Seeing as today is Blue Monday - supposedly the most depressing day of the year - I wanted to write a blog about one of the best ways to boost your emotional and physical well-being: Music.
More and more studies are showing that music has benefits way beyond mere enjoyment. Listening to a song that we love can cheer us up when we're in a grump. Playing an emotional ballad when you've got a lot of pent-up feelings can be the catalyst to finally letting those feelings out (and it's fair to say that most of us start to feel at least a little better after a good cry).
But it's not just listening to music that can have an effect on our deeper well-being. Recent reports claim that doctors will soon be "prescribing" the arts to patients suffering from loneliness, mental health issues or even dementia, such is the positive impact that playing an instrument or singing in a group can have on a person's well-being.
It's a subject I passionately believe in. Music has always been an outlet for my emotions, as well as something comforting that I throw myself into when the world feels bleak. Breaking out a favourite album on a bad day is like snuggling down under a warm duvet; it just makes you feel better.
But passive listening can only go so far.
In the past, when life has been difficult, I've been known to resort to "YouTube karaoke." I could never explain it, but somehow, belting out a ballad had the power to unleash all the emotion I'd been bottling up, but in a way that felt positive and powerful. And once the sad songs were over with, I'd inevitably end up warbling away to some uptempo tunes. Without fail, I'd end my personal karaoke session feeling much better than I had when I started it.
Nowadays, I sing with a chorus and I've learnt far more about how music works to boost your health - not just your mental health, but your physical well-being, too. Did you know, for example, that singing teaches you the correct way to breathe? Believe it or not, there is a wrong way. And for someone like me, who suffers with chronic asthma, it's pretty important that I know the difference.
Not only has my lung capacity improved since I joined said chorus, but my posture is definitely better, too. That's because one of the number one things you learn is that standing in a saggy, slumped position won't help you sound good when you sing. Once you've realised that you need a good posture for singing purposes, you frequently find yourself remembering your "singing stance" for when you're standing in a long queue, or doing anything that requires you to be on your feet for long periods.
The mental health benefits were less unexpected; of course singing in harmony sounds amazing and therefore makes you feel amazing, because you're a part of it. Singing is a fantastic stress-reliever, too. It's hard to fret about family or worry about work when you're busy trying to nail that tricky key change.
And then there's the social aspect.
Joining any kind of group - be it a choir, a band or a sports team - means that you're getting out of the house (and hopefully out of your own head space) at least once a week and talking to other people. It gives you the opportunity to broaden your social circle and make new friends. Inevitability, that group mentality leads to a feeling of support and closeness; you are part of something. You are one of the family.
Look, I'm not about to say that joining a choir or doing some karaoke is enough to cure depression (or any other illness) all by itself. Obviously, seeking professional medical attention when you're in any way unwell should be your first port of call. But if you're just looking for something to boost your well-being, there is a lot to be said for allowing music to be your medicine.
I've always watched the soaps. Mainly because my Mum has always watched the soaps. I'm not remotely religious about it and, just like Mum, I stick to the three main ones - Coronation Street, Emmerdale and Eastenders. Of the three, if I had to pick a favourite, it would always be Corrie (with Emmerdale in second place and Eastenders being the one I half-watch, largely so I can moan about it...).
Soaps get a bit of a bad press, sometimes. They're often unrealistic, with their frequent murders and characters who seem to have all had affairs with each other at some point or other. But, despite the occasionally over-the-top storylines, soaps are supposed to depict everyday life. Life, with all its complex ups and downs. And so, over the years, we've seen some major topics covered, from racism to assisted dying.
These storylines often hit harder in a soap than they might in a one-off drama, for the simple reason that the characters in soaps are people we see on TV several times a week. They're characters we've come to know and love. We've often followed their lives for several years, seen them get married, have kids, go through various struggles and come out the other side. We care about what happens to them, because, through watching them so often, these characters have subconsciously become a part of our lives. We watch them experience love and tragedy. We see them struggle with their sexuality. We've been there through their highs and lows.
But, until last week, there was one major subject that none of the main three soaps had really covered: suicide and its devastating after-effects.
