Day 19 – Here comes the sun little darling’
There is a ray of light in my day today and following a meeting with a mortgage adviser who tells me that, “I think we can help,” I am nothing short of ecstatic and even after trying to calm myself with coffee I come back to the office smiling like a Cheshire Cat.
It is amazing to think of these kinds of figures, to think that really this might actually be a possibility after all. I had begun to lose hope and had started to drop like a stone.
When I return to the office I am full of the joys of winter and even my colleagues can see the difference in me and ask whether it was good news. I try to reply modestly but I am so thrilled that it all pours out.
I remembered one of my worry tricks this morning. One that tells you to imagine things, as bad as they seem, all being good in a year after you have had time to pick up the pieces. The problem was that my year plan had involved buying sofas, a garden bed and a shed and none of these things would tie in with not having a home, although the shed may have been useful perhaps.
Instead now it seems that my little home could soon be a reality and I have to thank for it so many people who have supported me including my Grandma, my dad, my mum and just so many others who kept the faith.
Being bipolar is a bit of a bitch but I really do believe that if you really work to maintain good relationships, even when you are as high as a kite and think you need nobody, it really is an illness that can be managed and indeed survived.
It doesn’t all have to be sadness and insanity. It can be a wonderful life and the sun will always come out again no matter how dark things might feel. Just don’t forget there are always sunbeams around the corner.
Today’s shoes are from my favorite maker, Kurt Geiger himself. You will be seeing a lot from this designer over the coming year as I am a KG addict and own quite a few pairs. The only thing that worries me is many of the pairs I own are really rather high and I am not sure how my boss and colleagues are going to feel when I totter into the office in six-inch heels. But hey, it’s for charity and if I have to go Otter Spotting again I can always go bare foot!
Day 18 – Looking back when looking forward is just too tough
I am sinking. I do not know if it is the stress of the house or feeling as though I am not in control but I am beginning to sink. I walk home from work today and I notice that not only have I lost my usual bouncing step, I feel angry.
Anger is such a destructive emotion and it does not help that I am directing it towards people I perceive to be giving me dirty looks because I am smoking like a trooper or the kids that nearly run me over on their bikes. It is tiring being angry and because of all my worries I am not sleeping so well and so my fuse is short.
Rather than dwelling on the present I find myself desperately looking back in an attempt to find some meaning in my life. It starts slowly and happily. I look at my sister’s first photos and remember that now I am an aunt and that this is something which gives me more of a feeling of purpose in the world than I could have ever imagined.
It soon descends into sadness however when I come across my other sister’s photo album. I forgot how ill she became and how much she changed in her looks. There is a picture early on in the album when she has long hair and a full figure. She is playing with a pair of crutches that belonged to a friend of hers and I begin to sob at the thought that just months later she would have crutches of her own and would struggle to walk unaided.
I look at the holiday we had by the coast when she was so sick she had to tell us what was possibly the worse news not only for us but for her. We are walking on the pier and dressed in each others clothes. She was in pain, I know she was but she is smiling for the camera and larking about while I look like an adolescent grumpy teenager.
My sister was still beautiful even then and I remember on the holiday going to the hospital to buy razors because she wanted to wear a brand new skirt and her using her Disability Living Allowance to buy two beautiful pairs of Ravel shoes.
I would hope that in some ways this habit I have of looking back when I am down would do me good but it doesn’t. I emerge from the room of memories in a cloak of sadness that I fail to shake off despite trying with tears falling from my face to dance to Coldplay.
Looking back is a necessary part of going forward but why does it have to hurt so very much?
Day 17 – The otter spotter
The problem with projects like Stomping Out Suicide is that the terms and conditions invented by myself do not leave much room for maneuver. Perhaps this is why I find myself attempting to descend a river bank to spot an otter in a pair of tight pink boots with a three-inch heel. I love my job really I do but I never signed up to be Bill Oddie and I fear for my life as otters look alarmingly like rats.
