Tag: recovery

Day 14

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

Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

After a long day at the Show, I’m enjoying a large g&t and reflecting on the list from yesterday’s post. My focus is on ‘Let ourselves be held’.

I’m not sure if this means emotionally, psychologically, spiritually or physically. Probably any or all four or a combination.

I’m not good at letting myself be held, and neither is Lydia.

She now lets me give her massages (the “rub-a-dub-dub” massages I’ve referred to in previous posts) but she still doesn’t let me fully ‘hold’ her when we’re out walking, in terms of believing that I will keep her safe.  She’s been too badly traumatised in the past.

I’ve had to be so self-reliant for much of my life that  I will always fall back on myself too. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, but historically I’ve tended to look out for others, while at the same time my own needs weren’t being met. That’s not because I’m a selfless saint, but it is because I really don’t want anyone to have to go through what I’ve been through in my life if there is anything I can do to help them not to.  I just don’t like that level of waste.

Looking again at the list, I’m drawn to ‘nourish our senses’.

My senses feel jaded, as if nothing is fresh and invigorating any more. This is where Lydia comes in to help, as I do find our walks together on a morning have a stimulating effect on my senses, even if it’s still at a low level of intensity.

I’m certainly much more open to ‘imperfection’ than I used to be. I can still be a bit obsessive about details, but more able to let things go.

I can only ‘do one thing at a time’ these days, and very slowly, so I’m doing OK there.                                         

I’m not always great at being able to ‘ask for help’ although at least I know now that help can be sought out. In the first half of my life, I had no idea that such a thing might be available, never mind what form it could take.

‘Expressing emotions’ is complicated, I find. I’ll keep  trying to work that one out.

I do ‘create daily rituals and routines’ although I tend to need to be flexible on timings and interpret this very broadly.

It may be a while yet before Lydia and I are both as relaxed as we need to be, but we’re working – and resting – on it.

The fact that my partner has just made a delicious meal while I’ve been resting helps enormously.

Day 5

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

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 2

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

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

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

 

 

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

Being Glad

Originally published 21 March 2020:

I’ve recently been fortunate to have taken part in a group poetry project.

Group experiences have been central to my mental health recovery for many years.

Some group experiences have an uplifting, energising and inspiring effect; others lead to alienation, isolation and degradation.

The poetry group experience that I’ve recently had was a good one, thanks largely to the enthusiasm and encouragement of the group leader https://mariafrankland.co.uk/.

Everybody’s contribution was important though, otherwise we wouldn’t have ended up being able to publish our anthology https://www.amazon.co.uk/More-Poetry-Newly-Single-Something/dp/1697621732/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=more+poetry+for+the+newly+single+40+something&qid=1584785987&s=books&sr=1-1.

In case you don’t want to buy the book, or perhaps as a taster (I’m one of 12 poets in the completed work), here are my poems from the collection:

Now

Now
at the Pinnacle
14-and-a-half per cent
proof point of my existence
I’ve reached the Nottage Hill
sub-station of my life
I haven’t got a Sauvignon Blanc’s clue
about what to do next
other than to ‘méthode-champenoise’
my way through and hope
that if the cork crumbles
the bottle won’t be blue
and the sieve will be fine
so that
just for now
I can at least
drink the wine

 

I can dance

I can dance without moving my feet at all
I don’t have to do the foxtrot
or quickstep my way to any ball
I can cry without moving my lips
I can laugh without making a sound
all I have to do is know
that the earth is flat, it isn’t round
The dance is mine to make up
from the music of the wind
a sense of something swirling
in and around my mind
I don’t need a choreographer
an audience or loud applause
I just need to dance in my own way
and then I’ll dance some more
I can dance without moving my feet at all
on and on and on and on
it is my dance
my life
my call

 

Here’s to Wealth!