Last Monday night, viewers saw Coronation Street regular, Aidan Connor, appear increasingly detached from those around him, as he attended a leaving party in the pub, held for his father and his father's wife, who were intending to move to Spain. In heartbreaking, yet sensitively portrayed scenes, we saw Aidan looking oblivious to everything and everyone around him, before the screen went black and we cut to him sitting alone on his sofa at home, sobbing. Then the screen went black a final time and we knew he'd taken his own life.
Wednesday's hour-long episode dealt with the fallout. We saw devastating scenes in which Aidan's father Johnny went to Aidan's flat, after his son failed to turn up for work, only to find a note instructing him not to go into the bathroom, but to call the police. Johnny then rushed to the bathroom, where he found his son.
Coronation Street did well to avoid sensationalising the storyline; we never saw Aidan's body, nor were we told the manner in which he killed himself. None of that was necessary. What was shown, was the massive impact the suicide had on everyone living on the street, regardless of whether they were particularly close to Aidan or not.
We saw Aidan's former fiancé Eva, absolutely shattered by the news; particularly as Aidan had come to see her the previous evening and given her back her engagement ring. Eva had thought they might be getting back together. Now, she realised he'd gone to say goodbye.
We saw Aidan's sister Kate, first refuse to believe that her brother could have taken his own life, before becoming gripped with anger that he could put his family through such pain.
In a beautifully written monologue, we saw Corrie stalwart Gail, highlight the fact that whilst we like to think we know our friends and neighbours, we can never know what's going on inside their minds. People can appear fine, only to be struggling with terrible, internal demons. All we can do is be kind and supportive to one another. Whilst Gail was talking, we saw scenes of other characters being told the news of Aidan's death, making it all the more poignant. I've linked to the scene here, because I think it was absolutely perfectly done.
Not only were the reactions of characters closest to Aidan perfectly executed in the aftermath of his suicide being revealed, we saw many suicide myths busted by the writers, whilst also witnessing hugely realistic reactions to what happened. We saw loudmouth Beth refer to Aidan as selfish for taking his own life, whilst another character, Gina, explained that he would have been in so much pain, all he'd have wanted was to find a way to make it stop. There wouldn't have been any deliberate selfishness in his actions.
We saw Daniel tell Robert about a "friend" who had considered suicide, but who had kept his feelings of depression to himself. Robert, realising that Daniel was talking about himself and having already mentioned having lost someone to suicide in the past, told Daniel to tell his "friend" that he would always be willing to listen, if they needed someone to talk to.
In a genius snippet of writing that could easily have been missed, had you not been looking out for signs that the writer of this episode - Jonathan Harvey - wanted to get a very important message across, we even saw David Platt's solicitor tell him to "man up," when David became obviously upset. Cleverly, it was David who had the climax of the episode, when he finally confessed to ex girlfriend Shona that he'd been raped and had had his own moments of feeling suicidal, but that he felt better for having told someone and that he had realised he wanted to live.
To end the show on a positive, uplifting note such as that was incredibly powerful. To finish a heartbreaking episode by displaying a character reaching out and confessing to how lost and alone he'd been feeling, but that he was now going to seek help, was absolutely the right way to leave things.
But Monday and Wednesday's episodes were more than just brilliantly written, directed and acted. They were hugely, critically important.
One criticism given by a smattering of viewers (it's important to say how widely praised the storyline has been - and rightly so), was that Aidan's suicide "came out of the blue." He didn't seem depressed.
I have two responses to that. Firstly, 45% of men who suffer with depression don't speak out about it. Toxic messages such as "man up," cause men in emotional pain to bottle up their feelings. It's this pressure to keep things hidden that contributes to our enormous suicide rate. Suicide is the biggest killer of men under the age of 45. In the UK alone, 84 men take their own lives every week. Many of those won't have spoken out about their feelings. Therefore, when men like Aidan take their own lives, all too often it does seem to come out of the blue, even though the reality is that that person has probably been suffering for quite some time. In making Aidan seem okay on the surface, whilst holding so much pain inside, Coronation Street have depicted his depression and subsequent suicide with painful accuracy.
