An Early Morning Mental Blog

‎Watching BBC News this morning over my cuppa I saw a report that 7 Mental Health trusts (I think that's the right term) are joining together to campaign for better primary mental health care. They believe that better treatment when someone is initially diagnosed with a mental health problem could massively help their outcomes and chances of recovery. 

I couldn't agree more, if you compare say Bipolar like I have to a physical condition let's say a broken leg. Now what doctor would turn around to a patient and say "well your leg only has a minor break so here's some painkillers, come back if it gets worse and we'll consider putting it in a cast once you've jumped through the necessary hoops". My question is what is the difference between a fractured leg and a fractured mind? Both are painful, debilitating and often have a long recovery programme. Sometimes people never fully recover and it then turns to coping strategies to help them function as normally as possible - if you have a broken leg that is. In my experience, due to limited budgets, GPs are only able to throw tablets at someone complaining of depression/anxiety et al. In addition to my 'painkillers' I received a referral to a Health In Mind service that I've spoken about in previous blogs who decided to cut off my sessions without telling me. 

An early holistic approach to a mental health condition would save so much pain and fear for the person involved and the people around them. Too often we are given a diagnosis and left to research the condition ourselves (I have however found that Youtube is a surprisingly good place to find documentaries and information videos). 

I have to interject that ‎I am not in the business of bashing the NHS, aside from being my employer, it does a fantastic job. I hear first hand in my own office how much it has helped people and their families cope with palliative care and the fantastic support given at that horrendous time.

All I'm asking is that Mental Health and it's provision of care is moved higher up the agenda to ensure that having a mental illness doesn't mean you can't contribute to or function in society. That people are given the tools to just get on with our lives because that's all we want at the end of the day. 

Love Jen 

XxxX

On The Cutting Edge

Today when I got home from work my copy of Your Voice magazine was waiting for me, Your Voice is a quarterly magazine from the mental health charity Rethink and covers a wide variety of mental health related topics from personal stories to practical articles about how benefit reforms affect mental health sufferers, a real wide variety.

The article that really caught my attention in this issue was the story of a girl called Clair who is using her experiences of self-harm and mental illness in her work as a peer support worker.

Clair describing her job

The article really struck a chord with me as someone who has self-harmed for a number of years and who has had friends also struggle with it. 

To me, self-harm is still one of the biggest mental health taboos, especially self-harm in adults so I thought that by sharing my story and experiences I may help just chip away a tiny bit at the taboo wall.

When someone says "self-harm" the image that is often conjured up is of attention-seeking teenagers following a fashion trend. Indeed the media often portray it as some kind of adolescent rite of passage along with your first kiss, first pair of Converse (or was that just me and my friends?).

What goes unreported is the amount of adults who self-harm, I think that the general consensus is that as adults we should know better. My own self-harming didn't start until between the ages of 19\20 when I should obviously have grown out of it! 

My self-harming started to become a serious habit  back in 2007. At first it was small nicks to my arm with a belt buckle or a drawing pin during stressful days at work. At the same time I was also trying to get my head around my depression diagnosis and get used to the medication that, as someone helpfully told me, appeared to be "dumbing down" my ability to function.

Weirdly, although it was happening in tandem with my depression my self-harming was more linked to stress in my job and the anger and frustration that seemed to constantly batter my brain (I now recognise that as a common symptom of my bipolar). I would hide in the toilets at work with my trusty pin and scratch out my anger. 

People always assume that if you self-harm then you must be suicidal. In fact I believe that over these years self-harming has actually allowed me (granted in a completely unhealthy way) to blow off the steam that would have eventually lead to me completely crumbling. Far from being a suicide attempt it was actually a survival technique!

When I had my period of wellness in 2010 the self-harming stopped, I was feeling well, was off all medication, had finally left the job that caused me so much misery, was doing all the things I'd missed out on before (including bad dancing in nightclubs - apologies to my fellow clubbers at the TJs establishment in Eastbourne).

Unfortunately it wasn't to last and in the summer of 2011, after several months that included the bereavement of my Grandad, the break-up of my 6 year relationship and other events my depression came back with a vengeance along with anxiety. 

