On Just Getting By

So it's been a while.

Four months without blogging is a long time for me.  But I just haven't been able to.  I've started and deleted a bunch of things.  I've thought deeply about topical issues and wanted to share those thoughts, but couldn't articulate them clearly.

But I haven't been able to read either.

Before last week I hadn't finished reading a book* since February.  That's five months without reading.  That's a long time for me.  And again, it's not for lack of wanting to.

I just have no brain.  And while I do have some downtime I'm too exhausted to use it in the ways I usually do.  Murray's epilepsy has been a huge adjustment for us.  Our days are never predictable.  Our workloads fluctuate, but seem always greater than they used to be.  There is no space to process the crazy days.  We just have to trek forward while juggling work, parenting and all the basic household stuff alongside very real and often pressing health needs.  It's exhausting.

And it's no-ones fault.  There's no-one to blame.  Sure, hospital appointment wait times and GP limitations are frustrating, but there are reasons for that**.  We could get mad at our health system, at the government and the lack of services available for folk like us, but frankly it's a waste of energy.  All we can do is live in the now and do the best with what we have.

Instead, I put the little energy I have left toward being grateful.  I am grateful for my education.  I am grateful for the years of therapy I've had before this point.  I am grateful that I have had access to texts and books and people that make all of this easier for me to compute.

Because I'm so tired.  All the time.  This feeling reminds me of being a new Mum.  Not so much a depression, more of a fog.  That feeling of trucking on with little sleep.  Of being physically tapped out.  Of having to learn as I go.  Of letting go.  Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is what I cling to.  It keeps those feelings of failure at bay.  Being able to be creative and political and engage socially are all top tier things.  And the reality is that at the moment we are struggling to meet those basic needs near the bottom.  Because it's just hard to at this point.  Knowing this allows me to somewhat let go of my ego around art and writing practice.  I am so grateful because that guilt is so futile, and just another thing I'd have no energy to feed.

Our reality is a cycle of struggling to meet the basics.  If I work extra, it helps me feel more financially secure because we can put more away in savings.  And it allows us to put money aside for things to look forward to so life feels more bearable.  But when I do work more, I spend less time with the kids and their behavior starts going sideways.  And then they don't sleep well and wake up with nightmares which starts an energy sucking cycle which affects everyone.  And when we're not well rested, we get run down and sick or (for Murray) have seizures.  And then we can't work and this impacts our finances, so we feel we need to work more...

It's a crazy balancing act.

I am just so grateful for all the support we have for the kids.  To my Mum who not only comes and helps two days a week so I can go to work, but also drops stuff to help out when Murray's unwell.  To both our workplaces who are so understanding in terms of our situation so we both still have jobs and enjoy going to them.  And to our school.  Who not only provide an environment that our kids thrive in but, according to Murray, are ace at handling seizures because they do so calmly with kindness and dignity.  While I know we're struggling to meet our kids psychological needs, I feel grateful at this point that they safe, they have enough to eat and they are surrounded by people who love them.

So yeah, I'm not writing, but I am coping.  The great thing of having grown up with a crazy home life, and having lots of therapy as consequence, is that not only am I used to managing crazy situations, but I have mad tools in my coping tool belt.  I can handle Murray having seizures while I'm driving, or choking on a carrot when postictal*** or having a bad fall, and then wake up the next day, put on my face and go to work and be ok because of those tools.  I swim a lot.  I sleep as much as I can.  I revel in shitty Netflix and mindless phone games.  I try to care less about the state of my house.

 Me, about to leave to Warkworth, after a swim      

And I make sure there are always things to look forward to.  Murray does too.  We have to have things to look forward to to make those bad days feel less hard.  I try and get away (situation willing) to somewhere close by a few times a year.  If I want to see a movie - I go and see that movie.  Murray still goes to as many Bloodbowl tournaments as he can.  We plan family outings and short breaks.  And if stuff isn't great on the day, we always have a plan B.  Sometimes we miss out - but sometimes we don't.

I guess this is just writing for writing's sake.  Because I've managed to bribe the kids with Roblox.  Because Murray made it to work today.  Because today is a good day.  And I have no idea what tomorrow will bring because that just isn't what our lives look like right now but regardless of what it is, I will be ok.  Because there is always something else to look forward to on the calendar.

Murray and I in a fancy hotel for one night without kids

* Besides kids books.  Not that they don't count - I LOVE reading kids books and the awesome stuff Etta likes to read (Ripleys Believe It Or Not, non-fiction books about cats, tween graphic novels), but I haven't been able to read anything that takes more than one sitting to finish.

** So, um, there's a pandemic happening.  And while we live on a series of isolated islands far away from it all, this does (and has always) restrict our access to certain treatments here in Aotearoa.  There are very few specialists that deal with what we are dealing with currently (being 'special' really isn't a great thing in medical terms), and with a growing population on top of the pressure of backlog from last years lockdowns, progress with tests and specialists is slow going regardless of whether you have health insurance or not.

*** After a seizure.

Getting Strong

When someone close to you is diagnosed with a chronic illness, it really puts things in perspective.  You cannot take your health for granted.

These days I feel like I have to be the strong one.

And it's not because my partner is weak - he isn't.  It takes great strength to adapt to new ways of doing things.  To accept that at times your body does things beyond your control.  It takes strength to keep finding ways of being yourself within new limitations.  To not give up in spite of these.  I need to be strong to support my partner in staying strong.  To support our children in living a life which differs from their peers.  And I need to be able to meet these challenges, and all the usual ones that just come with life, without falling apart.

It's not like I'm not already strong.  In many ways I'm circus strong man strong.  I'm stubborn as hell.  I'm goal oriented.  I've lived a life full of unexpected hardships and have my own health challenges to manage.  I've learned to love problem solving.  I'm the perfect person to have with you in an emergency.  While I do suffer from mental illness, I am also mentally strong.  But at the moment the rest of me needs a little work.

That time I broke my ankle trampolining...

I am by no means a lazy person.  I've mostly worked in jobs that clock up the steps: hospitality and retail keep you literally on your toes.  I work in a job where one day I might move a fridge, put away a bunch of microwaves or carry a carseat to someone's car.  Where I regularly run between floors authorising transactions.  And in my spare time I like going for walks, exploring the beauty in nature around me.  I've just never really been into sports.  As a young person I was teased for doing sport, so doing this in a public, competitive forum triggers my anxiety.  It's not super surprising to me that even my short forays into fun sports have resulted in serious injuries.  It's hard to be co-ordinated when you're fighting a panic attack.

But my lifestyle isn't technically proper exercise.  It's not 20 minutes of something a day that lifts my heart rate.  While I'm reasonably fit for someone who doesn't play sports, there is a lot of room to improve.  And with my Dad's family's heart health history, if I want to still be here when our kids are in their 20's - and I do - I need to start making some serious changes now.

I did start this last year.  I worked on getting fit and eating better and I managed to lose 9kg!  But with lockdowns, Coronavirus and Murray's increasingly frequent seizures all that work fell by the wayside. I started comfort eating.  I have always had a love/hate relationship with food and when things get tough, this is where things fall apart.  The lockdowns made it hard for me to exercise in the way that suits me best, and the inconsistency meant the routines I'd set earlier in the year fell apart.  By Christmas, I'd gained most of it back.  So this time my approach to strength is a little different.

Just gotta lose 9 butters.  Already lost 4

There are plenty of studies that show losing just 5% of your bodyweight can have some significant health improvements.  For me, that number is around 4.5kg.  So that's my current goal.  So far this year, I've lost 2kgs through exercise alone, so I am feeling like I'm on track for that particular measure.  But weight is not necessarily a good measure of health or strength.

I'm focusing on my flexibility.  I'm interested in increasing my upper body and core strength.  Most importantly, I'm wanting to revise my relationship with food.  But I want to take this slowly.  My plan is to institute one big change at a time every two months.  Science says on average it takes 66 days to make a new habit automatic.  Last year, I went in all guns blazing.  Then when things got tough, everything fell apart.  This year, I'm taking my time.  And I'm starting with building a habit I know is achievable for me - increasing my exercise.

Starting with something that I enjoy is just smart.  It forms a positive connection to the work I'm doing so makes building that habit easier.  I really like swimming.  Even though I've gained back the weight, I have still been swimming sporadically.  In the last year I've increased my average swim from about 500 metres to over 1 kilometer, and moved from doing my comfortable stroke (backstroke) to swimming a mix of breaststroke, backstroke and freestyle.  If I have time, I can break my swim into chunks and swim more in a day than I thought I could - more than 2 kilometers.  During school holidays I set my goal at swimming 3 - 5km per week.  Since school went back, I've upped that to 4 - 8 kilometers.

Obviously, this is the ideal.  It won't happen every week.  Last week we had a 3 day lockdown which impacted my swimming schedule*.  But I swam when I could, as much as I feasibly could.  And I still managed to swim more than 4 kilometers  The week before I did 7 kilometers.  In my ideal week I'd swim 5 days a week and spend at least 2 short sessions in the gym (I still hate the gym so I'm not pushing it).  But I'm realistic that this won't happen all the time - this weeks goal has been impacted by poor health.  But I'm doing my best to get my body used to pushing its boundaries beyond what is comfortable.

Not skinny, but quite bendy

I also do a lot of stretching in the sauna.  I use this time to focus on my breathing and balance.  Through this, plus swimming I have increased my flexibility through my quads.  I've increased my upper body strength enough that picking up a bowling ball feels easy.  I'm starting to get some muscle tone in my stomach.  My balance has improved.  I may not have dropped a dress size but I'm starting to feel more comfortable with my body.

And this isn't just about physical strength - swimming has really aided me in being mentally tough.  For me, water has always felt therapeutic.  I grew up near the ocean and swam a lot as a kid.  When I was pregnant with Etta and had hip dysplasia**, I waterwalked so that I wouldn't have to spend more time in bed.  I laboured with both of our kids in water.  It just soothes me.  And, like many exercises designed to help you feel calm, swimming forces you to focus on your breathing.  I have to regulate my breathing to swim.  This physical calming transfers to slowing down my thoughts.  Swimming really helps with my anxiety.  It makes my life feel more manageable.

Me and Abby at baby swim lessons.  It's funny looking back as I was so uncomfortable with my body at this time.  Now I'm much bigger than I was then, but feeling better about myself.

I haven't got to the hard part yet - the food is the hard part.  And I'm trying not to get ahead of myself.  I'm in the sweet spot right now.  This is the reveling in my bodies ability to do more than I thought it could.  I'm slightly nervous about April -   when I start changing my diet.  But I'm just making one achievable change at a time.  I am trying to live in today.  Today I swam 2 kilometers.  Today, I am strong (and also, quite tired..).

* I'm currently a pool swimmer.  While ocean swimming would be ideal - and still possible at Level 3 - I'm just not quite that confident yet.

** Many folk with hip dysplasia end up either using walkers or having to rest toward the end of their pregnancies.  I really, really did not want that to happen, so I exercised a lot to increase my strength so I could stay mobile.

On Our New Normal

So it's been a while.

I have a few half-written blogs I haven't posted and have had a lot of thoughts about this evolving world we live in that I haven't managed to write down.  And there is a solid reason for this.  Our family is slowly coming to terms with our new normal. Not just in regards to Covid, but in regards to Murray's epilepsy.

Murray is a much more private person than I so I will not share the specifics.  What I will say is that he's been told medication will not manage it well (it took a year of playing with meds to ascertain that) and we need to look into other options.  And we are trying, but even our private health sector is slow and difficult to deal with - particularly in neurology where, as a small island nation, there are just not enough specialists to go around.

So at the moment we're in limbo.  I can't remember the last time there was a seizure free week - it might have been Christmas because that was a surprisingly* good week.  As it is, we just have to take each day as it comes and do the best we can.  Murray's work has been amazingly supportive - mine has too.  Now, Murray mostly works from home.  It really takes the pressure off.  I feel extremely lucky that we already had a computer and an office space to facilitate this change.  But because of this change, I currently don't have a solid writing space.

A surprisingly seizure free Christmas

I am not one of those people who can just write anywhere.  I'm an extroverted introvert - it may seem like I love being around people - and I do - but I need space alone to recharge and regroup.  A LOT of space.  I struggle to write around others as it's a less stable environment for me.  It doesn't matter how well I know the people - I feel other peoples thoughts and feelings and words floating everywhere.  I need to be alone to hear my own voice.

And I just don't have the headspace to manage more changes at home.  So much has changed in the way we live our lives that I just don't have the energy.  Consequently, I've taken writing off the table.  I've been so tired lately** I don't even feel guilty.  Frankly, it's nice having a break from writer guilt.

While my brain hasn't been up to writing, it has been working hard on keeping well.  The biggest recent challenge was surviving school holidays with all of us at home together on the days I wasn't at work.  I had to come up with a new way of accessing some space from my whanau outside of the house so I didn't start losing the plot.  I found that space in the water.  I worked out a swimming schedule around when Murray was definitely working from home and left early in the morning (6.30) so I could be finished before he started work (8.30).  I went swimming on Sundays when the pools opened at 7am.  I wasn't perfect at this, but I did get some time out every week which helped me survive those seven long weeks with no school.

For me, the hardest part of our new normal is having to negotiate unknown territory.  A large chunk of my social anxiety comes from not knowing the etiquette around things - how I'm expected to act or behave.  With epilepsy - there is no guidebook.  Everyone experiences it differently.  While some triggers and types of seizure are commonly experienced, how it feels and presents for each person varies greatly.  There is no one solution - we are making up the rules as we go.  Yes, there is Epilepsy NZ and various other supports - but they don't offer any black and white solutions.  Yes, there are some first aid basics regarding the event of a seizure, but the rest is a free for all.  I regularly need to make decisions on the fly - like prioritising school pick up over monitoring Murray post seizure, or deciding whether or not to go on a booked trip.  It's scary not knowing whether or not I am making the right choice.  It is hard balancing everyone's needs.

A bittersweet trip out on the Kaipara without Murray after an early morning seizure.
Luckily Auntie Anne was free to join us,and we'll do it again another day.

This probably sounds awful, but I think these things are par for the course with managing many health conditions or disabilities when you're also a parent.  And while yes, it's not ideal, it's not without positives.  And it's really important to focus on those.  Murray is home more which means he has more time with the kids.  He cooks dinner more often, works less, and generally seems less stressed.  Both of us have made more of an effort to be kind to each other.  To accept each others strengths and limitations.  No, this is not what either of us were expecting when we committed to each other, but no-one knows what the future holds.  I feel this unexpected turn has only strengthened our relationship.

Not only that, but it does teach valuable lessons to our whole whanau.  While the kids are pretty used to seeing seizures now, every now and then one will still scare them.  They have had to learn skills most other children their age don't have - Etta can use Murray's phone*** to negotiate my work phone system and calmly tell me that Dad's having a seizure.  She has gone to the neighbours to get help when it was needed.  She sets a timer to monitor the length of his seizures, and can communicate to others its severity****.  No, this is not ideal, but it is our reality.  We have a mortgage and we all need to eat.  I do stay home from work when Murray's obviously unwell, but sometimes there are no signs.  We do the best we can with the situation we are in.  I am so grateful to have such strong and capable kids, and I try to make sure they know it.

We call her 'Dr Nettie' because she always knows
when you are sad or sick and she sleeps with you.

And they're empathetic.  Living with someone with health issues helps you view the world differently.  You see the inaccessibility of certain spaces and places.  The ways in which society does not accept people who are different.  The economic impact of living with ongoing health issues becomes apparent, the ways in which having less excludes people.  Our kids see this too.  They are learning the value of hugs, of time together, of the difference small actions can make.  They are learning how to adapt to unexpected situations and how to talk to us about difficult feelings.  They even get to see how animals show empathy (Murray has come to from a seizure with cats on him more than once).  These are difficult gifts to receive, but we still have to view them as gifts.

So this is where we're at now.  This is our new normal.  I am hopeful that in time this will change, but if it doesn't I know we will adjust and adapt.  I'm also hopeful that more writing will happen soon now the kids are back at school which does give me some headspace.  But I'm not going to feel bad if it doesn't.  Right now, I'm focused on the little things that bring us joy each day.  Whether it's cuddles with cats or kids, eggs from our hens or an unexpected win on Fall Guys.  Those things are enough for me for now.

* Surprising just because it's generally quite a stressful, busy and hot time of year.  And stress, tiredness and heat are the three biggest triggers for Murray's seizures.

** And no, it's not iron levels/lack of sleep/other logical explanation - it's emotional overload.  While with me it may not be noticeable in ways folk expect (crying, struggling to cope, depression) it physically manifests as exhaustion.

*** There is an emergency button set up on the front screen so the kids can easily call my cel, my work, Mum, or one of our neighbours.  It is seriously so worth us having.

**** It hasn't hurt that during the Level 4 Lockdown she became obsessed with a medical show for kids (Operation Ouch) on Youtube.  Since then she's been quite obsessed with facts about the human body and health stuff in general - we've even watched a surgery on someone with epilepsy together before.  She is quite matter of fact and this is very helpful when it comes to these kinds of situations.

Dr Xand and Dr Chris from Operation Ouch - Etta is OBSESSED

On Coping with being Unproductive

So like many folk, I'm in an unproductive glut.

And it's not just the Covid blues.

Am I affected by this?  Yes!  Absolutely.  Even here in Aotearoa where we are comparatively safe our world has been completely turned on its head.  Overseas travel?  Nope.  Family visiting for upcoming important events?  Unlikely.  Entire industries have had the carpet pulled out from under them.  Those birthing babies during Lockdown did so under extremely unexpected circumstances.  And many missed the opportunity to give their loved ones a final goodbye.

I think most of us will be affected by this to varying degrees.  And for those of us who work creatively, this can really impact our ability to work.  Right now I am struggling not to compare myself to others.  The onslaught of amazing creative ventures (like this) posted regularly on social media makes it hard not to.  I have to remind myself on an almost daily basis that everyone's needs are different.  Our circumstances may be different.  The way we work, is very likely different.  Our mental load, the time we have available to us, may be different.  Our coping mechanisms may be different.

Right now, I'm struggling with my mental load.  As someone who juggles family and work commitments, I always do.  But right now it's different.  There is the added load of not only adjusting to life during a pandemic, but parenting through a pandemic.  And recently we added another ball to those currently up in the air.

Murray was diagnosed with epilepsy late last year.  It was not a shock based on previous history, but it has meant we've had to make some significant changes to our family's lives.  And after a couple of specialist visits, tests and some medication and lifestyle adjustments, Murray is still having seizures.  One of the fantastic things for us about Lockdown was that Murray could finally work from home.  We had been trying to get his work to put things in place so this could happen for over a month before, and suddenly, all the previous barriers disappeared almost overnight.  And there was a short reprieve from seizures.

At Waihi Beach just after Level 2 was announced
(we had left for holiday just before this happened)

But it was short.  Now we are a household juggling multiple needs.  We are juggling both mine and Murray's medical needs*.  We are juggling both of our mental health needs.  We are trying to manage our workplace relationships - both of us have had to take time off suddenly to manage health or childcare.  And while we both have very supportive workplaces, this still feels hard**.  As parents, we are doing our best to meet our children's multitudinous needs while still paying the bills and keeping up with the washing.  And we're still trying to make sure we have fun things to look forward to.

The catch 22 of Murray working from home more is that I have less time where I am completely alone.  And this is the best condition for me to get creative work done in.  Unlike many creatives, I am not a night owl.  I cannot stay up until 3am painting or writing or making.  After about 8pm I am done for the day.  All my brain is good for is laughing at sitcoms.  The best time for me to work is during the day with as little interruption as possible.  Equally, Murray's health is so much better when he works from home - Lockdown proved that.  The ideal compromise would be that Murray works from home three days a week with two of those being when I am at work but that's just not feasible.  Wellness does not conform to any schedule.

The other thing I'm struggling with is the decision making aspect of things.  Do we need a bigger house?  Can we afford a bigger house with the impact health is having on our ability to work?  How much do we expect of our children in terms of managing/understanding seizures?  Should I take on more hours to lighten Murray's workload?  What is feasible?  What is best?  What sort of future should we be preparing for?

And the guilt.  The guilt over whether I am making the right decisions for our family.  The guilt about ordering Ubereats because I'm too tired to cook or drive - spending money we may well need for more important things tomorrow.  The guilt about not doing better as a partner to someone who is having a shit time.  The guilt about calling work to say I can't come in because Murray isn't well enough to look after the kids.  That feeling that I am failing everyone, that I have left tasks incomplete.  That I can never do or be enough.  I know that this guilt doesn't help anyone but it's really, really hard to shake.

A power pole on the lawn.  Just so thankful no-one was hurt  

And I have this weird guilt about how I process.  When bad stuff happens, instead of reacting emotionally, I just manage the practical aspects of it.  And while this means I'm not bad to have around in an emergency, it does make me question my own humanity.  A few weeks ago I had a week so full of unexpected events that my life sounded like a week of Shortland Street.  Regular not great things happened, but also more than one extremely unlikely traumatic event.  After watching a power pole fall toward the house I called out to Murray 'The powerpole just fell.  You need to call Vector.' And he laughed because while the kids were screaming around me there was no emotion in my speech.  I just sounded resigned to this fact, exhausted.  I did not cry that week but I did feel absolutely shattered.

And I still am.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

And when I read back over what I have just written and take a step back I'm not surprised.  It is a lot.  Whilst I have been creatively unproductive, my hands have been pretty full.  My brain has been so full it has literally been shutting itself down early so it can recharge and regroup.  And while my to-do list is endlessly overflowing it is understandable that I just let that be.  That I ignore the list and rest when I can.

And while my circumstances are likely different to yours - most of us have a lot more on our plates than we were expecting.

While I think at times it is easy, positioned as we are in the pandemic, to ignore the devastation rolling out overseas, it's still there in our subconscious.  If you are distancing yourself from this reality it may be because processing this change, this massive loss, is overwhelming.  Maybe this feeling comes out in how we feel about wearing PPE at work.  Maybe it impacts how strongly we feel about folk returning home to New Zealand.  Maybe it comes out in how much contact we have with friends and family overseas.  Regardless of how you are personally affected by Covid-19, it will have an impact.

While we (thankfully) do not feature on this list
       that doesn't mean this doesn't affect us.

And I think it's good to take a step back and look at that.  Assess just how full your hands are.  How much more you have to process these days.  How fair are you being on yourself?  I think right now everyone should be doing their best to be kind to themselves and understanding of others.  Now is the time more than ever to just focus on just living each day the best we can with what we have available.  And if that just means getting out of bed and brushing our teeth, or managing to make beans on toast, then that is enough.

It is important to remember that what we going through is in many ways, unprecedented.  Yes, there have been pandemics, but not on such a global scale.  We now live in a more globally connected era than ever before so this impacts on so many things we take for granted in our daily lives: imports, exports, tourism, the ability to travel.  Yes, we may be safer here in New Zealand, but that doesn't mean we are not affected.  Even if we try to distance ourselves from the changes ahead, from the unimaginable scale of loss, we still feel it.  The impact is catastrophic, and while we may not be conscious of it, it leaves a mark.

So regardless of your personal situation, it really is ok to just focus on the basics.  It's ok not to have all the answers to the questions your kids are asking.  It's ok to just hug them and say 'I don't know.  It is scary.'  It's ok if you aren't coping as well as your neighbour is.  It is ok to need time to process this. It's ok to take time to rest.

* Thankfully mine are minimal currently.  This endo thing is a rollercoaster for sure, but right now I'm in a sweet patch and have been for some time which is a huge blessing.  I also have a new GP who is really up to date with current research and has me using more effective medication (when I need it) which really makes a difference.

** It really, really triggers my anxiety as I don't like letting people down and work is very busy right now.

On Joining The Gym

So I joined the gym.  This is a thing I never thought I'd do.  I've been a gym member once before.  That was 20 years ago.  I cannot remember for the life of me why I joined.  I think I was teaching aqua-aerobics around the same time so might have been on some weird fitness kick.  I went regularly for about a month.  Then there was a fire drill and I had to exit the gym.  I was mortified to be seen out in my gym clothes (lord forbid other humans see my bare arms).  I never went back.

Me in my moonboot at my cousins wedding.             
Oh to be so slender without trying again!                

Besides that my only gym experience has come from seriously injuring myself*.  This required months of physio - I had to learn to walk all over again.  This was a positive experience for me.  My time in the gym translated very literally to my body's ability to do normal stuff again.  Watching my progress was exciting.  Even though I really enjoyed my time in the gym, I didn't continue with it after physio as other aspects of my life pressed on both my time and finances.

I never thought I'd join a gym because I:
a) Dislike intentional exercise
b) Hate exercising in public

I'm oddly self conscious about people seeing me exercising.  I can pinpoint the specific incident this anxiety stems from, but this doesn't thwart the feeling.  I know my feelings are irrational - that what happened then is not happening now - but knowing this does not make those feelings disappear.  Just like the many other facets of my anxiety, it's an irrational, annoying constant.  You learn to live with the discomfort.

In gyms my self-conscious feelings compound.  Fit people go to gyms.  People with great bodies go to gyms.  I am neither fit nor buff and my inexperience with gym equipment sets me firmly as an outsider to the gym world.  When I was rehabbing my ankle at the Unitec gym it felt ok because I was almost always there with my physio.  She kept me focused.  Plus I had an obvious injury so I did not feel as if others would judge my performance.  On top of that, with it being a student gym the membership was diverse -it wasn't just fit people - there were people there just like me.

So when I joined the gym I promised myself I did not have to go.  It only cost $3 a week more to get access to the gym on top of the pool membership.  It seemed worth the gamble.  It's only $3.  If I can walk up those stairs to the gym even six months after joining, then it's worth it.  Because it gives me a reason to overcome that fear**.  Because I am a tight arse.  I was never going to be ok not utilising that $3 investment that I could better spend elsewhere.  I used a conscious subconscious trick to push myself to walk up those stairs.

Fancy equipment!  Well, any equipment is fancy to me...

And it worked.  It took me less than a month.  Last week I put on the running shorts I'd asked for for Christmas and climbed those stairs.  I introduced myself to the man at reception and he showed me around the cardio area.  Luckily, I had chosen a time to visit when the gym was fairly quiet.  This made it less scary.  And there were nice, big lockers I could just put my stuff in for free.  And the gym equipment was clean, modern and fancy.  And while most people fit my idea of what 'gym' folk look like they didn't seem to care I was there.  They were too busy working out.

Last week I walked up those stairs three times.  Not only that, but I actually exercised too.

The awesome thing about this particular gym is that it offers a series of five one-on-one sessions as part of the membership.  This is optional.  If you just want to get on a treadmill and do your thing, that's ok too.  But if you want the extra support, it's there.  I decided if I was going to come this far I might as well utilise the professional support available.  Given I have so little experience, even just from a safety perspective it makes sense.  I had my first appointment on Sunday.

The trainer I met with was lovely.  Relaxed, non-judgmental, relatable (impressive given I'm old enough to be his Mum and his interests are sports and mine are not) and friendly.  Being weighed and measured and asked personal health questions are things that are probably uncomfortable for quite a few people.  Especially folk going to the gym to get in shape.  He understood that, and was so chill and professional that it felt ok.  The only part I struggled with was watching my arm measurements being done.  I'd never seen my arms like that in a mirror before.  I hadn't realised how big they were.  But that was only one uncomfortable thing.  And maybe the more I do this uncomfortable stuff the less uncomfortable I will feel in the future.

I have lost 12 butters!       

Because taking those initial measurements gives me a place to work from.  And given I've already lost 6kg, it's likely my arms were even bigger than that a few months ago.  So who knows?  Maybe when I do another measure in a couple of months time they will be a bit smaller.  My arms are already feeling stronger.  All the regular swimming has tightened up the muscles on my thighs, and I can feel my shoulder muscles for the first time ever.  These are pretty exciting changes.

And I am hopeful that seeing these changes helps me want to stick with this gym business.  Even if I don't end up liking the personalised program they set for me, coming this far is a huge achievement.  In just one week I've discovered I like using cross trainers.  I've discovered I can do a cardio work out for half an hour without keeling over.  And just a few months in to regular swimming it's difficult to imagine my life without it in it.  Maybe this will happen with the gym too?

One study found up to 60% of women experience diastasis recti
   post-partum.  Super common, but seldom talked about.

For now, I am focused on the exciting parts of this lifestyle change.  I am excited about the improvements I've made in my swimming.  When I started, I was tired after swimming 500 meters.  Now, my standard session is at least 1000 meters.  I have visible muscles where there was just bulk before and (the most exciting improvement) after years of diastasis recti, and feeling like it would never get better, I no longer have abdominal separation.  Well, a little, but it's down to a 1cm gap which is far less than it used to be.

I still have a lot of weight to lose to hit my goal weight (about 13kg).  But even if I don't lose another gram I feel like I've accomplished a lot.  I'm starting to feel like I am enjoying life.  After years of struggling with my body, its changes and limitations, I'm starting to feel more invested in living inside it again.  Just overcoming my anxiety about going to the gym is pretty huge.  It shows me that I can just make a decision to try something different and uncomfortable.  It might not always work out, but it is absolutely worth the risk.


* I fractured my talus and tore a bunch of ligaments through my ankle misjudging a jump in a trampolining gym (why I was doing a trampolining class in the first place is a whole different story).  I fell from about 3 meters onto the solid edge of the trampoline.  I was in hospital for four days because they weren't sure what to do with me.  The kind of injury I had is termed a 'pilots fracture' as was common amongst pilots falling from planes during WWII

** And something to do when the swimming lanes are really busy or being used for waterpolo.

On Bad Anxiety Round: Can I Count This High? FIGHT

The pro of having had anxiety for my entire life, and knowing it for over half my life is that I'm more experienced with managing it.  The con though is the weight of understanding the futility of my situation.  That no matter where I go or what I do poor mental health can, at any time, cut me down where I stand.  And this has been proven over years and years of experience.

And even though I've managed to get back up countless times before, and even though I know that I can, the thought of having to do it is exhausting.

Sooo Frustrating!  Sometimes it's hard 
to tell when you are actually sick.

This is not aided by the physical manifestations of this illness.  When I am well, these are not such a big deal.  But when I am ill, a body that cannot process food properly, inconsistent heart-rate, difficulty breathing and unexpected, sudden rises in adrenaline leave me muscle sore and exhausted.  And my ever racing brain feeds my racing pulse meaning whilst sleep is sorely needed it often sits far across an endless sea of circular thoughts, somewhere beyond my anxious brains reach.

And while I understand the physiology of my anxiety and its mechanics I still cannot prevent it from affecting me nor stop it on sight.  I understand my triggers, but because life is what it is - unpredictable - they could strike at any time.  And I know that once triggered my body goes into fight-or-flight mode over situations that are, from a rational perspective, completely safe.  And while I also know this is due to a logical process of how the brain manages childhood trauma, while my heart races seemingly of its own accord I both know this and feel frustrated that I can't just function like a regular person.  And the frustration at my situation feeds the anxiety.

I feel anxious because my body has been tricked into thinking I'm in a life or death situation.  Then I feel anxious because of the irrational nature of my body*.  I feel guilty because my anxiety prevents me from being able to easily do the simple things that help control my anxiety** and guilty that I feel anxious in the first place.  Anxiety feeds off itself.  And even when you know this is the case you cannot stop it from chasing it's own tail and still flinch at the pain of it's bite.

Obviously my reasons are different,    
but it's the same old crazy shit        

I know exactly what triggered my current bout of poor mental health.  It is nobody's fault.  I know rationally that what I am dealing with is something that would be emotionally difficult for even a 'normie' to handle.  I know my inability to manage is not my fault, that my brain has forged abnormal neurological connections as a coping mechanism.  Most of the time I know what needs to be done to get on track.  But it takes time, and while I get back to that place of almost normal, just managing each day is hard.

And this is what makes managing these episodes so hard.  Those spaces in between.

I have great support networks.  I have friends and family that have similar mental health issues that I can talk with honestly.  I have a partner and a plan in place for when this happens.  I am extremely fortunate in this department.  But none of this matters once I'm really sick.  Anxiety shuts down my ability to communicate.  Of late, I have been struggling even to engage on social media, (and this is usually a safe space for extroverted introverts like myself who genuinely like other humans).  And the guilt about my inability to communicate makes me feel guilty about my participation in relationships with others.  And that guilt feeds my anxiety.

In some ways it is hard being a functional anxious person.  When you spend most of your time being fairly capable in life, it is only when you drop the ball that anyone notices.  Consequently, it's a difficult conversation to have.  I am not, nor have ever been embarrassed by my mental health status.  I am afraid that people will not believe me if I tell them.  This too makes things difficult - I work harder to keep up the facade of being 'normal' for the sake of the areas that can't fall by the wayside; the kids basic needs and work.  And in order to do that I sacrifice other things, like being social, or exercising because I've used up all my spoons.  I feel extremely lucky to be functional.  And I feel guilty for voicing the associated problems with being functional.  And that guilt feeds my anxiety.

This time I caught things earlier than the last time.  I went to the Drs much sooner than usual, fruitless as that was.  I self-adjusted my existing medication.  I filled out the forms and am on the wait list for therapy.  I have attempted to limit my social interaction to a manageable level.  And it is starting to help.  I am still struggling with my energy levels**, still struggling with social interaction, still utilising unhealthy crutches to help me to stagger through.  But this is shifting.  Slowly.

Even when you know the cycle, it's still hard to
                       get out of the cycle... 

It's this point in time when the cycle can start up again.  Where it's easy to get too confident and overdo things.  Where it's easy to feel guilty about not doing things.  Where this guilt starts feeding back into your anxiety.  It's a tricky negotiation and this doesn't change with time.  It's a wearying process while you're in the thick of it; going to Drs appointments, organising therapy, preparing healthy meals, talking to friends.  Once sideswiped by the exhaustion that accompanies anxiety, managing the anxiety begins to feel insurmountable.  Just picking up the phone requires preparation and pep talks and if connection is thwarted by an answer phone or receptionist, it's even harder to do next time.  You want to get help, you know how to get help, but actually doing it is so hard.

But you do it.  You find things that tie you to the world that force you to keep getting up - family, friends, goals, causes.  What is frustrating is that when my health starts to unravel these ties are the very things that I struggle with.  How can I prioritise drawing when I barely have the energy to go to work?  How can I help others when I can barely function at a basic level?  It is hugely difficult to work out when to set these aside, for my health, and when to do them, for my health.  Having just finished reading a brilliant biography on Robin Williams I can see all too easily while so many cannot continue this struggle any more.  It is not for want of love or connection or use.  It is the guilt over not feeling that, for whatever reason, you do not deserve that connection.  It is the frustration and exhaustion over your own situation.

I get it, but I keep on doing it.

*          *         *          *          *         *          *          *         *          *          *         *

I love the Scholastic Book Club      

I had my first of what will likely be many conversations with the kids about my mental illness earlier this week.  I am grateful that this conversation wasn't prompted by my own health, but their interest in the book What Would She Do.  Whilst initially we just read the summary and quotes about the women included, the kids are now so interested they wanted me to read their 'big' stories.  When we read Virginia Woolf's Etta asked 'Why did she kill herself Mum?'

So I explained that she suffered from anxiety and depression, and that I did too.  I said that this illness can sometimes make a person so sad they do not know how to live in this world any more.  That for a pacifist like Virginia, World War II must have hurt so much.  That having this illness does not mean I will kill myself.  That many other people live with this and don't kill themselves.  That I have a more supportive community, and different circumstances to Virginia.  Etta said 'That's good, because I would miss you if you were dead.'

It is difficult for me to know for sure if this was the right thing to say.  No-one wants their children to consider their parents health or mortality.  But this is the truth.  And what I have learned as a parent to our two amazing children is not to underestimate their ability to grasp big ideas like war or prejudice.  The other day Etta said to me 'Why do they have wars?  If they disagree they should just talk about it until they agree on something.  Or they should just have a running race and whoever wins the race is who gets to decide.'  Introducing big topics when they are young in simple, non-biased ways allows them to start forming their own ideas about their values.  What I see as a result of these big topic conversations is opportunity to talk about empathy, equality and equity.

And honesty.  I hope that in being honest with our kids about my health and my feelings, it helps them know they can be honest with me.  Whilst my anxiety feeds me guilt about my ability to be a good parent, I can counter this with the knowledge that it also gives me the opportunity to talk about mental wellness with my children.  To role model asking for help when I need it, to name emotions when I feel them and to help them do the same.  I'd certainly rather that than to model the need to hide those differences that are not well perceived by society.  I don't want our kids to ever feel the need to be anything other than who they are.  Having mental health issues helps me teach our children how to have empathy for others, love for themselves and to feel safe talking about their own feelings.

I feel from my struggle comes understanding and power.  And I can gift this to our children.

* Getting Etta to school on time is not a life or death situation.  In my case the anxiety comes from the possibility of an increase in social interaction required (which happens if she's late), but a conversation won't kill me, my body just thinks it will...

** Sleeping, spending time with friends and family, eating healthily, minimal exercise - normal health stuff

*** Most folk who use anti-anxiety meds or other meds to help with mental health will understand this exhaustion is both a side effect of being anxious (overworked adrenals) and a very common side effect of altering dosage of medications.  It's a very difficult balance between being functional/non-functional with or without medication.

On Having A Busy Brain

Man I wish I could be like some of the people I know!

Me as a cadet... Photo taken by local reporter

I wish I could just choose one or two creative endeavors and just buckle down and be amazing at them.  It's never a thing I have been able to do.  Even at high school I struggled to balance school work with Cadets, a part time job*, a boyfriend, school plays and other extra curricula activities.  During my first year at University I also worked three jobs - concurrently, and managed a social life.  My life has always been more hectic than life seems like it should be.

But now I'm starting to rise from the sleep-deprived haze of parenting small children, I'm realising that aside from the kids, my life will probably always be hectic.

I wish this was not the case.  Because it's just logical to me that if you direct a good chunk of your time, thought and energy into one place then you will have more experience behind you to become really good at that thing.  Regardless of what that thing is.  Especially if it's something that's interesting to you (why would anyone bother with anything else?).  Whether it's parenting, or breeding roses or swimming.  Focus usually gets results.

And if you are focused on that one thing, when you aren't thinking about it your brain can maybe have a rest.  Watching a movie is relaxing.  Computer games are relaxing.  Reading is for fun, and maybe also relaxing.  Maybe when your brain has exhausted its focus on that one thing it will allow you to sleep at night.  And that would ensure you had more energy to refocus on that thing in the morning.

Me having a compulsory kanikani in the booth on Family Feud.  So fun!

I have never had focus.  And up until recently, I was fairly sure this inability to do just one (or two) things was a coping mechanism.  Always busy.  Seldom (but sometimes**) in the spotlight.  Excited about the prospects of multiple projects.  Happily rushing along wherever life has taken me.  And maybe this idea is right.  It makes sense given my background and mental health history.  But I recently started to think if maybe I'm supposed to be like this.

Grandin's books are always an interesting read

I've been reading a lot of Temple Grandin lately (after having enjoyed some other books on animal psychology) and am currently reading one of her most recent books on autism (as well her work with animals she is also very well known for talking about and investigating her own autism).  And it made me start thinking.  Obviously, initially about Etta, because despite this not being her diagnosis there are many things she shares with folk with ASD (in particular sensory issues, fixations and difficulty managing her own feelings).  But also in reading a generic checklist of sensory issues, I realised I tick a lot of boxes myself.

I think most people will probably relate to some of the issues.  But when I went through Grandin's list (very helpfully accompanied by management techniques) I realised there were two sections where I either struggled, or still struggle, with more than 50% of the things on the list (auditory processing and olfactory).  And this helped me realise how I crave over-stimulation: I struggle with quiet (usually have mindless TV in the background to soothe my mind), I have a slight obsession with foods and smells, I struggle to just sit still let alone stop talking.  I talk to myself constantly.  When I reflect on this It's not hard to see why I struggle to focus.  A constant hum seems to help me navigate the world but it's also very distracting. 

Patchwork - one of my favorite two player boardgames

So now I am considering that some of us are destined never to be great at one thing.  Because some of us can never just sit down and do one thing.  I have never been able to pick one creative endeavor I love more than any other.  I love writing.  I love cooking.  I love singing.  I love reading.  I love gardening.  I love drawing.  I love designing/making books.  I love photography.  I love animals and wine and board-games and knitting and film.  I cannot choose any one of those things that I love above any other.

And sometimes when I start working on one thing (knitting) it will automatically make me want to do another thing (making jam) because something about it will remind me of the other thing.  And then something about that thing (the colour of jam) will make me think about another thing (painting, or glass work or planting seeds) and then I will be off on a new tangent of passion.

Attack of the Karate Devils (2006) Knitted Painting

If someone asked me what my greatest talent was I would tell them that it was my ability to make connections between things.  Many aspects of education were simple for me because I remembered facts easily and could fit ideas together naturally.  And the reason I did well in writing essays was my ability to connect seemingly disparate things with ease.  It has aided me in everything - whether through making links between knitting and pixels, understanding how to structure layered incentive programs or writing info sheets for varying basic gut health issues.  Every one of those things came down to me connecting the dots.

So I think maybe I am not meant to be good at one thing.  Maybe I am meant to be interested in many things and use those varied interests to make connections.  Maybe those connections will somehow, at some point in time, be useful in some way.  Maybe they already are and I just don't know because my skill is not to recognise usefulness, but to just make connections.

I guess this is a form of self acceptance - I hope so.  I hope I'm not just excusing poor mental health management techniques.  I hope accepting being like this is ok.  And I think probably it is.  What I am working on now is creating structures so that I can at least get to the end point of creative endeavors rather than leaving them cluttering up computers and cupboards.

Plum and Crab-apple Jelly - just gorgeous!

I think most of the reason I prefer working collaboratively is that I have other people to answer to.  Being so far from my tertiary days in both time and life, collaborating with others is now trickier.  So I've started delegating people to be my 'boss' on certain projects so I can set deadlines that I (choose to) believe has an external affect.  They don't even have to do anything, read or see anything - they just have to pretend they're my boss so it creates the illusion that my self enforced deadlines matter.   

I've started setting short term, mid-term and long-term creative goals so that each year I can explore something exciting, whilst still plodding away at a constant practice (currently that's my Suburban Birds project), while having room for quicker turn around projects (jam, baking, crafts).

I'm hopeful that this will help me feel less envious of my talented peers.  And I'm hopeful that while I do not imagine my brain will ever not be busy, maybe instilling a little more order will help me feel calmer, and more able to watch movies for fun.

* OMG I loved this job so much.  It was just a cafe job but it truly has shaped me as a human being in so many ways that I am still grateful for it over 20 years down the track.  I am still so grateful for that time, and the people I met during that time, and how they grew me into who I am now.  It forged my love of cooking, food and counting money.  Cheesy I know, but still very true.

** When mental health allows it.  I love doing little bits of film, tv and ad work and love love LOVED being on Family Feud (have always wanted to be on a game show!)  I have been featured in varying publications over time for so many different things - advice on IBS and gut health, singing, making art, cadets.  Admittedly most of that has been about time and place though.  And dressing like a hipster before 'hipster' was a term is something that gets you noticed..

On The Problem With Thursdays

Does anyone else get anxious about downtime?

Every Thursday my Mother and Father in law take the kids.
For.  The.  Whole.  Day.

How lucky am I as a mostly stay at home Mum of two pre-schoolers?  In case you don't know the answer to that - so friggin lucky?

The kids chillin' with Poppa - works for me!     

   

The problem is that before the kids have even left the house on Thursday, I start freaking out.  Because it is the only day of the week I can do things around the house that are tricky to do with small children.

In our house this means anything that I need to concentrate to do.  Because two preschoolers = being interrupted every few minutes.

And I'm supposed to also use this time to help manage my mental health by doing things like:

• Resting
• Basic self care (shower/bath)
• Socialising
• Medical appointments
• Other self care (bird watching/going to a movie/walking/just chilling)

I did take myself to go see Flatliners the first Thursday I had with no kids.  Loved it

And it's just plain easier to do some of the household chores without kids like:

• Grocery shopping
• Large amounts of clothes/bedding washing
• Concentrated* gardening (or dangerous gardening like lopping tree branches)
• Concentrated food prep (complex meal or things like jam or sweets)
• Vacuuming more than one room at a time
• General tidying

And at the moment I am trying to do numerous things which require a level of concentration to do including (but not limited to):

• Writing blog posts
• Sanding and re-painting the hallway
• Working on my art projects for an upcoming exhibition
• Packing half of the house (our floors are getting replaced at unknown date in future and we must move everything out of half of the house with 48 hours notice.  So I'm opting to pack all unnecessary things now to avoid future stress and hassle).

 So what has been happening fairly often since I got my Thursdays back (In laws were away in Africa for 7 weeks and was working Thursdays before that) is that I actually have a panic attack on Thursday mornings.  I am so overwhelmed by having this precious gift of alone time, and feel terrified that I will somehow squander it.  And then it'll be another week until I have this time again.

A regular Thursday list             

        

One of my coping strategies - just generally for life - is that every morning I write a list of what I'd
like to get done.  Over time I have learned I need to include things like resting and socialising to ensure I don't forget to just chill out for a bit, or feel guilty for going 'off list' if I do so.  What has been happening on Thursdays is that the list of what I would like to get done is often so extensive that I know I have to be on task all day to get it done.  Like, even if 'seeing a movie' is on the list there is a scheduled time for it, and I cannot deviate from that or I won't get the rest of the list of 'proper jobs' done.

Every Thursday morning feels like I'm prepping to run a marathon.

There are a number of practical solutions that would remedy this.  One would be doing more things in the evenings.  The only problem with this is that my brain is a day-time brain, and functions less well at night (particularly when I'm lacking in sleep, which is often the case).  So while I can do something things at night (and do) like photo editing and stream-of-conscious style writing, I can't do stuff that requires brain like editing or drawing.  The other solution would be to palm this work off onto the weekends.  Unfortunately, I work on Sundays and Saturdays is the only day of the week we get to spend together as a family, so it is difficult to justify using that precious window of time for things other than that.

But this Thursday I did something different.

On Wednesday night I was well aware that I had a day of potential freak out ahead.  After a big talk with Murray about general stuff (which was very helpful) I had a moment of clarity.  There are many genuine reasons for me to feel anxious at the moment.  But the biggest thing causing me issues is fear around my upcoming exhibition.

Having not had work on public display for a long time, it's natural I'm anxious about exhibiting.  It's also the first time I will have shown work alone outside of an educational setting.  I am used to the teamwork of an exhibition, the camaraderie, having people to critique your work and how you choose to show it.  This time it's all on me.  And even though this is not exactly a 'professional' exhibition, and have just opened it up to friends and whanau, it still feels like a big deal.  Because it's the culmination of a year of exploration.

I realised I had fallen back into the trap of trying to make things 'perfect'.  That when things were not working out according to my plan, rather than making a plan B I was just stuck.  And things were often not going to plan as I had kids now, and less time and brain, and should have been creating plans B through Z to manage this.  Instead, my anxiety would trigger because I felt stuck and that time was slipping away.  Consequently, I was getting little done which amplified this feeling. 

Magical list of wiseness.  What a difference a day makes, huh?

So on Wednesday night I wrote an extensive list of what I wanted to get done for the exhibition - including finishing the hallway, and the zine.  Then honestly ticked whether each item was 'necessary' or 'optional'.  This cut my list of what actually needed to be done down massively.  I then planned out the next three weeks with what actually needed to get done to be on track to having a finished show.

Yesterday I woke up, and felt a little anxious.  But I had a list.  I had a list which I knew was completely possible to achieve within the timeframe and incorporated in rest and downtime.  And I knew that I would not be behind schedule if I completed this list as in, I still had ample time to complete the rest of the tasks for this week.

And I had a great day.  I stuck to my list.  I fulfilled my tasks.  I was chilled out enough that I could actually nap - something I haven't been able to do during my 'rest' day Thursdays for about a month now due to chronic anxiety and/or time constraints.  And I managed to work whilst watching crappy wondrous TV - just like I used to do back at art school - one of my favorite work methodologies.  And I was happy with the work I got done.  In fact, I only have one more 'job' left to do this week to keep on track for the exhibition.

I drew something I like!

 

And while focusing on the exhibition meant not focusing on my blog, or the housework or a fancy dinner - the sky did not fall on my head.  And in reality I still actually vacuumed part of the house, cleaned the oven, washed the dishes and did two loads of washing and packed another box for when the floor gets done - so it wasn't like the house was ignored.

And also it provided some fodder for this cheat blog...