Secondly, if you know the signs, they have been there, all along. Aidan had been increasingly distracted. He'd been clearly portrayed as mulling things over in his mind, looking distant or forlorn. His sister Kate had asked, just days before his suicide, why he hadn't unpacked the boxes that still littered his flat. He'd given ex lover Maria's son Liam his expensive watch, despite Liam only being a young child. He gave his father an expensive gift - membership of a snazzy golf club in Spain, as a "goodbye present." He'd made comments about Eva's baby deserving better than a father like him. In recent months, he'd put himself down, saying what a bad man he was. And (SPOILER) back in February, we saw him post a letter to his father, only to intercept the letter and take it back to his flat, when he realised his sister Carla needed a kidney transplant. In tonight's episode, we discover that that letter was actually a suicide note and that he'd been planning to take his own life for several months, keeping himself alive only so that he could save his sister by donating a kidney.
The signs were there.
Too often, our image of what "depression" actually is, is rooted in some kind of parody. A person who never smiles, someone with visible self-harm scars, who openly talks about wanting to die. But that is just not always the case. More often than not, those who are suicidally depressed - particularly men, who have such pressure on them to be "strong" and not show emotion, lest it be confused as "weakness" - keep those horrendous feelings to themselves. Depression isn't just sadness. It can - in either gender - present itself as exhaustion, an inability to find enjoyment in things, feeling on edge or anxious, not looking after yourself properly, suffering physical aches and pains or feeling hopeless. What Coronation Street has done is lift the veil on this taboo. They've broken the silence. They've shown what happens when a young man, with his whole life ahead of him, keeps his demons bottled up inside and eventually feels so hopeless that he can't go on. They've shown how suicide affects those left behind. The anger, confusion, despair and guilt that loved ones feel, when they realise they had no idea of the enormous pain that someone they cared for was keeping to themselves.
This needed to be done. For every man keeping his feelings inside and contemplating suicide as a way out. For every person battling depression, who needs to be shown that there is help and support out there, if you speak out (as David did, at the end of the episode). For every family struggling in the aftermath of a loved one's suicide.
The silence has to be broken. Only if we speak out about this, provide channels of support and understanding for those in need and break down the stigma attached to mental health issues, can we reduce that horrendous statistic. 84 men per week. That's twelve men taking their own lives every single day. One every other hour.
It's time to speak out. We have to stop the ludicrous idea that men are somehow weak if they show their emotions. That depression is something that happens to other people, when the truth is, it can affect anyone.
Corrie star Simon Gregson, who plays hapless cabbie Steve McDonald, lashed out this week at a "fan" who ludicrously claimed that the portrayal of Johnny Connor - Aidan's father - weeping uncontrollably at the suicide of his son, was over the top and "unBritish." I'm glad Simon responded. Because that attitude is exactly why this storyline was so important.
It's not "unBritish" to cry, any more than it is "unmanly" to feel lost, depressed or even suicidal. We have to shake off this toxic masculinity. It does men no more good than it does women. It contributes to a culture in which almost half of men who experience depression, feel unable or unwilling to speak to anyone about it, or reach out for help. That in turn, contributes to our horrendously high suicide rate. That outdated, pathetic attitude - that men don't cry, that we Brits must always keep a stiff upper lip, even in the face of heart-wrenching tragedy - is causing people to bottle up emotions until they explode. That attitude is killing people.
I wholeheartedly applaud Coronation Street for their sensitive handling of an incredibly powerful, important subject. I can't praise the actors, writers and directors enough.
The silence has been broken. Let's keep it that way. If you need help, there is no shame in asking for it.
Let's break the stigma.
Samaritans: Free 24hr telephone number (available 356 days a year): 116 123 Email: Jo@samaritans.org
When I went to bed last night, I did so secure in the knowledge that I didn't have to start work until 1pm today, so I could have a lie-in, this morning. This was, in itself, a case of me looking on the bright side, seeing as I loathe afternoon shifts, but I was determined to find a silver lining to the situation and, well, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm in a very serious, deeply committed relationship with my duvet...
And then the rain came. Not in a metaphorical sense; this isn't a poetic way of saying I was suddenly hit by an emotional crisis. No, I mean it very literally. It started raining in the small hours of this morning and it woke me up. Seeing as sleeping is one of my most favourite hobbies, I wasn't especially thrilled by this turn of events. The term "like a bear with a sore head" pales into insignificance when compared to "like a sleepy short girl whose weird dreams have been unceremoniously interrupted by the weather." Admittedly, it's not quite as catchy, but still. Accurate.