This time my self-harm went hand in hand with the anxiety. When I couldn't breathe, my stomach was in knots and I was shaking a quick cut on the arm with a razor blade (I was using serious tools now y'know) bought me back down and released the tension. It also linked in with the part of my anxiety that told me "if you cut yourself then it will protect your family and friends". To a 'sane' person this would of course be ridiculous but to someone who's biggest concern in the world is the welfare of her friends and family it was an essential thing to do. A bit of bleeding and pain was a small price to pay to protect my loved ones. 

Around this time was when I had my most 'dangerous' self-harm incident. It happened on a normal morning, I was going into work later as I had a dentist appointment (no before you ask this wasn't a ploy to skip my check up) and had decided to have a wander around the town before my appointment. Today I can't pinpoint the chain of events that led me to be sitting in the Arndale Centre toilets (classy bird aren't I?) Unwrapping my 'kit' I carried around with me, it contained two razorblades and plasters of various sizes. 

Looking back I guess whatever had troubled me so that morning must've been completely clouding my mind because I sliced across my arm with more force than normal. I immediately realised that I may have done some damage when it started bleeding straight away, there's normally a few milliseconds pause before the red stuff pops up. And it didn't stop bleeding like my other cuts did normally after a minute or so, this one kept bubbling up again and again.

Now the sensible course of action would have been to summon help, see a first aider etc. But in Jenni logic the best course of action was to bandage it up with loo roll and copious amounts of plasters and go on to my appointment. Which is exactly what I did. Lucky it was chilly so I had the excuse to keep my coat on! When I got to work I found some heavy duty plaster roll (perks of working in a hospital) and simply got on with my day.

When I think about that morning now I still shudder a bit about how stupid I was, not in the act of the self-harm (in fact I was proud of myself at the time for punishing myself so well) but of how easily it could've gotten infected or I could've passed out in a dramatic fashion. 

I still have the scar, I like to think it looks like a go faster stripe

I'd like to say that the chilly October morning was a turning point but sadly it wasn't, the cutting continued albeit in a more careful way. 

In fact it was only last year after my 'problems' being treated as Bipolar and my medication being changed to mood stabilisers along with the talking therapy and calming techniques that my need to harm started to lessen. My last episode of self harm was around the start of November last year (my legs still have the attractive marks - lucky it's not summer yet!

 

Whilst I think the temptation to self harm will always be there, it's part of how my brain reacts to my illness, the techniques i've learnt of making myself wait 5, 10, 15 minutes to see if the need is still there really helps. 

I'm not going to tell you that's the definitive method to combating the desire to self-harm, everyone has their own way, some people draw red lines on themselves, some people hold a block of ice to their wrist. Quite often it can be hard to find the right information and professional support. I definitely think it's something people need to be educated about and a subject that deserves to be discussed far more openly. 

If you are struggling with self-harm then you really aren't alone and it is NOTHING to be ashamed of. 

Love Jen

XxxX 

Here are some websites you may find useful- 

http://www.harmless.org.uk

http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-harm/#.Ux4XXe9FD0wUx4XXe9FD0w

http://www.nshn.co.uk

It's Only Rock N Roll (But I Like It)

I had to jump on the band wagon (no pun intended) eventually and give my view on Wednesday night's Brit Awards ceremony. Now let me first of all issue a disclaimer: I am a self-confessed music obsessive (possibly bordering on music snob) and there are few subjects that I'm more passionate about. With that said whilst I am a rock chick at heart and always will be I do have a fairly broad musical taste that covers Pop, Dance and even some classical too, mixed in with the occasional rap tune. I have to admit I didn't have high hopes for my enjoyment of the show when I read through the lists of nominees and didn't recognise half of them! I must also confess that I didn't watch the entire ceremony and came in around 9pm (after a most exciting episode of Waterloo Road but that's an entirely different story) but I use the assumption that nothing spectacular happened during the first hour of the show.

I was going to avoid watching the show on principle as I knew that it would be fixed for One Direction to win at least one award. Now let me make it clear I'm sure they are lovely guys who can sing else they would never have gotten through to be made into a group on the X-Factor. But my god does it wind me up the way in which Simon Cowell has pretty much bought them all their success. Bear in mind this is a group who only came third on a show voted for by the public. However since then the Cowell machine has gone into overdrive, paying the media to give them numerous column inches, magazine covers, declaring them to be the "biggest band in the world" before their first album was even out! At last year's show an award was created especially for them celebrating their "worldwide success", I'm sorry but why wasn't an award like this available before?

