Category: recovery

Day 8

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

We had an early start this morning, Lydia and me.

It was misty when we stepped out, and the spiders had been busy all night by the look of it. There were webs everywhere, finely woven and sparkling when the sun started to shine.

After our walk, I gave Lydia her breakfast and headed off to meet up with a friend.

We don’t meet often, this friend and I, but we settled into each other’s company quickly and easily, as only good friends can do.

Like me, she has recently suffered from anxiety, so we were able to ‘compare notes’. She’s found hypnotherapy a great help; I’ve found meditation works for me, along with affirmations.

“I choose to be peaceful and calm. Everything is unfolding as it should.”

I did a quick Google search and it seems that hypnotherapy is not usually available on the NHS, which means that it sometimes is.

I’ll stick with meditation for now, but hypnotherapy is something that I had little awareness of before and know a bit more about now.

We talked about a lot of other things too, of course, and I so enjoyed catching up with my friend. Then I had another good friend to go home to: Lydia of course!

Good friends come in all shapes, sizes and species. I don’t know where I’d be without them.

Day 7

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

My book, A Woman, a Dog & a Blog: Writing into Life, published today on Amazon.

https://amzn.eu/d/d5VCvg0

Writing a blog post every day is a challenge I’ve set myself, after several years of only being able to write a blog post every few weeks or months. It’s taken a long time to get my brain to work the way it is working now, and writing has played an important part of my recovery journey.

Getting stuff out of my head and on to paper – however, incoherent and uncoordinated that stuff was – helped with clearing out the crap. I started the process long ago, it’s only now that I can write with a sense of connectedness to my self, and a sense that it might also help to connect with others.

A lot of people may think that they “can’t write”, like a lot of people think that they “can’t sing”, or draw, or paint, or do anything much at all.

We often judge and self-limit, at least in part because we’ve been previously judged and limited by people who wanted to control us, who didn’t want to feel threatened by our presence; our potential.

I know now, quite categorically and with absolute certainty, that I can sing.

I may not sing in a way that other people would consider to be ‘in tune’ or appealing, but that doesn’t matter. I can sing.

My favourite song to sing is ‘Fairytale of New York’ by The Pogues. I used to sing it every year at work, with my mate Dave. I last sang it – loud and strong – at a Hen do.

I know also that I can write. I write because I want to and I hope that my writing may also help anyone reading it to find the sense of self that I have done, in a world that for many years didn’t make sense to me at all.

I’ve struggled all my life to identify with any kind of role; but I do now identify with the self-appointed roles that I have: writer, artist and dog trainer (not necessarily in that order and with no qualifications whatsoever for the latter).

I’ve had holding ‘roles’ before, that were part of my development and needed to be, but they have all led up to this, and the work I do now, with words, with clay and with my dog.  

Day 6

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

I needed a rest today; Lydia did too.

It’s raining.

She shows no interest in or inclination to go out in it.

We’re normally both all-weather girls, but today I have no interest in or inclination to go out in it either.

I leave the back door open so that she can go outside if she needs to, and go back to bed.

On checking my phone mid-afternoon, I see that it’s still showing the “connect charger” message.

There is no light on the extension board and no light comes on when I press the wall switch.  We have a power cut.

My phone charge is low so I turn it off, in case of emergency.

Thankfully, I can boil some water on the gas hob so make myself a cup of tea.

This is a ‘down day’ but not a ‘down day’.

The depression that I’ve been working through most of my life has gone, as has most of the more recent anxiety.

I’m tired – of course I am – but I’m neither ‘down’ nor ‘out’. I’m OK. We’re OK.

When I look over at Lydia, she is gently licking her paws and doing what she needs to do to look after herself, like I do.

For now, that means doing very little, and that’s enough.

Later we do go out for a walk, between showers.

When I give Lydia her tea, feeding her by hand as I always do, she waits a full two minutes in the “stay” position before I reward her with a raw chicken drumstick.

As always, I remind anyone and everyone to take veterinary advice on any aspect of dog feeding and nutrition. I only know what works for me and Lydia.  All dogs are different, just like all people are different.

The power comes back on.

Day 5

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

Lydia emerging from the tunnel at the dog field this morning.

How do we find solutions to problems if we don’t know the root cause?

The answer, of course, is “with great difficulty”.

In fact, if we don’t identify the root cause of a problem, we are only ever going to be treating the surrounding tissue, which may alleviate symptoms for a while, but does nothing for the longer term.

As I’ve continued my journey of recovery from mental health and emotional difficulties that got buried deep inside when I was a child, I’ve come to realise that I’ve still got a long way to go.

I’ll turn 70 at my next birthday. I am, in all aspects, in a better place than I’ve ever been in my life, but the process of healing continues, probably because it’s only just begun.

There are times now when I can physically feel the emotional and psychological pain – pain that was compacted down into the mould that was made for me when I was young – finally pushing out from the core of my bones and the pores of my body.

It’s only because I’ve finally been able to acknowledge the source and reach a point of acceptance, that I can sit with this pain, experience it, let it go.