Cheers my dear
to the love that you bring
into my life
and though I never want
to be your wife
I want to share with you
all the good things
that life brings

I love it when you sing
as I know it comes
from within your soul
and as we learn together
to love each other
something magical
unfolds

The trees without leaves
that you hung
around my neck
and from my ears
help to take away
all my fears
of things undone
of words unsaid
the sadness
of never nurturing
a child upon
my breast

Where once was hope
and then despair
becomes a sense of
stillness
in the air
and from that place
of breathing
and of wings
comes freedom to wonder
and wander
into the rich realms
of being together
feeding the birds
with the wealth
of our love

 

Instant Coffee

Heading for instant gratification
no time to waste or spare
I take my mug into the kitchen
only to find a queue of people there

Halted, suddenly, empty cup in hand
my thoughts spill over into the needs of others
heads bowed or lifted
as we together stand

I only needed coffee
and soon the queue was gone
my waiting time was over
but for someone else it had only just begun

***

I’m also proud of the back cover copy that I wrote for the book:

A relationship break-up can be a difficult experience at any age.  It isn’t always easy to see the opportunity beyond the heartache, and even less easy to find ways of putting the experience into words. 

The triumphs of Maria Stephenson’s emergence into a new life as a writer and teacher are embodied in her collection of ‘Poetry for the Newly Single Forty Something’ (2017).  Maria didn’t just stop at publishing her own collection though.  She inspired others to explore their creative approaches to the theme, leading to this exciting anthology, which is more than the sum of its poems.

The words of each poet paint a picture of part of their own unique life story. Demonstrating diverse responses to life and writing challenges, threads of commonality emerge and unite.

What are you waiting for? Dive in, explore, share in the joy of words and wonders of life that these writers have explored and shared. These poems aren’t just about being newly single, or about being forty something, they are about being – essentially – human.

The reason for my pride is partly because I think it stands well as a piece of writing in its own right (and even being able to credit myself with that is a remarkable* achievement in its own right), and partly because of what it represents for me in terms of having come through what I’ve come through, still fighting, still writing, still reaching out.

* https://iamremarkable.withgoogle.com/ (#IamRemarkable is a Google initiative empowering women and underrepresented groups to celebrate their achievements in the workplace and beyond.)

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


A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ho21L8

Beyond Willpower

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First published 16 March 2020

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.

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

A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ho21L8

I’m Glad

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First published 21 March 2020

It’s not my real name, but ‘Glad’ is better than sad, and I’ve worked hard in my life to be Glad, not sad.

I’ve recently started decorating my house – our house. This may not seem like an amazing revelation or achievement, but it is for me. I’m 64 years old and have had a long struggle to be able to enjoy doing the everyday things that I can focus on now.

It’s taken about fifty years of unlearning and then re-learning how to be me. Poetry hasn’t been the only vehicle I’ve used for recovery and discovery, but it has been a regular companion along the way.

As a teenager – like many teenagers since and still – I developed a very negative self-image of myself, inside and out.

Out

Out, out into the world
That’s where I wanted to go
What I wanted to do
When I was young
But when I looked in the mirror
All I could see
Was an ugly, unattractive body
Looking back at me

I went on a diet from the age of about 15 that lasted for the next 30 years or so, and affected every aspect of my life (or more accurately non-life that it had become). I didn’t think I had anything to offer as a person, didn’t know how to form relationships, and put all my energy into losing weight. At least if I was thin, that would be something. Except it led to nothing, because it wasn’t solid ground on which to build a life. It was the best I could do at the time, but I did eventually realise, after I’d had a major breakdown in my late thirties, and was trying to get myself going again in my forties, that I needed to eat, to give me energy, to be able to live. I had to finally, eventually, push through that awful sense of self-loathing that I associated with putting on weight in order to emerge as a (literally as well as generally) well-rounded person with an appetite for life.

I still have to work at it, still take anti-depressants, can’t use shop changing rooms or look at myself naked in a mirror, but on the whole this does not affect my ability to enjoy my life – with my partner – and try to make the most of every day.

I can still very easily cut myself off, go into ‘zombie’ mode, more readily associate with entropy than energy, so decorating my house – however long it takes – and writing this blog – wherever it takes me – are positive signs of engagement; action rather than inaction.