So, I did what I usually do in these sorts of situations: I took to Twitter, to moan about it.
It was there that I discovered that today is apparently "Blue Monday" - supposedly the most depressing day of the year. Yay...?
I could have used that fact to allow myself to moan excessively about my lack of sleep and to stomp around the house, looking for additional reasons to be mardy or sad. But the gloomy fact is, I don't need a specific day in order to be stressed, anxious or depressed. None of us do. Depression can affect anyone, for any reason (or, indeed, seemingly without any reason at all) on literally any day. That's the very nature of depression. It doesn't wait, like some incredibly patient monster underneath your bed, for the one day a year it's allowed to leap out and roar in your face. It'll do that whenever it likes.
And, of course, depression isn't necessarily a case of feeling blue. Sometimes, you don't feel anything. Not happy, not sad, not angry, just... Devoid of any emotion.
But the good news is, there are ways to keep on top of your mental health, regardless of the date. So, I thought I'd share a few of the ways I keep the monster under my bed at bay, whether it happens to be the most depressing day of the year or not.
This puppy is here because I Google image searched "monster under the bed" and genuinely scared myself. Yes, I am a train wreck of a human. So, anyway... Have a puppy, whilst I try to forget the many gifs of Pennywise from It I've just sifted through (I love that film, but now I have THE FEAR).
Talk To Someone.
Yep, the simplest answer is often the best one.
Depression can make you feel incredibly isolated from the rest of the world. You can start thinking you're the only person who feels the way you do, or that you're not worth anything to anyone. And I promise you, both of those thoughts are always wrong.
The first step towards getting yourself to a better mental place is finding someone you can trust - whether it's a family member, friend, partner or even your GP - and telling them how you feel. Never, ever keep things to yourself, if you're feeling depressed or considering harming yourself in any way. There are all sorts of ways to help you feel better, but it all starts with talking to someone.
If you really don't feel that you can talk to anyone in your family or friendship circle, you can call the Samaritans 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, by using their free phone line: 116-123.
Sometimes, you'll discover that just talking your worries through with someone else, gives you a different perspective on things and helps ease the load. Sometimes, it'll take more than that, but talking to someone will be the catalyst to you getting the further help you need. So, never keep things inside. Always find someone to talk to.
Take care of yourself and be "selfish" if you need to be.
You can't be there for everyone else, if you're not looking after yourself. Sometimes, as much as you might want to say "yes" to helping out everyone who asks, or to attending everything you're invited to, you have to retreat into yourself and have a little "me-time."
I've put "selfish" in air-quotes with good reason: there is nothing selfish about realising that you need to put yourself first, for a while. Whether that simply means having a quiet night in by yourself, enjoying a bubble bath and your favourite dinner, or whether it's a case of barricading yourself in your room and playing Mario Kart for three hours, whilst you ignore every text message you receive, so be it. Do whatever it takes to make you feel less pressured and more in tune with yourself.
Remember that mental health and physical health are often closely linked; if you're looking after yourself in terms of getting enough sleep, eating properly, getting some kind of exercise (I find walking the dog helps!) and paying attention to any aches or pains, you're more likely to be in a better position to kick depression's butt when it arises.
Find something you love and indulge in it!
When you're really low, it can be hard to find much joy in anything. That's why it's important to work out what makes you happiest when you're on an even keel, and keep doing whatever that is when you're down, too.
For me, it's singing. There are few things that can't be solved by a good warbling session. If I want to shake off a bad mood, I'll do a bit of YouTube karaoke and stick firmly to cheesy, upbeat tunes. If I feel like I need to wallow for a while, I'll break out the Les Mis soundtrack and sing Eponine's parts. Yes, I am that kind of musical theatre nerd...
Now that I sing in a group as well, I find that's even better for lifting me out of a grump; it's hard to feel sad, mad or otherwise blue, when there's a chorus of fab people, singing in harmony with you and all you can think is: "Blimey, we sound awesome!"
