Our adoption assessment

We started our adoption journey in November 2017. After two years of infertility and one horrific appointment at a fertility clinic, we were done with trying to make a baby the old fashioned way. It wasn’t happening and no one could figure out why. For various reasons which I won’t go in to here, we had no desire to pursue fertility treatment and so on one rainy Wednesday evening, we made our way to the Virgin Money lounge in Glasgow, to an information evening which coincided with Scottish Adoption Week.

We had always been intrigued by adoption and had sent off for an information pack from our local authority years before. But we’d never quite been ready to take the leap. I’ve since realised that there is no perfect time to start a family and sometimes I wish we hadn’t thrown that information pack in the recycling all those years ago. Anyway, I digress…

We sat in the lounge surrounded by other awkward looking couples (and a few single people.) They had Tunnocks tea cakes – it was a good sign! There was a presentation from some staff at Scottish Adoption – a couple of whom we have gotten to know quite well – followed by the obligatory Q&A session. An adopter also told her story. She didn’t sugar coat it – as a single adopter, it had been hard for her. But when asked if she’d go through it again she said ‘I’d have another one in a heartbeat if I could afford it.’ We left feeling hopeful.

We deliberated for about a week and then sent off the registration of interest form. We were soon invited for a meeting at the agency’s office. In the meantime, we had also sent off for information packs from every other agency in Glasgow and Edinburgh as well as our local authority and neighbouring local authority.  We were impressed by our agency’s after adoption support package and having read many horror stories about adoption breakdown online, I knew how important this was.

We went for our initial meeting in December 2017. I took a day’s annual leave and we wandered around the Christmas markets. We had pancakes from a van. It was a normal day in so many ways and yet it was the start of something that would change our lives forever. The meeting went well. It was a fact finding exercise and we liked what we heard. They seemed to like us too, although there were concerns about my mental health history (which I’d been completely honest about) and so I offered to do an early medical to clear up any issues right at the start. This is normally done much later as part of the home study process.

The medical is done at your own GP who goes through your whole medical history and completes an intimidatingly large questionnaire. Our GP was in full support of our application to adopt and yet the agency’s medical advisor – who has the ultimate say – was not in agreement at first. We were asked to go away for three months. For me to have more counselling and to reflect on how my own experiences might reflect my ability to parent. It was already March 2018 by the time we were told this. Three months had gone by and we had achieved nothing. I did what they asked and we met again with the agency in June who agreed we’d done enough to be able to continue and were booked in for the next available preparation group in September. 

The preparation group is a four day training course designed to prepare you for the adoption process and give you more information about the children. It covers trauma, loss, child development and attachment. I’m sure you can imagine how cheery that was! We’d already done quite a lot of research by this point so we probably didn’t get as much out of it as others would have, but we did meet several couples and it’s been great keeping in touch with them throughout the process. The course was over four Saturdays and at the end we were given an official application form – once we sent this back, we would be allocated a social worker and start our home study. We popped this in the post and set off on one final big holiday (or so we thought) to Mexico, ready to start a gruelling sixth month exploration in to every aspect of our lives when we returned.

We got home and checked the pile of post hoping for a big brown envelope amongst the bills and pizza menus. Nothing. We thought it was a bit odd but by this point we had come to realise that things don’t always run to plan and we gave them a few more days before chasing them up by phone. It was not good news. They had decided they still had concerns over my mental health and didn’t know whether we could proceed. I was asked if I would write a reflective piece about my background and mental health problems and how I’d overcome them. I did. It was 2000 words long. I sent it off and waited, knowing I couldn’t do anymore. It was a dark time. We complained to the agency’s chief exec and the day after sending in our complaint, we were finally allocated out home study social worker.

A couple of weeks later, we met with our allocated social worker for the first time. She seemed satisfied that what I’d done was going to be enough and she had chatted with the agency’s medical advisory who also now seemed prepared to write a medical report endorsing us to be adoptive parents. Things were finally looking up.

We met with our social worker regularly from November to February, usually for a couple of hours at a time, but sometimes longer. I managed to schedule these meetings mostly on my allocated working from home day and could make up the time in the evenings. I’m really lucky to work for such a supportive employer who has moved heaven and earth for me throughout this process.

The home study sessions were tough, although not as tough as I had expected (little did we know there was a reason for this, but more on that later.) You speak about every aspect of your lives, from your childhood to your education, work history, health, support network and motivation to adopt. After most sessions, we would also write up answers to questions which would form part of our ‘Form F.’

Towards the end of the home study, we started to think about the type of child we would be willing to adopt. And this is when you feel like a piece of shit. Because there are certain conditions that we knew we wouldn’t be able to cope with. You know that you would be doing a child a disservice by becoming their parents when you can’t meet their needs properly, but still, when faced with that dreaded tick list, you do feel like a horrible person when you have to say no.

During this time, our social worker also met our referees. We are very lucky to have an amazing support network and were spoiled for choice when it came to choosing who to ask. In the end, I think we choose the perfect people to really bring our report to life.

Once the meetings were done and references collected, our social worker began to put together our form, which would be presented to the adoption panel. The form must be with the panel two weeks before and unfortunately, this coincided with the start of the Easter holidays. It meant that our social worker was going to be off for the two weeks immediately preceding our panel date. Because of this, we had very limited time to review the draft document and make changes. In fact, it wasn’t even completely finished by the time our social worker went off on leave, meaning the only opportunity we got to see parts of it were after it was too late to change. Upon reading the final version, we realised that the section on our childcare experience seemed particularly weak. At this point, we couldn’t change the form, but we could add our comments to the end, where an addendum is included for this purpose. We added in a few paragraphs and off it went to the panel.

On 24 April 2019, we turned up at our agency’s offices for our approval panel. Our panel was at 3pm and we had went out for lunch before it to try and calm our nerves. The panel were running late and so it wasn’t until 3:20ish before our social worker was called in (she goes in first and then we are called in afterwards.) We were called in after about 25 minutes and were asked a few questions which were extremely generic, such as how we had found the process, what we had learned along the way etc. I was really nervous but it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. The panel were lovely and seemed to be really rooting for us. Even the medical advisor (who had had concerns originally) seemed supportive. After the questioning we were sent away while the panel delivered their verdict to our social worker. It’s all a bit like the apprentice and quite a strange experience. Our social worker appeared about five minutes later to tell us we had received a unanimous yes from all members of the panel. Yay! Happy days. (Well, it was, for 13 days.)

