PERMANENTLY TEMPORARY

I live in a state of being permanently temporary. I guess we all do to some extent… But since ceasing paid employment at the end of 2017, my routine has been – to put it mildly – flexible. I like it this way.

It’s very bad for me.

I remember back (like it was just yesterday) to my little toddlers and how much they pushed against routine, but how much it benefited them. And the whole family. I feel like that toddler. I don’t want routine – I want to eat, sleep, play, work, as I please. But without routine I have no boundaries, and without boundaries I waft around in the ether moving from one urgent project to the next, with no sense of purpose or structure.

Everything in my life feels temporary.

The unpainted walls in my kitchen I can’t bear to look at. It’s been 15 years now.

The downstairs bathroom awaiting a bath so we use it as a storage cupboard – 18 years so far.

The clothes in my wardrobe I no longer fit. Again. Just waiting for me to “get back to…”

Writing – my book, editing projects, this blog…

My adored cat, 13 years old and fit and well, but time marches on and he’s elderly now.

Ditto for my dad – 86 years old. My time with him is precious and valuable, because it’s far from permanent.

My children’s presence in my life. As they mature into adulthood, work and girlfriends, they disappear from my house. Come back when necessity dictates. But living with them is temporary – they’ll go soon and it will just be my husband and I. And a clean house…

Everyone I know and love. I’ve lost enough people to know anyone can go at any moment. You just never know…

When I worked – outside the home – I had structure. Get up, shower, eat breakfast, work, cook dinner, relax, go to bed. Repeat.

Now I have no structure.

My sleep is erratic – sometimes I stay awake all night, getting barely two hours sleep. Sometimes I want to sleep for three days.

My eating is erratic. What I want, when I want. If I want it at all…

My work is erratic – writing my book, maintaining this blog, assisting my friend launch her new business.

My socialising is erratic. I barely stay in contact with friends and family. Feel guilty. Then reach out because I miss them. Then drift away again because life feels too hard.

The answer my friends, is blowin’ in the wind.

Structure. I have no external timelines to adhere to, so I have to create them for myself. And to be successful in that, I need external support – accountability. My routine needs to be non-negotiable – just as it was when I went to work. I started at 9am and finished at 3pm. It wasn’t negotiable – I had to be there, and my eating/sleeping/socialising was structured around that.

I need structure.

Non-negotiable times to get up each day.

Non-negotiable times to eat each day.

Regular contact with friends, because connection to humanity is part of the thread that holds me here.

My house… a source of tremendous shame and disappointment, and I do nothing whatsoever to maintain it. I don’t clean or tidy – I’ve let it go because I can’t bear it. There are so many aspects of my house beyond my control. But there are also lots of aspects well within my control, and my focus needs to be there.

Timelines for all the projects I dabble in – so I don’t let anyone down. Myself included. This is the biggest area I need structure in. I focus on a single project to the detriment of everything – including sleeping, eating and basic self care. Creating structure around unpaid work is no easy task, but as the oft-repeated phrase states quite clearly, life isn’t meant to be easy. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone. We all make choices, and I can choose to waft around in the ether feeling unstructured, without purpose, and guilty for letting everything and everyone go. Or I can choose to create routine and solicit support from my supernaturally supportive network of adored people, and find a bit of peace in my life as a result.

Structure is purpose.

Life without purpose is very difficult to live. Why am I here and why bother? become oft-repeated phrases. Structuring a routine of working on projects and meeting with friends, gives me a reason to get out of bed, and a focus outside myself. It helps create a vision of the future. Focusing on the meaningless existence of my life, is not helpful for a healthy mindset.

Just like the ankle bone is connected to the knee bone, routine is connected to meaningful existence, which is connected to why I am here, which is connected to a vision of my future self, which is connected to a healthy mindset here and now. Tomorrow my friends, I will establish a routine and invite external support to provide accountability. Tomorrow…

GIRL WITH THE EATING DISORDER

I identify really strongly as “the girl with the eating disorder”. I need a better identity in order to move past this one… I get asked from time to time what to “do” to help or support me. I’m usually flummoxed by this question. I have no idea how to help myself – how can I provide information I don’t know?!