It doesn't matter what it is that makes you happy. It might be dancing, binge-watching your favourite TV show, painting, baking or even extreme ironing, for all I care - just find what makes you smile, what makes you feel good inside, and do more of it when your mood starts to drop.
Spend some time with friends.
Yes, you need to put yourself first and it's fine to turn down invitations and not put yourself under too much pressure to be sociable, but don't cut yourself off completely. Spending time with people you care about - and, crucially, who care about you (even when you don't) - can be a fantastic medicine. Sometimes, just making the effort to get out and have a cuppa with a mate can be the difference between a bad day and an actually-not-so-bad one. Besides, depression can make you feel incredibly isolated, so it's always a good thing to remind yourself that there are people who want to spend time with you and who are there to listen to you, too.
Make some simple plans.
When life feels tough, it can be hard to consider the future, especially if uncertainty about your personal future is contributing to your depression in the first place. But one way to stay on top of things is by taking control as much as you can. Plan something - even something really small, like "tomorrow, I will make my bed" - and try hard to stick to it. When you do stick to it, it's a small way of proving to yourself that you're still able to accomplish small goals. You can eventually build up to bigger things, like a day out somewhere or even a trip away. Don't rush yourself, but encourage yourself to have little things to do, so that you have something to aim for.
Having a simple plan for your day set in place is also a good way of ensuring you don't feel quite so out of control. Depression can make you feel as though your whole life is out of your hands. But making plans, however small, is a way to remind yourself that you still have some power to decide what happens during your day.
On good days, plan exciting things for the future. I always find, even when I'm really down, that if I know I have a trip to the theatre or a dinner out with a friend planned, I want to stick to it, because I know it will cheer me up. Having something to look forward to can be a really good way of keeping you going when things get you down.
Challenge yourself.
I don't mean you have to start setting yourself a goal to climb Mount Everest, when I say this (unless that's something you're really keen on doing...). But when those negative thoughts start creeping into your head, challenge them.
Depression makes it very easy to agree with self-hating thoughts. You can easily decide "yep, I am unlovable, stupid and a total failure." But instead of agreeing with the part of your subconscious that's making you feel that way, stand up to it. Write down all the ways in which you're a good friend to people. Make a list of the accomplishments you're most proud of. Even if you're convinced you have nothing positive to say about yourself, you will find something, if you look hard enough.
Remember it CAN and WILL get better.
There is always a positive way out of a negative situation, no matter how hard you sometimes have to look for it. When you're feeling low, remember that it's probably not the first time you've felt that way and that you managed to shake it off before, so you know you can do it again. If it is the first time you've ever experienced really serious depression, remember how you felt before it came on; you have been happy, excited, positive and calm before, and they are all emotions you can work towards finding again.
It might take time. Sometimes, we have a bad day and then wake up the following morning, wondering why we made such a fuss. Other times, we find that our dark mood lasts a lot longer. But however long it takes, it can get better. You just need to take care of yourself, reach out for support and work on getting yourself back on an even keel.
These are just the things that work for me. You might have totally different ways of keeping the monster firmly under the bed. But whatever works for you, keep at it.
Earlier this week, I went for a drink with one of my dearest friends and we sat in a bar, making a list of the things we want to do together in 2018. It was - and this is not hyperbole - one of the loveliest moments I've had this year.
Some people hate making plans. There are endless memes to be found in all corners of the internet, equating plans to "obligations" which people then feel a sudden need to wriggle out of. I have rarely been someone who feels constricted by having a plan to stick to. I'm ridiculously organised. For me, a plan is bloody marvellous.
But it was more than just my love of organisation that made me so happy, that afternoon in the pub. It was the knowledge that I was sitting with someone who wants to make plans to hang out with me many times over. It was the excitement of thinking about the fun things we both wanted to do in the coming weeks and months. It was a way of ensuring that I have the kick up the bum I need to keep on getting out there and doing things.
We all have times in our lives when we just don't feel like doing much. When depression, stress or anxiety causes us to dread venturing any further from our duvets than is absolutely necessary. When the black dog has you firmly in its grip, the last thing you might be inclined to do is go out and take part in any kind of social activity. Those are the times when pre-arranged plans feel like millstones around your neck. The thought of having to force a smile onto your face and somehow muster up the energy to do more than binge-watch a TV show can be difficult to contemplate.