We were given access to Linkmaker the very next day. This is a national database of children waiting to be adopted. We created a profile and by midday, it was live. Seeing the children started to make it feel more real, but I must admit it is very strange, and I can see why some people are uncomfortable with this method of family finding. We decided we would be proactive in our search but wanted to have the weekend to decompress so we went off to Belfast for the weekend and started to look at profiles on the Sunday night. Shit was getting real!

I should point out that although we received an approval at panel, panel can only actually make a recommendation. The final decision is made by the agency decision maker, who has 14 days after panel to ratify the decision. We received a call at 7:30pm on day thirteen from our social worker asking if she could come and see us that night. Immediately, I knew it was bad news, and I was right. She told us that the ADM did not agree with the panel’s recommendation and would not be approving us as adopters. There were some gaps in our form that she had questions about and needed further work done from us before we could progress. This would mean parts of our form being rewritten which would result in us going back to panel a second time.

And that takes us up to where we are now. We were given very specific feedback from the ADM and have had some further sessions with our social worker. With hindsight, it is now clear that our social worker didn’t probe us enough during our home study sessions and so there were some areas that had not been fully explored. Of course, we didn’t realise this, having never seen another Form F before. We thought it was great! Our form is now in the process of being rewritten and at the end of this month we will go back to the same panel and wait an agonising fourteen days after that to find out if we’ve done enough.

The last few weeks have been by far the toughest part of the process. Everyone in our preparation group has now been approved and three of those couples have been matched with children. It feels like the pain of infertility all over again. Another loss we need to process. I try not to compare our journey to others – I tell myself that there must be a reason for this – but it’s hard not to when we know we could have been parents by now had we been approved in the recommended six month timescale. We have tried to be rational and work with the agency to get this resolved, but some days I just feel so sad. Sad for us but also for my child to be, who might be in foster care right now when they could be at home with their forever family. Hopefully this is just a blip. A temporary bump in the road. But we’ve had so many of those and it’s becoming harder and harder to believe that this will ever happen for us. We so desperately want to become parents and we know we are up to the job. We now just have to hope that we have done enough to convince the one person that has the power to agree with us. I’ll keep you posted. 

Update 4.7.19

So we went back to panel last week and received another unanimous approval. The panel seemed impressed by our resilience and all the additional work we had done. I think they had been half expecting us to just walk away! We were told it could be 14 days before we heard the ADM’s verdict, but luckily we were told 6 days later that we had been ratified and were now officially approved adopters! (It was still the longest 6 days of my life.) It’s taken a bit of time to sink in. We were scared to feel happy in case it was taken away from us again. But we’re now starting to get excited about the future. Exciting times lie ahead…

Feeling the fear

I’m just back from a fabulous holiday to Mexico. During our trip, we took a catamaran from Cancun over to Isla Mujeres and had the opportunity to snorkel in the ocean half way over. I was dying to do this and was so excited but when it came down to putting the mask on and jumping in, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t realise the mask would cover my nose and panicked that I wouldn’t be able to breath. So I watched my husband swim off with the rest of the group, while I sat on the boat drinking lukewarm sex on the beach wishing I wasn’t such a shitbag. I’m so pissed off at myself for not taking that leap, as it’s a chance I probably won’t have again, and it’s made me really think about fear and the opportunities it steals from us.

The truth is, I’m scared of a lot of things. Although I try not to let fear rule my life, I worry all the time. I worry about work and not being good enough (appraisal time sets off my anxiety in a big way.) I worry about family and friends (dying/leaving/drifting apart/being alone.) I worry about how I appear to other people online. I worry that the cat being sick is not actually due to hairballs, but some ghastly disease. I worry I'll never taste original Irn Bru again. I worry that if I finally get to be a Mum, I’ll just be shit at it and my child will hate me. You get the gist – constant worries.

I’m much better than I used to be and sometimes I’m able to use mindfulness to stop negative thoughts. But it’s so hard sometimes, to just live in the moment, and I can’t deny I spent a lot of time thinking about the past (guilt) and speculating about the future (anxiety.) It’s not that worrying is taking over my life or anything. I’m happy most of the time. But I do waste so much time on worrying that I wonder, how much more could I achieve if I weren’t so afraid?

I stand with all women

I wasn’t sure whether to write this. Firstly, through fear of it being a tad too ‘topical’ and secondly, because I don’t consider myself to be a blogger or Instagrammer, and therefore maybe, I thought, I don’t have a right to an opinion? After mulling it over for a couple of days, I decided that although I may not be an ‘influencer’ (I bloody hate that term), I do write a blog and I do have an Instagram account, so by definition I guess, I am both a blogger and am Instagrammer. Sadly, both are getting a bit of a bad press at the moment, for all the wrong reasons.

As with a lot of online drama these days, it started off with some trolling on Mumsnet. Someone wrote some terrible things about someone else and that someone then went off on one on their Instagram stories. Within 24 hours, Instagram had blew up.

I want to start by saying that it’s never okay to troll or bully someone online (or ever, actually.) Especially on a site where you can remain anonymous. We all know that things are said behind the mask of a username that would never be said in person. Singling out someone, a Mother, and then questioning their parenting, is a beyond shitty thing to do.  It’s pretty disgusting and I don’t think anyone would deny that.

But that’s where my sympathies end, and I’ll tell you why.

1)      When you spend your days voicing your political biases on Instagram, you have to then be accepting of others. You can’t just call then a c*nt for having different political beliefs. When you alienate a whole section of society, you undermine the message you are trying to put across. 

2)      Women should champion other women. When I see someone who’s made a success of their lives, I want to high five them, not upload a series of stories mocking them for ‘working bloody hard.’ There is nothing wrong with working hard and reaping the rewards that hard work brings. I appreciate that working hard in itself does not always result in a nice life, but if it does, then you shouldn’t be ashamed of that or mocked for it.

3)      Women can be successful in their own right and no one should ever infer otherwise. I read a very sad comment on an Instagram post that said 99% of ‘mummy bloggers’ were one divorce away from living in poverty. And that’s both insulting and not true. I’m sure many of the women who make a living from social media earn more than their husbands/partners and would manage just fine without their salaries. We no longer live in a society (thank goodness) where men are always the primary earners.  And regardless of their household finances, it’s not okay to meet sweeping assumptions about people.

