On the 28th day in my latest cycle of “Writing for Life”, I reflect on how far I’ve come.
For a long time, I thought and hoped that I would eventually arrive at a point of ‘recovery’ from the difficulties and distress that I’ve been working through for most of my life.
It hasn’t worked out like that though; in fact, it’s worked out better.
I’m still not and probably never will be a ‘morning person’. I need a lot of time to rest in bed, even if I’m not sleeping. I don’t ‘seize the day’ with a leap and a jump but it doesn’t matter. I let myself be what I am while still working steadily on turning old, ingrained patterns into new ones. Big cogs take a longer time to turn and I do what I can when I can, in positive ways.
Rather than ‘recover’ to a known point, I’ve grown into the unknown; a place that is at times unfamiliar and uncomfortable. This opens up possibilities for further growth, pushing me to experience much more of life than I ever could have imagined.
It’s taken a massive amount of energy and effort and every last bit of motivation that I can muster, but I know that I have gone a long way towards training my mind and will keep doing just that.
While I take a short break from writing my daily blog, I’ll republish earlier posts. I’ll also be putting together paperback versions of my two latest books, available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited:
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.
It was wrapped up in special packaging: a teaching and meditation morning at a Buddhist centre.
The teaching carried in it a message that helped me to put to rest something that I’d been struggling with for decades.
I’d thought, for a long time, that I would never be able to put right mistakes that I’d made in the past because they were too big; too major. I thought that I’d fallen and failed early on in my life and all my efforts to rebuild had failed too. Despite doing my best to push through on positives for a long time, it had never been enough.
Then, suddenly, there it was, in the teaching that morning. It was possible for me to put the past behind me and be happy in the present. All I had to do was develop a calm and peaceful mind.
That teaching gave me hope, when I needed hope, and I’ve been building on it ever since.
That doesn’t mean that I am suddenly happy and joyful all the time. You don’t go through a lifetime of struggling with complex mental health and emotional difficulties without that struggle alone taking its toll. But I now allow myself to feel lighter, have stopped berating myself, stopped feeling responsible for everything that goes ‘wrong’ or has gone ‘wrong’ in the past.
For a long time, friends have told me that I deserved to be happy, but there was something so badly hurt, and at such a deep level, that it’s taken a long, long time for that place of hurt to be finally exposed to a point of healing, and for that healing to start taking place.
Tonight is a meeting of the Buddhist group that I go to, which is an outreach from the Centre that I went to last year[i].
I’ve already had a good day today, and I have that to look forward to this evening.
Grey island you spin and swirl around me (or is it the sea?) as I sit and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear which it does almost, but elusively and all too briefly teasingly still tense tension immense
Four seagulls soar one sits probably shits (or is that on the wing?)
Thrift, rock, heather purple, black, yellow, mauve green, grey, white weather wild mild quite
Walking, talking, inwardly I sit (still) and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear and allow me to feel the joy of the sea and the splendour of the trees and everything around me
So, I sit (on a rock) and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear and know that someday soon it will be free hopefully
1998
A quarter of a century after I started my self-directed journey of recovery from a complete personal breakdown, it would be easy to think at this stage that I never will get that sense of mental clarity that I have been seeking.
I hoped by now that I could have been sailing instead of struggling to find the energy to get through each day in a remotely positive way.
There are significant differences though, between then – when I started out – and now – when I’ve arrived at a particularly low-down point, wondering how on earth I’m going to summon up the motivation and momentum to start going ‘up’ or ‘forward’ again.
The most significant difference for me is that now I’m in a loving relationship. My partner and I care for and about each other in ways that make us both feel good. He suffers from depression too, so we often alternate in terms of who most needs support from the other at any one time. We’ve both had almost catastrophic life experiences to contend with in the past, both just come through by the skin of our teeth, both had to learn to trust again – often the most difficult thing of all, including trusting ourselves as well as each other. And we’re both now thankful that we’ve found each other. ‘Together Forever’ is our motto. We want to make the most of the time that we have – both now in our 60s – and that, in itself, is a motivator. At the same time, I’m still feeling profoundly exhausted and know that I need to do some more work on myself to pull out of this and finally put the traumas of the past behind me.
I know that it’s important to sometimes push myself and at other times do nothing. Doing nothing is hard as it brings with it the fear that it will become a permanent state and that I will vegetate from doing nothing to being nothing. At my age, fear of dementia also comes in to the mix. But in the depths of depression, doing anything at all feels like just too much, so where do I start?
I keep coming back to affirmations. Affirmations, some gentle regular exercise, healthy eating, not too much alcohol. All sensible things.
The affirmations I’ve identified for myself at this time are for depression and hearing problems. While I don’t really have hearing problems as such – other than age-related deterioration – I do have problems with ‘itchy ears’ and I have also had problems in the past with being heard.