But, on the other hand, looking forward to something can be a way of lifting yourself out of the doldrums. Having a reason to get up and out of the house can have a hugely positive impact on your mental wellbeing. Just taking your mind off whatever's getting you down can be incredibly helpful. After all, if we constantly dwell on the same thing for long enough, we start making it bigger than it needs to be and before long, it starts to harm us. Taking some time out can even clear your mind just enough for you to be able to find a practical solution to the problem when you come back to it, later.
For me, sitting with my friend and making plans for the last few weeks of 2017 and well into 2018 made me realise how much I have to look forward to. A day out with another couple of friends yesterday, in which we also made some pretty major plans for next year, had the same effect.
When I think back to the start of this year, when I was depressed, struggling to make plans for something I'd been really excited about, only to have it cancelled, it's hard to imagine a more different place from where I am, now. I may not end up doing everything I talked about with friends, next year. But even if I do half of it, I know that I have a whole lot to be excited about.
For me, making plans has been that last little step I needed to take, in order to get my mental health back on track. Something as simple as "hey, do you fancy doing *insert thing here* next weekend?" was, as it turned out, all I needed to make me realise that my world is full of amazing people, good friends and positive experiences. And making plans for more of that can only be a good thing.
So, here's to making plans and having things to look forward to. Life is short, after all. Let's go out there and live it.
Regular readers of this blog might be aware that I've been going through a hard time lately and that recently, I began counselling. What very few of you might know, is that my first counselling session actually led to me discovering something that I had previously written off as very much not for me.
You see, as that first session drew to a close, my counsellor asked me whether I had ever tried meditation as a stress reliever, and whether I'd like to do a quick meditation right there and then.
Now, guys. If you read this blog, you'll know that I have a brain that does not shut up. Finding my inner Zen seemed like an impossible task, given my mind's propensity to throw in all kinds of random images, songs and scenarios at any particular moment. And, truth be told, I had attempted meditation a couple of times, before. I usually either got the giggles (nervous laughter, rather than any kind of comment on the act of meditation, I swear), or I failed to get my noisy brain to be quiet enough for it to be at all effective.
So, to say that I was sceptical would probably be an understatement. But, I was also angry, depressed and dealing with a whole heap of grief, following the events of the last four months. So, I shrugged my shoulders and told my counsellor: "Why not try it?"
A weird thing happened. After the first few moments of awkwardly chewing on the inside of my mouth, to stave off the giggles (I swear, I giggle nervously at the most inappropriate times...), my body seemed to sink into the chair and my breathing slowed. I relaxed so much that my head dropped down and my mouth hung open (seriously, I think there might have been some drool issues...).
I started to see things through my mind's eye, and not just the usual plethora of absurdities my brain likes to treat me to throughout the day, but a clear image of myself in silhouette, with certain parts of me lit up, like thermal imagery. I saw a sharp, green rectangle in my belly and a deep red slash across my chest. And then, as I breathed slowly and relaxed further, the rectangle became an oval. It began to shrink. And, somehow, with it shrank the gnawing stress pains I'd been having in my stomach for weeks. The red line through my chest began to soften and my breathing seemed easier. I'd been having terrible trouble with my asthma in the aftermath of all that had gone on in my personal life, but right there in that moment, I could breath freely and deeply. An image of the former friend who had caused me so much pain, appeared in the front of my silhouette's head, before slowly disappearing towards the back of it, as though my subconscious mind was trying to tell me that it was time to try to forget and move on.
Now, I'm not exactly the sort of person you'd expect to be going all New-Age on you. Like I said, my brain is usually full of bizarre images and noisy thoughts. I stress over things way too much to think of myself as someone on the path to enlightenment, or anything like that. But as I walked home from that first counselling session, I felt my footsteps were lighter than they had been on the way there. And not just because I'd talked everything through (although that definitely helped; hearing someone unconnected to the situation say "this is not your fault. The other person was in the wrong," was something I had desperately needed).
Pictured: Me before the counselling.
The thing is, I couldn't get the meditation out of my head. The sensation of letting go associated with it, the things I had visualised during it, the lightness I'd felt after it... I hadn't really ever felt anything like that before, and I wanted to feel it again.