4)      You can’t just scream ‘classism’ every time you hear something online that you don’t like. Without knowing people ‘in the real world’ and knowing them well, you have no idea about their background. My Instagram feed would probably suggest I come from a middle class family, but I was raised by a single Mum, and laterally a grandparent. My feed only shows you what I want you to see. They'e just squares with pretty pictures. Anyway, not all middle class people are bad people.

5)      You can shout ‘cuts’ and ‘social cleansing’ from the rooftops, but if you have a platform, I believe you have a duty to use that platform for good, and this sort of vague political rhetoric that I hear does nothing to highlight the real issues. All it does is encourage a culture of hate, with women pitting against other women. This must stop.

I did work bloody hard. I paid my way through University, working every hour I could from the age of 16 to support myself. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. It was only a few years ago that I started earning a decent wage (not a large wage) after years of studying and exams. And I’m proud of that. I won’t let anyone make me feel like shit for making a success of my life. In the same way that I would never judge anyone that's struggling. We all take different paths in live. We all make different choices. We all have different luck. Let’s celebrate our differences, champion our successes and be there for one another when the shit hits. I stand with all women. Enough of the hate.

Coming off medication and setting fire to the safety blanket

I have been on and off antidepressants for a large proportion of my adult life, to combat both depression and anxiety, but mostly anxiety. I must admit that for a time in my twenties when I was plagued with panic so crippling, I couldn’t leave the house, I relied on those drugs to function. They were my safety blanket. But depending on medication left me in a bit of a rut, as it meant I didn’t have to think about the reasons why I was suffering in the first place.

Not that there’s anything wrong with having to rely on antidepressants, of course. They got me through some dark days. I am not at all anti-anti-depressants.But I do think doctors are very quick to dish these tablets out to people without trying to get to the bottom of the root cause of their illness. Prescribing drugs alone without any sort of talking therapy will only ever act as a plaster that’s just waiting to be ripped off at the first sign of trouble.

Over the last few years, I have made a real effort to get on top of my anxiety. I’ve had talking therapy and CBT, regularly attended mindfulness classes, and lately I’ve even taken up running again. It’s only in the past year or so that I’ve begun to really understand the triggers for my anxiety, and what I can do to manage it, without relying on drugs. For a long time, I thought that it was just a chemical imbalance, that I was anxious for no reason, but of course, there were reasons. They just weren’t obvious. This realisation gave me the freedom to start thinking about whether medication was really necessary.

Although I’ve tried pretty much every kind of antidepressant medication you could name, they’ve never really agreed with me. Yes, they reduced my anxiety, but for every panic attack I didn’t have, I developed five different side-effects that weren’t there before. Sickness, headaches, dizziness, weight gain, insomnia. If it’s listed on the small print of a leaflet, I’ve probably suffered from it. And so I began to wonder a few weeks ago, after a particularly bad week of nausea and lightheadedness, if these drugs were doing me more harm than good.

A few days ago, I made a decision. To stop taking any more medication. (I should mention that I did this safely, under the supervision and advice of my GP, after gradually reducing my dosage. It is highly inadvisable to go cold turkey.) I am pretty confident that I will feel better without it. Medication is not for everyone, and maybe it’s just not for me.

I’m not naive and I know that I’ll still have anxious times. But I’m self aware enough now to recognise the signs and use the tools that I’ve picked up over the years to manage them. There is no shame in asking for help. It’s always okay not to be okay. It’s fine to rely on medication if you need it. But it’s also okay to say ‘do you know what, I think i’m doing alright.’ So let’s set fire to the safety blanket and give this a try...

What to expect when they're not expecting

It’s National Infertility Awareness week, and I’ve thought long and hard about writing a blog about this. It’s not an easy subject for me to write about and I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to say. So in the end, I just decided to write something that might be useful for anyone trying to support a friend or family member who’s suffering from infertility. Here it is…

Things not to say to someone struggling with infertility:

1.      “Relax and it will happen”

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that these are the most hated words you can hear. I know that people mean well and especially when the infertility is unexplained (i.e. no medical reason diagnosed) it might seem like a piece of sensible advice. But really, if it were that easy, I’d be at a spa every weekend or meditating on my lunch break. While there may be some truth in these words – stress can impact on fertility – it’s not what anyone wants to hear and the chances are, some yoga is not going to fix the problem!

2.      “There’s a plan for you / if it’s meant to be it will be / everything happens for a reason”

I’ll admit I am a believer in fate. I do try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason. The problem is, when you don’t know what that reason is, it’s incredibly frustrating. And to be honest, knowing that there might well be a plan for me, and that plan may not involve children, is frankly, fucking depressing. And certainly not something I want to be reminded of.  

3.      “There’s always IVF”

Ah, the good old IVF back up. Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s no-one’s first choice to inject themselves with hormones and grow their potential first born in a petri dish. Yes, in theory, we could have IVF. But we don’t want to. I won’t judge anyone that chooses to go down this road, but people need to understand that it’s not for everyone. After years of heartbreak, not everyone has the strength or desire to go through the emotional trauma of a failed IVF cycle (or five!)

4.      “I know how you feel” (when you really don’t)

I’ll let you in on a secret. Trying to conceive is not nearly as much fun it’s made out to be. In fact, it’s pretty bloody stressful. So if it’s taken you a year to get pregnant, I completely understand the strain that will have put on every part of your life.  But it’s just not the same as being infertile. If you ended up with a baby at the end of trying, then you don’t know how I feel. And you never will (unless of course, you are unlucky enough to struggle with secondary infertility later down the line.)

5.        “Think of all the things you can do without kids”

Yes, I have a pretty great life. I go on lots of holidays, minibreaks, trips away etc, and that’s all great fun. But it’s not how I pictured life would be at 31 and certainly not what I want forever to look like. If you moan about not having enough ‘me time,’ sleep, or dates with your husband, then I’m probably going to find it pretty hard to sympathise with that. People who have kids are lucky. I get that being a parent is incredibly hard and you need a break from them sometimes. But a life without children when you really want them is quite different and these small concessions – like sleeping for eight hours or having the money to get your hair done – doesn’t  really make up for that.

So, what should you say?