It’s taken a lot of work, a lot of searching, a lot of learning, a lot of losing, a lot of loving, to arrive at this point.

And I do feel sadness, regret, an ache for what I haven’t had, that a lot of people take for granted or even don’t appreciate at all: family. My own family.

But I also know that I have been so, so lucky to have met the people that I’ve met, learned what I’ve learned, found what I’ve found.

As I write there is gentle music playing, the back door is open and Lydia is lying in one of her favourite places, just outside.

It’s a spot that is fairly cool in this summer weather and from which she has a good vantage point of her domain: our back yard.

She barks occasionally at potential invaders – mainly pigeons – but mostly just enjoys being there, as I am enjoying, being here.

I realise that somebody, or circumstances, could take that away from me. But for now, I’m just glad for what I have. It’s a lot.

Day 4

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

Eight more pots in the making; it’s a slow process but a good one

I took Lydia for an appointment at the grooming studio this morning. She continues to be more relaxed each time we go. As always, Vicky the groomer gives her lots of reassurance, encouragement and treats. Lydia is quite rightly proud of herself at the end of the session. She is doing so well, and I’m proud of her too.

Later I collected the 28 small pots that I made back in May. These have now been through their first firing which means they are at the ‘bisque’ or ‘biscuit’ stage.

My plan is to give them a second firing in a sawdust kiln.

A sawdust kiln is basically a heatproof container into which pots are placed, with lots of fine sawdust packed around them.

My sawdust kiln is made out of old bricks that I acquired from a neighbour.

I don’t have the space or scope for any other type of kiln at home but I do like to experiment with a sawdust firing now and then.

I’ll be doing the firing soon as these pots will be part of my display at the Aldborough & Boroughbridge Show, on 27 July.

After collecting my bisque-fired pots I had an afternoon at the pottery studio, finishing some work I threw a few weeks ago on the potter’s wheel. I love the process of turning the pots when they are leather hard, trimming away excess clay until I’m satisfied with the shapes.

This evening I am tired and more than a little despondent. I’m sure the latter low mood is at least in part influenced by the former state. Bringing myself back into wellness has been and still is a long haul. I have better support and good things going on in my life than I’ve ever had, but tonight  I just feel ‘washed out’.

Lydia helps to lift me though. Just seeing her lovely face looking at me as I feed her, and hearing her make soft gutteral sounds of pleasure and anticipated pleasure is all I need to reboot.

Day 2

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

I am the proud owner of two new front car tyres.

This may not seem like the most momentous achievement or purchase of the century, but for me, in the context of my life, it is.

It marks the point where I do, finally, know that I am in control of my life.

Over 40 years ago, I had a car but didn’t even have £5.00 to put petrol in it.

I’ve had a few car breakdowns since then but none as major as the personal breakdowns I’ve had to recover from.

There were times when I thought that my life was a write-off, and I had no insurance policy to fall back on; only a belief that I couldn’t give up, however hard it got.

And I didn’t.

My life’s journey has been about retraining my brain – to think differently; see things differently; do things differently.

So, today, I drive my car with two new front tyres and, though a little tired myself, feel a strong sense of relief.

I had a lovely walk with Lydia this morning, and a lovely afternoon with a friend.

I am no longer ‘locked in’, nor am I ‘locked out’.  I am free to be, and to be me.

That doesn’t mean I can or want to be complacent; quite the opposite. I want to make the most of every day: learn, experience, reflect, be open to possibilities, accept what I can’t change; appreciate what I have.

I have two new car tyres that belong to me.

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life: https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S

Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life: https://amzn.eu/d/63qIYzR

Day 1

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

Lydia has had a holiday and so have I.

I picked her up from the boarding kennels this morning, where she’s been staying for the last nine nights.

The staff at the kennels love her, and she gets very excited about going to see them.  I’m pleased to say that she’s also excited to see me when I go to pick her up. She is a big bundle of furry fluffiness hurtling towards me and goes straight into the car, ready to go home.

It’s good to be home. 

I needed to get away for a while, but it’s so good to be home.

To pace myself, after a late return journey last night, I choose not to go to yoga this afternoon. Instead, I take it easy with my dog, get my car tyres checked – I need new ones – and do a bit of shopping.  Today is the first day of the rest of my retirement, and I’m enjoying it.

Later I go to Qigong.  We are doing some movements, under the theme of ‘deer’, which are lovely. I imagine I have antlers for a while. We take up poses for increasing our alertness and awareness, as if we are animals in the wild, picking up on sights and sounds, of potential dangers and opportunities for exploration.

Building up to the deer movements, we did work to increase the flexibility and strength of our shoulder blades and spine, as well as being beneficial to kidney and liver function.

I continue to reflect on how fortunate I am to have my health and be able to do exercises such as these to help maintain it.

This feels like Day 1 in more ways than one.

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life: https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S

Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life: https://amzn.eu/d/63qIYzR

Waking

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

 First published 29 June 2020

Anybody who has had depression knows that one of the most difficult things to deal with is that awful desolation that drowns you as you wake up from whatever sleep you can get.