The Spice Girls were just as big, if not bigger, with far more of a cultural impact but, conveniently, they weren't managed by Simon Cowell. In fact, fact fans, Mr Cowell tuned down the opportunity to sign the Spice Girls! He tried to create a rival group in the late 90s called Girl Thing who spectacularly bombed. Girl Thing are currently appearing on ITV's Big Reunion and recounted their story of a publicity machine that engineered magazine covers, a series on GMTV showcasing them on their 'tour' signing autographs for their '100s of fans', is this starting to sound familiar? I just feel that bands and artists should have to earn such coverage, maybe it's my rock & indie background, but I think you need to prove you're worth the hype.

But returning to my original point, I remember 90s Brit Awards that were always guaranteed to have bad behaviour, excess and general stupidity but it was so much fun! The first Brit Awards I remember watching was around 95/96 when Jarvis Cocker invaded the stage during Michael Jackson's performance setting the precedent for years to come. Who can forget Chumbawumba throwing the bucket of ice water over John Prescott? Or Robbie Williams inviting the Gallagher brothers to have a fight live on TV. The hilarious appearance of DJ Brandon Block trying to hijack Ronnie Wood presenting an award. Then there is the obvious classic of Geri Halliwell's Union Jack dress, regularly voted one of the most iconic dresses ofall time! Us Brits really used to know how to throw a party! I think the most 'Rock N Roll' part of this years ceremony was James Cordon & Nick Grimshaw's highly staged "snog".

Over the last decade the Brits have gotten, well, boring. The first nail in the coffin was the year that the organisers banned alcohol (early 00's I believe). They wanted to appeal to audiences across the world, namely America and thought that boozed up bands wouldn't be well received. It's been down hill ever since. The thing that frustrates me is that America has plenty of it's own awards shows – The Grammys, The VMAs to name but a couple. If they want formal, well-behaved artists thanking everyone at the record label then they can watch those shows but please let us have our awards back in all their former glory! The UK invented Rock n Roll for gods sake and exported it to America. We've also been behind a large percentage of the most exciting musical innovations over the decades – Hard Rock, Punk, Metal, Dance/Rave. America has an amazing musical heritage, don't get me wrong (my favourite band are American so it would be hypocritical of me to say anything bad about their music scene!) they bought us New Wave, Rap, Thrash/Speed Metal, Motown & Grunge.

But please, please, please let us do music awards in our own, often clumsy, sometimes cringeworthy, occasionally brilliant, but uniquely British way!

Love Jen

XxxX

Attack Of The 50ft Anxiety Monster

Of course the other thing you don't think about when you're "getting better" and been signed off from the Psychologist is what happens when that opportunity to vent and talk to someone is also signed off.

When your anxieties have skyrocketed once again and you just know that something awful is about to happen and no matter how many times you mentally check things or take precautions in your head you have no idea where or from what/whom the threat is coming from. Or when your head is telling you that you've done or said something really bad and you wind people up by questioning them all the time to try and find out what your head has told you you've done and then try and make up for this supposed crime.

I can't spill out that writhing tumble of thoughts to anyone. I can't explain all the thoughts that rush through my head that keep me awake 'till the small hours or wake me up suddenly in a panic in the middle of the night. Or in fact the weird half-asleep hallucinations that I get, giant spiders scuttling across my roof is a favourite one or the random half a chair hanging from my ceiling the other night was quite entertaining, the weirdest thing is that none of these actually frighten me, it's like I know they'll vanish if I roll my eyes at them enough.

I don't want to burden family and friends with that, a mental health professional is different, they're paid to listen to me freak and ramble incoherently. People have waited too long for me to start getting better than for me to start unleashing all my stupid fears on them. How do you explain to someone exactly why Wednesday is a 'scary' day  ‎or that you currently carry around enough mental emergency planning for any and every possible disastrous situation to make COBRA look lazy (actually let's not get into that discussion).

I guess some people are cut out to do the "look at me I'm a noble survivor" thing whereas I guess I just don't have that strength of character, it's been trampled on and is a bit squishy from years of low mood and anxiety attacks.

