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.

Follow  

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!

Follow  

Stepping Out

For the past month I have been religiously wearing my FitBit again. Last Summer was a big struggle, but I got a small amount of joy each day from seeing my tracker smile at me and showing how much I moved. Bare in mind that I would be pretty chuffed if I managed around 1,000 steps a day. At that time I wasn't going out much and struggled to remove my blank stare from the TV and slight comfort of the indent I'd made in the sofa.

Nowadays I'm moving around a bit more. I push myself further each day, even if that's just from chasing Toby (our dog) around the table or doing one more lap of crazy dancing around the island in the kitchen. Some days I venture further afield for a medical appointment- of which there have been many over the past two months- or to pick up some food shopping, walking back and forth along shopping aisles aimlessly AND forgetting multiple items, having to loop back really builds up the steps! I thought it would be an interesting way to keep track of my moods over the months if I translated my daily steps into a graph to post on the blog each month. In a line graph you can clearly see the peaks and troughs of my moods. Towards the end of the month I introduced the magnesium supplements to improve my sleep, which has in turn meant that I've been getting up earlier and having longer days. I always keep track of my day-to-day activities in a planner/diary. My mind is like a faucet at the moment, I can barely remember what I did yesterday never mind last week. I can use my daily notes alongside the graph to identify which days were really bad, which days I pushed myself despite crying most of the morning and the odd day where I forgot to put my tracker on until 4pm! As I said there were days that I cried a lot, I was on my own in the house and was feeling extremely anxious. In the past I would have drawn a line under the day and headed back to bed. However, I had a few responsibilities as I was looking after to Toby and some chickens down the road, the small walk to feed them left me feeling sick, trembling and crying by the time I reached our house again. I had a couple of those days and I 'rallied' through to the end until Robbie got back from work. I often end up baking my way through the depression...although that doesn't always work in my favour as I'll try a stupidly hard recipe and be left crying over a failed bake and a kitchen covered in a sticky mess.

The path to progress isn't always smooth, and you won't be seeing me consistently reaching 10,000+ steps a day anytime soon. As you can see towards the end of the month I had some really big days, followed immediately after by a lull or a rest day. As good as the victories feel, you need to remember that you are ill and you'll feel the aftermath of a fantastic day when you wake up in the morning. My body usually feels like it has been run down by a bus on my rest days...I couldn't move far even if I wanted to. Just remember it's OK to feel that way and don't allow anyone to push you beyond a pace that's comfortable for you.

Follow 

Stopping To Smell The Roses

It can be hard to realise that you've made progress during recovery from a mental illness. I'm definitely the last to acknowledge and admit that I've gained some ground after all of my baby steps. When you are so consumed by depression and anxiety it can be hard to see outside it. Last year was the real start to my recovery, and even the start of acknowledging that I was really unwell. I've lived the majority of my life feeling nervous and shy, I never had much confidence in my abilities at school or when socialising with people. I'd be the last person to join in and would be terrified that the party music would stop on me holding the package in pass the parcel. There seems to come a time when being shy isn't 'cute' or acceptable anymore. Eventually the word 'anxious' gets pinned onto people. In my case this is 100% accurate. During a conversation with anyone, even family members, I need something to fiddle with, usually jewellery. All of my anxiety is projected onto an object, I'll play with my necklace and bring it up to my face to cover my mouth during conversations. I'm not sure if people understand when I say this, but whenever I'm out with my puppy and he's acting a bit loopy, taking all the new scents in with his nose, twirling around on the lead and bouncing around I say "he's exposing my anxiety'. What I mean is that he is showing how I feel externally for everyone to see, it makes me panic even more because I feel so exposed AND I have to attempt to calm him down.

A sign of the progress I've made is that I've realised that I can be comfortable around people after spending time with them in small groups. Even those I used to genuinely believe hated me. I projected negative feelings onto myself, assuming that everyone hated my awkwardness as much as I did. I'm not completely comfortable yet, I still need something to keep my hands busy with. The progress also seems to come crashing down when someone else comes into the group. It suddenly feels like a massive imbalance to me, I don't know how to act around them and I dread the questions they might ask me if they don't know anything about my situation. The worst question for me is "so, what do you do?" cue a hammering heart in my chest, a sweaty brow and upper lip, and crossing and un-crossing my legs frantically. I'm doing pretty well right now, the house is full to the brim with people. I'm OK if I know that I have a space carved out for me when I need to retreat. We're currently in the process of moving house right now (a first for me!) it's pretty chaotic and there are strangers about as they're helping us pack everything up. So far I haven't dived headfirst into my bed because it's become too much for me, yet.