* As opposed to haphazard gardening - which I do irregularly with the kids (they're happy, and small bits get done - so I'm happy)

On Mental Health Awareness Week and my Mental Health

Because it's Mental Health Awareness Week I thought I should talk about mental health.  I've talked about this before - but it's always good to revisit as I learn new things over time.

My official diagnosis is PTSD resulting in anxiety, depression and dissociative disorder.  PTSD stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and in my case it's childhood trauma - so I can never  remember a time where I wasn't mentally ill.

I wasn't officially diagnosed until I was 20, but I have been symptomatic my entire life.  When I was  11 I was diagnosed with exercise induced asthma.  Retrospectively, what I was actually suffering from would have been panic attacks.  Kids didn't get diagnosed with mental health stuff back in the 80's and NZ has the second highest rate of asthma in the world, so it was a reasonable assumption.  Even though my peak flows were always off the charts.

How does having this illness affect me in daily life?

Like Masha and the Bear only not so cute...      

Well, sometimes it doesn't affect me much.  Living with mental health issues is like living with a friendly bear.  You live together side by side, most of the time it's just a little uncomfortable because it's a bit weird living with a bear.  But some days the bear just shits in your bed.  And you have to clean it up before you can go to sleep.  And some days the bear totally maims you with its claws and you feel like you will bleed to death and die.  But you don't want to tell anyone because your flatmate is an unpredictable bear.

And you don't always know when those messy days will occur.

Sometimes I know when things are starting to get bad and you I help.  But sometimes I've convinced myself that I'm ok, so I don't.  I have been in and out of therapy for 22 years now and I still don't get it right all the time.  I am sure this is not uncommon.

If only I had a protocol droid

The everyday things I struggle with are social.  I need to know what is socially expected of me to feel comfortable - I wish I had a protocol droid like C3PO at my side 24/7 to help me negotiate my way through social situations.  If I don't know what is expected of me I tend to panic and then shut down - like an overheated engine.  Consequently, I am scared of phoning people I don't know, walking into a situation I have little information about, or trying new (social) things.

This may seem odd to people who know me because I am a social, friendly person.  It's because I like people.  And I am fine in social situations if I know what's expected of me.  That's why I like working in retail - there are obvious parameters for most interactions.  The kinds of things I'm not good at are small talk with parents I don't know, or interacting with tradespeople or going to job interviews.

The other thing I suck at is conflict resolution.  I may seem bold on social media, and in person, but when it comes to actual conflict I freeze.  I have watched myself do it.  When someone touched me inappropriately recently (even after I had told him 'no' insistently) I just froze*.  It's like I'm a deer caught in the headlights.  I don't want to respond this way, but my body physically refuses to do anything else.  It's part of my dissociative disorder.

The other part of this is that I often zone out so much I truly do not see or hear anything outside of my 'zone'.  If I am out of the house, I am usually on a mission - so I'm in my 'zone'.  People have often accused me of 'snobbing' them because I have completely ignored them despite their bids to get my attention.  I'm telling you now, 98% of the time I would have just not seen or heard them at all.  This isn't the greatest for my kids - I have to work really hard on trying to be present for them, but it is really handy for getting work done in a noisy environment, or staying on task to complete a project.  So it's not all bad.

If I am unwell, I will try and manage my survival by procrastination or total avoidance.  I will avoid areas of known potential conflict.  I will not make the phone calls or open my mail.  I won't engage in unpredictable social activities.  When I was extremely unwell at 20 I just stopped leaving my house entirely**.

Sertraline - truly a lifesaver for me      

    

These days I manage my illness primarily with medication.  I take a low dose of Sertraline (the safest anti-depressant for when breastfeeding or pregnant), which is an SSRI that helps balance out my brain chemistry a little.  For me, being on medication means I can actually just live a normal life.  When I came off my meds recently, cashing up at work would often cause me to have a panic attack** even though I'm very experienced and good at this.  Because I was panicking, I would make mistakes.  Taking my medication means I can actually do my job competently without freaking out.

I've heard many misconceptions around antidepression and antianxiety medications - the main one being that it makes people into zombies.  Sure, if someone is on lithium or loads of sleeping meds or a combination of meds then maybe yes.  But in my case it just helps me feel, I guess, like a well person.  This will likely be the same for most people with long mental health histories - over time we have found the right chemical balance for us.  There are many, many different medications out there, and you often have to try several before finding the right one.  Dissociation makes it difficult to feel connected with reality.  It often feels like I am watching everything through plastic, like I'm a voyeur in my own life.  For me, medication helps me feel more connected with the world and consequently, makes it easier to make better decisions***.

I've also heard that it kills your creativity.  Maybe it does for some people, but not for me.  I try and write about something I care about at least once a week.  I photograph birds daily.  I try and have an annual creative project to work toward and look forward to.  Medication actually reigns in my manic tendencies which allows me to have better focus.  And my creative tendencies help me manage my mental health in a productive way.

Consciously engaging with nature daily in a creative way helps me to feel grounded

I do other things to manage my mental health as well.  Medication is the stabiliser, but in order to stay well I need to live consciously.  I try to make sure I have regular time to myself.  I focus on gratitude - daily when I'm not coping well.  I connect with the bigger world outside.  I walk.  I read.  I utilise routines.  I (try to) practice mindfulness.

1 in 6 New Zealanders will experience mental illness at some point in their lives.  And women are 1.6 times more likely to be diagnosed than men.  I don't believe is necessarily because we experience it more.  I think that Kiwi men still struggle to talk about their wellbeing so are less likely to get a diagnosis - I'd say our suicide statistics reflect this.  I am so grateful that we have men like John Kirwin and Mike King working to change this.

If I could impress one thing on those struggling to understand mental illness, it would be that it is a real illness.  We are not just really sad.  We are not just high strung.  We cannot just 'get over it'.  Like managing any illness, we need to visit our Drs regularly.  We need to utilise tools (medication, therapy, changes to lifestyle) to manage our illness.  And living like this is tough.  For some of us we have to live this way for the rest of our lives.  And it's not to feel special, or because we are too lazy to be 'normal'.   Mental illness is not a choice.
No-one would choose this.

But with understanding, patience and compassion you can choose to support those of us who experience it.

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If you think that you, or someone you know may be suffering from mental illness read this.
If you want more ideas on how to help someone suffering from mental illness, read this.

* It was (again) due to social disconnect.  If he were some rando I would probably have kicked him in the balls.  But he wasn't.  He's someone I know who is older and doesn't speak much English, and I didn't know the social convention of how to handle bad touching from an old person I know.

**At that point I didn't think I could cope with any social interactions in an appropriate manner (besides with my Mother) and was terrified of running into people I knew on the street - there was also a high chance of doing that as I was living in the suburb I grew up in where everyone knows pretty much everyone else.

***Because of perceived time pressure leading to awkward social interactions with managers.
 
**** When you don't feel like you actually exist it's very easy to make poor choices.  It's like you're playing a video game and you're curious to see what will happen if you walk into that pit with the spikes.  You know that you can just start over.  Because you're not really dead.  If you don't feel connected with existence to begin with it is difficult to feel afraid of death or of the outcomes of poor choices.