to Katie at Stylist Magazine and all the other amazing women (it was all women on this occasion) I met and who shared their mental health stories with me. Their brothers with anxiety, their husbands whom they call at lunch to help him get through the day, the antidepressants we've taken, the therapists we've seen, the bereavements we've had...everything. I always feel honoured by every person who shares a story about themselves or someone they know with me - it's like getting a present - and I hope that by talking about it myself I'm making this easier to talk about, and that we will make it easier for others too, and enable people to get help and feel that they deserve it.

This stuff really works by the way. Ahhh, a good night's sleep. 

A real rarity for me now less rate thanks to this!

I'm really tired now so signing off but please take care of yourself, and whatever you've got lined up for the week ahead, maybe consider a little balance. It can help.

Love xxxx Jessica

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.