I scat around the river bank, clinging on to a tree for dear life while I attempt to get footage of what now appears to be three otters playing on the ice of the River Welland in Market Harborough. They are really rather cute, once you get over the giant rat fear, and I soon find myself enjoying my filming. unfortunately half way through filming I realise I am complete amateur and have in-fact been filming my finger. I try again but the naughty little things have gone into hiding.
All of a sudden I spot a vantage point on the other side of the river. Sensing a rustling I mount the bank and clamber back up to the pavement, narrowly avoiding dropping my iPhone into the depths of the river. It is quite shallow but for dramatic purposes let’s say it’s deep, deep enough that I don’t fancy going paddling in it anyway.
I run past commuters on the bridge and even develop an otter call using smooching sounds from my lips. They appear to like it and by the time I reach the other side they are out to play again. I get a bit of footage but realise it could well be a rat so call the office for reinforcements and our video camera.
My colleague comes rushing out and we stand there for ages as we wait for the otters to emerge and our fingers go numb with the cold. All of a sudden we hear a crack of the ice and one surfaces and skids towards us raising its head at the camera and behaves in a truly delightful manner. Before we know it there are three of them once more all playing together and alone and one even begins to wrestle with a beer bottle.
We get some really good footage and although it is quite dark it is a unmissable moment and one that I hope will attract people to the river to come and see the otter family. I love my job. I don’t love these shoes.
http://www.harboroughmail.co.uk/news/local-news/video_otters_seen_in_the_river_welland_1_3428051
Day 16 – Fear of the crazy
There is one thing I always failed to consider when I thought about the stigma around mental illness and that is fear. I read an interesting article in The Journal in Ireland today which addressed the idea of mental illness and fear. It was written by the columnist John Saunders and was referred to me by my uncle who lives in Moville, Co Donegal, Ireland.
Contained in the article is this significant passage which I feel compelled to quote here in full as it really speaks to me.
One in four of us will experience a mental health problem. That’s enough of us to fill Croke Park fourteen times over, and its more people than the combined populations of Cork, Clare, Galway, Limerick and Waterford.
So if it affects so many us, why is there such a stigma around mental health problems? Why are we so uncomfortable talking about our mental health? Why are mental health problems one of society’s greatest and last taboos?
I believe that the answer is fear.
Despite the ordinariness of mental health problems, we fear being different, being ostracised, being labelled. And let’s face it; we still have fear of the large psychiatric institution up on the hill in so many towns around Ireland that have negatively impacted on many lives. Indeed, Ireland in our not too distant past, held the unfortunate title of having the world’s most people per capita institutionalized in psychiatric hospitals. Did we have more mental health problems than any other country in the world? Not likely, but we managed to create a fear around ‘madness’ that still lingers today and has a tight grip on us.
Yet mental health problems are nothing to be frightened of; they’re part of the normal ups and downs of life. We all have mental health – positive and negative – and are all vulnerable to mental health problems at points in our lives. Yet many of us who experience mental health problems are too scared to tell our friends, family, neighbors and colleagues for fear of how they might react or what they might think.
I have come across this fear of telling friends and family so often when meeting with others who experience mental health problems. I tend to be rather open about my own illness but I have met others who fear telling employees, family and friends. It is their reactions that they fear and having been met with some classic reactions of my own I well understand their anxiety.
Add to this the fear of telling anyone that you are spending time or have spent time in a psychiatric unit and you have a guarantee of instant angst. Even when I was in the mental health unit in Leicester there were so many people who would come to visit but there were also a few who just never came. Partly it was my own fault, I was so depressed that there were days when I would not leave the ward at all but there were those who came in spite of this with flowers, chocolates and everything else a normal sick person might need.