And so, I went to my natural habitat: YouTube (by the way, I have a YouTube channel, which you should definitely check out, if you haven't already). It turns out that there are literally hundreds, probably thousands of meditation videos on there, just waiting for you to click play and drift off...
Since that first successful meditation, I've been on, to use literally the biggest cliche in The Big Bumper Book Of Cliches, a journey of self-discovery.
You may now take a moment to judge me for using that phrase.
I have lost my "You may now take a moment to judge me" Phil gif, so have Dan instead.
The thing is, I'm still very early on in this new discovery. Meditation for me is still very hit and miss. I've started trying to do it at least 2 or 3 times a week before bed and in one particular week, I went from a night in which I fully relaxed and my subconscious mind caused me to see things I had long forgotten and access feelings I had been keeping bottled up, all of which was surprisingly freeing, to a night in which I became so enraged by the narrator on the video I had playing, pronouncing "anxiety" as "angshuty," that I ended up stopping the video and going onto Twitter for an hour, instead.
Guess which night resulted in a more restful sleep?!
Sometimes, my noisy brain still doesn't entirely let me drift off into a meditative state. There are nights when I'll be lying in the dark, eyes closed, limbs relaxed, all ready to go, when a voice in my head will start sniping: "Dear GOD this video is soundtracked by a lot of pan-pipes. What is it with bloody meditation and pan-pipes?! And this person is standing way too close to their microphone. How can I relax and find inner peace when I can literally hear their lips smacking when they talk?!"
And on those nights, I'm learning to either ignore that voice for long enough that it gets bored and goes away, or to stop and try again another day.
Because, I've come to realise that for every night where I don't entirely let go and have a blissful, relaxing experience, there'll be a night on which I do. A night where I'm genuinely surprised by where my mind takes me, or by how relaxed my body feels when the meditation is over.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that trying this thing that I really didn't expect to work, has been something of a revelation. And it only confirms to me that we should try new things and test the limits of we think we might be capable of.
As for me, well, I have a long way to go. The anger and frustration I've felt as a result of the way people I loved have treated me is beginning to slide into sadness. It's no easier to deal with, but I suppose at least I'm moving through the grieving process, however long it takes.
I'm just glad that I now have an extra tool I can use, when things all get too much. I can close my eyes, press "play" on a guided meditation video and just... Relax.
Well, as long as the narrator doesn't stand too close to the microphone.
I'm not going to lie to you, dear reader. Life has not been easy in Emma Land, recently. There are things getting me down and whilst this is most definitely not the place to talk about those things, it's the ideal place to tell you about a bizarre side-effect of dealing with said things.
Wow. I said "things" a lot, there.
The trouble is, my brain being the irritating beast that it is, I can't just go to bed at night and control my thoughts enough to ensure that I don't end up staring at the ceiling, thinking stuff through until none of it makes sense and my mind is close to imploding. At the moment, I'm liable to go to bed and lie there for hours, going over and over situations and conversations, until I'm thoroughly confused and usually, incredibly miserable.
YAY, ME!
I hate my habit of overthinking everything. And, seeing as there are genuine reasons to be fretful and stressed out right now, I hate knowing that bedtime - which is, frankly, one of my most beloved times of day - has become a time to lie awake in the dark and worry, rather than a time to drift off into Snoozeville.
MAKE THE THOUGHTS STOP!!!
In the last couple of weeks, I've come up with a method of countering this hideous period of late-night soul-searching. You'd think that bypassing the whole "staring at the ceiling and mulling things over until you cry" scenario would be perfect, but actually, all I've discovered is that my method has side-effects. Some of which are seriously bad for me and one of which is hilarious.
Basically, I've started refusing to go to bed. Yes, much like a small child, I will do anything and everything to avoid getting ready for sleepy time. Not because I don't love sleep - listen, there are few things I'm more bothered about than getting a good, solid eight hours of kip a night - but because I know for a fact that sleep is going to take at least an hour or two to arrive, due to the noise in my brain. So, my incredibly stupid "DO-NOT-TRY-THIS-AT-HOME" method of dealing with the situation has been to force myself to stay awake - usually by watching YouTube videos, binge-watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer or reading blogs - until I look like this:
It works. I mean, the side-effects are dreadful (a muscle strain in one eye, permanent exhaustion, stomach problems from internalising my stress instead of letting it out... I could go on), but technically, it works.
