I Went To See a Clairvoyant

 


Not a blog title a ever expected to be writing. There are some things in life that I try to avoid discussing, mostly areas that tread into the territories of politics and religion as they can cause heated discussions and conflicts amongst friends. Generally I used to describe myself as an atheist until I realised that would mean that I didn't believe in anything spiritual. I don't follow a religion but when it comes to discussions on what happens after death I do have some particular beliefs, mostly that this can't be all there is, surely we can't live for decades only to fade into nothing once we die. I'd never preach my views nor would I dismiss those of others, we can disagree without being disrespectful of one another.

I never would have thought I'd be going to see a clairvoyant, it's a word that summons images of palm readings, tarot cards, rabbits feet, crystal balls and an episode of 'The Simpsons'. I've felt like my life has been lacking direction for a long time, my mental health has affected what I can do on a daily basis. My crippling anxiety prevents me from even contemplating filling out a job application and I've always known that life in an office would never be for me. My head frequently tells me that I'm lazy although I know that I don't truly believe that. At the age of 24 being out of the education system with support on career advice and people assisting you towards a particular direction, I've felt lost. I have various interests and hobbies but can any of those become a career? Would I even be able to consistently do something without falling out of love with it? It has happened before back when I was on track to heading off to study art only to realise that I wasn't enjoying churning out artwork for good grades and the approval of certain people.

There is always the option of going to see a careers adviser or life coach if you need a change of pace or direction in life. It's always worth keeping in mind that it is never too late to start a new career, hobby or passion. It will take a lot of work, time and patience but if it will bring happiness it's certainly worthwhile. I started looking into clairvoyants after watching 'Holywood Medium with Tyler Henry', something which was initially just another trashy TV programme; part of my self care routine. I became engrossed in the episodes as I saw how he was genuinely connecting with loved ones that had passed on, he was receiving information that he could never have obtained via Google and he also made predictions on the clients futures which were spot on too. Whilst I'd love to be able to connect with lost loved ones, I knew that getting my life on track was the main priority. Mediums are able to connect with the deceased whereas clairvoyants are able to address future concerns. I like to think that I'm an open minded person, but sometimes it can be difficult when you hear of con artists or when the people around you are sceptical. I set up my first appointment and said that I was going to see a life coach, partially truthful as they were going to advise me on areas to pursue or concerns to address. Of course I'd still recommend that you give someone the address of where you're heading to if it is a private address to be on the safe side even if you have thoroughly done your research on who you're meeting with.

I went into my appointment with an open mind but decided to keep be as vague as possible when asked questions as I wanted the experience to be as authentic as possible. She could sense how anxious I was so we started the session with a 'spiritual cleansing' I was asked to hold onto a crystal and close my eyes as she communicated with the spirit guides, it was an incredibly calming experience and my entire scalp went tingly with vibrations. Once this was done I felt much more relaxed for the remainder of the session as we progress to the reading. I was asked to select 10 or 12 tarot cards which were spread face down across the table, strangely I felt certain ones caught my attention more than others. Without saying a word to her she revealed the cards and would see how certain relationships in my life were good or strained, she described characteristics of my partner to 't', she could see that I didn't have a conventional job but had talents in creative areas, she tapped into my writing a book that could be beneficial to others 'like me' which she followed up with by saying that she thought I had struggles with anxiety and depression as she could see darkness and isolation throughout the cards I was selecting. She somehow knew all of these things and many more without me ever supplying information beyond a nod of the head or a 'yes' here and there. I was in awe. It provided me with reassurance on what I was doing and also indicated that the summer would be difficult for me but that I'd come through it OK. She also predicted some big changes in my relationship which may transpire towards the end of next year. I have no idea what that would be but I'm interested to see if it happens!

Since that session in April I felt a lot better about where I was heading, however I then decided to start coming off my anti-depressants which affected how I felt about everything. I've just come back from having my second session with her and once again have a good outlook on life. She strongly encouraged that I get back to working on my book, return to blogging and maintain my Youtube channel (something which I hadn't told her before). If you are sceptical, know that all she knows about me is my first name and my phone number so we can set up appointments. I'm still astonished by the experience. It's not something that I'd do regularly like acupuncture but I'd definitely consider going to see her if I need advice or guidance in the future.

I felt like I needed reassurance from someone impartial. Praise and assurances that people see big things in my future don't really lift me up, even if I hear it from a friend or family member. I struggle to believe that I can achieve anything, yet seeing a complete stranger and hearing their view gave me the boost I needed at that time. 

 It is important to know that you should never jump the gun on life decisions based only upon what a clairvoyant has told you, readings are for guidance purposes and clients are advised to use their own judgement.

If you have any questions about my experience or would like to know the details of my clairvoyant based in Surrey then please let me know.

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Failures and Finding The Positives

 I didn't intend on ever posting this photo as I look terrible, but it does clealy show just how unwell I have been of late.

Let me start by saying that I'm currently still processing the events I'm about to describe as for me they have just happened, although this post will probably go out a few weeks later. Way back in February this year I saw a post pop up on Instagram, it was of two lovely beaming ladies announcing their collaboration on their first ever fitness and yoga retreat. I've been a long time follower of the personal trainer, blogger and Youtuber Carly Rowena. I absolutely adore her approach of loving the body you have and learning to make it stronger, she also posts lots of content featuring her beautiful French Bulldog which helps too! I knew little about her friend Cat Meffan at the time but I now have much love and appreciation for her too.