I set about learning and practising active listening skills when I trained as a volunteer bereavement counsellor – it must have been about 20 years ago now. I’ve found those skills invaluable in different jobs and roles that I’ve held, although more latterly I’ve found it increasingly hard to concentrate. Active listening, by definition, means giving another person full attention. I think my body and brain have been telling me to give myself full attention for a change; had I ‘listened’ to what they were telling me earlier, I might not have arrived at the state I’m at now, although by the nature of cycles, they do have to go full turn.
Anyway, the affirmations that I’ve found, to say to myself when I can and when I need to, are:
“I move beyond other people’s fear and limitations. I create my own life.”
When I say each of these, at the very low ebb that I’m at now, I get a sense of uplift in my spirit, even if my body and brain are running well behind. I hold on to the belief that they will catch up though. Eventually.
Oh, and of course writing – something, anything – can be therapeutic as well. I’m going to keep writing, and affirming. And washing up, and doing a bit of gardening …
I’ve recently read an article in the BBC’s Science Focus journal about willpower.
I’m not a scientist which is one of the reasons why I get this journal every month. I find out about all sorts of interesting things that I wouldn’t hear about otherwise, and it’s generally a really good, accessible read (although some bits go way over my head!).
In this article there was reference to willpower in relation to eating disorders and the impact that meditation and other aspects of mindfulness training can have on the power of the human will.
In my early teenage years, I had to use willpower to start to take control of my own life but eventually had to allow myself to move beyond it and enter that scary place where self-control no longer prevailed.
I still use willpower – to push myself from the point of doing nothing – which I can so easily fall into – to the point of doing something, making a start with decorating my house, for example. But as far as eating is concerned, I seem to have arrived at a much healthier state of mind, where I eat when I’m hungry and recognise the signs when I’m full. I enjoy food – a whole range of different types of food, not just the ‘cottage cheese and crispbread, endless omelettes and no chips diet’ that I lived on for many, many years.
When I concentrated on eating as little as I possibly could every day, I had little capacity to concentrate on anything else. I’m no longer limiting my life like I limited my food intake although I’m not just eating my way into the oblivion of obesity either.
Ironically, the room that I’ve started working on in the house is the dining room. I’ve found a fabulous wallpaper – ‘Mystical Forest’ – and I’m taking my time, doing a bit at a time, and can gradually feel that sense of transition from having to push myself to do it, to getting drawn in to the process of doing it, and taking pride in the way it looks. I don’t think I will gain any interior design awards, but it is a labour of love, to enhance the lovely home that me and my lovely partner are lucky enough to live in.
Lydia woke me at about 1.30am, with a gentle nudge from her nose.
I thought she must need to go outside for a pee but as I started off downstairs, I realised she wasn’t following me. When I went back into the bedroom she was rolled over, ready for me to tickle her tummy; give her a “rub-a-dub-dub” massage that she’s growing to love. So I did.
Now, I realise I probably shouldn’t be encouraging disturbances to my sleep in this way, but then again she asked so nicely, and I do think we are approaching a breakthrough position with addressing her anxiety. So, I give her plenty of “rub-a-dub-dubs” before reintroducing her to the idea of “sleepy time”.
This afternoon, I had a good play session with my steam cleaner. It’s almost as good fun as a pressure washer and the bathroom is now clean.
After a shower – in my now clean bathroom – and an early change into pj’s, I sat outside for a while, reading.
I finished the autobiography that I’ve been reading for a couple of weeks. It ended with an account of an inquest into the death of a family member. The writer’s loss is immeasurable, as is the courage and humanity shown by him and his family. Re-engaging with life, through grief, isn’t easy, but they are doing it. Every day, they are doing it.
I don’t claim to be a dog trainer or a mind trainer – I’m just a woman with a dog who writes a blog, and has written a book, about life, and about being glad.
The newly ploughed field that we walked around this morning. It used to be covered with dandelions. I wonder what will grow there next…
Continuing the story of Lydia and Me
Wonderful weather!
I do love the sunshine and warm weather, but it’s also good to appreciate other weathers too.
This morning, walking Lydia, there was a warmish wind and a few spots of summer rain. I love summer rain, the way it brings out all the earthy scents from the ground.
We had a longer walk than we’ve been having when it’s been hot.
I continue to ask Lydia to “sit” and “wait” before she gets out of the car. I think she doesn’t understand why she needs to do this – why would she? – but she’s starting to resist less. I rub her neck and ears and talk to her while we’re waiting, and think this helps. It’s all about rushing less and being more in the moment.
She has really taken to the “sit” and “wait” routine before we leave the house now, and I give her lots of praise as well as treats. When she makes a soft, gurgly noise from the back of her throat, I think I must be doing something right. She just sounds happy.
I did what I do to reassure her when we had cars passing by on two occasions. She didn’t lunge or bark but they weren’t particularly close either.
A man with two dogs who I am familiar with walked by on the other side of a drainage dyke. I don’t think she saw the dogs because of the height of the grass growing on the banks either side, but she did see the man and started to lunge. I did what I do, and she settled. I gave her some “rub-a-dub-dub” massages and we did a few repeats of the “watch” routine before we continued on.