I don’t mean to come across as bitter, I really don’t. If you have said any of the above things to me at some point, I don’t hate you. I know it’s hard to find the right words and it’s so personal to whoever’s on the receiving end. I’ve come to terms with our infertility now, so am not so sensitive, but someone at the start of their journey might well be. My advice would be to just say ‘that’s really shit, I’m here if you want to talk about it,’ and really mean it. Sometimes I want to talk about it, sometimes I don’t. But if I know you’re here for me no matter what, well, those are the only words I really need to hear.

Dealing with Impostor Syndrome

The last week or so, I’ve been having a serious case of impostor syndrome. You know, when you feel like you’re winging your way through life? I haven’t felt out of my depth exactly, but I have had a lot of self-doubt about my abilities. This probably came about because I started lecturing again last week, something I have been doing periodically for a few years now through my job. This doesn’t come naturally to me, but I force myself to do it because I’ve always been determined that my anxiety will not hold me back in life.

Despite the fact that people tell me I’m doing a good job, I always struggle to believe it. I was terrified that the students would ask me questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. And yet, when the time came, I spoke to them confidently and they seemed satisfied with my answers. It doesn’t feel like that long ago that I was them, and it’s odd to think that they might now be looking up to me. That sort of responsibility is a bit scary if I’m honest.

I’ve always felt this way, but when I was in a more junior position, I believed more experience would improve my confidence. Sadly, the more responsibility I’m given, the less I seem to believe in myself. The more I push myself, the less worthy I feel. The route of my flailing self-perception is complicated but suffering from anxiety certainly doesn’t help.

The sad reality is, suffering from any mental health problem does knock your confidence. Low self-belief is a common symptom of both anxiety and depression. It’s incredibly hard to ignore those voices inside which constantly nag at you, telling you you are not good enough. If you are the kind of person who’s prone to this type of negative thinking, I’m not sure there’s a way to completely change your ways, but I do find that mindfulness has at least helped me notice what a negative thinker I am and try and stop the thoughts in their tracks.

My advice is, when you find the impostor syndrome creeping in, try and focus on your achievements and what you do well. You might need some reassurance from other people, and that’s okay. Look for evidence to dispute your negative thoughts (mine is usually ‘if you were actually shit at your job, you would have been sacked by now!’) You can do anything you want to, but maybe not everything…

How to stay well when you’re stressed (from someone who’s really bad at it!)

I am writing this blog today for two reasons. Reason 1: it’s ‘time to talk’ day tomorrow. This day encourages us to take the opportunity to be more open about our mental health and open up the conversation. Reason 2: As a reminder to myself so I can look back on this when I’m struggling.

Anyone that knows me well will know that January is a difficult month for me. On top of the usual feelings of ‘meh’ that we all feel after the festive period, I also work in a very seasonal industry and January happens to be my busiest month of the year. Usually I thrive on the pressure and it keeps me going (in fact, the two periods of severe anxiety I’ve suffered with in previous years have been in my ‘quiet period’ at work.) But this January, I’ve found myself getting really stressed and it’s been quite difficult to pull myself out of that state at times. Here are some things that you absolutely should do if you’re struggling to cope with stress:

1)      Make time for self-care. I will freely admit I’m terrible at this. (I haven’t shaved my legs in so long, that I could probably pass for a yeti.) Self-care is one of these buzzwords that is thrown around quite a lot these days and I think is often misinterpreted. It doesn’t necessarily mean lying in a candlelit bath for an hour with a glass of wine, although that is a lovely way to spend an evening. It just means managing the little run of the mill tasks like taking your make up off before bed, making sure you have clean clothes and sitting down to a decent meal.

2)      Don’t under estimate the power of exercise. Another piece of advice that I’m useless at following. If the gym is your thing, then great, but I mean just getting out in the fresh air and going for a walk. At the end of a long day at work, most people – me included – just want to get in their pyjamas, crawl in to bed and watch the Crown. But going for just a 20minute stroll always helps me to clear my head and feel a lot more mindful.

3)      Try to remember, that your mental health is the most important thing. I know first-hand that it’s human nature to compare yourself to others. When you’re busy at work, you’re probably looking around at everyone else thinking, ‘am I doing enough?’ But don’t feel guilty about leaving at 5pm. It doesn’t really matter what others are doing – they are not you. You will know your own limits and you have to try and work within those limits to avoid getting ill. You can do anything if you put your mind to it, but not everything!

4)      Know that no matter how shit you are feeling, or how hard you are working, it will pass. Whatever you are stressed about today will probably not be relevant in a week’s time. Most things in life are temporary so know that when you’re having a hard time, it won’t last forever.

I hope future me actually manages to listen to the above advice! I’ll be taking some time with my colleagues tomorrow to get away from my desk and chat about mental health. I hope you all manage to make the time to do the same. To find out more about ‘time to talk day’ and how to get involved, go to https://www.time-to-change.org.uk/get-involved/time-talk-day-2018

A better place

So here we are. It’s 2018 and almost five months since I published a blog. Oops! It’s not that I didn’t want to write, or that I didn’t have anything to say. I had lots to say, and yet I could never really find the right words. You see, there’s a part of my life that I’ve tried to keep private up until now. Something I didn’t feel comfortable talking about. But that ‘thing’ became such a huge deal last year that it clouded all other parts of my little world. I’ve always tried to keep this blog honest and so I made a decision – that if I couldn’t be completely open, I wouldn’t write at all.  

Fast forward half a year and I’m in quite a different place and feel happier to share a little about what’s been going on. A while back, my husband and I made the decision to start a family. It became a big focus in our lives and I would go as a far as saying that it became a bit of an obsession for me. Sadly, although there were many lovely holidays and happy times, I fear I’ll always remember 2017 as ‘the year we couldn’t have a baby.’

I won’t go in to the ins and outs of our infertility, I don’t think you need to know the gory details, but I will say that it’s been a tough time for us.  I have now made peace with the fact that I will probably never carry a child or give birth but it’s taken me a long time to get to that place. Last year, I wrote an article for the Mighty that sums up how I was feeling then – before I accepted our fate and that the path to parenthood may look a little different for us.

https://themighty.com/2017/10/infertility-loneliness/?utm_source=search&utm_medium=site&utm_term=infertility

It’s not an easy read, but I know that it’s an issue that many of us will face in our lifetime (12% of us sadly) and so if you’re suffering too, I just wanted to say that ‘I know.’ I’ve felt the loneliness. I hope you will find your peace, just as I have found mine. 