In the article Mr Saunders stresses the concern that it is this fear that stops people seeking help. Some fear to admit to mental illness to anyone, even their own Doctor. This is a fear that can be fatal. For those who seek help recovery is an option and an inevitability. There is so much now that can be done to help, so many different drugs and coping strategies out there that at times I have felt rather like a diner trying desperately to decide what to choose from the menu because there are just so many options.
What I particularly like about the article in The Journal is that Mr Saunders stresses that everyone can act to stop this fear and he suggests just how in the following passage.
Everyone has a role to play in challenging stigma on an individual level by being open to the possibility that anyone can experience a mental health problem in their life-time. The key is recognising that by being open and seeking timely help, people can and do recover from mental health problems and can go on to lead full lives. Yes the media has a role to play in challenging (as well as perpetuating) stigma. The same is true for employers, employees, health professionals and policy makers. We need people to talk. Talk about mental health and mental health problems in the boardroom, breakroom, newsroom, classroom, pitch and kitchen table.
The article is ended with a pertinent question which I pose here and ask you if you can to answer it even if only in your own head but if possible if you could comment below that would be brilliant.
The question is this: What would you do if someone told you that they had a mental health problem?
Today I wear my Bertie boots again and although I trip down the stairs at work I am rather liking them. The skirt is a Topshop favorite of mine and the jumper kept me warm on a cold night although I failed to wear it to work as despite the overwhelming comfort factor it is ridden with holes.
Day 15 – Don’t worry, be happy
I have to take to bed today. The worry of the house is starting to get to me and after all the excitement I feel like I’m beginning to crash. I crawl up the stairs, crawl into bed and fall to sleep in spite of the boy playing music as a background to my dreams.
I have crazy dreams about houses falling from the sky and although the boy strokes my hair to soothe me in my slumbers I wake with a start an hour after falling asleep no more rested than before.
I worry this is the beginning of something bad, that the house will fall through and I will be left broken and bereft at the end of what could have been just such a wonderful beginning.
My worries always make me succumb to depression but there are things to do to keep them in check. While I was having constant anxiety attacks and trapped in a mental health unit my mother would save up articles for me to read in the hope that I would return from the depths of darkness.
The article that sticks out and lifted me at the time to the point of a high that saw me bouncing down corridors and racing other patients around the day room was one that was published in Marie Claire in December 2010 called Help! I Need Worry Rehab.
I think that time from time we all need a bit of worry rehab and here I have taken ten top tips to help you with your worries, my favorite is Not Now and Imagine That. I hope they help.
1. Go ahead, worry – Set aside ten minutes every morning and evening just to worry intensely. Enjoy!
2. Not now! – When niggling worries creep into your head, clap your hands and say, ‘Not now!’ Wait until your next scheduled ‘worry time’ and then fret all you like.
3. Imagine that… – Think of one of your worst fears coming true. Consider how you would feel and the consequences. Now imagine your life a year on and how you ultimately recovered. Nothing is insurmountable.
4. Positive worrying – Think of lovely things to replace worry in your mind. Close your eyes and think about something you’re good at. Say it to yourself for five full minutes.
5. Put it away – Keep an empty bag under the bed. When worries pop into your head at night, write them down and put them in the bag, ready for your next allotted ‘worry time’.
6. Swap ‘I must’ for ‘I want’ – Think about the things you must do today and tell yourself that you want to do them, rather than have to (because you really don’t).
7. Thought clouds – Practice emptying your mind. As soon as worries come into your head, place them into fluffy clouds in your mind. when you breathe out, slowly blow the clouds away.
8. So what? – When you have an anxiety about the future, ask the question: ‘So what?’ After a succession of these questions, you will discover that you do, in fact, have options for coping with anything.
9. Half-hour holiday – Break up periods of worrying by taking a short ‘mental holiday’. Read a magazine or listen to some happy music. Enjoy that carefree vacation feeling for half an hour.
10. Make a decision – Indecisive? Write down the predicament, followed by your doubts. Now think of ways to reduce these doubts. Give yourself a deadline and make a decision. Get used to thinking within a time frame.