It is an experience that you have to have had to know what it feels like, when the thought of even having to get up and get dressed, let alone do anything else, is beyond daunting.

There was a time when I could only wake up and get up by setting a first alarm clock to go off several hours beforehand, then another sometime after that, and another later still. When I finally did get out of bed, my first port of call was a strong cup of coffee (appropriately named ‘Rocket Fuel’) with which I swallowed my anti-depressant tablet. Eventually I could then get dressed and ready for work.

I’ve started to struggle again with this aspect depression, after years of having trained myself to get up without too much snooze time between alarms. The fact that my partner now brings me a good strong cup of tea helps enormously, as does not having any time pressures at the moment. Even so, the tasks associated with waking up, getting up and getting dressed should not be underestimated for anyone who is suffering from depression. Like a lot of things, breaking the process down into small steps can be a good strategy. First one sock, and then the other.

I’m working towards being one of those people who springs out of bed in order to ‘seize the day’. Just because I’m slow to start, though, doesn’t me I don’t appreciate and value. It just means that I have to take my time to get myself (literally) geared up, even at a basic level.

This is one place (of many) where the poem in my recently posted Poetry Rule No. 9b Keep recycling to a minimum until you’ve got your other priorities right applies.

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:

https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S

Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:

https://amzn.eu/d/63qIYzR

Poetry Rule No. 45 Don’t underestimate the therapeutic quality of vices – or verses

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

First published 5th June 2020

Turning the Tables

Lobster meat is sweet, I believe
I tasted it once, a long time ago
but I really don’t know
if the clacking, snapping, pincer-sharp
bite of the lobster-look-alike girl’s mind
belies anything even remotely kind

As I sit watching her eat that lobster meat
sucking her fingers with self-satisfied glee
pouting and spouting out the debris
of her clacking, snapping pincer-sharp mind
and smile inwardly at the resemblance I see
a wonderful, horrible thought comes to me

Wouldn’t it be great if a giant lobster loomed
and ate her up after popping her into
a boiling pot, while she was still alive?

This is the sea-bed of salivation
upon which I feed and thrive
turning the tables through poetry
on the clacking, snapping
pincer-sharp lobster-look-alike girl’s mind
and her kind

2020

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:

https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S

Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:

https://amzn.eu/d/63qIYzR

Sleeping

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First published 27 May 2020

Ironically, I’ve recently been feeling too tired to write about what I have wanted to write about: sleep. Until today.

Breaking the cycle of inactivity is massively difficult during a period of depression. It feels impossible to know what to do or where to start that will make any difference in any meaningful and lasting way. And then sleeplessness takes hold and so it goes on.

I still have variable experiences of being able to get to sleep, and sleep long and deep enough to feel rested. However, any current difficulties I have are nothing compared to what it was like for me, years ago, when I became addicted to sleeping pills (Triazepam).

In the end, to detox, I took myself to Turkey in the hot season, walked and sweated for miles and eventually screamed myself off them.

The process of detox itself, especially in unsupported circumstances, is very dangerous, and, to anyone contemplating taking tranquilizers of any kind, I would say, “Don’t!”.

It might be easy for me to say that now, as I did take them then and felt that I needed to – desperately – at the time. Maybe I did. But that was before I had explored all the other options and possibilities, mainly because I didn’t know about them.

There is much more awareness and access to mental health coping strategies than there used to be over twenty years ago when I was going through some extreme experiences. Meditation courses and apps, Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, affirmations (I use these a lot), talking therapies, the benefits of exercise and so on. Even so, despite drawing on these approaches and applying them in my day-to-day life as best as I can, I don’t always sleep well.

Now, though, I’m much more able to sit or lie with the lack of sleep and rest into it, be patient with it, rather than going for a quick fix with all the associated draw backs. If I’m really struggling to settle, I might get up, watch a bit of telly (reading is usually out of the question at these times, such is the impact of depression on my capacity to concentrate), make a cup of tea or – even better – hot chocolate. I also occasionally indulge in a glass or two of wine or a gin and tonic. (I’m conscious of the drawbacks and addictive aspects of alcohol reliance but it does sometimes do the trick; a couple of paracetamols – again as a very occasional alternative and never at the same time as alcohol – also eventually send me off.)

I’m gradually working towards having a kinder and more balanced relationship with myself, doing what I can to be good to my body and my brain. I work on being thankful, get my brain into ‘glad’ mode and accept that I am getting “there”, which is “here”, with every day a blessing.

It is much easier for the me that I am now, than the me that I was twenty years ago, to not fall back on the quick fixes, partly because I have worked hard to find out about and put self-management strategies into practice and partly because I am in a much better place on a personal level. It is much easier to get to sleep on an evening, knowing that in the morning I will wake up in my partner’s loving arms.

Maybe there was a time when I did shoot the Albatross, and paid the price. But sleep is a very gentle thing, and doing my best to let sleep slide into my soul is part of an essential process of healing.

A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ho21L

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life: https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S