Mindful walking

Yesterday I woke up feeling tired and irritable. It’s nothing new: I’m not sleeping well and often feel that way first thing. The last few weeks I’ve also felt very down and although I’ve been practicing mindfulness for some time now, I don’t often remember to actually do it. Or by the time I really need it, I’m not in much of a mood to do anything! So I decided yesterday to walk mindfully to the train station. I live about a mile from the station and have about a twenty minute walk each morning. Normally, I listen to the Radio or Spotify or a podcast. Yesterday, I did none of those things.

My mindfulness teacher often talks about mindful walking, but I’ve never really done it before. I’m always in a rush to get somewhere, or when I do go out just for the joy of walking, I’m usually with my husband. So yesterday morning I set off on a quest – to pay attention on purpose to everything. I waited until I crossed the main road at the end of my street (because no one wants to get mindfully run over) and then put on my mindfulness hat.

I noticed the air against my face. It was a crisp morning and every so often I felt a small gust of cold wind against my skin. For just a second, and then it was gone. I noticed the way my feet felt against the ground and the ‘clip clop’ of my shoes as they touched down on the pavement. I noticed the way my body moved, and felt gratitude towards my legs for supporting me. I noticed my thoughts come and go. I noticed the way that I felt and accepted those feelings.

After a while, my mind was no longer full of the ‘what if’s and ‘why not’s. Instead it was focused on the scenery around me. I’d never known the name of the streets I wandered down every day – now I paid attention to the street signs. What I once thought was an just an ugly grey terrace, in fact, housed a beautiful red leafed tree. In fact, two trees (there once had been three, but now only two and a stump.) Birds rustled in the bushes; a cat crossed my path (let’s be honest, I’d have noticed the cat on any given day, but this time I didn’t pounce on it and try and make friends, I just appreciated its beautiful soft fur and walked on by.)

By the time I arrived at the station, twenty minutes later, I felt happy. I felt free. Free of the worries that had haunted me for weeks. Free of the anxiety that had caused my chest tightness only an hour before. I hadn’t missed the radio. I certainly hadn’t missed the thoughts. And for the rest of the morning, I felt relaxed. It didn’t last of course. Mindfulness is not a miracle cure. It can’t bring you good health or wealth. But it can bring you contentment, even if only for a little while. 

Why I’m quitting Slimming World

I’m generally not a quitter. I persevered with my tax exams (despite failing one twice) even though I hated every minute of studying. I spent 2 days teaching my cat to do a high five. It took a lot of treats and patience but we got there in the end! But I know when something is just not worth pursuing and this week, I finally decided to give up on Slimming World. Here’s why…

One - Weighing in every week was depressing me.

It started off okay. I was losing consistently every week until week 15, when I gained half a pound. Now I know half a pound is nothing, and by that point I had lost well over a stone, but it bloody hurt seeing that gain on the scales. Since then, my weight has yo-yoed a lot and although the overall trend is down, the constant ups and down made me feel like I had failed.

I started experimenting by weighing myself mid-week and then eventually, weighing myself every single day. What I found is that my weight fluctuates a hell of a lot from day to day. On any given week, I had probably lost at least a pound of fat, but on that particular day when I was weighing in, the scales might not have been reflecting that. I could have had a salty meal the night before so was holding on to water, it could be because of hormonal fluctuations, it could simply be because I hadn’t been to the loo (sorry for TMI!) The point is, weighing yourself on a particular day is a bit like rolling a dice. Sometimes it will be accurate and sometimes it won’t. On the weeks that it is, you feel great. But on the weeks where you know that you stuck to plan and didn’t lose, it’s just demoralising. And for an anxious person like me, it was just playing on my mind far too much.

Two – There are aspects of this diet that just don’t sit right with me.

While there are things about slimming world I love, there are aspects of the plan that just seem, frankly, bizarre. Let’s take avocados. I bloody love avocados and guacamole, but I haven’t eaten any in over six months! Why? Well because an avocado has 14 syns. You are only supposed to have between 5-15 syns a day, so fitting an avocado in to the diet, while not impossible, is pretty difficult. The thing is, avocados have so much goodness in them. They’re incredibly nutritious and they’re loaded with heart healthy fats, fibre and potassium. But on Slimming World, none of that matters. Syns say no.

Another strange example is Mugshots. Now, I won’t lie, I am partial to a cheeky sweet and sour Mugshot. These things have over 200 calories. But as they’re ‘free’ on the plan, I can have technically have as many as I like. Two Mugshots, calorie wise, is roughly equivalent to an avocado. But on Slimming World, that doesn’t matter! Call me cynical, but I suspect that has a lot to do with brand affiliation. (Muller Lights crop up so many times in their recipes that you’d think they’re a super food.) Which leads me to my next point…

Three – Slimming World teaches you feck all about nutrition

Now Slimming World has taught me a lot of things and has encouraged a lot of good habits. For example, filling your plate with 1/3^rd speed food has encouraged me to revamp my portion sizes. I’m eating a lot more fruit and veg, and a lot less carbs and sugar. That can only be a good thing. But what it’s not taught me, is anything about what my body needs to be healthy.

On Slimming World, calories are a dirty word. But let’s face it – try as many diets as you like, it all comes back to calories. Less calories in than out = calorie deficit = weight loss. And actually, that’s what the Slimming World diet is based upon, even though no one at head office is going to admit it. For a lot of people starting out on Slimming World, they will naturally consume less calories than they were eating before. Probably a lot less calories. And that’s because their diets (and I’m including myself in this generalisation!) were shit. Going from a high fat, high sugar diet to a fairly low sugar, virtually fat free diet means that you will obviously be consuming a lot less calories than before. But wait a minute…as you lose more weight, the amount of calories your body needs to survive will decrease. But you’re following the same plan so consuming roughly the same amount of calories. So that will result in your calorie deficit becoming a lot smaller (resulting in smaller losses,) or you becoming calorie neutral (therefore maintaining your weight.) Maybe some weeks when you’ve eaten a shitload of Muller Lights, you might even gain! You cannot get away from the fact that a calorie deficit diet is the only way to lose fat.

[Four – bonus reason – Frylight ruined my pans!]