I'm sure I'll feel better about things after I finally get more than about 3/4 hours sleep of a night time - and you all know how much I love sleeping! So on that note sweet dreams all and cross your fingers that I get to do the same.

Love Jen

XxxxX

Love Actually

At this rather pink and fluffy time of year it would be fitting for me to write one of two blog options - firstly to declare my undying love for that special someone and make you all feel particularly queasy or alternatively I could write a blog declaring love is dead and that I would be better off living up a mountain in the Himalayas with a small troop of mountain goats for company.

Thankfully I'm writing neither. I wanted to write a blog about love but didn't initially know where to start, as it may be apparent I am single and have been for the last few years. Since I've only ever been in one relationship that spanned nearly 7 years, two engagements and the eventual sad realization that two people who were once madly in love had drifted apart. I sometimes think the healing process, for me, would have been easier had it been a dramatic break-up full of thunder and lightening, rather it ended with a whimper than any shouting. That's all I'm going to say about the relationship, my ex is a good guy and doesn't deserve to be talked about on a blog by someone he hasn't spoken to in three years. With all that said I'm probably not the best person to ask about love and relationships, so what to write about?

Whenever people ask me whether "there's anyone" and I say no there's always a hint of sympathy, I'm not sure why. I genuinely, hand-on-heart do not miss being in a relationship. The way I look at it right now I can do what I want, go where I want and don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks. Plus it's not like the offers are rolling in .... shocking I know. But in all seriousness I honestly don't feel that I lack anything for not having a boy or girlfriend, I have amazing family and friends.

So I want to dedicate my blog to the people I love most in the world who make my world a better place, who support me when I need you the most and above all make life fun!

So in no particular order -

Estelle & Esme - My beautiful furbabies
Mum & Dad - Who never judge me but are there for me unconditionally
Helen - I couldn't ask for a better friend or a more awesome big sister
Monkey - For always taking the piss out of me and making me laugh .... oh and for fixing my laptop ;)
Grandma & Grandad - For still spoiling me whenever I come round and for giving me a home away from home
Vana - For making my baby bro happy and for being lovely
Gem - You introduced me to Baileys and hot chocolate and decorated my desk at work and of course introducing me to Ellie!
Hilary & Lydia - I'm so glad you guys are back in my life and I'll never let you guys down again
Kay - You are an inspiration to me and remind me never to give up
Gwenda, Sophie & Juliette - For making work fun and keeping me topped up with chocolate!

Love you all
Xx Jen xX

Brain Training (Without The Help Of A Video Game Professor)

*Warning* I'm about to say something really odd .......... yes odder than the "Ducks don't like the rain theory" and yes even odder than the theory I had in the summer of 2010 that Lady GaGa and Jared Leto were possibly the same person - come on they were both blonde at the time and had you ever seen them photographed in the same place at the same time? I rest my case! (Speaking of GaGa if anyone wants to go see her/supervise me whilst I go see her at the O2 in Oct then let me know 'cos I REALLY want to see her again!)

Anyway I digress, the main point of today's blog is not to solicit someone to accompany me to a concert but in fact to discuss something that no counselling session or self-help book seems to cover. What happens when you start to feel better? (At this point I must interject that I like to refer to myself as being *in recovery* rather than 'better' so that I don't jinx it.) The obvious Hollywood Movie-script answer is that I go skipping off into the sunset having achieved all my life goals, lost 3 stone, figured out the answer to life the universe and everything, oh and gotten beautifully swishy hair. The reality is not quite as straightfoward. 

The thing about feeling less depressed is that I seem to have acquired a whole lot of brain real-estate, whereas before I filled the space with black now it is sadly neglected with a few tumbleweeds blowing through. I find myself having to almost 'fill' it to make sure that anxieties don't sneak in an claim squatters rights! This is a bit easier on days when I'm tired and just want to sleep but on what would have been my more *manic* days, like the last few days in fact, when I need less sleep and am on fast foward with lots of mental energy to spare the brain space is jumping up and down like a 2 year old shouting "look at me". The best thing I can do with these periods is to try and dispel the energy through making things (thank god I broke my no-crafting duck on Saturday night with a pretty headband I made!) or drawing. 

