Book Review vol. 2

I'm back with another review of a mental health memoir. I'm hoping that you like these posts as I have a shelf full of these books waiting for me to read. I've already managed to read more books in just over a month than I was able to read in the entirety of 2015. Depression has really affected my concentration levels, even when it comes to watching TV or flipping through a magazine. I tried to distract my mind with fiction books last year but I couldn't keep up with the plot. Whilst reading novels I'd end up spending an hour reading and re-reading the same two pages because the information just wasn't going into my head. I seem to be having more success with non-fiction, particularly these books written about personal experiences of depression. It might sound like a tough read, but they've really helped reinforce the message that I'm not alone in feeling the way I do.

This week's review is on 'The Devil Within' by Stephanie Merritt. This book covers several stages of Merritt's life, through the brutal bullying she experienced in school to the alien world of extravagance in her sixth form and through to how earlier problems effected her in her adult life. Merritt shows how much strength she had as a teenager. Initially she avoided confronting her bullies and sought refuge in some of the quiet parts of her school. Bullies target the strange, the abnormal, sometimes things we are deeply insecure about and also things we'd never noticed about ourselves. Merritt eventually realised that no matter how many physical changes she made to her appearance, the bullies wouldn't relent. Instead of letting them pick her apart she stood up to them and removed any power they once had. She could have left the school, it was an option at one point but she decided to tough it out until she could leave and progress to sixth form. It was when she started sixth form that problems started to arise. She found herself attending an all girls sixth form college, one in which a uniform of luxury labels were worn and a certain body image was present across the school. What initially began as a way of attempting to fit in whilst also improving her health, Merritt developed an eating disorder. Her parents thought that she was going through a faze and was claiming her independence through cooking separate meals from the family. When she didn't see the results she had hoped for, her diet became even more restrictive and her exercise regime became obsessive.

An interesting dynamic of this book is that she grew up in an Evangelical Christian community. This was something that she once embraced and enjoyed. As the church started to develop and turned towards new practises she became skeptical of the church. The adults of the community started undertaking exorcisms which involved speaking in tongues over someone writhing on the floor as the devil within them was extracted from them through their mouth. Her parents believed that she needed the help of a church counsellor for guidance with her 'difficult' period believing that she required an exorcism due to her acting out. I wasn't expecting to be able to get through this part of the book, I wasn't sure I'd be able to process the religious content. I was happily surprised to find it very interesting.

Merritt's memoir also discusses her experiences of loss, her own depression as well as the secret illness of a friend, alcoholism and depression during and after pregnancy. Anyone that has experienced eating disorders or alcohol dependency might find some of the content difficult to read and could be a trigger. Although I've never had a problem with alcohol I have had an eating disorder and found some of the writing to be a slight pull towards those practises again. If anyone is interested in reading this book but would like to avoid that content I will happily tell you which pages to avoid. The reflections upon her time being pregnant were particularly interesting to me. Although I'm not ready to start a family just yet, I have worried about my increased risk of developing depression with pregnancy. There aren't any tips and tricks provided to avoid it, but her account enabled me to think about the environment and support network needed to help mitigate any symptoms of depression whilst pregnant and after the baby is born.

I was pleasantly surprised by this book. I purchased it based on reviews on Amazon. From reading those reviews I knew that she discussed her issues with alcohol but I hadn't expected some of the other issues she dealt with in her life. I found her account of her life at university particularly helpful for my peace of mind, it seems that we encountered similar difficulties. As well as being a fantastic memoir of depression, this book is also an engaging coming of age story, one which most of us will be able to relate to in some ways.

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Breast Intentions

During my recent working vacation I had some breakthroughs. Most notably with my GP, if you follow this blog you may remember me referring to a particularly brutal doctor in the past. After inducing a breakdown, being too anxious to attend appointments and generally feeling beaten down by their words, I decided enough was enough. I either had to cease treatment with this doctor and find another one, something which I was reluctant to do, or address this doctor's shortcomings and failures in dealing with me. Despite talking about my mental health more than ever before, it's still very difficult for me to discuss my problems with GPs. I've been through a few doctors now, I understand that some people struggle to talk about mental health and that they might not understand it or may even dismiss depression as an illness all together. Is it so wrong to expect that your GP would be sympathetic and understanding of mental illness? I don't think so. Perhaps it's an area that's skimmed over but covered enough so they have a general understanding of mental illnesses. Either explanation is still unacceptable. 

I decided to face the problem head on, albeit through a letter. I'm not especially eloquent in person, I stumble over my words, stutter and rarely get my point across in face to face conversations. It's not as if I don't know what I want to say, I can go into a conversation having rehearsed every potential scenario in my head, stressing over the details, ifs and maybes are my forte after-all! To compensate for this I decided to write a letter to my GP explaining my thoughts on their treatment towards me. Essentially, several comments were made on my personal life and how I choose to address and treat my mental health conditions. If I couldn't proceed with any further appointments with them I at least hoped to highlight ways they could alter their behaviour for any other patients they might have with depression. Fortunately they responded well, and we've agreed to continue our doctor-patient relationship. I could have easily rolled over on these issues, I could have allowed them to believe that I'm a particularly sensitive individual and that they need to treat me accordingly. This doctor does have a fairly forceful nature in the hopes that they can push patients towards getting better. I know that they have made a real effort to understand every aspect of my life, they've accepted that for now I do not wish to seek the help of a counsellor.

I wasn't sure how they'd react to my letter, before I received their response I was convinced that I was going to have to search for another doctor. Fortunately bridges hadn't been burned. At the end of the letter I decided to address something I'd been too nervous to discuss in an appointment. The addition of which turned the one page letter into a three page essay! It's something that I have previously discussed with other doctors only to be shot down with their personal opinions. During the height of the bullying I experienced, I turned to food for comfort and up until that point I'd never really understood the term 'comfort eating'. I suppose I just felt some immediate satisfaction and happiness after each forkful of cake, cheesecake or whatever else I was sneakily shovelling in after school. This routine soon took it's toll on my body, and without realising I had become 2 stone heavier and had gone from a B cup to probably around an F cup. I was mortified, I didn't want to have my breasts measured properly to reveal the true extent of how big I was. I received even more attention and scrutiny. I was called out on by my P.E. teacher in the changing room because my sports top was now "inappropriately tight", cheers for that. I avoided P.E. lessons when our group of girls was suddenly mixed with the boys because of bad weather. At that time I favoured getting a 'no kit' mark against my name rather than bouncing on a trampoline in front of the boys and giving myself black eyes.

Six years on and not much has changed. I still avoid getting measured properly as they are still growing. I've had breakdowns in changing rooms because of them and would rather avoid crying in front of a lady with a measuring tape and enormous bras. I managed to lose most of the weight I had gained, but I never regained the confidence I once had nor the pleasure of buying and wearing clothes that made me feel good, and I certainly haven't lost the other two things I gained *ahem*. Since I was 16 years old I've wanted a breast reduction, for many many reasons. I've been told that I should be grateful for what I have, that I should flaunt it and that they really "aren't that big". I've also been told that due to being severely depressed I was "a suicide risk and it would be a waste of NHS funding", and yes that comment was made by a Doctor! GPs haven't exactly been my biggest cheerleaders on the matter. I understand that it's a slightly controversial thing to get funding for, but it's not for cosmetic purposes. My quality of life isn't what it ought to be because of how much I am limited by having a big chest. I am going to be turning 23 in January. I feel like I haven't even had a chance to feel like a young person, a young woman. During these years I haven't developed a personal style, I don't experiment with clothes or have fun with them. I simply hide my large chest and feel quite frumpy.

If you want an extensive list of all the reasons behind me wanting and needing a reduction I will happily provide it for you. I'm prepared to fight my case for this. Usually I wouldn't think I was worthy of anything, I'd think that there must be people worse off than I am. For once I'm saying "sod it, why not me?"and finally I have the support of the doctor I thought would sack me in as a patient. They are in my corner and ready to do battle with the NHS board of referrals, it might be a long battle but for me it's worth it.

