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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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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Motivation and Small Victories

For a long time I wasn't able to see the progress I was making in my recovery. It required a lot of energy, effort and mental soundness for me to even leave the house. I'd go out to walk my dog in a beautiful wooded area, I was ready to fill my lungs with fresh air to blow through the cobwebs that had accumulated over many months. Despite the seemingly serene picture I've painted for you, I'd feel overwhelmbed by the wind catching the leaves, the creeks of the trees and the dizzying green canopy that threatened to fall down on my head. I'd somehow begin to feel claustrophobic in the most natural, open spaces.

Despite those suffocating moments threatening to jeopardise any progress I was making, I eventually managed to see that I was achieving things. They were small steps, perhaps not monumental victories but they all accumulate towards feeling better. Not long ago I would have been consumed by what seemed like a failed outing and would have trudged upstairs, drawn the curtains and shut myself vements away for hours, sometimes days. Now I can see that I managed the following: I left the house, I may have driven to the National Trust site for the walk, I took my dog on a walk, I walked a fair distance after being static on the sofa for months on end. It's easy for these things to be overlooked. For most people they are seemingly easy actions and sound like a pretty uneventful day. For those with mental illness they can be the biggest achievements you've noticed for a long time.

There was a time when I had a sticker chart to reward actions like having a shower, getting properly dressed or putting on a fresh set of pyjamas. To some that might sound pathetic. Screw those people. I needed that sticker chart in those days, and I still do. Despite being able to achieve solo dog walks, driving somewhere without having planned the trip in every detail the day beforehand or even managing to kickstart my exercise routines, there are still days when I fall down and feel as if I'm a nobody, that my life is meaningless and that I'm a massive nuisance and liability to all those in my life.

I've become a HUGE fan of the 30 day habit cards made by the same people that produce the Happiness Planners. I started off with small goals such as eating breakfast every day, I was pretty bad at feeding myself for a long time! If I jumped to setting myself goals that were too big I could definitely tell, there would be days between me earning a sticker on the chart and that was an easy indicator that I wasn't ready to be pushing myself that hard yet. I've since managed to maintain a regular chart for exercising. 6 months ago I would have struggled to workout once a week. Since March I've been exercising up to 5 times a week, sometimes more, sometimes twice a day! I always make a note of my start date on the habit cards so I can see how quickly I filled up the cards. Upon completion of each habit card I will keep them as a record for me to look back on, a nice reminder to have as your collection grows as you make progress and also a reminder of how much you are capable of achieving if you have another down period. The 30 Day Habit cards are availbale here.  If you are a new customer of the website you can get 10% off your first purchase!

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Fading Fitness

Depression takes over the mind and the body. The invasion begins in the mind, it takes away all of the joy we once felt for life, our favourite hobbies and interests fall down around our feet and we skirt past them. In the days that I felt marginally better I longed for ways to maintain the high. I ate all the wrong things, I'd gorge myself on sugary things to get that sweet hit only to end up feeling terrible about my body image. The low moods made it difficult for me to leave the house let alone exercise on a regular basis.
Since then I've managed to introduce some simple habits in my everyday life such as getting up at the same time each day, taking Toby for a long walk or completing some kind of housework. Ultimately I wanted to feel like I had achieved something at the end of the day. It took me a long time to stop comparing my day to those of others who went out to work in the city each day. The things I do, I do for them and it enables them to come home and feel at ease or so they have a weekend free of housework chores. I've finally started to feel like I have a purpose.

I've been afraid of failure for as long as I can remember, be it exams, losing a friendship or falling of the waggon whilst on a healthy eating kick. Whilst I was at university I attempted to do something to improve my fitness. I started running in the evenings which helped for a while. I could only go when it was really late, in near darkness and when there were very few people around due to my anxiety about other people seeing me. It helped for a while until I started getting excruciatingly painful shin splints.

My pursuit of feeling fit, healthy and a bit lighter has followed my rising and falling moods. Doctors love to remind patients that exercise can help alleviate symptoms of depression. Unfortunately it isn't always that easy, it requires the right conditions. I never felt able to walk into a gym, I was too self conscious and knew that all the effort I should be exerting on the machines would be spent feeling anxious. Instead, I opted for an at home exercise plan. Insomnia and Teleshopping make for fantastic partners, or rather money robbing crooks! I'd be sucked into the paid for adverts displaying some fitness models and some real life examples of people using some fitness equipment or following a DVD and getting great results. I'd be convinced within 15 minutes of the 30 minute segment.