I hope my poems and other musings may resonate with anyone who has struggled to find their own identity and path through life. I know now that there are endless possibilities and I hope that the following poem (in six parts) helps to show how important it is for each of us to find our fighting spirit:

Jacket 1
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams

It’s theirs to wear
Not mine to keep
Their tears to cry
Not mine to weep

It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep
So I’ve put a price on its head
To let it go free
To someone who wants it
But when will that be?

Jacket 2
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams

It’s not my layer
These aren’t my lies
With drawstring waist
And nylon ties

It’s not my jacket
They’re not my dreams
These aren’t my ties
They’re not my seams

So I leave the jacket
On the chair
To go my way
While they go theirs

Jacket 3
Now it hangs upon the door
That red fleece jacket
That I didn’t want to wear
Didn’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
And not too big for me
Warmed in a red sea
Shapeless no more
No baggy, saggy faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the door
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
It’s not the jacket of my dreams
But just a layer to keep me warm
From frozen looks
And glares of scorn

It is my jacket
With hood and waist
To wear a while
From place to place

Jacket 4
What next?

Jacket 5
Jacket in?

Jacket 6
No!

Gladabout.life blog posts from March 2020 to September 2024 are now available as an e-book on Amazon for Kindle:

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

https://amzn.eu/d/av9oEZU

Day 28

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

As this 28-day cycle of journaling/blogging comes to a close, I reflect on how far I’ve come in being able to make the most of every day as I do, after the journey of mental health breakdown and recovery that I’ve had, for most of my so far 69 years.

I’m now going to have a short break from writing while I put together a two-volume book of the story of Lydia and me so far. While I’m doing this, I will re-post a blog from the past every day.

A full collection of my earlier blogs, from March 2020 to September 2024, is now available on Amazon for Kindle:

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random: Glad About Life https://amzn.eu/d/gAIIf8A

‘Rules’ came originally from a set of ‘self-management rules’ that I devised, largely to reflect on some of the very negative experiences I’d had of being managed by others. I later developed these Rules into ‘Poetry Rules’, relating them to poems that I wrote or had previously written.

‘Rhymes’ are my poems, even though not all my poems rhyme.  I just like writing them, expressing myself through words in whatever way I choose.

‘Recovery’ pieces reflect on different approaches and factors that influence mental health and wellbeing, including barriers to recovery.

‘Recipe’ is largely focused on one dish, but it’s an important one: Leftovers Soup.

‘Random’ – well, anything that didn’t quite fit in to the other categories but wanted to include anyway.

Step by step, day by day, the story of Lydia and me continues, and I’ll continue to record it at https://gladabout.life/.

Bon voyage!

Day 21

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

Continuing the story of Lydia and me

Keeping things simple is key for me just now. I can’t cope with complicated nor do I want to.

What better way, then, than to enjoy the company of friends, as I have done this weekend.

Yesterday I visited a friend – a fellow Ceramic Artist – at the Dovecot Gallery, near Doncaster, where she was exhibiting. It was a summer show in a garden setting, full of colour and creativity.

Today a friend and I visited a friend of hers. We sat together for about four hours, talking. Just talking. It was lovely to have a three-way conversation, each of us bringing in thoughts and ideas from our lives and experience.

My Ceramic Artist friend is a year or two older than me, so in her early 70’s. She started out in her career with clay just a few years ago. Rarely have I come across anyone more passionate about what they do.

My friend’s friend is about 10 years younger than us. Unlike me, she doesn’t enjoy good physical health, but she doesn’t let that stop her expressing herself through her art. She is a talented Textile Artist as well as a dog lover and owner of four canine companions.

While I aim in this blog to be positive about pushing through into a position of mental health recovery that I’ve been working towards most of my life, at the moment I’m struggling to get my brain to function.

Despite enjoying the company of friends, despite the wonderful weather, despite the woodland walk I had with Lydia this morning, I’ve hit a wall.

At least though, now, I know it won’t last, that I just need to rest – which I will – and tomorrow will be another day.

Looking across at Lydia, as I write, she is looking back at me. I’ll give her some more “rub-a-dub-dub” massages later, to help soothe her vagus nerve and I’ll keep doing what I need to do to help soothe mine too.

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 £0.99 on a Kindle Countdown deal https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk.