Listen to the voices - Eleanor Longden TED Talk & Mental Health

I haven't been talking about mental health in a while. mostly because I haven't had any problems with that lately – or at least not the obvious ones but more about that further down. I understand now that my ADHD is not a mental health issue but a learning disability so that is why I can actually confidently say I haven't had any mental health problems lately. However, as some of my readers might remember, I did have my brush with depression and burn-out most probably caused by undiagnosed ADHD and years of overworking myself and not taking care of my needs.

I'm bringing the topic up again because I just watched this mindblowing TED Talk by Eleanor Longden, proving to me, once again, that it is imperative we talk about mental health. We need to destigmatise.
At one point she says that hearing voices is very much a 'sane reaction to insane circumstances', and I'm thinking that might be true for many mental health 'issues'; simply our bodies being smart enough to say, 'Hold on a second, we need to deal with this'.




I've begun to understand that my body has ways of communicating too. For instance, when I'm not happy about something I have physical reactions to those feelings. It's taken me a bit to figure out that this is the case, and I'm still learning the correspondences, but there are a couple of things I now have a better grasp of:

There's an obvious one. When I get really nervous about something (i.e. a job interview) I get the shits. Well sorry, that's just how it is. I've heard that a lot of people have that. You're nervous about an exam, a job interview or a performance, you end up spending some time on the loo, but as soon as you're on your way to The Scary Thing your body calms down.

But then there are the more finicky signs, the one's we don't learn about like we do about stage fright or 'nerves'.

Sometimes I get a lump in my throat, this intense feeling that I can't swallow. I used to think it was related to gastritis because that was when it first showed up. But now I know that it's simply a sign that an uncertain situation is stressing me out.
Like, knowing my financial situation is approaching panic mode. I got it when I was fired 4 weeks ago and it went away when I got hired last week. Uncertainty is a big trigger: The lump in my throat resurfaced for a day last week when it suddenly became uncertain what exactly my field of work would be at the new place. It was a highly chaotic situation and it was stressing me out. Sometimes it can be something as simple as not knowing what I have planned for the day that sets it off but most of the time I'm sweating the big stuff.

Sometimes this is what our bodies are trying to tell us, only less strikingly.
(c) 2011

When my stomach begins to burn it means I am stressing out about something that is not external but internal. A job situation I want to get out of because it is not right for me anymore. My own work load and/or the pressure I put on myself. An emotional situation that I haven't yet figured out how to solve.

I rarely get headaches so I haven't figured those out yet. But when my ear starts to ring or gets plugged it means I need to find some peace and quiet. To meditate. Breathe. To be by myself, to not do anything.

I have learned to read these signs and feelings. And, usually, by acknowledging them, by hearing what they are trying to communicate – a bit like Longden's voices –, by promising that I will deal with the root of the problem, these pains and aches go away. Unless I postpone treating the problem indefinitely. But they absolutely have a right to show up again because, apparently, I didn't get the message the first time.

I guess it's time to say, 'Thank you, body. You're a good one. You tell me what I need to hear, and I promise to listen.'

In which she rambles, a lot.

Hello interwebs, I've had some blogological issues lately. Mostly because I've been trying to be a responsible person. I've been trying to get to bed at a reasonable time, midnight-ish - which actually does me a ton of good. The problem: I write at night. Ergo I blog at night. Yeah, and those have been short lately, so me no writey.
But I met up with a new acquaintance with very reasonable friend potential (I think we hit it off) and we talked about writing which made me realise: damn, I haven't been doing that. At all. In a long time. I even have blog laziness. It's not the lack of ideas; I've had about a million and one these past weeks, but I'd have to get it all in order and my mind's a mess, really. Plus there's that issue with nights being in short supply around here.

side note: the 21-year old me, the one that wasn't old and married, would stay up nights, write frantically until dawn or chat to other insomniac friends online while listening to music. But that 21-year old chick didn't get a hangover feeling in the morning just by staying up past her bedtime sans alcohol. This almost-27-year-old does, however; and it ain't pretty.


But since I've already passed my reasonable-bedtime by mindless websurfing I might as well do something useful. Like give an update.

I got a lot better these past weeks. And then I got worse again. My old habits got the better of me. For the past two weeks I've had something (from doctor's appointments to social things to simply running errands) every fucking day and it's been getting to me. I have to make a conscious effort to slow down in order to avoid that train right back to burn-out-ville. Which of course keeps me from getting things done. Which I really can't handle all that well, being the fucked up control freak that I am. So there's that.

Also, I have noticed an increased amount of man-crushes of mine lately. There's David Tennant for one, who I've been absolutely drooling over in Doctor Who and Single Father. (Seriously, that ass!) I have also bookmarked a shitload of Jack/Ianto FanFic. And I notice men (the real kind too, not just on TV), which I also haven't done in ages. It's sort of interesting, that part of my sexuality and sexual identity that I am still figuring out after all these years. I mean, I've been straight and bi and gay a couple of times before realising that no label really fits; I've been in a relationship with the woman who is undoubtedly the love of my life for 5 1/2 years; I haven't slept with a guy in more than seven (!) years and haven't met one that interested me on a deeper level way longer than that; and yet I still find myself looking at men again "like that" suddenly or not so suddenly. Kinsey would've had some fun with me. Strictly academically, I mean. Although... ;)

In other (very short) news:

• I'm pure and utter chaos, immovable object style. It has yet to encounter the unstoppable object of discipline.
• Therapy can be a bitch!
• I've been starting to work on some projects (most of them are only in my head as of now, but at least one is real)
• One of the real projects is a webseries I have slyly snuck into to hone my camera, editing and maybe writing skills har har
• I miss my dad, more again lately, it must be because of Christmas being around the corner
• I've been trying to make an effort of meeting new people, to turn mere acquaintances into something stronger if it has the potential. Even if it means making the scary move of initiating communication (look at me being all outgoing with my diploma in communication haha and so graceful even! )
• I'm going to have to have my frenulum (lower lip) sliced up and elongated. Apparently a pretty painless, fast procedure but I'm still not too happy about it of course.
• I'm working on losing weight (a "diet" that basically consists of simply not overeating. Mindshatteringly revolutionary, isn't it?)
• I've been playing a lot of Splinter Cell: Conviction.
• I'm still looking for a new apartment for us. Bigger, better, awesomer. Yeah, try finding that...
• I suddenly got very tired *yawn*

I've probably forgotten about a load of topics again, but sleep is overwhelming. Brain shutting down.

self-doubt & regrets - 2010 edition

I am beginning to feel better. To be honest, I was having a hard time believing this day would ever come. I've been less depressed lately and have figured out a way to put myself to sleep (rescue drops work wonders on me). Also this deep exhaustion seizes control of me a lot less than it used to only a couple of weeks ago. Basically it's a whole new me. I'm nowhere near my old self but then that crazy lady isn't exactly who I should be anyway. I'm beginning to see how other people (used to) perceive me. Apparently a lot of people see me as this super fast, hyper active, hyper performing, constantly on-the-move person. A stark contrast to my self-perception: underachieving mess.

Unfortunately the minus of exhaustion coupled with that lovely opinion I have of myself leads to the return of THE THINKING (= certain doom). It takes place mostly late-night. However, thanks to my friends the rescue drops I now do this half-asleep or in my dreams instead of wide awake. That's some progress, I say.

Sooooo... I've been thinking. About the things in my life that I could've done differently which, if you spell it out, basically means: self doubt and regrets chasing each other in a nice little circle... ad infinitum. What'cha call that? That's right: "Not healthy". But I've accepted it as part of my old self as well as part of my recovery - because I am getting better at this, learning to view things in a positive light et cetera et cetera, I know it's nauseatingly esoteric and I apologise in retrospect and advance.

Since I hit 22 or so I've had an even harder time accepting that my choices have kept me here in crummy Austria while others have been out conquering the world, as I see it. The worst are ex-classmates from school that have gone to New York/L.A./London/pickyourfuckingawesomecity, totally absolutely making it there. It's especially bad when they were so-called frenemies (though we didn't have that lovely label when I was in school, thank you, Gossip Girl). Then the green monster rears it fucking ugly head. I get jealous, more like envious. Is it dumb? Absofuckinglutely. But I've begun to understand that this isn't my especially bad character that's doing this but that it rings true for other people too. Maybe not for you, if you're lucky. But just think of one of your biggest dreams in life - Got it? Good. Now envision it. And now imagine reading on facebook how someone else is living that dream.... ouch. And would you like some salt with your gashing wound? Btw. yes, I do know that people brush up their lives on facebook, but that doesn't mean it'll sting less.

But since I said I was going to be positive:
So I didn't make my dream to go to New York and Be Someone come true - yet.
So I haven't actually been quite the overachiever I imagined myself to be. (My burnout would probably be a lot messier if I had.)
So I don't exactly know where I'm going or am just figuring it out at the age of 26.

But there are good sides to this, very good sides. If I'd lived my life like I thought I would when I was sixteen, I would have missed out on a shitload of awesomeness too:
Biggest of all is I met my wife! I mean, who gets to meet the love of their lives when their 21? Not many people I've known. I do not have to spend years as a serial monogamist looking for my soulmate because I can check that item off the fucking list. High Five!
I have a somewhat stable living situation, not living out of a tiny box in a shared flat or a garconniere and I usually have some money to spend at the end of the months or even the middle if it goddamn pleases me (at least when we're not both momentarily out of work).
And I've worked a variety of different jobs in completely different fields of work. I've worked as a journalist, a phone marketer, an animator at children's parties, as an usher in a musical theatre, as a floor manager in television, an editing assistant, in a PR position (in fact, the only PR position) in a small company, a social media marketer and I'm sure I forgot something. I've had the chance to test myself, to adapt, to learn new things and if that isn't awesome then I really don't know what is.

Now what I need to really get is that all this doesn't mean that I can't still go to New York or wherever the fuck I please and be someone there. It doesn't preclude that I already am someone, right here.

I'd love to hear some opinions on this, know how others deal with these bouts of self doubt. Or do you not have those moments? Please, tell me you have those moments ;)

This post could almost be by a non-damaged person

I could give you my "been meaning to blog" speech and all that yadda yadda but I'll leave my where-was-I post for another time. Right now let me just say that we've got a couple of miracles going on here right now.

1. we went out tonight

2. I had fun - pure, undamaged fun with no "oh shit, I just dropped my happy mask" moments

3. we stayed out late

4. and then didn't opt for a taxi but took the public transport/walking option home (there are people in public transport, so usually when it's late we always, infallibly go for taxi

I don't exactly know how it happened, but I really had no waning-strength-moments tonight, I was capable of coherent thoughts AND able to turn them into sentences that could be understood by others. I met a bunch of new people tonight, most of which I quite liked. So in my current way of life that makes me practically a social butterfly ;)

I almost don't care whether tonight I'll finally be able to sleep again. Almost...


Edit: I haven't managed to go to bed yet, be it because I'm scared of the inevitable seeming non-sleep, be it because I just needed to have this moment to myself (Finn is already in bed). It's getting light outside and I'm remembering all those nights I walked home - never really drunk, maybe a little tipsy - into the sunrise, sitting on my windowsill with a cup of tea. In fact, I think that is the best part of staying out late! I miss that. I'd do it a lot more often if it wasn't such a bitca for fucking with my sleep cycle. It's kind of hard to be a functioning part of society when you're nights become your days. But for now I'm okay sitting here with my cup of PG Tips, hearing the birds wake up, listening to a song and getting ready to crawl into bed with my sleeping wife.

stiff upper lip, mcC

We went to a party today. It was the birthday party of one of my wife's friends, who I happen to like a lot too. However, that friend has a huge circle of friends (or many circles, actually), many of them she's known since her childhood. It just so happens that not only do I barely know them, but whenever I ended up talking to one of them before  - I rarely ended up liking them. The ones I do like are basically her friends from work. The rest of the gang comes mostly from the small town my wife grew up in as well. They all know each other well and are not very inviting to outsiders and I find them kind of odd (not in a good way).

It's not that they're mean or something, they just don't really talk to people they don't know (there are exceptions of course), I figured that out at the first birthday bash five years ago. They won't even talk to my wife - at least, not much - because she was never that involved in town life. While I find this very off-putting I'll usually play nicely since it's just once or twice a year. I'll try to talk to someone, succeed for two minutes, then wander on wondering what the hell these people do to be so odd and boring, but basically: no harm done.

Not this time. This time it was truly horrific. I wanted to retreat so badly I ended up trying to avoid talking to people. I chatted to my wife, focused on my food and my drink and my phone camera app. I could not keep the happy face going by any means and was probably highly embarassing to my wife (sorry, hon). Unfortunately she didn't get that I was trying to keep back and did things like letting me enter the room first, all gentlemanly but oh-so-wrong this time. To me it felt like being shoved into a position I couldn't handle. Going in first meant drawing looks and I didn't want that. Just let me hide, please, I thought and begged her to go in first.

I figure the problem wasn't the party as such, I would gladly have partied with my own friends, I think. Of course exhaustion plays a role (and my wife's aggressive undertones thanks to her depression aren't helping much either), but what most got to me was having to save face.. stiff upper lip...

I'm usually a happy, quite friendly person! Maybe I should just draw my conclusions accordingly: These people are un-entertaining (I admit my impression goes along the lines of 'small town, small minds') --> stay the fuck home, especially if you're having a bad day/week/month.

Love, mcC

(Maybe I'll post some pics that I took tomorrow.)

Just say no! Even if it comes with cash.

Today I won. Or at least the new me won. I said "no" to something; a job/project opportunity to be exact. That may sound like nothing special but to me it is. There's a project I could be working on in late August and September, and as much as I'd like to I made the smarter choice this time.

The pro list is a lot longer than the con list:
- Yes, it would bring in some cash.
- Yes, I'd probably have fun doing it.
- Yes, it would be a good kick-off for our company, that we're planning to start (we originally planned to take off later in 2010).
- Yes, we could probably prove ourselves worthy and get more jobs based on that project.

BUT
- I am still not well.

And I have an inkling that I will not be well two weeks from now. Considering that I can't muster the strength to get up before noon I actually highly doubt that I'll be able to pull off a PR and Social Media Campaign 14 lousy days from now. Hell, I don't even know if I'll get to that point by November!

So I made the hard choice of saying no to an opportunity. I don't think I've done that before, ever. I'm the type of person that always always takes opportunities, because, hey! It's and opportunity. I never considered my health in these choices. If it meant I would have to work myself into the ground for a couple of weeks that never fazed me. So what if it exhausted me - it was still an opportunity and those had to be taken.

My dirty little secret is that I felt really good after declining the offer. I had been mulling it over for some time now and it worried me, put pressure on me. It would have put a serious dent in my R&R time. The moment I had carried out my decision I felt free, like I had my almost-lost time back.

I've begun to understand that time is mostly what I need. Time to get rid of this exhaustion that is pinning me down. Time to work on my issues. Time to learn to listen to what my body says, even if it's a "no".

Everyone I know is in therapy and if they aren't they probably should be

So, I'm in therapy. I know, I know, who isn't... Like I said to my friend S. some time ago everyone I know is in therapy and if they aren't they probably should be. I had plans to do therapy, just not now. I thought I'd go and do it later, some day in the future, when I could afford it financially and psychologically, as a sort of psycho-hygienic measure. To work on some stuff, reopen a couple of old wounds, rub a little salt in them, let them properly heal and reemerge as this awesome new and improved me - more zen, more together, more perfect. Hm... so that didn't go over too well with the universe.

A bit more than three months ago my dad died. Quite suddenly. We had a difficult relationship, and he definitely wasn't a young father, I did get to say goodbye - but, no surprise, losing him struck me hard. I lost my dad. I grew up. It wasn't pretty. But I'm a trooper so after a bit of crying I buckled up and organised my wedding in 5 weeks (with a lot of help from our friends) and got married within two months of my father's death. (Or fake-married, as I sometimes quite lovingly call the joke of a civil union we get to have here.) We had an amazing wedding party, burlesque/20ies style, we loved it, everyone else loved it and I was perfectly fine. Not. About four days after the party I cracked. And I really mean cracked! I felt I was losing my mind - hell, I still feel like that today. I was exhausted and crying all the time... and exhausted, and crying. It took me forever to get up in the morning, another lifetime to get out of the house, and I remember one day where I actually sat in my parked car in front of the office building, staring at a billboard in front of me for five minutes, before I could muster up the strength to get out of the car and into work. It wasn't pretty.

My wife and a couple of my friends must've realised that I was a bit loopy because they kept talking to me about burn out, depression, grief and taking time off. My dad had been depressed all his life, I'd seen burn out in my wife, then girlfriend, about half a year earlier, and I have a bunch of friends who've been/are in therapy for burn out and various other mental health issues. I know their troubles, and suddenly confronted by being told "you have a problem" I recognised myself in them. I finally began to see the rat race I was in. I began to see the bigger picture which was: I'm in a really bad place and I'm only going to make myself worse. Ironically, I also began to see the positive side of it. If I actually had something, if what was happening to me had a name and a form of treatment, then maybe what I've been going through isn't me failing at everything but instead me demanding too much. Maybe I wasn't a loser after all but only failing in the face of my own expectations?

So I started therapy. I quit all of my jobs (I was working as a freelancer). I registered as unemployed and am receiving unemployment benefits. It made me feel awful about myself, but now I see it as this amazing chance that allows me to become healthy again. Of course, half the time I still feel like a loser only now I'm one of those losers who is unemployed, but then I remember how I sat in my car staring at that billboard for what seemed like forever and I just know I wouldn't make it out of the car and up the stairs to the office this time. Hell, these days I sometimes don't even make it out of the apartment! It helps that my family doctor has put me on sick leave two weeks ago until next week when I'll be seeing a psychiatrist who is supposed to officially give my illness a name and hopefully put me on an extended sick leave (and hopefully not on antidepressants).

Since mental health issues are still mostly a taboo, be it burn out, depression or something other, I'd like to point you to this amazing blog post by Beth Hommel (assistant to one Ms Amanda Palmer btw.) which made me feel both understood myself and understanding my wife better (she showed me the blog and wrote about her own experience with it here). And I can only encourage you to (continue to) speak up about mental health issues, be it on your blog, in real life or in one of those status updates which have been becoming quite popular on facebook.