I'd been considering signing up for some sort of a retreat for a while. Mostly because I've been more and more resentful of the body I have in recent years, I want to become physically fitter and stronger and of course lose a bit of weight in the process so I don't exude a sigh every time I catch a glimpse of my body in the mirror. Last year I resolved a major 'problem' with the relationship I had with my body. I had a breast reduction and finally felt some confidence in the way I looked. I felt feminine but not enormously busty and attracting unwanted attention. However, resolving one problem revealed another one, or at least allowed another one to resurface. Body dysmorphia. I've had it in varying degrees since I was a teenager. I used to be a whisp of a thing, although fairly well proportioned for my height and weight. Upon reflection I realised that I was dieting and exercising from a young age, I was obsessive with the amount I exercised at home. I was convinced I was fat, but looking back at those photos I can see how slim I really was, almost too slim. What I was really facing was puberty. We lack the proper information when it comes to learning about how our female forms change. Boobs, hips and bums pop out for most of us to accommodate for future child bearing. All I could see was what trash magazines had labelled as 'saddle bags' for thighs, 'love handles' for hips and a bum that didn't like to fit in the single figure size jeans that my friends claimed they slipped on.

Flash forward to today and I still experience body dysmorphia but in reverse. I look in the mirror and think OK, not great but not fat, right? Not overweight surely. The scales were telling me differently, clothes that fitted last summer were now not an option and I was having to buy size 14 jeans and shorts for the first time ever. Was I just not seeing things that everyone else could see? Were my hips really that wide? Possibly. I know that I need to face these issues in two ways. I need to address my mental and emotional feelings towards my looks and I also need to educate myself on what to eat, how much of it I should have and I need to find forms of exercise that I enjoy rather than dread.

So back in February when I saw that one of these lovely ladies I followed was heading up a fitness retreat, I was on board! I was also on a high dose of anti-depressants back then, feeling OK but still not quite right. In April Carly released her own fitness guide which was perfect! I started exercising three times a week and slowly started feeling the benefits, I felt firmer and had a satisfied albeit exhausted feeling after I exercised. After following the guide for 6 weeks I took my body measurements and weight again...nothing had changed. NOTHING! No inches lost, no pounds dropped and if anything my clothes were tighter than ever. I could have blamed it on the washing machine but I knew something wasn't right. That's when I realised my anti-depressants were causing weight gain.

As the date of the retreat approached (30th September) I was becoming increasingly anxious. I hadn't been exercising as my energy levels were depleted from battling with the withdrawal effects of coming off my anti-depressants slowly. I was still feeling incredibly uncomfortable in my own skin and I was shit scared of what was going to be my first ever solo trip on a plane and abroad. I was going to be surrounded by (hopefully) like-minded ladies that were either wanting to kick start their fitness journey or learn how to improve it, but I was still incredibly anxious about being abroad with a load of people I didn't know for a week. All of this anxiety combined with a terrible head cold left me in a fragile state as I set off.

Making my way through the airport alone wasn't too bad besides a steady trickle of sweat down my back and a fire alarm going off with a false alarm to evacuate right before my gate number was being announced. My anxiety was back in a BIG way. Every move I made, every word I spoke was analysed over and over again even long after they'd transpired. Fortunately I'd told those in charge of the retreat about my situation before I arrived. They were incredibly supportive and friendly towards me. We had a lovely welcome session and dinner but the idle time in between just felt wrong to me. I felt out of place and the whole thing had similarities to my first week of university. A timetable that I looked over and was thinking of ways to approach it or get out of, staying in the biggest room on my own out of the way whilst the other girls were sharing or in close proximity to each other and I was very unwell (just like I was during my freshers week) which isolated me further. I tried, I really tried. I engaged in conversations when I could but I always managed to be positioned in an awkward spot, slightly on the edge or blocked from view when groups spilt off into chatter.

After the first night there I woke up terrified. I'd been waking up in the night and having panic attacks and was due to go for our first workout session at 8:30 am. I struggle with sleeping and early starts as it is never mind getting up to do a HIIT workout that early! I went, I did my best but struggled at the back trying to do advanced moves, sweating bucket loads and feeling my body shaking violently the entire time. Once it was over I joined in the high fives over the first workout and left calmly but as I walked to my room, the closer I got the more I lost control over how I really felt. As soon as I closed my bedroom door behind me I was having a full blown panic attack, the biggest I've had since my first one ever. I felt sick, I was sick. My legs fell out from underneath me, I was sweating, hyperventilating, crying silently and felt my heart hammering against my chest as if it was about to burst out and land on the wooden floor in front of me. 'I shouldn't be here'. Is all I could think, 'I've made a HUGE mistake and I feel stuck'. It lasted half an hour and I then started packing my bags, texting my family and the owner of the place we were staying in, I booked onto a flight back to London for 4pm that afternoon.

I did everything I could, I'd just reached my limit. Before the trip I had managed to supress a certain amount of anxiety but as every unravelled I was shaken up like a Coke bottle and my top had come bursting off as it all bubbled out of me. It was a risk to book onto something like this in the first place and an even bigger one to go ahead as planned despite being in withdrawl from anti-depressants. I am disppointed that I didn't manage to stay but leaving was absolutely the right thing for me. I felt like I couldn't be myself, all the anxiety I felt back in my school days had returned, I could feel my voice being supressed back down into my voice box and my body shrinked a little as my confidence disappeared.

It would be easy to only see the negatives in what happened, but I can see what I did achieve.