Hope these have been of use. Do you have your own ways of coping with worries. Share them below.
This week’s boots are a pair of pink ruche Bertie boots. I know that I have become somewhat dubious about this brand of shoe but I thought they deserved another chance and these boots are really rather sweet. The dress is from George at Asda and after ten minutes I got it for £4 as it had no price tag. I wear it with tan tights as in some ways it’s just too pretty to ruin with black whatever my mood might be like.
Day 14 – The great outdoors and a little light exercise to address the angst
I woke up this morning in what can only be described as a bit of a tis. What have I done I thought to myself? And why on earth wont the boy wake up so I can panic him too. It is quite a big thing buying a house for anyone but for someone who is a bit mental it is a huge deal.
The day however was a sunny one and rather than mull in my thoughts and end up depressed and so anxious that I needed a stiff drink or a quick dose of the Valium I took sensible steps to calm myself.
The boy and I recently became members of the English Heritage while one day on such a big high that he was near powerless to stop me I decided it was a good idea. It has been rather fun. Although I am scared of man-made heights we had a mock battle on the terraces of a derelict castle and explored a lovely home which gave me great ideas of how I could have my own little nest. Note to self, castles are really rather over priced nowadays.
We decided today to take ourselves along to Rest Park as it was really a rest that I needed after a week of stress, excitable wonderful stress but stress nevertheless. Rest Park turns out to be quite special and with the combination of cream teas, luscious brownies and the great outdoors I start to feel better.
I am a big fan of the fact that exercise can really help all sorts of mental ills. If you are depressed it gets you out he house and gets your pulse going, if you are anxious or high you can burn off some of the energy and gain some focus and if you are both well it’s just quite good really isn’t it?
We walk around the grounds and look into the reflecting pool which has frozen over meaning that the boy is compelled to spend his time throwing rocks at it. I feel for the fish. We go to an orangery and I decide that the boy’s drum shed may be sacrificed so I can have a mini one in the garden. When we spot a deer and frolic in the garden everything just sort of gets back into perspective. If the house doesn’t go through it will be the end of one dream but not the end of life as I know it. I have to try to remember that although I am much better I still have my bad days but they do not have to last.
I am a strong believer that in the early stages of a depression or an anxious panic doing something, anything at all, can really help to distract your thoughts. Our thoughts are so powerful that if they are allowed to run free and remain unchecked they can be immensely powerful and subsequently when negative thoughts they can be deadly.
Not so long ago I believed that when a depression or a partial panic attack came calling it meant either weeks of misery or hours of pure angst. I now realise through a lot of education and trial and error that this does not have to be the case. There are things that can be done, places you can go and people you can see that can help. Reading if you can bear it is a goo plan so long as it is a bit of escapism and exercise as I hope this post illustrates, particularly anything which gets you out the house and breathing different air and seeing different things can be a godsend.
By the time we are back I feel well enough to read again and we spend a lovely evening out having a meal and at the cinema watching the new Sherlock Holmes film. There is a barely a whisper about the house and it feels good to be out of my thoughts and away from the angst of this morning.
Today is the last day of the green boots and the white Bertie wooden heeled shoes. Apart from the disasters with the Bertie heels I have enjoyed this week. I struggled a bit today with wearing the boots with jeans but as it turned out it was a freezing cold day so the extra layer of velvet was a big help. The heel was not entirely practical and when the boy suggested come help him look for the deer I gave him short shrift and answered, “Not in these bloody heels I wont.” I wore them with my Next military style coat, an old jumper of my mum and a DKNY fine grey knit and Guess jeans and a pair of the boy’s socks. I was also lucky enough to be given this fashionable accessorie of a guide to the house. I think everyone should have one.