So what am I doing now?

You’ve probably guessed it. I’m counting calories. I’ve bought a Fitbit, I’m recording everything I eat on Myfitnesspal, and I’m making sure I eat less calories than I burn off. Okay, it’s a bit more hassle and yes, I have to weigh out food and spend a few minutes a day logging everything I eat, but it’s making me learn about nutrition and I feel so much more in control than I ever did on Slimming World.

I’m not saying Slimming World’s a terrible diet. It’s helped me lose around 2 stone, and for a lot of people, it’s a great starter diet. I cook differently now and will continue to use some of their recipes. I discovered overnight oats, which I love, and I’ll never buy a jar of pasta or curry sauce ever again. But to get over this plateau, I need to do more. So the weight loss journey will continue - I’m not quitting, but you won’t see many more #sw posts from me. #thanksswandgoodbye.

Battling my obsessions

I think it’s fair to say most people who suffer from anxiety have obsessive thoughts from time to time. When I was really ill, my obsessive thoughts would centre on bad things happening. I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of foreboding and so I would feed these feelings by thinking of all the bad things that might happen and convincing myself that these thoughts and fears were real. I’m sure that sort of experience is pretty standard.

However, something else I am bad for, and I’m not sure how common this is, is having fleeting obsessions generally. This can be anything from a specific person (hello, Jamie Dornan!) to a place or even a time in history.

To give you an example, I once spent pretty much a whole weekend researching Alton Towers. I was on the website, I was reading threads on forums about upcoming attractions and watching you tube videos. I had no plans to visit Alton Towers. In fact, the one time I did go there, and my friends can attest to this, I didn’t really like it (because I’m a wimp and don’t like rollercoasters that much.) So why did I waste all that time reading about it? I don’t have an answer. But for those few days, it became an obsession of mine that I couldn’t shift.

A lot of these obsessions are harmless (apart from totally wasting my time,) but some of them can be quite damaging. A few months ago, I became obsessed with cleaning. I have always liked keeping the house clean, and it had become a Saturday morning ritual of ours. But before long, the Saturday morning had turned in to Saturday morning and afternoon and I was literally on my hands and knees picking up individual specks of dust. My husband (who is awesome and does his fair share around the house himself) recognised that this had gone beyond just wanting the house to be clean. The pleasure I got from seeing the house immaculate had turned into anxiety because I could never get it quite clean enough. I was upset and in tears at times because I was scared the house was dirty and I worried so much about people coming over and thinking we were unclean. So we hired a cleaner. It was a huge step for me but it has stopped me obsessing as much and I know it was something we had to do to help my mental health.

I’m now learning to understand the boundaries of what is okay and what is obsessive behaviour. I might still lie in bed at 1am reading about rabbits, but I’ll know when to pull the plug. Looking at cute pictures – okay. Looking at the pets at home website, listing everything I would buy for a pet rabbit – not okay. (And yes, I have done this!)

I’d be interested to know if anyone else has these mini obsessions, or whether I am just a very strange creature! Thanks for reading x

Trigger Happy

Last night after a productive but eventful day, I started to feel that familiar sense of foreboding. I knew the anxiety was coming, and for once, I knew why. Coffee. I had made the mistake of spending an hour in Costa. As I sipped on my skinny caramel latte, I knew there would probably be payback, but it was so tasty and felt like such a treat, so I kept drinking.

Identifying anxiety triggers is something that I’ve only recently began to contend with. In the past, I’ve always believed that my anxiety came from nowhere, it usually hit me from out of the blue and I could never really pinpoint why. A few weeks ago, my therapist suggested I start keeping a mood diary. It was such a simple idea and yet I’d never thought of it before.

Every day for 2 weeks, I jotted down every time I felt anxious, how strong the feelings were, what I was doing at the time, and any thoughts I could remembering having. Initially, I wasn’t convinced that it was helpful, but as time went on, I did begin to see patterns emerging.

Coffee was a straightforward enough trigger to deal with. I had never been a huge coffee drinker – it had always given me the shakes – and so it was fairly easy to limit this. But some triggers, such as vivid dreams, were much harder to eliminate.

It took me a while to realise that criticism, or more commonly, fear of criticism, brought on my anxiety and yet, it had been staring me straight in the face for so long. I have always been an over thinker and a catasrophiser, but I’d never been able to joint up the dots. I would go over and over conversations in my head, wondering if I could have said something differently. I would shy away from social situations, afraid of behaving inappropriately or saying the wrong thing. I would write the same WhatsApp message over and over and then end up not sending anything because it was just easier to not risk sounding silly or upsetting someone. I had (and still have) horrifically low self-esteem.

It’s not the easiest thing to admit to yourself and I’m sure to some it sounds incredibly self-absorbed. For years, I’ve been scared of truly being myself and that’s probably resulted in me coming across as quite standoffish at times. What I thought was shielding me from pain and rejection was actually hindering my friendships.  But it is something that I can address, and I’m working really hard to change my ways of thinking (that’s probably a blog for another day though.)

If you’re struggling to figure out what makes you anxious, I would strongly recommending keeping a record of your mood. And maybe stay away from those caramel lattes too! 

Going back to work

So after a rocky few weeks (probably longer if I’m honest,) I finally went back to work last Monday after five weeks off sick. This is the second time I have returned to work after a prolonged period of absence. Last year I was off for seven weeks, with a six week phased return. One of the things that’s been really difficult for me this time, was knowing when it was the right time to go back.

Last year, when I returned to work, I was so ready for it. I just knew it was the right time. I felt so much better within myself and I felt ready to share my story with others. I emailed my colleagues to tell them why I had been off. It was the first time that most of them had realised that I struggled with my mental health. I wanted to be open and honest with them, and I felt confident enough to organise a session for mental health awareness week, where I shared me story and how mindfulness had helped me. I was very frank and didn’t hide any of the gory details.

This time felt different. Being off for a second time had completely shattered my confidence. I tried to get up and go to work one day (I think it was after three weeks off) and I just fell apart. I was shaking, my heart was racing and I had awful chest pain. I wasn’t ready. I was so scared of failing. The anxiety, and the medication to an extent, was making it so difficult to concentrate and I was terrified of making a mistake. Of course I was still catastrophising at this point, so the ‘what if I make a mistake?’ turned in to ‘what if I get demoted, what if get sacked, what if we lose our house, what if Neil leaves me,’ blah blah, you get the picture. I was an anxious mess.