The positives:

• getting through airport security alone, something which fills me with dread even when we go on a family holiday
• finding somewhere to sit amongst the huge crowds of people waiting for our gate numbers
• boarding the plane alone, lifting my suitcase up to stow away and flying along...all of which usually fills me with paralysing anxiety when I'm with someone never mind doing it on my own!
• introducing myself to strangers
• joining in the welcome games 
• talking to strangers about what I do, what I'm trying to accomplish (writing a book) and telling them about my anxiety and depression
• eating in front of others, I've had problems with this for years and struggled to do so in front of Robbie when we first started dating
• got up early
• completed a hardcore workout in the morning
• talked to two awesome (and well known) Youtubers one on one 

It might not have gone as I'd hoped it would but I'm still glad that I went and gave it a go. I tried and have no regrets. If I'd never headed to the airport, boarded the plane, met all of those people and done a workout...I would have been wondering 'what if?' that and I would have been stalking their Instrgaram stories and posts for the entire week. Things might not always go as we plan but try not to mark them up as FAILURES entirely. Take a moment and think through what you did do, see the positives in what you did achieve. 

Anti-depressants and Weight Gain

Screen print 'Happy Pills' by Chris James

It's a cracking post title, right? Just what you want when you're feel downtrodden already, you've finally managed to talk things through with a doctor, you've got through the period of adjusting to being on anti-depressants with their lovely side effects and to top it off...weight gain. That's just splendid. Not all of them cause weight gain, in some cases they can cause weight loss due to a decreased appetite. Frankly I'd be game to get on those ones!

I first started taking anti-depressants in September 2013. After hiding my illness for 5 years things had become so bad that I barely had the energy to keep up the facade. My mum woke me up one day and just said that she knew something wasn't right and outright asked if I thought I was depressed. I started crying and could barely stop myself. I knew it was bad and it had slowly been chipping away at the person I was until very little of that fun loving personality remained. That same day I walked into my GP's office and told them everything I'd been trying and failing to say for years. The most I'd managed to say to them before was that I'd been having panic attacks but they didn't prescribe anything or refer me to a counsellor. This time she pushed a box of tissues towards me and said "oh it can be all that bad surely" somehow in that moment I managed to fight my corner, I told her of my self harming and suicidal thoughts, of how I barely lived these days and spent the end of my summer term at uni locked away in my room. Reluctantly she prescribed me my first dose of anti-depressants. Her hesitance was due to me being a temporary patient back in Ipswich as I was then registered with a doctor up in Durham whilst I was at uni and they might have had a different opinion on how my depression should be treated. I was prescribed what is generally prescribed in the first instance providing that you aren't pregnant or experiencing a serious health condition such as heart problems or diabetes. I was initially given a small dose of Sertraline as my score on the multi choice test for depression was pretty high and rated me as having severe major depression with social anxiety.

Unfortunately medications don't work straight away, they can actually cause the depression to worsen over the initial two weeks of taking them and even after they kick in they don't always agree with you. I experienced some pretty bad side effects and the Sertraline didn't seem to be improving my mood, so it was decided that I was be put on Venlafaxine. Bad luck for me as I had a GP that whipped me off Sertraline in a week, not recommended! Usually you will be phased off anti-depressants slowly so you're body can adapt without going into withdrawal. I went straight into withdrawal, was extremely emotional and a danger to myself. If I'd had been in a better state of mind I might have been able to give that GP a well deserved telling off, but I was barely able to speak up loud enough to check into the doctors surgery let alone give the doctor a good telling off.

I've been on Venlafaxine (also known as Effexor) for about four years now. I've experienced some side effects but nothing bad enough to prompt me to change again. Even though I knew my current GP would carefully remove it from my system, I was still scared of having another horrendous experience of withdrawal and a major depressive episode without any anti-depressants in my system. That was until I realised something recently. When I was at uni I kept track of my weight. At the time I was experiencing body dysmorphia, I still do but in different ways now, I believed that I was fat when I was actually around the perfect weight for my frame (just under 9 stone). Flash forward to today and I'm 11st 6lbs. The most commonly used anti-depressants such as Prozac and Zoloft can cause weight gain of at least 10lbs! Nightmare! The cause of this weight gain isn't known for certain, it can be because of an improved mood and the ability to find pleasure in things again such as food. It has also been shown to cause a change in metabolism (making it slower) causing patients to gain weight despite maintaining normal eating habits.

Depression did cause a major change in my diet and activity levels, for the worse. However, since January I have been moving more than I had in the past couple of years, eating significantly better, upping my daily step count and really pushing with the exercise. Imagine my horror when I put a dress on a couple of months ago that was tight when a few months prior it had been loose! I know that weight loss takes time but this was devastating. I checked out the side effects of Venlafaxine and yipeee weight gain is one of them. I discovered forums full of people experiencing the same problem. Enough is enough for me, my anxiety and depression is closely linked to my body image and self confidence. If the thing that's supposed to be helping my mood is causing weight gain and destroying my confidence, it will inevitably reignite the depression. Awesome.

I decided to head to my GP to discuss coming off Venlafaxine. He was incredibly relieved. In the years since I'd been taking it, more and more tests on the drug and those taking it had revealed that it can have major effects on the cardiac system. Anti-depressants often affect more than one nervous system i.e. the brain and something else, in this case it is the heart. With his assistance I've been slowly withdrawing from Venlafaxine since April. It has to be a gradual process as my body has become so used to it's presence after relying upon it for so many years. The body and mind goes into shock as it realises this thing it has clung to for so long is suddenly being taken away from it. My dosage was adjusted every two weeks and with it came a variety of side effects which I've listed below:

• Weeks 1 + 2: alternating days of 225mg and 150 mg, high levels of anxiety, shakes, sweating
• Weeks 3 + 4: 150mg each day, dramatic mood swings, tearful, low mood, upset stomach, fatigue and insomnia 
• Weeks 5 + 6: alternating days of 150mg and 112/5mg, sensation of chickenpox on the skin feeling itchy but no visible cause, hot flushes, nausea, fatigue, sickness, insomnia 
• Weeks 7 + 8: 112.5mg each day, less nausea, appetite returned, loss of concentration, increased sensitivity to sudden noises and movements, very dry mouth
• Weeks 9 + 10: alternating days of 112.5mg and 75mg, very low moods, low self esteem, high anxiety, poor sleep pattern
• Weeks 11 until present day: 75mg every day, very low mood, crying over nothing, very sensitive, tired, headaches, anxious, low self esteem, lack of concentration, lack of enjoyment

I've been taking 75mg each day for a number of weeks now due to difficulties getting a follow up appointment with my GP. When I did get an appointment we discussed remaining at this dosage until I returned from a planned trip abroad as we agreed it could disturb my mood further. The plan is to then alternate with 75mg and 37.5mg, followed by two weeks of taking 37.5mg daily and then being free of anti-depressants for a while. At the beginning of this process if it had been suggested that I'd be taking no medication at all at some point I might have had concern. Whereas I now can see how much of an impact it was having on my body. I also have less nerves about this as the process has been undertaken in a very controlled manner. Once my body has adjusted to being drug free and free of any withdrawal affects we will then introduce a new drug and be able to see if there are any obvious side effects from it. Hopefully I'll be able to find something that helps rather than hinders the recovery process!

 

Progress Report

Example of mood tracker using bullet journal system, photo from Pinterest.

As promised at the end of my last post, this week I will be discussing how I track my progress. Around the turn of the new year I was seeing a lot of blog posts and Instagrams about bullet journals. I'm aware that the concept has been around for a while but it seems to have taken off recently. If you search for 'bullet journals' on Pinterest you'll see dozens of beautifully illustrated pages that have been painstakingly planned ahead of time. People go to town on their journals using various pens, fonts, doodles and numbering the pages. Despite being a creative person myself, I couldn't get my head around spending hours on setting up the structure of the journal. I respond best to simple plans with some kind of easy to read visual scheme, which is exactly what I created for myself. I decided to take the general concept of the bullet journal; using a dot paged journal and creating a code to easily decipher progress in various topics.

My main areas that I wanted to track included my mood, quality of sleep and daily activities in terms of fitness. Each page contains a view of the entire year ahead, each square represents a day and is coloured in at the end of day according to how it went, whether I had insomnia and how active I was. Over time I can see patterns emerging such as how my activity levels drop if I've had a period of insomnia or a number of low days in a row. I decided to also created a two page view of each month to show how many steps I was wracking up and summarising what I got up to each day. I have to make a note of what I've been up to as my short term memory is terrible. If I forget to sit down and fill the pages in, I really struggle to think back on what I did a few days ago. For the step count pages I've been writing down the numbers provided by my Fitbit. At the end of each month I total up the steps and compare how well I've done against previous months. So far the total monthly step count has increased each month which is brilliant.

Using this type of journal has been a great way for me to track my progress. It also shows how well I'm doing in terms of meeting my fitness goals. I've always known that I experience a particularly bad period of insomnia each month and this has helped to outline when it happens. I love that I can see so much information from month to month on one page. I also find these tables a great way of keeping track of various chores I need to keep on top of such as when did I last change the bedding or clean the bathroom as well as things like when I last gave the pets their flea treatments or whether it's time I changed my toothbrush! I definitely recommend giving it a go, it isn't too late to set one up either!

  

Head Down

Some people might question my commitment to being a mental health writer as I was silent across all platforms during mental health week. A lot of people I follow on Instagram and Youtube utilised the time to spread messages that support the movement against stigma and silence of mental illnesses. It surely was the perfect opportunity for me to do the same, particularly as the occasion coincided with my usual blog upload day.

Unfortunately my illness doesn't care for what day or week it is, even if it might be the perfect opportunity to post a true account of the pain I experience during a low period. I can begin a week with a seemingly great plan for writing, filming and exercising only to end up diving head first into my duvet. A week spent editing my video on my breast reduction surgery (see it here) that occurred last Summer has put me into a strange head space. Of course the operation was a fantastic moment for me, I was finally taking the steps towards boosting my body confidence and self esteem after feeling trapped in a body I wasn't comfortable with. It's allowed me to push my body beyond what I thought it was capable of in terms of fitness.

However, as I was editing the video I couldn't help but think that I haven't progressed much further since the operation. A week after the operation we were having a party, I was reunited with friends from university and we talked of work and my plans for my book. I've previously said that I would kick myself if I hadn't got everything together by this Summer. It might not be here just yet but it is looming and I've barely touched the pages in my desk draw. I've spent years working through events that transpired long ago, coming to conclusions on how they impacted my mental health and actions. Writing it all down comes easily enough to me, but reading over it all and attempting to put it all into chapters is incredibly overwhelming. Many people who attempt to write their memoirs often fail because it ends up being so damaging to their emotional and mental health. So imagine attempting to do so when your mental health is already in tatters. Despite the pain and frustration of it all, I know that it's something I desperately want other people to see one day. Creating things is what keeps me going and makes me excited. There will always be days when my head goes down, but it will pop up again when I'm ready. I seem to be constantly battling against society's ideas of what progress looks like and what I've learnt; that it takes many forms. Check back in two weeks time for a post on how I track my progress.

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Stick a Pin In It

Image obtained from Pinterest

For the past year or so I have been trying alternative methods to improve my symptoms of depression and anxiety. I have said in the past that I am an advocate of medication to an extent. The effects medication can have upon a condition like this can be limited, and can often limit a person further due to side effects of medication. I know that some people have experienced GPs that have only offered medication to them as a treatment for depression. The doctors I've seen have always expressed the importance of a combination of medication and talking therapies in cases of severe depression.

I haven't always had the best experience with talking therapies. Who you are treated by can be a bit hit and miss. And that's OK. Try to hold onto hope that there will be a counsellor out there that you will establish a natural rapport with. It can be frustrating when it seems like you are ticking off counsellors fasting than items on your grocery list. If you're able to persevere it will be worth it and if you need a break for a while that's perfectly OK too. Having to retell painful memories over and over again can be exhausting. I certainly found it disheartening and a break was very beneficial to me. 

In the meantime you might consider exploring some alternative treatments or non western medication. I've previously had hypnotherapy but my heart and more importantly my head, wasn't in it. I was sceptical and mostly complying because my family really believed it could work for me. I've since expanded my mind, cast a wider net as such and decided to look into acupuncture. 

After the new year turned into 2016 I decided to look into acupuncture as I'd been plagued with insomnia, stomach problems and my anxiety levels were at an all time high. I'd been reading some mental health memoirs and each one had mentioned an alternative treatment in their treatment plans for depression. One in particular voiced the enormous benefits acupuncture had upon their recovery and overall quality of health. The fantastic thing about it is that you can have treatment for multiple health concerns in one session. I've had treatment for anxiety, depression, insomnia, IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), chronic knee pain, hip pain, shoulder and neck pain caused by large, heavy breasts and on one occasion treatment on my back. 

After having a few stints in hospitals I'd got over my fear of needles! However, even if you aren't a fan of needles don't run for the hills just yet! They are incredibly fine, small needles, all of which are of course sterile and brand new for each procedure and will be disposed of in a medical waste bin upon removal. I very rarely feel them going in. My acupuncture therapist instructs me to breath in deeply and then out, she lines the needles up over the points and as I breath out she pops them in. Sometimes a nerve is hit, occasionally they will feel uncomfortable as she may have tried a particularly difficult point which she says many patients struggle with. You might feel a slight pinch for a brief time but as the treatment goes on I completely forget about them. I often count the needles as she is removing them. I believe my highest count has been around 50! She's said that she's not treated anyone with that many needles before but I do have a number of areas being treated. After the procedure you may feel quite tired, which isn't surprising as the body has in a sense experienced trauma. I certainly don't feel like I have! The experience is incredibly calming and I feel free of anxiety once the session is over. I particularly like when my therapist walks around the treatment table and lightly touches all of the needles once they've been inserted, each light brush leaves my body feeling like it's rising from the treatment bed. I've never fallen asleep but my body relaxes completely and my arms often fall off of their resting place on my chest, on one occasion I've opened my eyes at the end of the hour to find my arm extended off of the table like a wing! 

If you decide to look into this therapy I'd advise you to look at one website in particular which I've linked here. It lists all of the registered practitioners in your area. All of those on the website have to meet certain criteria and need a certain level of qualifications to have their profiles listed on the website, so you can be assured that they are legitimate and fully qualified to perform acupuncture. 

Uphill Struggle

This time of year is particularly difficult for those with depression. January went by all too quickly as did February. I was willing myself to really kick start my 'health kick' all the while feeling incredibly down, exhausted and hopeless. This desire to feel fit and healthy isn't a new year fad, it is a constant desire to be the best version of myself for me. I'm not doing it for anyone else, I'm not attempting to meet anyone elses standards or views of the 'ideal' body. I just want to like what I see reflected back at me, I don't want to feel the pinch of too skinny jeans, I don't want the constant reminder that I'm slightly unfit as I can't catch my breath as I walk up a steep hill. Long ago I mastered the wrong ways of losing weight. I was thinner, I weighed less but I felt awful.

For the past few weeks I've been walking as much as I can. It's alarming to see how little I moved when I was really depressed. I walked my dog as much as I could, others subbed in for me when I was particularly tearful. Other than that my movements were limited to going back and forth between my bed, the bathroom, the kitchen and occasionally venturing out for a food shop with someone. A weekly trip to Waitrose (any other supermarket works just as well) really racked up the daily step count! Nowadays if my step count is lagging a bit I'll go off to ASDA because it's HUGE and pace up and down every aisle, even the ones I don't need to go along, just to push towards my step count. Most people can achieve the daily recommended 10,000 steps fairly easily if they work in the big city or are generally on their feet for most of the day. For me it is one of the achievements that I need to remember and hold on to when I am feeling useless and worthless. The small goals soon add up and as time goes by you'll forget when you last felt out of breath. Despite my good intentions, depression can still get to me, infiltrate my goals and set me way back along my line of progress.

The photo above depicts one of my greatest achievements last year. Surprisingly not mastering how to ski. I tried, I really put every ounce of effort in that I could muster. That doesn't mean that I will never try again. I hope I will. That trip was almost a disaster for me. I didn't feel like I deserved to be there, I failed at skiing therefor I didn't deserve to eat the lovely food or go out to beautiful places with everyone else. My subconscious was punishing me further when I had already been kicked down. I've recently realised that my subconscious frequently meddles with my thoughts.  Any compliment I receive is immediately squashed in my mind, declarations of love are translated into pity, even my own ambitions of losing weight and exercising more are stomped on by the voice telling me "there's no point, you'll always be chubby". It will take me a long time to reprogramme my subconscious, it has been polluted by anxiety and voices that really did tell me I was useless, fat, undesirable, the second choice and first to lose. I'm doing my best to stay on track by creating motivation boards displaying the things I really want to achieve, words reminding me what I enjoy doing, reminders of what I regret not doing during the days I feel down. I've also drawn up the next few months so I can see when we have social events coming up, my motivation to keep doing something physical each day so I feel comfortable and possibly confident when I have to dress up. I'm not going to let another summer come and go by with me feeling uncomfortable in summer clothing, feeling ashamed as my thighs chafe after being liberated from jeans only to feel super uncomfortable in shorts and dresses. Fingers crossed these thoughts carry me through the bad days. I just completed a 30 day squat challenge, I can't say that I've ever done 1,900 squats before! It felt great and after a rest day I will be progressing to level 2 of the squat challenge and adding a abdominal challenge into the mix too!

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Self Destruction

I was supposed to start this year by going to the Harry Potter Warner Studio tour. We received two gift tickets from my parents last Christmas, as in 2015. Initially our tour was booked in for October as I'd heard that death eaters roam the Diagon Alley set. Unfortunately I got super anxious in the weeks leading up to it. Fortunately the tours can be rebooked up until the evening before in case of sickness etc.

Sometimes I set myself up for setbacks and failure. Whenever we're expecting guests at the house, I either go into hibernation mode with intervals to dash to the kitchen for food in stealth mode OR I throw myself into baking in batch mode, cooking up a storm and generally exhausting myself right up until they're on the doorstep. Neither are ideal. Baking is usually a good coping mechanism for me. However, it's not wise to do so when I do it to the point when I've been on my feet for hours without a break, my body is trembling and I've managed to work through all meals of the day. That right there is setting myself up to fail. Of course I'll be more prone to anxiety and dips in my mood if I haven't eaten, my body is already trembling and I haven't taken a second to breath and prepare myself for a wave of people coming into the house.

When I rebooked the studio tour I set myself up once again. I reschueduled for another early morning Saturday tour. That's red flag number 1. First thing after I wake up, I'm more likely to be convinced that the day ahead will be a diaster and that I am already a failure. Also, Saturdays will be SUPER busy with families that can't go during the week. Combine that with the Halloween season and we have a potential meltdown scenario. I was also going to be driving solo to Watford for the first time so we could stay there the night before to avoid having to get up super early to drive. So that would be a solo drive, a brand new route, Friday evening rush hour traffic and picking up Robbie from a busy train station. Of course all of this produced the same amount of anxiety I felt the first time around. Fortunately we were able to ammend the booking once again. That alone is progress as before I would have eaten the cost of the tickets and purchased new ones just to avoid the high level of anxiety I often feel when I have to make a phone call.


The evening before I was due to post this, I very nearly set myself up for a setback again. Some of you will know that I am a creative person. After burning myself out over the years of art exams I wasn't certain that I'd find that desire to create again. Over the past couple of years I've dabbled with small projects and started creating on my face (!) I've really enjoyed it but there have been times when I will go months between creating anything. Yesterday one of my favourite makeup brands announced the opening of their annual competition, the NYX Face Awards. For years I watched the American competition and hoped that it would happen here too. In the midst of depression I completely missed the first one, nothing was on my radar at that time. Last year I decided to create my entry, I was excited initially but I realised that something wasn't quite right. I wasn't enjoying the process of creating something exciting. It was causing sleepless nights as I attempted to squeeze out some creativity, something original. I ended up working throughout the nights whilst everyone else was soundly asleep. It simply wasn't doing me any good, my health was in decline again as were my spirits as I doubted my skills. I wish that I had been working on developing my skills over the past year, gaining confidence ready for this years competition. Perhaps if I didn't have a mind fogged up by depression I could have figured out when the competition would fall this year. This time last year we were on holiday in Switzerland. I can recall furiously checking and refreshing the Instagram post of my video entry to see how many views and likes I was receiving. Part of me wanted some kind of recognition, a vote of confidence to say that I had some talent worth honing. The other part of me was in sheer bloody panic at the thought of getting through to the first round only to realise I'd exhausted my ideas already. Last night was a restless night as I saw the announcement, submissions for the competition are now being accepted. My mind was a flash of colours and shapes as I closed my eyes ready for sleep. Rest did not come until the early hours of this morning when everyone else was getting up to start their day. I came up with some options for my plan of action. Either I accept this challenge and do my very best BUT risk the progress I've made in the improvements to my lifestyle including exercise, healthy eating at 'normal' times of the day and getting restful nights sleep. OR I watch as others enter, take inspiration from that and attempt to use this year to hone my skills at my pace whilst maintaining the progress in other areas of my life. I think the choice is obvious. The competition will be there next year and perhaps I might be more prepared for it when it does come.

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Challenging Myself

 

The theme of this month has been 'pushing myself'. I had a week more or less alone each day, so I had to be there for Toby (my dog). Now, most dog owners would say 'well yeah, don't we all?' and of course I am but since I've been struggling so much recently I've skimped on the morning walks. Other members of the household enjoy taking him out in the mornings anyway, so in a way I rested on that and became somewhat complacent. I'd go out with him as often as I could in the afternoons, but some days I'd feel horrendous and the last thing I was thinking of was putting my wellies on and going for a long trudge. Alas no more. I will at least walk him once a day, stretch his legs and mine, breathe in some clean fresh air and actually attempt to reach my daily recommended step quota!

I can head off with good intentions, plug one ear into my iPhone and listen to an audio book. That has been my method recently, listening to a good audio book which I reserve only for when I take Toby on a walk. That way I'll get out with him as I should and I'll be jumping at the chance to continue listening to the book. My books of choice are usually something comical or something on depression, quite the contrast eh? Not always, sometimes the two coincide. One minute I can be tearful as I relate to their story so much and the next I can be chuckling at their mishaps as they so often sound like something I too have done. As I said, I go off with good intentions, but that doesn't mean I am calm and collected. Oh no, anxiety is a fickle companion. I can be stumbling along only to hear a rustle, most likely the wind or a squirrel but my mind will say 'someone's following you' my head snaps around to see where the attacker will come from. No one there. My head is still going through the self defence acronym from 'Miss Congeniality' 'SING' Solar-plexus Instep Nose and Groin. Knowing me I'd end up doing it only to apologise frantically as I panic that I might receive a lawsuit despite it being self defence!

Today it wasn't me that was panicking, not me initially anyway. Toby had his defences up as he saw a man that according to him did not belong on the green opposite our driveway. We had to continue walking towards him as that was our walking route. He started barking and howling at him and what appeared to be an industrial hoover that he was dragging to the back of his van. I am incredibly short sighted even with glasses or contact lenses. All I could see was a man in blue work overalls with a prominent thick moustache and a matching thick mop of curly hair. My eyes were seeing a comical Pixar worthy character, not dissimilar to the dad in 'Sunny With a Chance of Meatballs' except his comical bushy eyebrows had migrated to the top of his head. The man chuckled and tutted as we came closer and as I attempted to drag Toby along, he said "don't like me eh? I don't like you much either" I just apologised quickly as I attempted to bribe Toby to walk further along the past at a fast pace. We just about made it a safe distance for him to stop barking, only I stumbled and stepped on one of his paws causing him to squeal and yelp loudly. 'Fantastic', I thought 'now everyone in a close radius thinks that I abuse my dog to stop him barking'. Of course my mind jumped to that assumption. Anxiety you fickle bitch.

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Getting Back to the Good

Good God, I've actually done two posts in a row?! I'm determined to return to doing what I love most, one of those things being writing. As most of you will know writing has become a form of therapy for me. Although I did start seeing a new counsellor at the beginning of 2016, after a few months I decided that I needed a break. I'm fully aware that talking therapies aren't easy, it takes time to heal and talk through (in my case) almost 8 years of damaging thoughts and behaviours. I decided to take a break because the conversations started going in bad places, touching upon subjects and people that I hadn't intended discussing. After most sessions I'd sit in the car for a few minutes and simply feel shit. I felt worse than before I arrived for the appointment. I believe that counselling is very benefical for some people, particularly for those whom have never discussed life changing events in their lives or long term concerns of theirs. After concealing my illness for 5 years I was suddenly talking about everything very openly and then I started writing as a way of helping myself process years worth of thoughts and feelings on bullying, anxiety, depression, self harm and eating disorders. I've had a lot of time to process everything and perhaps my silence over the years caused more damage, but now I'm really dealing with everything and have found a great deal of clarity on matters that were once very confusing.

In the previous post I touched upon how hard the past few months have been for me. I had a HUGE operation which although it has been life changing for the better, it also caused a massive shift in my day-to-day life. Prior to the operation I had been eating healthily, attempting and succeeding to film videos, I was doing a lot of writing for my book and I was exercising 6 days a week. I was preparing my body for what was to come. I've had operations in the past which have left me feeling incredibly weak and as a result were the perfect conditions for depression to manifest in. This time around I wanted to give my body as much strength as possible. I succeeded in that. Of course any operation will knock you for six as your body has been pumped full of anasthetic and drugs. I was fully prepared for how long it would take to heal, I knew that I would experience discomfort as I tried to sleep each night and I certainly wouldn't be able to exercise for a couple of months.

I was, and still am very happy with the results. It's given me a lot more confidence but I know that I still have deep rooted self esteem and body confidence issues. Most of those issues come from being bullied, over-eating as a coping mechanism at that time and subsequently yo-yoing between diets and various eating disorders for years. All of that caused a lot of damage to my body and my mind. The combination of not being able to exercise, coming back from a tropical holiday to the grey skies of England and daylight saving all contributed towards a severe period of depression. The feelings of being useless, worthless and incredibly unattractive all came back. My anxiety reached all-time highs as I found myself hiding behind doors as the house was full of people, I'd be trembling with anxiety and silently crying until everyone left and I quietly whispered through the crack in the door to reveal my whereabouts to Robbie. There has been a massive contrast between those moments and me managing to drive to Southampton or Winchester to visit family and friends. It can be confusing for others to hear that I'm really struggling when they witness times when I seem to be on top form. It's true that some aspects of life have become easier, but those have been replaced by new fears and concerns. My lowest points have become dangerously low as I sink into a deep depression which may only last an hour or so, but those minutes are incredibly damaging to me. I sink into a short, sharp depression in which I could easily make some drastic and permanent decisions only for me to lift out of it an hour later.

After a second consecutive night of sobbing in bed about not being able to live like this, I asked Robbie what he thought I should do. It's usually directed at me, what I think I should do and frankly if I knew...well I'd be sharing that revelation to everyone else like me. We talked it through and determined that there were some things that had been making a difference prior to my operation, that was the last consistently stable period I had. Since then I've been exercising a lot less and my anxiety has been so severe that I've been unable to attend appointments for accupuncture which had been significantly helping my insomnia and mood in general. It took me a long time to realise that accupuncture had such a significant impact for me. There were weeks when I had really bad insomnia after having a good sleeping pattern for a while. It suddenly hit me, I hadn't been for an accupucnture session for over a month due to not being able to afford it. That was the only thing that had changed in my daily life.