But upon further reflection, there are warning signs I recognise as the beginning of a slippery descent, and there are things I do in a healthy headspace, that are beneficial if my head goes haywire.

Warning Signs

These vary hugely for everyone – and if you’re trying to figure out your own warning signs, keep investigating. It’s so important to understand. Personally, this is what starts piling up:

• Lack of self care: forgetting medications, doing everything for everybody, letting the house go, not writing, diminishing personal care (not brushing teeth or removing makeup before bed)
• Isolating: spending too much time away from other people, choosing any activity that keeps me alone, not checking in on friends
• Cancelling: I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility – cancelling appointments or plans is a bad sign (unless I have a dreadful physical malady – then it’s probably justified…)
• Ignoring pain: “forgetting” to stretch when I’m stiff and sore, or just letting the pain in my back and legs deteriorate without intervention
• Staying in my pyjamas: most comfortable thing in the world – not good for mental health
• Staying in bed all day: ditto… so comfortable and so mentally unhealthy
• Overmedicating: taking things I don’t need just to disappear into unconsciousness for a while
• Shopping: while some shopping is necessary (groceries), impulse buys are not a good sign. Parcels turning up at my doorstep I have no recollection ordering? Even worse sign.
• Not eating properly: no breakfast, eating only when people see me, binging in the middle of the night, only eating cereal, not drinking water, complete restriction, food refusal (I’m in a bad head space by then – but it starts with a single step, skip breakfast)
• Fatigue: might be caused by sleep deprivation, lack of food, or being mentally unwell – but sleep won’t make it go away, it just offers a few hours reprieve.
• Sleep: I fucking hate insomnia – critically exhausted while simultaneously wide awake. Sleep deprivation turns into a catch 22 situation – can’t sleep, do stupid things, feel guilty and ashamed, go crazy in the head, crazy head keeps me awake. If I sleep all day and all night, I’m very unwell – whether that’s physically or mentally depends on circumstance.
• Self harm: scratching or tearing at my hands and feet, using implements (only happens when things have gone totally pear shaped these days)
• Suicidal ideation: this is tricky – because not a day goes past without suicidal thoughts. But stockpiling, planning, focusing on the ideation, ticking things off my to-do list, accepting the inevitability of suicide – these are all particularly bad signs.
• Constipation and/or diarrhoea: delightful… but when things go to shit, my shit doesn’t work

Now what?!

That’s a list of unhelpful things. Like politicians, it’s easier to talk about problems than do anything about it. But there are things I’ve learned and know how to put into practice:

Coping Strategies

• Let go and let God: this is number one – particularly when highly distressed. Simple mantras (this too shall pass, I’m stuck not broken etc), chanted over and over until intense emotions pass. Let go and let God is my favourite – long before I had a belief in God. Something about saying “let go” really helps (“let go and let my higher power” just doesn’t have a good ring to it…) And mantras need to be blessedly short. Anyone who’s ever had a panic attack will understand that repeating a big long spiel ain’t gonna happen. Five word limit!
• Routine: have a routine! Flexibility is good, but the basics need to be there. Get up and go to bed at vaguely similar times. Mealtimes. Appointments. Schedule time for work, self care, socialising, housework. Routine is so important when life feels out of control.
• Daily meditation: turning on a meditation app (my favourites are Calm and Soultime at the moment) and listening to the damn thing. All the way through. Repeat.
• Eat: three meals a day – breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not just cereal – proteins and vegetables and healthy stuff that makes my previously mentioned shit work. Follow the 3/5 rule my dietitian set me (every meal needs at least three of the five food groups)
• Exercise: every single day. Not just going to the gym five days a week for an hour, but getting out and about moving, walking in nature, doing housework. Anything other than sit on my butt.
• Grounding: this is for coping with distress (extreme anxiety, upset, grief etc). Basically use the five senses to ground in the here and now – push feet into floor, feel everything touching the body (clothes, bed, chair etc), what can I see, hear, touch and smell. Keep focusing on each one. And breathe. Slowly.
• Sleep: go to bed at night, get up during the day. Create a routine. Stick to it. Use good sleep hygiene. Medicate only as necessary.
• Socialise: the older I get, the harder it is. I used to be a people person, now they exhaust me. But getting out and spending time with people (the ones I like…) creates positivity
• Having fun: doing enjoyable things even when I don’t have time, I’m too tired, don’t deserve it, should be doing something else etc. In DBT we discussed the importance of building a bank of positivity by doing things – large and small – that bring pleasure, and being mindful of the pleasurable aspects at the time. Simple things like snuggling my cat, or big things like camping at the beach for five days. Something everyday – build the bank.
• Spirituality: spending time handing over, looking outside myself to the greater mysteries of life, conversing with God (and ensuring it’s a two-way conversation). Faith in God is not a pre-requisite for spirituality – I’ve come to believe those of us struggling with recovery from [name your issue…] will remain stuck until spiritual practice and acceptance is found. I’ve met highly spiritual atheists and spiritless Christians, so where you find the willingness to look outside yourself and handover is personal. For me – the search ended with a faith in God. Not religion…
• Writing: the thing I need and love the most – often the first thing sacrificed (as evidenced by my lack of posts here in recent months)
• Talking: I suck at talking – about me. Happy to talk about you – not happy to talk about me. You’ll have to drag it out of me (ingrained childhood habit – don’t talk about me). I find it difficult to understand the ins and outs of myself when talking (this is why I write), but without talking things over (with trusted people…) the ruminations overwhelm
• Being productive & purposeful: tricky… because this can morph into “everything for everyone else”, so like most things it’s a balance. There’s something about working on a task and getting it done that gives a sense of satisfaction – whether it’s scrubbing my fridge, or completing a major assignment, it leads to a sense of purpose, and purpose leads to my final point…
• Picturing a future: so difficult in recent years, but the more I do it the better I get. Needs to be realistic… Imagining a future as a professional ballet dancer is unhelpful. Imagining a future where my book is finished and published, I have a job, I travel and spend time with friends and family – that’s helpful.

If you only know me through my blog, it may be hard to picture that I was once a different person altogether. It’s only when I cracked apart in 2015 all these “problems” started. Prior to that I was just a normal person – blissfully unaware of issues simmering away that I had numbed into non-existence in a most spectacular manner. Sometimes I yearn for that ignorant girl.

My identity…

All the problematic behaviours I indulge in, cover up the real problems – hidden depression and anxiety. I’ve inadvertently built myself a new identity, and part of my recovery is redefining the “new me”.

Once I was a musician, student, chorister, administrator, mother, teacher, wife, daughter, friend. Now I “have” mental health problems.

Now I’m the girl with the eating disorder.

HOW ARE YOU?

A coded question, that in some circumstances, is a call for help.

When struggling with some variety of mental health problems, it’s often reinforced by support circles of professionals, friends and family, that reaching out and talking – to real live people – is very important. That defusing the stress, catastrophising, urge to do something destructive, is best done by reaching out and talking to a trusted person.

It really is outstanding advice.

The trouble however, is when people are in a particularly low phase of whatever mental health condition burdens their shoulders and sits like a stone in their belly, reaching out is really, really hard. It takes a lot of energy to ring someone and tell them you’re not doing well – and probably can’t even express why in words. The malaise just sits there and may have no known reasons. And for so many in the mental health community, there is a sense of burden we carry, and sharing problems, issues, emotions, stress, is exhausting. Quite possibly impossible..

When depression and anxiety wrap their creepy little fingers around the heart and soul, the desire to reach out is almost non-existent. Self-care feels utterly pointless. But after working with professional support teams long enough, it’s possible even in the darkest of moments, to remember the occasional skill. There are so many tips and tricks and tools and strategies for managing a decline, but remembering them and choosing to use them during a low moment is problematic. But a single tool, well practiced when stress isn’t overwhelming, can feel almost tangible, and at that point, it’s possible to reverse the decline. And one of the easiest ways to reach out is to send a message to someone.

How are you?

So innocent. No placing a burden on someone else’s shoulders. No necessity to talk about problems. But the simplest of ways to connect with another human.

How are you?