The biggest difference I've noticed this year is that I actually notice things! Last summer I didn't take in my surroundings at all. I remember having a conversation about this with my psychiatrist (when I saw one), he asked me what colour the flowers were at the front of the building. I stared blankly at him and just said "there were flowers outside?", the front of the building was covered in them. Oops. I just had no enthusiasm for life. I wasn't living, I was just existing. Nowadays I'm the first to notice the new blossoms coming out, I see that the tadpoles have become teeny tiny frogs crawling through the grass. I was even happy to go to Hampton Court flower show last week, it was heaving with people and we were fighting against a crowd the entire time. The HUGE tent was boiling hot so I had double the amount of sheen across my face what with the heat and the anxious sweats. Surprisingly I enjoyed myself. I used my camera as a barrier, I almost saw everything through the lens but I did remember to look up and enjoy what was going on around me. I didn't think twice about squatting down and getting right up close to the flowers and cacti (eeee!) to get the shot I wanted. I also discovered that apparently I've come of an age where I squeal over cactus plants and a beautiful piece of wood, just regular wood in an interesting naturally formed shape!

It takes time to see the changes and the progress. This can be disheartening, but I prefer to see it as the opportunity to see everything again with fresh eyes.

Wrap Me In Cotton Wool

I'm currently being reminded of just how bad and maddening depression can be to live with. This wasn't exactly the post I was hoping to publish today. My mentality with blogging is that I post what feels right at the time. I do have a lot of pieces written and scurried away to post when it seems appropriate. Most bloggers produce posts on mass and schedule them weeks in advance to relieve some of the pressures that come with producing a blog. I seem to be able to write in this way, but I like to post on the basis of whether the written material matches how I've been feeling and thinking that week. 

Unfortunately my shoddy immune system or lack thereof has been under attack since my surprisingly proactive weekend (to be commented upon in a future post). I've been plagued with sinusitis multiple times a year for a long time. Apparently I broke my nose at some point in my life, I cannot recall this ever happening, which has left me with a deviate septum. Woop woop in need of a nose job, but it's risky and could leave me with a botched nose in the centre of my noggin. I'm nowhere close to having enough confidence with my appearance to warrant risking the worst case scenario. So instead I'm left with feeling like my head is trapped in a mace, every bone in my skull feels like it's been battered and should leave me looking mottled with bruises on my face. It's another one of these delightful illnesses that you feel a great deal on the inside, but it doesn't look like I'm going through hell on the outside. Combined with an increased sensitivity to light and sound I'm left to wallow in pain in bed for most of the day with my gloomy thoughts to torment me. My mood swings would make for an impressive line graph. The good comes with the bad, the higher you climb the further you have to fall.

Kicking Away My Crutches

 Picture an elderly person using a zimmer-frame or someone with their leg in plaster using crutches. No decent person would pull the zimmer away or kick the crutches out from underneath them. Physical injuries are usually apparent when we see someone using an aid to keep them upright, to support them during recovery. No-one can force someone to put their injured foot down to the ground, put pressure on the wound and shuffle into the first steps. The first steps of recovery require being mentally prepared, admitting to yourself that you are ready to venture out into the next stage of your recovery timeline.

In my previous post I mentioned how I'm sometimes afraid of using my depression as a crutch. After the post went live I had a few questions asked in relation to that comment.  I'd never claim to have depression if I didn't. I wouldn't over-exaggerate how bad things are in attempts to get out of doing things. I believe that my illness has become a crutch due to having it for so long. I've lived with varying degrees of depression for six years, this has lead to me living in a certain way, perhaps being shielded from certain aspects of life which could cause a great deal of anxiety and do more damage. After living my late teenage years and early adult life with this illness it seems as if its all I know, life without it is equally as terrifying as continuing to be depressed for several more years. Of course I'd like to live a happy life free of depression, and I hope this will be the case one day. But perhaps my anxiety about being free of depression, free of the crutches is a sign that I'm still not quite there yet, and that's OK. If the crutches are kicked away from you by someone pushing you too hard to make progress faster than your own pace don't be too disheartened. These people usually have good intentions, but it can cause a hitch in your progress towards recovering. So, take a breather if you get knocked and hopefully someone will be there to help you up again until you're ready to walk on your own again.