Unfortunately I learnt the hard, and expensive way that you can't jump from not exercising in years to attempting a full on, intense exercise program. I understand that some people are the exception, that they can achieve amazing results through commitment and determination. Sometimes there are those who have other factors working against us. As much as I wanted to feel and look better I struggled to get past the warm up routine for some of the programs I attempted. Slightly disheartening. It left me in a sweaty mess debating whether to sit down in the shower or just collapse onto the bed. The key is to start at a low level, reduce your expectations, save time and heartache by choosing a lighter workout plan. I like DVDs that work through different levels allowing me to progress to a higher intensity when I'm ready. Even if they say you should graduate to the next level after 10 days, only do it if you're body feels ready. I often get anxious about progressing to level 2, I worry that I'll struggle with the new moves and that a slip will send me into a spiral that causes me to stop exercising for a week or more...putting me back to feeling unfit. Panic not, watch the next level over and over until you understand how to do the moves, even take the time to practise them at a slower pace to familiarise yourself with them.

To summarise, my top tips are:

• take your time to feel ready to exercise again
• don't pursue an intensive exercise plan if you haven't worked out in a long time
• as excited as you may be to feel ready to get active again don't set yourself up for a fall by pushing yourself beyond your capabilities
• developing fitness and stamina takes time, you'll soon be breezing through work-out moves that you initially found challenging 
•  move up the levels as and when you feel ready, listen to your body and don't be disheartened if you see others making progress faster than you, you haven't seen their journey to that point, it probably took them a long time too!
• feeling that rush of endorphins after exercising isn't always the norm. Doctors often talk about it as being fantastic for combating depression but I rarely feel the hormonal rush they describe. 
• focus on how you feel after the workout regardless of endorphins! You finished it, WELL DONE! You are a magnificent sweaty beast. You are slowly but surely kicking your depression to the curb. Your body might ache the next day but we all know it's a satisfying feeling. Start up a sticker chart or tick chart for each time you workout, it soon builds up and gives you an extra boost if you feel like you aren't getting anywhere.

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Book Review vol. 1

As I mentioned before Christmas I was planning on writing some book reviews. I have a stack of books surrounding topics of depression, social anxiety, shyness, introverts and perhaps surprisingly...tidying!

The first edition of these book reviews is on the book that was a sensation in 2015 'The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying' by Marie Kondo. You might wonder how this book comes into relation to mental health. I happen to experience extreme anxiety when it comes to clutter. Unfortunately this anxiety conflicts with my nature of being a bit of a hoarder. I'm terrible when it comes to magazines, magazine cuttings, books, beauty samples and products and clothes. I've previously mentioned on the blog that I experience IBS which causes severe bloating. Due to this I have a range of sizes in clothing. It makes me anxious knowing I have clothing stored under the bed! As much as I try to tidy my space, it soon accumulates again and I'll end up sitting amongst things feeling overwhelmed.

Marie Kondo spent much of her childhood fascinated with housekeeping magazines. She was constantly tidying the cupboards in her family home, and this even extended into tidying up her classroom during break time at school! She soon realised that the 'storage solutions' promoted in magazines actually made the problem worse. We're a part of a mass consumer society, we most likely have far more than we really need. I'm sure you have things tucked away in the back of draws and cupboards that you had long forgotten about. Perhaps you'll be happy to rediscover such treasures, but it's more likely that those things are just taking up space. The 'Konmari' method centres around the process of bringing all of your possessions together from different categories. You start with clothing as this is the easiest area to start with, whereas trinkets, photos and heirlooms are more difficult to part with. It's likely that we have clothing dotted around in various rooms of the house, so it's important to bring them all into one space. The process of being confronted with the volume of clothes you own should by itself flag up a problem. We own too much! We have one body each, I'm guilty of stocking up on my favourite pair of jeans in case they get stained, ripped or worn until they are thread-bare. I've realised that process doesn't help. I end up wearing them all to the point where they are all looking well loved and in need of replacing.