If you’re lucky, that human will answer honestly. Then reciprocate – How are YOU? And when the generic I’m fine is presented, with a little prodding, pushing, and gentle requestioning, it’s possible to learn, I’m fine isn’t true. There’s something going on, and the chaos inside the head is too much to think through. But finding that listening ear can be all that’s needed to turn the tide back in the right direction.

So how are YOU? Like really?!

FEARING HOPE

Hope seems like such a positive emotion. Something anyone would want to have and strive for. Something we’d all hope to have and to offer to others.

Fear on the other hand – who would want to live with fear, anxiety and the heavy burden it drapes around your neck.

There a times though, when hope feels fearful. To be hopeful is to be vulnerable. Opening up to the possibility of a different future where wishes can come true. Where little distant dreams you dared to dream, might turn into reality. Where all the blows you’ve come to expect, can’t come. Where you can trust in the trilogy of faith, hope and love, and believe the hope won’t burn to ashes and rain down around your feet.

Part of the recovery process is relapse, and it shames me to say I’ve been down the rabbit hole again. I would have stayed down there with the bunnies, all soft and familiar and comfortable, but my nearest and dearest wouldn’t have a bar of it and dragged me out again. The shorter the relapse, the quicker the recovery and I’m standing back on wobbly feet now.

But hope? Without hope the recovery path is dotted with too many rabbit holes and navigating the holey path problematic.

Depression and anxiety are sometimes simplified as living in the past and the future, without ever living in the present. But it’s not entirely true. While depression tends to look back, it’s a focus on all that’s gone wrong, all the dreams that passed by, all the grief, mistakes, loss and fear. But the past also holds lessons, love, joy and ecstasy. Moments of great happiness and contentment. Memories of success and the dreams that did come true. They mustn’t be forgotten – no matter how scarce they were.

The future is filled with fear and anxiety, but that isn’t all it holds – it’s also the place where dreams, and wishes, hope and clever ideas all live. The future is what gives purpose to now.

When hopes and dreams become something to fear, the future holds little appeal. When past experience says being vulnerable leads to shame and humiliation, being hopeful holds little appeal. When hope withers and dies, purpose shrivels up as well, leaving little opportunity for peace.

Life is full of choice however. I can be bound by the past and constricted by the future, or I can choose to submit once again to vulnerability. To put trust in faith, hope and love. To remember that every time I fall, a steady network of hands holds me up until I can stand alone.

My recent relapse is a desperate desire to return to a perception of control. To stay with the familiar no matter how miserable it is. Because the alternative is far more scary.

My identities are all long gone, and I’m building new ways of seeing myself. I don’t know what they are yet – and that’s unsettling. Familiar habits of disordered eating and self-harm are easy, safe ways to manage out of control emotions, depression and anxiety – even when I know full well those very same habits keep me anchored in diseased thinking. Letting go is not easy. Submitting to the unknown is not easy. Being vulnerable is not easy.

But life was never meant to be easy.

I’ve left the rabbits behind again, but I’m dancing close to the rabbit holes because it feels safe. My next step in the recovery road is to fill my head with positives. Let go and let God. When lost in the past, remembering the amazing experiences I’ve been blessed with. When disappearing into the future, allowing myself to dream of a better place without fear of the consequences. If our thoughts become our reality, then it’s time I changed the thoughts. It’s time I choose to move towards recovery not just when it’s easy, but more importantly, when it’s really hard. When I don’t want to.

Have I let the past go yet? I think so. I’ve found a fairly healthy acceptance of what’s been and no longer feel any sense of blame. Regret – absolutely. But no blame

Can I picture the future yet? Not really. But I’m working on it.

RECONCILING GOD

I have found God.

Some people reading this will rejoice. Others will wring their hands and wonder what the fuck happened to me. I neither know nor care.

My entire life has been spiritually bereft, and it turns out that hasn’t been entirely beneficial for my mental health. I grew up without any type of faith – something I am, and will always be, extremely grateful for. Whatever beliefs I carry and develop from this point forward have been developed in adulthood and with full cognisance of all the pros and cons of taking on a spiritual belief housed within the confines of a traditional religion. I have no past experiences to colour my beliefs – merely a four-year journey to find comfort and healing from my own mental struggles. Something I have come to realise cannot be done without a spiritual grounding. For some that is a higher power, others seek answers in the universe, nature, or community, and many people find spirituality in God. I have become one of those people.