My Pretty Rockabilly Style Headband

 

I'm also devouring books and films again at the moment, I've finally read and watched The Shining (awesome!) and am currently reading a book called "Careless People" which is about the 1920s and the writing of the Great Gatsby (fact fans amongst you will know that if I could be anyone it would be a flapper in the 20s and my joint favourite book is Gatsby). I've also just started reading "My Madder, Fatter Diary" by Rae Earl which is the follow-up to "Mad Fat Diary", I am starting to think that it may be based on my life. Rae the main character is music mad, fat, has a wicked sense of humour oh and mental, we even match right down to the Colon Polyps! .... sorry to anyone reading this over dinner .....

The other brain trick that I'm trying to eliminate is my tendency to have a hissy-fit and declare "EVERYTHING IS RUBBISH" to all and sundry when the tiniest thing goes wrong. Back in the bad days I could blame behaviors like that on being depressed/bipolar and whilst it's true that irritability and anger are one of bipolar's key symptoms now that I'm taking the meds I need to combat these negative patterns. An prime example was today when a theatre booking that me and Helen were planning on making fell through. I immediately decided that it was a disaster and that everything about today sucked, despite the fact that I had a real laugh at work today re-enacting the Cadbury's advert (This is actually me with some cleverly placed facial hair) and consuming their products. 

So whilst my medication has worked wonders on my mood and helped squash my anxiety I still need to work on the way my brain reacts to and processes things. I need to tell myself that eating pasta bake or sitting in the wrong part of the garden will not lead to bad things happening to my family and friends, that plans not quite working out is not a world-ending disaster. I would also like to point out that it's been 2 months and 23 days (ish) since I last cut myself so Dad you owe me that Chinese!

Love Jen

XxxxX

Karma Police

Well firstly you'll be pleased to know that my meds still seem to be working! I've had a few minor 'blips' and dips in mood and some anxiety episodes but on the whole things have been pretty positive. The only drawback I have noticed is that the tablets seem to have killed my creativity somewhat. I haven't made any jewellery or sewn anything (aside from a birthday present) since before Christmas and to be honest I'm feeling spectacularly uninspired at the moment. I haven't even taken a decent photograph in about 2 weeks! I know it's churlish to complain since the tablets are evidently doing their job and controlling my mood and that some things will be sacrificed "for the good of the cause" I just really wish it hadn't been my creative instincts. My craft books and magazines are gathering dust along with my fabric and jewellery bits. I'm really hoping that inspiration will pop back up again soon as I love the buzz of wearing or showing off something that I've made myself – is good for the ego don'tcha know?

My 'Re-introduction into society' is going well, I've been to see Lydia and Hilary a few times now and I may even brave the pub soon :p It was during a visit to Lydia's this week that we ended up looking on Facebook at people we went to school with. Disappointingly most of the people who used to pick on me are doing really well. A lot of them are working in TV, one is a nutritionist and the other is a teacher (bearing in mind that at school this girl did her best to dumb herself down to 'fit in' this strikes me as nothing short of a miracle!). Worse of all they all, aside from one, still look stunning (the odd one out appears to have turned herself into a plastic Barbie doll, I assume with the same level of intelligence).

I know that I really should have moved on by now seeing as I left school over 10 years ago but despite all the therapy and CBT techniques I just can't let go. It hurts even more seeing that karma evidentially hasn't 'got them', they're attractive and successful whereas I in all honesty am a chubby administrator at the bottom rung of the ladder with a broken mind who needs to be drugged up to the eyeballs just to function on a daily basis. I know I should be challenging my attitude and asking myself why, if they have moved on, can't I? I probably should let go of the idea that karma will punish them for their misdeeds because, sadly, life doesn't work out like that. I know also that it takes more energy to be bitter and resentful but I also hold the belief that they don't deserve my forgiveness – why should they get off scot-free for their actions? I do badly want to move on and forget what's happened but I really don't see how to do it. I can't erase my memories or mute my feelings. I don't even want revenge in a super-villain type manner, sadly I don't think I could compete with Moriaty's excellently plucked eyebrows (sorry to the non-Sherlock fans who will have no idea what I'm on about).

I guess the only way forward is to keep trying to get myself 'back to normal' and tell myself that that is the biggest "F you" to them all.

Love Jen

XxxX