The Konmari method encourages us to spend time touching, looking and feeling our belongings and asking one question "does this bring me joy?". The answer may come to you quickly. Sometimes it might take longer and we'll end up with a pile of 'maybes'. We usually hold onto things due to memories, because they were from our childhood or because they were gifted to us.

I was sceptical about this book at first, the process of holding belongings and asking yourself if they are loved or neglected and could be cherished elsewhere is a slightly strange process. Well, I ended up devouring this book in 2 days. I'm a convert! I seem to tidy up at least once a month. I'll get the bin bags out, turn up the music and blitz my room. I'll end up with several bags full of rubbish, yet I feel like there is still clutter surrounding me and it clogs up my mind too. When adopting this method, the aim is to undertake your tidying in one hit. This doesn't mean in one day, it could day between a few days to a maximum of 6 months if you are tackling an entire house full of clutter! I'm focusing my efforts on the bedroom and office. I find I can't relax in the bedroom due to clutter and I get distracted in the office and I'm unable to start the projects I want to do because of limited space and a lack of organisation in the room.

There are plenty of reviews for this book online. Most accept the method. Some people have problems with it because they feel it's too severe, that they will end up throwing away things and regret it later. I think you can follow this to a 'T' or take and leave the bits you want to. For instance there is an advised list of areas to work through. I've already strayed from this as I'm almost pre-tidying various bits of rubbish, boxes from Christmas deliveries etc. before I start tackling belongings I've had for a while. I'm hoping that I'll end up with two well organised rooms, places that I find relaxing but can also work in when I need to. Kondo's belief is that when there clutter in a room our thoughts are often directed to the mess. When you remove the mess you are left with your thoughts and anxieties that you've been avoiding for a while. There are also reports of people looking better physically, taking control of their lives in other ways. Also, removing clutter from a room and whipping around a room allows the settled dust to move, air to circulate and fresh air to come in- all of which can benefit the skin, bonus!

I'd give this book a 4/5. It's really easy to read. If you aren't interested in the approach as a whole you can skip to sections that appeal to you most e.g. organising your sock draws or desks.

I've included a photo of how many pages I've turned down to give you guys an idea of how useful I found this book. I'll be doing the same for every book review I post in the future.

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Withdrawal

A few weeks ago I was left on my on for the first time in a while. I had a feeling that this week was going to be fairly challenging, but thanks to me miscalculating how much medication I had left it became a whole lot more difficult! As I have established a fairly good understanding with my doctor on how I prefer to treat my depression they are happy for me to have a few months supply of my anti-depressants at a time. This will vary with every patient experiencing depression as it can be risky to leave longer periods in between appointments with your GP depending upon the severity of your depression at various times. When I was feeling particularly bad I had to see my GP every two weeks to check in, but now they and I don't feel as if I'm a risk to my own safety, there is a bit more flexibility with how frequently I have check up appointments.

I'm usually pretty good at keeping an eye on how much medication I have left and ensuring I can either go in for a chat or put in a request for a repeat prescription if supplies are getting low. Unfortunately sometimes life gets in the way and my already confused mind gets turned upside down with things like big events and trips away. When my mind is preoccupied with other concerns things can slip and I end up in a sticky situation! As a result of this I ended up being on about half of the dose of anti-depressants I normally take. Not good. Obviously this can happen to the best of people with any type of medical condition that requires medication. However, you should never decrease your dose of anti-depressants on your own, and you certainly shouldn't quit cold turkey. Ceasing taking medication for depression unassisted can be very similar to quitting hardcore drugs alone, not that I've ever experienced this myself but from what I have experienced I know it's incredibly unpleasant. Even being on a lower dose of medication without being slowly weaned off can cause withdrawal symptoms and side effects.

I often experience what I refer to as 'brain zaps' when I've had a particularly low period and have slept late into the day meaning that I haven't taken my medication at the time I usually would. Even this small discrepancy in when I take medication can cause withdrawal effects. Brain zaps feel like an electric current running over the brain producing a fuzzy sensation, as if you're getting a static shock over and over again inside your skull. Not pleasant. This feeling will continue for a while after taking medication and can often last for an entire day. I can be walking around or sitting still and slightly move my eyes or turn my head and be hit with a wave of fuzzy feelings running over my brain and I'll hear a high pitched noise. If anyone has seen the Hunger Games film when Katniss has been stung by a Trackerjacker and it looks like she's trying to move but gets stuck in one movement and the noise that accompanies it, that's fairly similar to what I experience. Or think of the static noise on a radio when you flick to a frequency that isn't in tune, it puts you on edge and you want to get off that station as fast as possible. I'm stuck on that station for hours.