My astonishingly intelligent husband and children question how I believe in something without concrete proof. I want to – that’s all I need. I feel that’s the definition of faith – believing in something for which there’s no concrete evidence. I believed in angels even when I was a little girl. My grandmother said I can’t believe in angels if I don’t believe in God. Why not? Who makes the rules about what’s acceptable or unacceptable in a personal faith? Not grandma – I’m quite certain of that.

I’ve learned loads of recovery tools – for depression, anxiety, self harm and disordered eating. But for numerous reasons, I’m still floundering more than four years down the track. I don’t need more tools and tips, tricks and resources – I need belief in myself and in a future I can’t picture. And that requires faith.

I don’t like blind faith.

Blind faith requires outsourcing – grounding spiritual and religious belief and practice in external forces. I’m not comfortable with that. My core moral values have been developed, honed and consolidated over 53 years. They won’t suddenly back flip because I’ve found a faith in God. I prefer a softer approach – looking for beauty, strength and love in God, as the many millions of people who have found comfort and solace over the generations have done.

Spiritual awareness is very new and unfamiliar to me. I was raised to be pragmatic and practical. Useful and helpful. There was no room for emotional expression, and as someone with an abundance of emotion, this was problematic. My solution was pragmatic – don’t feel anything and don’t display emotion.

Bury everything and get on with being useful.

As I began the slow decline into a complete unraveling, all those suppressed emotions started rising to the surface, like a thousand beach balls I’d valiantly endeavoured to keep pushed below the surface of the water. Eventually it was impossible. That’s when I started searching for answers. And coincidentally, that’s when I had my first really spiritual experience.

Many moons ago I saw a hypnotherapist who claimed to specialise in weight loss. It didn’t help my weight or eating, but I had an unforgettable experience. As part of the hypnosis I found myself descending a large spiral staircase, and at the bottom was a passageway and a door. My recently deceased mother was facing the door with her back towards me and she paused a moment as I said I was sorry and that I loved her. I desperately wanted her to turn around – fearful I’d forget what she looked like. She walked through the door without looking back. I’ve never felt her presence since, but I’ve tried valiantly to reproduce the hypnotic effect of descending that staircase in the hopes of seeing her.

On Easter Sunday I went to church.

Church is a very new, mildly uncomfortable experience – I feel like a fish out of water. But I want to find the presence of God – as I’ve heard described so often – and church seems like a good place to do that. I’ve traveled a very rocky road for quite a few weeks – finding myself in active relapse – so I’m emotionally quite vulnerable. I felt like the pastor was speaking directly to me – his message one that spoke straight to my heart. I kept looking over my left shoulder, sure someone had walked up behind me. There was nobody there, but the sense of a presence wouldn’t leave me. A presence that wanted to say, I’ve got your back. And not in a creepy way. So I’ll keep going back in the hope I feel that presence again.

I have no doubt many people would say I’m reading into things that aren’t there. That’s okay. It’s not about them – it’s about me. That presence at my shoulder gave me comfort and that’s all that matters.

Receiving mental health diagnoses is a very lonely road. I am indeed fortunate to have a wonderful group of people who have supported me. But now I need to be all grown up and stand on my own two feet. Finding strength in the divine is a faith I choose to have – because I want to.

TOO MUCH

I’m a highly sensitive person.

Don’t be so sensitive – that is the most common nugget of advice I get. I don’t get it. I don’t understand. Since when is insensitivity something to strive for?

Hannah Gadsby: Nanette

I’ve watched Nanette seven times now. It never fails to touch me. Funny. Honest. Tear-jerking. A powerful commentary on the slow decay of humanity and decency in public debate, and the visceral pain of being labelled different. Hannah Gadsby feels different – incorrectly female, she shares – enduring great personal suffering as a result.

One way or another, we all feel different but some differences are too much while others are celebrated. What is curious, is that sensitivity is rarely considered a positive trait in twenty-first century living. Being sensitive is being different. It’s inconvenient for others. Yet if more of the populace was highly attuned to the feelings of others, we’d live in a kinder world.