Day 13 – Spreading the good news
My secret that I have been carrying around with me for the last few days can now at last be revealed. I have had an offer accepted on a real life house. Admittedly there is still much to be done in terms of paperwork and it could all fall flat on its face but it has been accepted nevertheless.
I had to think very carefully about what I was doing. I had to weigh up whether my illness would get in the way. Whether another bout of depression might sour the deal and that in a months time I could be ill again. I weighed up these factors and still I knew that it was the right thing to do.
I always love the idea that one should follow one’s heart and my heart is firmly invested in this property and now so to is my salary for the foreseeable future.
The house means so much to me. As a person who often craves stability but often finds it to elude me the idea of this house means that I will at last have somehwhere to lay my hat, display my tea sets and invite my friends. It will mean the boy can stay with me rather than with my parents and that our friends will be able to come over for dinner, tea or even to stay the night.
It is a little house but it is the perfect size with a garden to suit and enough room in the kitchen to cook to my heart’s delight and bake cakes should I feel that way inclined.
This evening while lying in bed the worries set upon me. Not over whether I have chosen the right house but over whether everything will go through okay. I do not deal with disappointment well and when the last house sale didn’t work out I think it was one of the things that triggered a light yet bleak depression.
The other thought that worries me is what will life be like living alone. What will happen when the dark thoughts come to call and will I be able to fight them off alone. These are all questions that will be answered in time. For now though I’m just happy to be able to share this news at last. Thank you for your kind thoughts and for putting up with my elusive rants. Perhaps it might end in heartache but for the moment it feels wonderful, it truly does.
This week’s shoes are complimented with a pair of tights that are etched with purple flowers. I am a little over dressed for the office but today felt like a special day and so I wore my lace Monsoon dress. The glasses are still something I am getting used to but they are a necessary accessories and therefore get used to them I must.
Day 12 – The Steel jewels
On Christmas day this year I was quite a spoiled young woman. As well as being given three mock pearl photo frames with mini pictures of the boy and I he gave me earrings designed by my favorite jewellery maker, Nicola Steel. Nicola is a testament to why you should buy individually crafted pieces. She is a glass blower who puts her heart and soul into each bead and uses just what is simply the perfect color in her craft.
The earrings above I would never usually choose to wear for work but today was a special day that called for every lucky charm at my disposal. As well as wearing my very special earrings with my hair tied back for all to see them in all their glory, I wore a bracelet from my sister, a necklace I bought myself which I am keeping close to my chest and the necklace given to me by the boy for Christmas which has the word happy etched into the silver.
I wore a warm dress, the shoes of the week and more perfume than I ever would. I do not know why but I wanted to feel snug, warm and womanly. I did something today, something that for someone with a severe mental illness I had never thought possible. I threw caution to the wind and with a steady hand but a beating heart I did that which I have dreamed of for months.
Oh my dear reader I long to tell you what I did. Long to show to you that it is possible to take your fate into your own hands and make your dream come true but there is a part of me that feels for the moment at least this is one secret that like my necklace has need to stay close to my chest.
Don’t play all your hands at once my mother used to say and I know that it is important even in a blog where baring my soul is a given to every now and then hold just a little back. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day when I reveal my secret to you all. For now know enough to think good thoughts for me and every other person who has summoned the courage to seek out their dream.
There is a book called The Alchemist and it is one that inspired me to follow my path to its correct conclusion. In it the boy has a chance to give up, dig his heels in the sand and end up back at the start of where his journey took him. With an illness like bipolar it would be so easy to do this, to accept that maybe I am destined to have to live at home, to believe that perhaps I am not fit for work and that dreams are something which can only disappoint.
I refuse to believe this however and I encourage everyone to take the same stance. We can change things, even if only a little, we can give love and strength to others just by being supportive and picking up the phone and we can stomp out suicide. People do not have to feel alone and they never should have to give up on dreams, desires and more importantly on life.
Nicola Steel is one of those people who has not given up on her dream. She designs with her heart and she crafts with a passion. If you have a chance check out her website and get some steel jewels all for yourself.