So...along with my plans of writing, filming and keeping on top of my household chores, I'm going to be slotting exercise and accupuncture back into my schedule. Ideally I'd like to get back into blogging, perhaps on a fortnightly basis to alleviate some of the pressure I started feeling from weekly blogging. I put a lot of pressure on myself to create 'perfect' content in a limited time frame. Some bloggers manage to post more than once a week and sometimes daily! Unfortunately that's just not realistic for me as I'm attempting to juggle my mental health issues and attempting to find happiness in some of the things I do each day. For now my idea for the blog, 'Cheerful Chelsea 2.0' if you will, is to create updates on how my mood, anxiety levels and self confidence levels have been for two week intervals. I'll also be trying out various work-out plans and making a note of how much I enjoy them, whether they have an affect on my mood and any results I may achieve from them. I'm not becoming a fitness blogger I swear! I just want to help myself and others with mental illness by narrowing down some realistic, affordable and achieveable exercise plans. I know the struggle of watching late night/nocturnal hours of television when hour long product adverts come on teleshopping long after the usual channel has stopped airing. I get sucked in and become transfixed on them and a few days later I have some INSANE workout plan or fitness gizmo which ultimately gathers dust as I pile on weight, have super low energy levels and quietly sob over my desire to change but lack of means to do so. This idea for the blog might not be embraced by many, bet hey ho I'm giving it a go. Perhaps it will keep me on track with things and make me stick to an exercise plan. I simply can't live the way I have been for any longer, I just can't be a 24 year old that is this ashamed of her body. I'm young, I shouldn't be worrying about these things and I shouldn't have caused this much damage to my body and self esteem by dieting since I was 16 years old. I hope you will check back in a couple of weeks time to see what I have to say! If this idea goes well I will also be posting some time lapse videos of the exercises I've been doing to show how I'm progressing and also so I can see how much fitter or flexible I become over time. Remember, all of this takes time, that SUPER amazing body transformation video you watched took TIME. Healing takes TIME.

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Return of the Blogger

My second blogger birthday seemingly passed me by this year (21st October). I suppose it's fair that I won't be celebrating, I feel that I've neglected the blog and people deserve to know why. I never expected to look forward to baring my soul on the internet, it's entirely the opposite of the safe internet practices we were told about when we were younger. I've only ever done it because I believed and still believe, that my words and experiences can help people. In the past two years I have been told that friends of friends have benefited from me sharing my mental health journey.

The truth is that I've been majorly struggling in recent months. In July I had a breast reduction, something which I have been longing for since I was 16 years old. Since the days of being bullied, I have struggled with low confidence and self esteem, particularly when it comes to my body. I piled on a lot of weight in a short space of time and...poof or rather KAPOW big bazoomas on my chest, all of the cake had fallen through my mouth and directly onto the cake shelf that is my clevage. I was ecstatic that 2016 was going to finally be the year that I'd make the change, that I'd finally have breasts that would be in proportion with the rest of my body. Although the operation was going to massively impact and improve my body confidence, I knew that it wasn't going to resolve all of my problems. I was even prepared for the post-op period of not being able to do much, of being in pain, being unable to have a comfortable night's sleep and being unable to exercise after consistently working out regularly for a few months prior to surgery. I had the slump, a major low period and over a month of insomnia.

We then went off on a holiday of a lifetime in September. Of course I was anxious about navigating through the airport and getting through the long haul flight. Even if I'm being jetted off to paradise I'll still want to launch myself at the emergency exits because I hate being confined and unable to escape. I had a fantastic time when I got there, for the most part anyway. The bright sunlight, the warmth on my skin, being consumed by two books (non-fiction still), swimming amongst fish of all colours and sizes and doing all whilst comfortably wearing a bikini brought me a great deal of joy.

Unfortunately when you check your bags in and hop aboard a plane you can't leave depression behind. There were some days when I resented how bright the sun was, I felt exposed and uncomfortable. I had bad stomach reactions to the drinking water, was often left feeling downbeat due to poor vegetarian options and generally felt anxious at all mealtimes and social occasions. I felt that I ought to be having a great time, that this was the break I needed and that my gratitude should be beaming from my every pore. Yet, I found myself punishing myself almost every evening. Old habits, an old illness broke thorugh the surface. I was purging all of the bad feelings and resentments I had. It wasn't the first time that I've had bullimia and unfortunately it wasn't the last. I've had a terrible relationship with my body, diets and eating disorders since I was 16. I'm hoping that this will be the year when I learn to love the body I have, or at least be a little kiner towards it.

There was a really bad night that I can't even go into right now. Even before all of this I had been considering that I needed to be put on an increased dose of anti-depressants. I'd had multiple breakdowns before and after the holiday and had generally been feeling empty for a long time. It might sound like the basis of depression anyway, but I knew it was getting worse. It was agreed that increasing the meds was the best way to go. However, due to mess ups with my prescription multiple times it was a couple of months before I was consistently on my new doseage. I knew it wasn't the only change I needed. I decided to enforce a schedule for my week: 3 days of working on my book and filming videos and the remainder of the week would be devoted to household chores and attempting to take care of myself. I'm still not sure whether things will work out, whether I'll start to feel happy or even content ever again. Even when I've achieved something like filming and editing two videos or tackling a load of laundry, I fail to feel good about it. People might praise me when I can't do it myself and I come up with an argument for why I don't deserve their praise. I know I can't just win at life without buying a ticket. I have to enter the prize draw, I have to back my own horse and accept the result I get and aim to improve on it or maintain my winning odds.

I'm hopeful that I will return to blogging more often. It might take me a while as I attempt to balance all of the other plates in my life. My plates might not be loaded with immense culinary dishes and I might have signifcantly lighter dishes than others, but to me it's a hardship and I need time to work on my balancing act and feel OK with the way my life is panning out.

I hope you're all well, happy or simply working on keeping your own plates spinning in the air right now.

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