Like many things in life, sensitivity sits on a spectrum, with the HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) crowning the top of the list. For those of us sitting high on the spectrum, life can be overwhelming. In addition to being acutely sensitive to sight, sound, touch, taste and smell, HSPs are often empaths and introverts. Empaths because we feel and absorb the emotions bleeding from those around us, no matter how they try to hide it. Introverts because refuge and recuperation from overwhelming sensory input can require time alone to regenerate the energy and will to face another day.

I PERSONALLY SCORE TOP MARKS IN ALL THREE AREAS

While all three traits exist independently, they are frequently intertwined. Unfortunately I wasn’t blessed with the tools to manage emotional overload during long days or through difficult circumstances. When healthy coping strategies don’t come naturally, it’s natural to find other ways to soothe the soul – even if those ways turn out to be maladaptive. Overturning maladaptive coping mechanisms is no easy task. Emotions and experiences automatically numbed for decades, when thrust back into the limelight become a burden too great to bear. For me, nature and nurture came together and birthed lifelong struggles with mental health – namely depression, anxiety and disordered eating, my personal manifestation of emotional ignorance and avoidance.

Hypersensitivity is too much for most people – we’re told to toughen up, be more resilient, don’t take things so personally. Good advice if you want the personality of a slab of concrete – emotions buried six feet under. Not particularly useful if you want to be a fully functioning adult in a complex world. Twelve step meetings are full of hypersensitive souls, lacking the tools to cope with the bombardment of sensory input around them.

The irony of hypersensitivity, is a tendency to diminish, bury, or invalidate personal feelings and experiences to the detriment of self – as Hannah Gadsby inadvertently learned and honed with her highly successful brand of self-deprecating humour.

BUT THE WORLD NEEDS US

An ever-shrinking global landscape needs people who can see through the deception of carefully constructed facial expressions, and the increasing prevalence of artfully manipulative political leaders. We need more folk to care for the humanity of spirit over the blind greed of material wealth, and to work quietly in the shadows making this world a better place, simply because it’s a beautiful thing to do – not for glory, accolades or financial reward.

Today I went to church. Not because I was asked, or to work, but to find people who believe in God and Jesus and miracles. Who profess faith in a humble man who preached love, kindness, compassion and goodness. Because I yearn to find more people like that in the world and in my spiritual quest, I hope church will reveal a compassionate and loving community.

I think if Jesus walked the earth today, he would be a highly sensitive, empathic introvert, acutely aware of the feelings of those around him. An expert reader of body language. And a man who took time alone to recharge his batteries as he communed with his Father. I am very new to the Christian faith and to be brutally honest, I struggle with huge chunks of it. Not the God and Jesus bits – love and kindness and compassion are right up my alley. But the global hypocrisy we see in every faith as people preach one thing and do another. When moral superiority is deemed more important than kindness, decency and humanity.

SOMETIMES IT SEEMS THE WORLD IS DROWNING IN EGO

The answer for an empathic, introverted, drowning HSP is not more tips and tools and tricks. The answer is compassion, kindness and love – not just for the pain we see in other’s eyes, but for the pain buried in the depths of our bosoms, and glossed over as inconsequential. Insensitivity is not something to strive for when you’re caught in a cycle of emotional overload. Self-care is something to strive for. The ability to recognise the boundaries of where compassion stops and subsuming oneself begins.

It took nearly five decades for me to even begin to understand myself – why I am who I am, do what I do, feel what I feel, and think how I think. With a lot of support from truly outstanding humans, I’ve learned to accept I’m not a tree – I have the capacity to get up and move from my moments of misery and to make better choices. Does that stop me being overly sensitised to the world around me? Of course not. Have I started developing strategies to protect myself from self-destruction? Yes. I’m a work in progress – but then again, that is no doubt a most delightful way to describe a life journey

Those of us consumed by the emotional leakage of humanity are not victims, idiots, or martyrs. We live in a kaleidoscope of sensory input, overwhelmed with emotions in and around us. The Highly Sensitive Person needs compassion reflected back to them, and understanding when finally we grow wrinkly and wise enough to care for our own fragile shells.