Other withdrawal side effects can include feeling like you have the flu, nausea and generally feeling very run down and tired. Of course feeling incredibly low accompanies all of this which can be very unsettling if you had previously been doing well. Even if you know that you'll be able to get your prescription in a few days, it can be of little comfort. You still have to go through all of this and those low feelings aren't easily forgotten even if you know they've most likely been induced by a lack of medication or a lower dose than usual.

It does scare me that I've become so dependent upon anti-depressants. It's concerning to know that even though I'm taking something to help me, it can cause harm. I know that some people are against taking medication for depression and prefer to seek alternative treatment. Much like how every experience of depression is different, an individual's treatment and recovery is unique too. I'll never take anti-depressants for the sake of it or use them as a crutch. If I do feel significantly better at some point I will talk to my doctor about decreasing the dose I'm taking. For now it provides a feeling of relief. Taking medication makes me feel like it is a real illness. It's all very well saying depression is a real illness with mental and physical effects, but the dark voices of depression can easily convince a person otherwise.

In Peak Health

Somehow a year has passed since I started my 'year off' from everything. This might sound like a lazy lifestyle, but for me it was well needed and for the most part well deserved. Since I was 16 years old I put an enormous strain on my life by attempting to function normally with every day life and the stresses of education. I was doing this whilst attempting to hide that I was incredibly depressed and anxious on a daily basis. I hid my conditions from my family and friends, not due to fear of rejection or stigma, but instead due to my internal instinct to protect everyone in my life even if that's at my own expense.

Some pressure was lifted when I finally started being honest about how unwell I had become. I thought that I could still cope with the pressures of university, but the reality was that I had become reclusive, scared to leave the house and to interact with others. Despite disengaging with the social aspects of university I was still trying to keep up with my workload and attempting to teach myself an entire statistics module without the assistance of lecturers. All of those factors coupled with my declining physical health lead to a colossal breakdown and finally needing to put my hand up and ask for help.

I left university in April/June of 2014, the whole time was a bit of a mess for me so I can't recall the exact time that I left. I learnt to refer to my time out as a 'gap year'. I certainly wasn't gallivanting around the world and marvelling at new sights and experiences. Instead, I took time for myself attempting to enjoy the smaller things in life again and trying to regain some control over my mental health.

Nowadays my depression is kept at bay for the most part. I still have down days as that's part of the progress of moving towards getting better, it isn't a clean straight line to being on the up. If there was a line graph to show my progress it would show a zig zag darting up and down all over the place. The down points are often influenced by my physical health. For years now I have been plagued with physical illness in various forms. In 2013 I had an operation to remove an ovarian cyst that had grown to the size of a grapefruit, it was incredibly painful and caused me to walk along like an old woman and post-op was even more of a nightmare. Since that operation I have had IBS which is a daily inconvenience and sometimes limits how far I am willing to stray away from the house. During particularly bad flare ups it's unlikely that I will leave the house for around a week or two. I've also been prone to sinus infections since I was 15 years old. They certainly aren't your average cold, sinusitis causes an unbearable amount of pain which is barely touched by painkillers. I've spent many years attempting to convince doctors that something isn't quite right with me, my immune system, something! I get sinusitis at least five times a year, and I lose two weeks or more due to feeling so unwell. The pain is debilitating and has an enormous impact upon my mental health. I am very happy to announce that a doctor finally listened to me. After a few inspections of my nose, blood tests and a CT scan it has become apparent that I have a deviated septum which has been causing a LOT of trouble over the years.