A few weeks ago, I felt the tide turning. I would still wake up anxious every morning, but it would last for less and less time. I decided to make myself a week long timetable to get myself back in to a routine. So I gave myself things to do every day. I went out for walks, I read my mindfulness book, I did some housework, I organised plans for our holiday. Basically I stopped letting myself be good for nothing. And it helped.

Last Monday, I wasn’t 100% sure I was ready to go back but I decided to just give it a go. But this time, I approached it completely differently. I didn’t do the phased return thing. And I didn’t really spend much time talking to people about why I’d been off. I just wanted to get back to some sense of normality. Work is a big part of who I am and I just wanted to be me again. So I walked in to the office last week and I just got on with it. And nothing terrible happened.  

There are days when it all feels a bit much. Days when I wake up and I honestly don’t know if I’ll manage. Days when I’m so tired by the end of the day that I can barely find the energy to wash my face. Days when I do make mistakes! But what I’ve come to realise is that it’s okay to have days like that. In an ideal world, I would be perfect. Everyone would, wouldn’t they? But I’m far from perfect. I am perfectly flawed. And every day I’m getting a little bit closer to accepting that. 

Live blogging my anxiety (part 5)

Friday 12^th May

I feel like I might have turned a corner. Or maybe this is just a random good day thrown in to the mix for good measure. Either way, I’ll take it!

Last night, I didn’t sleep at all. I had taken sleeping pills on each of the three nights before, so wanted to try a night without them on the advice of my doctor. It didn’t work. I was still lying in bed at 4am, so I gave up, lay on the couch and I’ve been up since then. Normally, this would leave me exhausted, but weirdly, I have more energy today than I’ve had all week. I’m still tired, and still finding things a struggle, but today has definitely been a better day than yesterday, when I was feeling really hopeless.

 

I thought after two weeks on this medication, I’d be feeling fine and that the side effects would have worn off. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, which realistically means more time off work. This makes me really sad, because I love my job and my work colleagues, and I just want to get back to normality. But I know I couldn’t possibly focus on work at the moment feeling like this, so I just need to concentrate on getting myself well again.

I’ve found a psychotherapist that I think might be able to help me. I have tried counselling before (three different counsellors in fact) and while they were happy to teach me coping mechanisms that I do use, none of them seemed willing or enthusiastic about helping me get to the root of my issues. I fear if I don’t figure out what’s causing my anxiety, it will never leave me. So I’m trying therapy again, which I’ve always felt a bit weird and sceptical about, but at this point, I really am willing to give anything a go.

This is the last ‘live’ blog I’m going to write. My latest episode of crippling anxiety coincided with Mental Health Awareness week and I hoped that by writing about this, I might have helped someone else feel a little bit more normal. While the feelings I’m experiencing are anything but normal, I know we need to normalise this condition, so people aren’t afraid to speak up.

A lot of people have told me I’m brave for writing this blog. I’m not brave. I’m just one of the 1 in 4 people who experience a mental health problem in any given year*. Someone you know is probably suffering right now. If I broke a bone, no one would call me brave. And yet because it’s my mind that’s broken, I’m brave for talking about it. That’s just madness. Anyone should be able to speak about their mental health at any time without stigma or prejudice. Sadly, as a society, I don’t think we’re quite there yet, but I hope that we’re well on the way.

And as for me, well, I’m not okay. But I will be.

*https://www.time-to-change.org.uk/mental-health-statistics-facts

Live blogging my anxiety (part 4)

Thursday 11^th May

Just when I thought I was getting better, things have gotten a whole lot worse. I woke up this morning with my heart absolutely racing. Despite sleeping well for the last few nights, I am exhausted. I barely have the energy to get up and down the stairs. I tried to sit outside in the garden today and read a magazine but lasted about 15mins. I can’t focus on anything. I think the depression has set in now. I feel so numb.

I am frustrated because I desperately want to get better but I don’t know how and I can’t seem to find anyone that can help me. The medication is making me feel so shit that I don’t know whether it’s worth it. I barely recognise myself. I think about the person I used to be and it makes me so sad. This condition is affecting every part of my life – my work, my marriage, my friendships, my health. I don’t know what to do.

Sorry, short entry today. Feeling too tired and hopeless for this.

Ps I didn’t make the dentist. 

Live blogging my anxiety (part 3)

Wednesday 10^th May

Today was a better day. I had another good sleep last night so the exhaustion has lifted, although I am still feeling ridiculously lethargic all the time, and everything seems like such an effort.

My cleaner came today and I just couldn’t face making small talk with them so I went out for a coffee. I also knew I’d have to explain why I was off work. It seems silly when I’m putting it out there to the world in a blog, but I didn’t want to admit what was wrong with me. Last week, I said I had a cold. I am still very much ashamed of being plagued with this condition. Being off ill for a physical reason seems so much more socially acceptable. There is still too much stigma surrounding mental illness, and you never know how people will react, which is partly why I’m writing this blog.

So I managed along to Costa and I enjoyed being out of the house. I did start to feel really anxious again after about half an hour. I started to get that horrible skin crawling feeling when I can almost feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I knew exercise would help, so I went outside, and just kept walking. I walked for a few miles and it helped me immensely and really lifted my mood all afternoon. I know exercise is the key, but finding the motivation and energy to actually get exercising is difficult.

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow where I will possibly need a filling, and I haven’t decided if I’m going to go yet. Anyone who knows we will know that I used to have a serious dentist phobia, and although I’ve largely conquered it, I’m not sure that kind of pressure is what I need at the moment. I’m going to see how I feel in the morning.

I’m just taking each day at a time, as I never know from one day to the next how I’m going to feel. I think the meds must be kicking in now. I’ve had a few hours of normality today. I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, my mind feels a little clearer. But overshadowing it all is this black cloud that threatens to rain on me at any given moment, and that frightens me so much.

Live blogging my anxiety (part 2)

Tuesday 9^th May

I slept for 8 hours last night, uninterrupted. Halleluiah! (And thank goodness for sleeping pills.) So I’m a little bit disappointed at how shit I feel today. I thought sleep was the answer, but I was probably naive to think it was a miracle cure.