Bad Blood

The world of celebrity can often make us think that we ought to have our own 'squad' of friends. For instance look at Taylor Swift and her gang of leggy lady friends, they all joined forces in her 'Bad Blood' music video. The phrase 'friends in the right places' springs to mind, she capitalised on the idea of featuring famous women from a variety of industries; fashion, music, acting and even sporting as Serena Williams joined her on stage. She combined forces with these women whom she is often papped with to create a music video. This video attracted the attention of her fans, and also would have been of interest to the fans of the other women featured, even if they had no interest in Taylor Swift! As a slightly introverted person, it can be hard to see others living their lives with masses of friends and showcasing their activities on social media. I'm not a particularly jealous person, I know that there may be factors going on that aren't presented in their social media posts. Perhaps life can be fantastic with a big crowd of friends, sharing a holiday home for the summer and racing across the beach. I used to be part of a fairly big group of friends in secondary school. The group changed over the years, people joined the group and others drifted into different groups as they became more popular or developed different interests to the rest of us. I was happy for a time, until I realised how catty some girls can be. I hated witnessing how some girls made it their mission to actively exclude certain members of the group. I hate that I didn't speak up about it sooner. Most of you know what happened when I did speak up. Their catty nature and their gaze turned towards me and made me the target, but it became so much more than what I had witnessed before. It was pure, psychological bullying and harassment.

I was incredibly fortunate to have other friends at school, ones who I actually felt like myself with. I no longer had to act a certain way, ensure that I laughed at a particular person's jokes or agree with their vicious put downs of other people. I finally felt safe and secure. I'm still lucky to be in contact with most of those friends that were such a big support to me during that time. At the time they didn't know how bad it had been for me or how bad things were about to become. I hope that they're aware of how much they mean to me. We may have periods when we don't see each other much or when we've forgotten about that Skype call we intended to have. Life intervenes sometimes. University, jobs, relationships and geographical distance can make it hard to stay in contact. The truest friends will always understand that this is a part of growing up and that we'll all be there for each other whenever a crisis comes calling.

Despite all of that, I often find myself thinking about how few friends I have. I may know a lot of people, I might have a 'decent' number of friends on Facebook. However, I'm not in contact with almost 90% of those people and I can't say that we truly know each other. I can convince myself that I have a handful of really great friends that really understand me, which is fantastic. Unfortunately the demon inside my head will get the better of me and will have me in tears because I feel SO lonely. I can distract my mind to an extent with 'busy-work', but every now and then I will be sobbing hysterically, feeling like I have no-one to stick around for and no-one to hold me up. Have I mentioned how cruel depression is?! I don't understand why I appeal to people, what qualities I have that make someone want me as a friend. I've been told that some of my fiance's school friends read the blog and that they'd want to meet me. For which I want to say that I'm flattered, but I'm scared that perhaps they perceive me in a certain way through what I write. What if I'm a let down in person? Perhaps one day I'll be back here reporting on how a meet up went.

Cutting Loose

Yes, I'm completely crackers. Disclosure: no hairs were harmed in the production of these photos.

When I was younger I never imagined life without my closest friends by my sides. I barely remember how those friendships began, they simply just always existed. We don't tend to foresee the breakdown of friendships, sometimes people simply drift apart and move towards other groups. These transitions often feel quite natural, but at times they can be devastating and have a long lasting affect upon our lives. Over the years I've had to intentionally break off friendships. In my teenage years I drifted through various friendship groups, this was fairly pain free as I wasn't alone in those transitions. There were times when I had to break away from people as I realised some 'friends' no longer shared the same values as me. At one point someone attempted to bully me into remaining loyal to them despite them behaving in ways I didn't agree with. Those actions were the reasons I was distancing myself from them in the first place.

Sometimes bullies can be halfhearted, they strike out, the result of their own insecurities. Fortunately I was able to brush them off when I first encountered bullying. My second encounter with a bully was very different. They were manipulative, strategic and vicious. I'm often told that I ought to pity bullies, supposedly they must have some deep issues or problems at home, they seek control through bullying in their domain. At the time I didn't realise it was a form of bullying. Yes, it was verbal abuse which I associated with bullying. However, I'd never experienced or heard of psychological bullying, something which would affect me for the entirety of my young adult life. I don't hold onto any angry feelings towards those involved. Mostly I just want to know why it happened, how they could do such a thing and whether there really was something going on with them to cause the attack on me. It was a hard time for me, I isolated myself and walked away from long-standing friendships to avoid causing a 'choosing of sides'. Reflecting back upon that time, I realised that sides wouldn't have been chosen. They were all under the thumb and believed the rumours spread about me. These 'friends' ought to have known those rumours were completely out of character and could never be true. I'm not one to give myself compliments or to 'talk myself up', but I will say that I'm loyal and I care for those I know and love. We don't always anticipate change, we don't expect having to walk away from friendships.

In a way, this post is a letter to my 16 year old self, and advice to anyone experiencing similar problems currently or still allowing problems in the past to weigh upon them today. There isn't much about my 'depression story' that I'd change. However, I would have walked away sooner. You never need to change yourself for anyone. I attempted to change and adapt to please others. I used to stay out longer than I ought to at the weekend to avoid 'missing out' on the laughs, the stories and inside jokes that would be re-iterated for the next week at school. None of it made me happy. True friends don't seek to make you feel uncomfortable, they don't intentionally exclude you and if they love you for who you really are they won't try to change you. The genuine friends will stick with you throughout good and bad times. Long distances and lengthy periods spent apart won't break the bond. My true friends have emerged since I started being honest about my life, the struggles and the conditions I live with.

This post came to mind in anticipation of an upcoming trip to Durham (where I attended university). I'm aware that my friends from uni read my blog and that they're supportive of it. I'm glad that they now know how hard it was for me whilst I was there, and why I wasn't around as much in the second year when I was really struggling. I have reached out to a few of them, but its difficult to maintain contact when we have little to talk about, reaching out sometimes feels artificial. I've missed them more that they know, I cherish memories of my better days with them and value their friendships. I haven't seem most of them for well over a year, a fair amount of fear comes with that amount of time apart. Despite that, I know that the true friends will be there to catch me if I start to wobble.

Your Words Cut Deep

 Image from https://instagram.com/colourpopcosmetics/

 Image from https://instagram.com/colourpopcosmetics/

 I saw the images from Colour Pop Cosmetics a few weeks ago. Perhaps it's just my mind and vision that made me see something different. Usually make-up swatches are done on the back of the hand to show how the colours look against skin tones. Perhaps I was in some bad head space but it reminded me of something different. This isn't a bad thing I think if that's the intention (as mine was) and as a creator you are looking to produce a strong image, you've got it right there. I am sorry if this causes offence or provokes negative thoughts for anyone. I will now warn you that the following post is on the subject of self harm. I have been working on this post for months. I've created numerous drafts but was never entirely satisfied with the outcome. Unfortunately it took a relapse (last Saturday) for me to be able to create a balanced piece of writing on the subject; I have been both the outsider seeing the scars of self harmers and the participant. I have looked for too long and also been looked at by others. It is my hope that I've discussed the subject sensitively and hopefully it won't trigger any negative thoughts for those who have self harmed in the past or currently still do so. I know how damaging it can be to come across pieces of writing composed in the wrong way about self harm. I have refrained from going into detail on my experiences of self harm to avoid producing triggers or relapses. I hope that people can benefit from reading this. If you are concerned that you could be triggered, I'm sorry, but please try to scroll to the bottom of the post and find the 10 bullet points that I hope will be motivational and inspire happy thoughts.

Self harm isn't an easy topic to talk about, it's a complex thing to experience and to fathom. Some people may believe that self harm is limited to a certain group of people, wrong. These people may also believe there is only one method of self harm, also wrong. It was something that was associated as being "emo" whilst I was in high school (six years ago), the words "depression" "depressed and "depressing" were used colloquially; used casually and didn't mean that those people were genuinely depressed. When I was 16/17 years old I wasn't entirely sure what it meant to be depressed, I knew that I was sad, alone and feeling empty. Somehow I manage to walk around and muddle through life at that time, but at the time I felt like an empty shell, I allowed people to talk to me in ways that aren't acceptable, I was treated badly and I just took it. I didn't process what was happening, the damage had already been done prior to this, they'd beaten me into submission with their words, shunning and not allowing me to pass by without acknowledging them in some way. The damage was done, they'd hit a home run but weren't satisfied with that, they continued to swing away and the balls just bounced off my empty shell.

After a while, I became desperate to feel something. I had felt a lot of pain before, but now it couldn't touch me. I was invincible or indestructible, I was scared that I didn't feel human any more and just didn't feel anything. The Internet is a fantastic resource for many things, in an emergency we can look up how to put a spare tyre on our cars when one is flat, we can search for how to remove certain stains when our parents aren't available to help us with their wealth of knowledge. It's a fantastic resource, but in the hands of someone feeling depressed and desperate to feel some kind of emotion it can become a dangerous tool. I went searching for answers about what was happening to me, why did I feel like an empty shell? How could I feel something again? Type a question into Google or any other search engine and an enormous amount of information is churned out in front of you. I managed to find myself on a website that was essentially a wordy tutorial of ways to harm myself. If I couldn't feel anything why not inflict pain upon myself to feel?

I'll never provide exact details of what I did to myself, partly because I never want anyone to stumble across this blog and see it as a tutorial to harm themselves, I don't want to became part of that system I discovered. It's also a very private thing to go through, I do get asked questions about it and sometimes I will begrudgingly provide some answers to reassure people. Self harm can occur for a variety of reasons. People harm themselves because they desire to feel pain, some people enjoy the pain and crave it, others use it as a form of punishment for things they've done or failed to do. It's associated with a variety of health problems including (but not limited to) depression, anxiety and eating disorders. I self harmed for a combination of reasons, mostly because I longed to feel something, but also as a form of punishment. Strangely enough I punished myself for thinking certain things about myself, the depression was whispering in my ear and more often that not I believed the degrading things it churned out in my mind. Sometimes I felt the need to combat these negative thoughts by punishing the dark monster of depression, its words cut me deep. I inflicted pain upon myself and subsequently said 'monster', and it would go away for a time. I was temporarily slaying the beast.

When I am in that mind frame it's difficult to think good things about myself, I am the queen of put downs for myself. Not a title anyone should strive to achieve. I've struggled to believe that I deserve happiness, friends,  or a future. I struggle to accept compliments because of the hate and put downs I was pelted with by bullies. Perhaps the voice of the dreary dark monster is the bully or at least echoes the voices of those bullies. Do they now exist within me? As is struggle to be kind to myself I find it hard to follow my own advice. A very wise person told me to write down things I'd say to someone who had self harmed so I present you with those musings:

1. Don't listen to the people that say you're doing it for attention. 
2. I know you are hurting right now, but you are strong.
3. When you are ready to do so, make sure that you take care of your wounds, wash them, pop on a plaster if need be (a super awesome colourful one if you can) and carry on. 
4. If anyone asks about the plasters just say a) its an awesome plaster, why wouldn't I wear it? b) tell them the truth about whats its covering, c) say you scraped yourself on a tree branch or make up some badass war-wound story and be the legend you deserve to be known as!
5. They aren't really staring at you, your brain and the illness is making you a wee bit paranoid and wants you to hurt some more. DON'T allow it to!
6. Perhaps they are staring, or they've drifted off into a day dream and their gaze just so happened to rest upon your badass plasters. 
7. If they genuinely are staring and you feel confident enough give THEM the look up and down, "yeah, what you looking at punk?".
8. It's not a sign of weakness, you are not weak. Yes you harmed yourself and I'm sorry that you felt so badly and that this happened to you. I think you are strong, you may have been sad, angry, desperate but you didn't try the alternative. You were so determined to feel something, you are determined to live and to survive this. 
9. Cuts and bruises will fade, the biggest wound of all would be if we lost you. 
10. Wear your scars with pride, you survived, you've healed and you've defeated.

Jar of Hearts: "You're Gonna Catch a Cold From the Ice Inside Your Soul"

 Queen of Hearts? The blog title is a direct reference to the Ice Queen whom I'll be referring to in this post. 

So this is a story all about how my life got twist turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute to just sit right here and tell you all about how I became the...well, not the prince of a town called Belair.   Damn. Not my original writing unfortunately! That just seemed like the perfect way to ease into this blog post. My life definitely got turned upside down, and most days I'm still hanging from the earth like a bat. I've written a fair bit about how it feels to be depressed, but I haven't written about when I first started experiencing symptoms of depression and what caused them.