Today’s boots are worn with a cream woolen George dress, brown Marks & Spencer tights and Nicola Steel jewels to set it all off.
Day 11 – Wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve
It is hard with bipolar to keep one’s emotions to oneself. Sometimes my thoughts are racing around in my head and they all come spilling out at once often leaving friends and family stunned. Today I am having to do my best to keep my thoughts in my head but it spills out in song and I find myself whistling Culture Beat Mr Vain as I near skip through Sainsbury’s car park on my way back to the office.
Nothing deters me and even when I walk all the way home to get lunch and find my keys are back in the office I just smile and skip on. Walking across the road I remind myself that skipping although really rather fun is not necessarily normal behavior for a girl, no woman, in her late 20s.
It helps that my heels are lower and it helps that I may have found something that I want, that I really want. I try to keep my emotions in but when I get back to work I end up sharing my secret with my colleagues. I’ve found it I say totally delighted at what I have found.
I even want to tell you the secret my dear reader. The secret that has buoyed me up and made me want to dance with delight but I am holding back and I am holding it in even though I feel fit to burst.
I am keeping myself busy trying to keep the dreaming at bay. Dreams don’t always come true, that is the very nature of them, but I cannot help but hope that this is one of those that will. I will fill you in, I will stop being so mysterious but for the moment this secret, this dream is staying under my hat.
Today’s outfit compliments the shoes perfectly. There is something quite nice about wearing snug fitting boots with such low heels that make skipping really an essential part of one’s day. I am wearing the boots with Marks & Spencer purple floral patterned tights, a hard-wearing French Connection shift dress and a Marks & Spencer black top to keep my elbows from the chill of winter and my neck line a little more subtle. My mum is back to taking the photos and although she is no expert by her own admission I think some of today’s are really rather good, particularly the action shot where I lost my balance while trying to show off the pretty purple tights I paired them with. Mistake.
Day ten – Shoe tragedy befalls me again but this time my heels put my life at risk!
Another shoe disaster struck today and this time my life was left in danger by the very shoe I love so much. I was in a joyful mood this morning leaving the house while singing A Team and thinking good thoughts of the houses I was destined to see today. I had a box of chocolates in my hand for the office in case anyone is suffering the January blues and I was wearing my favorite grown up girl skirt which is dry clean only, so generally feeling rather pleased with the world at large.
A cheerful postman allowed me to skip across the road, well totter, and all of a sudden there was an almighty crack and a sudden loss of gravity. I felt like Newton although somewhat less scientifically significant in the grand scheme of things.
My heel had once again left me and I was stuck in the middle of a busy road trying desperately to stick it back on and carry on my merry yet somewhat deflated way to work when I remembered the cheery postman. I looked up became even more flustered and subsequently dropped my box of chocolates. With a fumble and a quick flick of the hair I was upright again and smiled and shrugged in a I suppose I’d better go home kind of way which I think he totally understood.
This week then the shoes have been confined again to the depths of my double door wardrobe until I can rid myself of the embarrassment and go in to The Mender and fixer of dreams and ask him to send them off to the shoe elves of Manchester again.
Instead I am now wearing a sprightly pair of slip on emerald green suede boots which I picked up from Cancer Research at a snip. They were five whole English pounds and I love them nearly as much as I love my Bertie shoes. I am wondering whether the whole experience has not rather soured me to Bertie, I mean seriously, my life was in danger!
After all the drama of the day I could barely summon the strength to look at houses but persevered. My dad said something today which in spite of all the shoe drama cheered me up immensely. “Darling,” he said “after today I do have every confidence that you will find the house that’s right for you.”
I feel reassured.
Today’s shoes will be one of those that will go on sale at the end of the year to raise money for Mind and Bipolar UK. Both of these organisations do sterling work to stomp out suicide and my goal is to support them in any way I can.