I feel agitated today. So agitated. I’m fidgeting constantly. My legs are sore from the constant bobbing up and down. My whole body feels tense and aching. I have a headache that I’m terrified might turn into a migraine.

I’m irritable. Everything is annoying me and I can tell I’m not a fun person to be around at the moment, so it’s just easier to be alone with my thoughts. I’m finding making the smallest of decisions almost impossible. It took me almost an hour this afternoon to choose something to watch on Netflix. Basic choices feel like mammoth life decisions.

I did manage to go to my mindfulness class tonight. I enjoyed listening to the talk. It’s always reassuring to know there might be someone else in the room that feels even crappier than me (not that I would wish these feelings on anyone.) But I couldn’t concentrate on the meditation at all. I felt too groggy to be mindful. It’s pretty hard to acknowledge your thoughts when they don’t make any sense.

Maybe tomorrow will make more sense. Until then…

Live blogging my anxiety (part 1)

Monday 8^th May

I had to phone in sick to work today. My boss asked me if it was something at work that was bothering me. Other people have asked me similar questions. Most people don’t understand that nothing is bothering me, and yet somehow, everything is. I have generalised anxiety disorder, and feel irritated and agitated not by specific things in my life, but just by life itself.

I haven’t slept properly for a week. I started a new medication last Tuesday. That night, I literally didn’t sleep a wink. And each night since hasn’t been much better. Last night I managed four hours, which was a good night. Insomnia is crippling me but I know it’s caused by the medication for my anxiety, and that anxiety crippled me more. The medication helped me before and I know if I can just get some sleep, it will help me again. So it’s a straight choice between extreme fatigue or major anxiety.

I go back to the doctor. She gives me sleeping pills and sedatives. I’m signed off work for a week. Deemed ‘unfit’ to do my job. I feel a bit like a useless junkie, and also feel sad that it’s come to this again.

I go out for a walk at lunchtime with Neil to cash my prescription and buy some birthday cards. It’s sunny today and being out of the house sometimes lifts my mood. While we’re out, we grab some lunch, and I almost feel normal for a while. And then I feel guilty for feeling normal. What if someone from work sees me and thinks I’m making it up? What if they don’t believe me or think I’m not ill enough to be off? The anxious feelings return and I start to feel the horrible feeling of disassociation from my body. My surroundings don’t feel real. I am in a dreamlike bubble.

My afternoon is better than my morning. Mornings and evenings are the worst, but the bit in the middle is usually manageable. I do some hoovering and tidy up. I suddenly notice how shit the house looks. I’d never let it get this bad when I’m well, but when I’m ill, I don’t have the energy to function, let alone hoover. I’ve never felt exhaustion like this before. My brain and body are struggling to cope.

My neighbour appears at the door with flowers, prosecco and a card. A random act of kindness, and I am an emotional wreck, but incredibly grateful. I vow to pay it forward when I feel well enough to do something nice for someone else. It’s really lifted my mood and I’m hopeful that if I can just get a bit more sleep tonight, tomorrow will be a brighter day.

More tomorrow… 

Reasons to be cheerful

If you’ve read any of my previous blogs, you will know by now that the last year or so has not been the easiest time of my life. Plagued with crippling anxiety, I became very ill last year and still battle daily with my mental health issues. But it’s been over a year since I first became ill and now that the fog has cleared, despite still having the odd bad day (or three), I now have enough self-awareness to see the good in my life, most of the time.

What I do have now that I didn’t have a year ago is a little more perspective. Anxiety took that away from me. It took me to a dark place where all my thoughts were negative ones.  But lately (and I think largely due to practicing mindfulness,) I’ve come to realise that there is so much good in the world: good that we choose not to see because we are so distracted by the negatives in our own lives and in the world around us.

I accept that there are things in life I do not have that I desperately want. And I’ll admit that sometimes seeing other people with those things causes me a lot of pain and has, at times, brought about strong feelings of resentment and bitterness. But when I look at my life objectively, I can see that I really am very fortunate.

I have a loving and supportive husband and a harmonious marriage. I have a beautiful home, filled with nice things and a very cute (albeit, I suspect, evil) cat. I have a job that I love. I have a support network of people that care about me and would be there in an instant if I needed them. Some of these things I have worked hard for. Others, well, I have just been lucky. The bottom line is, many people don’t have any of these things, so I know I should be thankful.

At bedtime, my husband and I will try and come up with a list of good things that have happened that day (we usually aim for three.) Sometimes these are little triumphs – we had pizza, we completed a work project, we successfully guessed the killer in Broadchurch etc. etc.) Sometimes these are more profound. But these reasons to be cheerful, however small, help me to stay well. Because this gratitude forces me to focus on the good things in life and balances out all those negative anxious thoughts.

If you’re having a tough time, I would encourage you to look at your life from the perspective of a stranger. Mentally list all the good points – your reasons to be cheerful.  You’ll probably find that they are things you take for granted every day. Take a moment to be thankful and I hope you’ll find that there is room for gratitude amidst the fog of negativity.

“Some people grumble that roses have thorns: I am grateful that thorns have roses.” 

For there is always hope

I always do my best to keep my blogs really positive. So many people have contacted me over the past year to tell me how much my encouragement helps them and I don’t want to let those people down. I also never want to come across as if I’m complaining or ranting. I appreciate that I have a very nice life, and for that, I am more than grateful.

On the other hand, I never want to lie or sugar coat the severity of my mental health issues. And sometimes, it’s very hard to see a bright future. To see a day where anxiety doesn’t consume every bone in my body. Because, honestly, sometimes life just gets a bit shitty and there's nothing you can do about it.

I don’t want to go in to the reasons why I’m particularly anxious at the moment. That’s not what this blog is about. This blog is just to say that sometimes, you can do all the mindfulness in the world and still feel irritated. You can chant positive affirmations again and again and still feel helpless. You can distract yourself until you’re blue in the face and still feel unable to concentrate on anything.

And I could say, well, it’s okay to feel that way. You’ll be fine. After all, you’re trying to fight against a natural human response that ultimately serves a purpose. But is it really okay? Can you really live when every day you’re fighting a battle, and the war zone exists in your own mind? No. No, you can’t. You just merely exist. And every day, you can hope for peace; for armistice. And maybe, just maybe, while there’s still hope in your heart, there’s something left that’s worth fighting for.