Since I first started writing this blog post things progressed very quickly. In a very quick turn around of a couple of months, thanks to a cancellation I had the operation at the beginning of October. With the exception of a fair bit of pain, things seem to have gone well. I had my post-op check up at the weekend and the surgeon was very happ with his work. I had a lot of queries as I did get a sinus infection immediately after the surgery, unfortunately the surgeon I had doesn't have the best bedside manner and was shaking my hand and ushering me out of the door before I could ask most of my questions. I easily get overwhelmed by dominant personalities, especially those in the medical profession. Hopefully that sinus infection was the last hurrah, so fingers crossed some luck will be thrown my way and I will never get a sinus infection again. So far this year I have tackled my mental health and a few physical illnesses that have been affecting my quality of life for many years. This could be me on the up.

I Wish To Register A Complaint

Monty Python reference, anyone?

This week I am faced with a 'very British problem'. Some of us are lucky enough to escape symptoms of Britishness which include: wanting to avoid a fuss despite being inconvenienced, having someone 'accidentally' join what they thought was the end of the line and inwardly feeling frustrated by this but not expressing said frustrations, and embarking upon a lift sharing scheme which only leaves you wondering why you're still paying just as much for petrol. As most of you will know I have had my fair share of doctors throughout my mental health care. Unfortunately I've had a few that have either left me feeling baffled by their 'advice' or have caused full on breakdowns due to their incompetence or inability to treat me with sensitivity. Since moving to Surrey I have been seeing one doctor, I have referred to them in previous posts. As doctor-patient relationships go, this one has been about as turbulent as my mood swings. They have been incredibly patient with my slow progress and understanding about my need to avoid counselling and CBT for now due to very bad experiences in the past. When speaking of my living situation and approach to treating depression they call it a very "unique approach", one which could easily be disturbed and all come toppling down on me at any moment. Of course what a depressed person needs to hear is their worst fears confirmed (seriously not true), that I could be left without a fiance and his mother whom I've confided in and become friends with, and the progress I've made would cease.

Patients of any kind shouldn't have to fear going to see their GP, the process is worrying enough if you are going to talk about serious conditions and queries. Unfortunately we can't always pick and choose who we get to see. I am fortunate to be registered with a surgery that always have appointments available to see someone quite quickly. However, the last thing I need is to be getting anxious over is seeing someone about my social anxiety and depression! I'm faced with the problem of getting so anxious about seeing this doctor because in the past their behaviour towards me has left me crying for hours and spending days in bed recovering from an appointment with them. It would be very easy for me to write a letter to the surgery to state my reasons for needing to be allocated a different doctor. They have caused a lot of upset and have behaved inappropriately towards me. This includes a recent appointment in which we  spoke of us moving house and the doctor saying I am "a piece of old furniture they are taking along with them, but who knows whether it will suit the new house or be kicked to the curb". Delightful, uplifting chat.

My 'very British problem', is that this doctor happens to be head of the surgery, and so will see any letter I write if I wish to change doctors. Despite all of the inappropriate and upsetting comments, I believe that I have made a certain amount of progress this year and that it is still very hard for me to go over the details of my illness and past experiences with anyone new, whether that be a doctor, counsellor or psychiatrist. Although I know that there are some great doctors out there I'm not sure that I want to find a new one only to realise that once again they aren't the one for me. I think that it would benefit me, and potentially others more if I write a letter directly to this docroe to state what I believe they have done wrong so far, that I feel discomfort whenever I have to go see them and that my anxiety over going to the doctors often escalates to a point whereby I have to cancel appointments and go without treatment for months. If I address the problems directly perhaps they will adjust their approach, perhaps they have been treating all of their mental health patients in this way and my letter could improve care for others too. It would be very easy and oh so very British of me to simply give them one more chance because they may have been having a bad day when they saw me last... and every time they have seen me for the past year. I say that something needs to change. Perhaps next time I have an appointment I will have something to be truly anxious about, facing them after they have received my letter!

Time To Talk

A counsellor's office is thought to be a safe place, somewhere you can surrender all of the thoughts that have been recycled over and over again in your head. Perhaps those thoughts and feelings can also later be aired in attempts to help others or to let people know that there are others out there just like you, facing similar problems, someone who can empathise. I hope I can be that someone, so I've decided to share my experience of the first time I said it out loud, three words. I have depression.

I hope that it is already apparent that I'm an advocate of talking about mental illness. It matters, many people experience these conditions and yet there are very few conversations being had about it. For those who have recently realised they have such an illness it can take a while to be able to talk about it with others. I was one of those individuals. It took me three years to fully understand what I was suffering with, and to discover the full extent of my condition. I went through a process of wanting to find out everything I could about it, I probably could have written a dissertation with the amount of research I did! There was also a long period of denial, and eventually acceptance. Perhaps my circumstances were unique in some ways, so please do not fret, it doesn't take everyone that long to realise whats going on and to seek help. I wish I could say that realising what I had was the hardest part, but for me saying it out loud was extremely difficult. I wasn't aware of anyone in my life whom had experienced anything like what I was going through. Perhaps that's because others were afraid to speak up too.

I sought the help of a counsellor at my sixth form college, a service which wasn't well advertised and I had to go searching for. I took advantage of being able to communicate through e-mail. Initially I wanted to know what kinds of problems they could help with. Eventually I let go of what I was holding on to, I wrote about everything that had happened and was still happening to me. I continued e-mailing the counsellor for months, sometimes I'd e-mail daily updates because things were so bad and the counsellor wanted to be informed of anything that was occurring in my life good or bad to help them help me. Eventually I scheduled an appointment only to cancel it after a restless night thinking about it or sometimes I'd cancel it the morning of the session. After a while I managed to make the walk towards the door of the counsellor's office, progress, except I'd then continue walking past the door and would be firing off a quick apology e-mail. Unfortunately stigma against mental illnesses was present within the sixth form, I'd even heard such stigma voiced by someone in my friendship group there. The counsellor's office was in such a public, well-used space with students flowing through and meeting people nearby. Eyes were everywhere and I was very conscious of that. Eventually I found a time when the area was quieter so I could quickly dash into the counsellor's office. The door I'd be so afraid of passing through, turned out to lead into a room akin to the size of Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's house. An ideal place for a highly strung, anxious, fidgeting individual, not. I really hope they didn't encourage claustrophobics to go see them there.

After all of the months of deterring the one-on-one session I said my piece only to receive many "mmms", "mhmms" and "how does that make you feel?" in exchange for my heavy burden. I left crying and headed into the nearby staff toilets to vomit and come face to face with an initially stern member of staff, I think my appearance made them reconsider scolding me and they scurried off. I washed my face and returned to my friends in the library with the lie that I'd been meeting with a staff member about areas for revision. And so I returned to the facade that all was well and the impression that I was "cheerful Chelsea' remained intact.

I don't mean to deter anyone from seeking the help of a counsellor, talking through problems really does help. The first time will always be the hardest, and unfortunately one counsellor does not fit all. Sometimes people get lucky and the first person they meet with will be a perfect match. Unfortunately some people will give up after trying one counsellor that just didn't quite understand them or didn't provide them with the type of help they were looking for. Frustratingly the wait list for meeting with counsellors on the NHS is long and slow, but making the move to get on a list is positive progress and hopefully it means you are one step closer to beginning your recovery. I was initially put off counsellors after my awful session. I never went back to see that counsellor and it took me a long time to accept the amount of help I needed. Sometimes people can pick themselves up on their own and carry on with life. Others struggle a bit more and need to raise their hand and say "I'm stuck here, I could use some help". Ask for help and usually it is given, I certainly like to think there are more good people in this world than bad, and since I started writing this blog I've found those people all over the place. So give it go, take a deep breath and let all of it out.

Let It Go

Frozen face art in keeping with the blog post title. 

The past six years of my life have been incredibly testing, I have grown a lot as a person and have certainly become more knowledgable. However, I have also become a recluse, an introvert. Since my primary school days of being incredibly shy and reluctant to volunteer, being labelled as "mousey" for being so quiet, I have developed a severe social anxiety disorder. I struggle amongst large groups and also amongst small groups, even when those include family members and close friends. It is an incredibly tiring life, constantly worrying about what people think of me, fidgeting during uncomfortable social situations, and how my throat starts to close up at the thought of having to say something. Its like living life being allergic to the world around you. It can be a situation, a particular place or an uncomfortable conversation that triggers the sensation of being at the top of a roller coaster and waiting for your stomach to fall. But it doesn't. That sensation stays in my stomach and rises to my throat leaving me feeling even more uncomfortable and unable to speak.