Earlier, before we’d set off for our walk, she barked at a window cleaner working next door. I called out “here” and she did! Progress. Step by step, day by day. Progress.
Progress for me too. I am so enjoying writing this blog and engaging with interactions around the publishing of it.
I had a good sleep again last night. It may have been aided by the cheeky little gin and tonic I had, sitting outside in the not-so-warm weather. I also read a little – an autobiography which has a very sad central theme with many aspects that are essentially and vibrantly life affirming around that. Good to be reading again, as well as writing.
Train your dog; train your mind – positive reinforcement for humans and canines – now available in paperback: https://amzn.eu/d/eQ2sWjU.
The Kindle version is currently for sale at £2.99 on a Kindle Countdown deal https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk.
Having identified a priority for Lydia of giving her more body rubs and gentle massage, I introduced these during our walk today.
So, as well as continuing to reinforce “heel” and “watch”, using some of her daily food allowance combined with tasty treats for rewards, I stopped a few times during the walk to rub around her neck, ears and lower abdomen.
This had an immediate calming effect. I also made sure that I gave her lots of verbal encouragement as we were walking along: “we’re OK Lydia”, “yes, good girl, we’re doing OK”, repeated often.
This evening, after we’d had our respective meals, Lydia came up to me while I was sitting on the settee, and I gave her some more rubs, all around her ears and down her spine. She sat there for ages while I did this – a far cry from when we first got her, when she would not have been able to accept this kind of attention at all. She came back for a little bit more rubbing and some brushing, and then started barking – an invitation I have come to realise, at this time of an evening, to have a bit of a play.
We played ‘tuggie’ with an old towel for a while, then she settled down.
At my Qigong class today, we started by giving our knees a gentle rub. As Sue, the teacher said, this was an acknowledgement that we were going to be kind to ourselves, to our bodies, for an hour, doing gentle movements under gentle guidance.
I haven’t always found it easy to care for myself; I used to have a tendency to push myself too hard, and to look after others’ needs first. While I continue to want to look out for and care for others, including Lydia, I also recognise now, particularly at this stage of my life, that I need to look after myself as a priority.
So, I have had a good ‘Mental Health Monday’, with a lovely walk around and through a wood; a yoga session which concentrated on developing strength and flexibility in the spine; and a Qigong class which incorporated a range of movements to open up the shoulder blades, promoting a calmer mind through working with the body and the breath.
I’m hopeful that I’m helping Lydia to have a calmer mind too.
When I first started writing this blog I had just retired and it was something that I wanted to do.
I thought it would help me to complete a cycle of mental health recovery that I’d started many years previously, and that in writing about my experiences it might help others too.
I had no idea then just how far away I was from the summit of my recovery mountain, or just how many sheer cliff faces I was going to have to climb to be able to finally enjoy the view.
That was over five years ago.
I found no easy answers but knew that I had to keep going, and I did.
At 69 I have no wish or need now to climb any more mountains, either in my head or with my feet. However, my journey does continue, day by day, step by step, and I will continue to write about it and share it with anyone who is interested.
My new e-book, publishing on Amazon for Kindle 5th June, gives insights into how Lydia, Me & our Family of Three have recently made our final ascent:
‘Train your dog; train your mind – positive reinforcement for humans and canines’
My relationship with food has historically been a difficult one.
As a teenager I went on a strict diet – mostly made up of cottage cheese, crispbread, lean meat and fruit – to keep me at 7/71/2 stone. That was the only way I could feel reasonably good about myself and my body.
Even so, I didn’t think anybody could possibly find me attractive, and I struggled with a very limited life.
If I ever did ‘let go’ and start to eat anything even remotely fattening, my mood plummeted as my weight gained. The only way I could cope was to start restricting my eating again. I had no concept that help or support of any kind might be available; it was a very private and lonely struggle that went on until my mid-40s. After an almost catastrophic catalogue of failed relationships and career stalemate I realised that I had to push through the internal barriers, and keep going until I came out the other side.
20 years on, at 66, I believe I have finally arrived at that point.
I weigh five stone more than I did in my teens, and though I am aiming to steadily lose some weight this won’t be my starving myself – not just of food, but of life.
There are many factors and influences that have helped me to get through, not least in recent years that of my partner, Trev, who makes me feel beautiful just as I am, inside and out. That’s a great gift to get at any age!
I’ve taken on board Buddhist teachings of all kinds, with one fundamental phrase being an enduring fallback: “The mind is a muscle and it can be changed.”
I’ve had to fight and work hard to train and change my brain and was fortunate to find the fight associated with a strong survival instinct when I needed it.
That isn’t to say that I haven’t had moments of self-loathing that threatened to be overwhelming. But I kept looking for and finding ways to be positive, including reaching out to others who were also struggling in the extreme.
I still won’t try clothes on in a shop changing room, and feel no need to put myself through that ordeal. So while this may be evidence of ‘avoidance’ lingering in my psyche, it’s a minor issue as far as I’m concerned, and doesn’t get in the way of me living my life in a full way, including enjoying delicious food.
Glad About 
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