It works, because when I finally reach the point of almost passing out and I crawl, hopelessly, underneath the duvet, my head hits the pillow and I'm pretty much out like a light. No nasty lying awake and thinking. Hooray!
But - possibly due to the fact that I've let myself get so tired that my brain has gone genuinely insane - once I'm asleep, I have the weirdest dreams I have ever had. Ever.
Recent topics have included:
Trying to eat at a dozen different restaurants, at none of which am I ever served and at one of which, I discover that the chef is Eamonn Holmes.
Being told to marry Dil, Dan and Phil's Sim on their gaming channel.
TBF, he IS a cutie...
Randomly trying - and failing - to seduce Joyce from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, who, in my dream, was the mother of a teenage boy who I had also previously failed to seduce. DA FUQ, BRAIN??!
Setting up a shoe-design company with Phil Lester and deciding it would be fabulous to design shoes that looked like food.
Forming a band with various YouTubers and playing a gig for a nameless charity, which we then recorded a fundraising single for.
Having a bizarre condition that made it seem as though I was drunk all of the time and having to try to explain to everyone around me that I hadn't been drinking.
Getting back together with my abusive ex, just so that I could take him to a festival, eat waffles with him, make him fall madly in love with me and then dump him as part of a reality TV show.
Falling in love at a funeral. Thankfully, not with the corpse.
I mean, my brain is creative and my dreams have always had a tendency to be a bit weird, but I am knocking it out of the crazy park, lately.
Annoyingly, as well as being creative, my brain is enormously analytical, so I've spent most of my days recently, replaying random scenes and trying to work out WHAT THE HECK THEY MEAN????!!!!
Pictured: Me, every morning. For like, the last month.
I think it might be time to re-establish a healthy bedtime routine. It's probably not doing me any good to force myself to stay awake until my eyes feel like they're falling out of my head, regardless of the bizarre dreams.
If anyone wants to share their "falling alseep without having a mental breakdown first" tips, please do.
I've always hated selfishness. I hate it to the point that I've been known to wear myself out, trying to be unselfish, probably to a ridiculous degree. When my original plans to celebrate my birthday fell through and my friends started asking how else I would like to celebrate it, my stock answer was: "What would you all enjoy?"
I'm not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. Sometimes, we all do things that others could interpret as being selfish, even if it's completely unintentional. But, whilst I have a long list of personal flaws (for starters, I am liable to cry over everything), I do try to ensure that deliberate selfishness isn't one of them.
So, it struck me as being odd when, after a sustained period of stress in my life, someone told me to "be more selfish."
I basically replied with this:
But the more I thought about it, the more right I realised they were. There's a massive difference between negative selfishness and positive selfishness, and it's one I'm still in the process of learning. If I was asked to sum it up as simply as possible, I would say this: "Negative selfishness is about putting yourself first, to the detriment of others. Positive selfishness is about putting yourself first, to ensure you're in better shape to help yourself and others when they need it."
"Selfish" is a word with such negative connotations, that it almost doesn't seem fair to use it when we're actually just talking about taking time for yourself when things get rough. And let's face it, things get rough for all of us, at one time or another...
It's good to try to be there for our families and friends when things are going badly for them. In fact, it's not only a good thing, it's the human thing to do; to try to empathise with and give support to someone you care for, when they're having a hard time. And sometimes, being there for other people almost inevitably means putting yourself further back in the metaphorical queue. That's fair enough. When someone is ill, or exhausted, or going through something major and needs support, putting them first feels like the right thing to do and we do it willingly.
But whilst we're pushing our own needs to the back of the queue, we can't abandon them, entirely. Doing that is to take a shortcut to Misery Town. Do not pass "Go." Do not collect £200.
When you put yourself last one too many times, you start to notice the negative impact that doing so can have on your well being.
To counter that, we need to find the balance between putting ourselves last and putting ourselves first, for a change.
If you feel like you never have time for yourself, there is nothing wrong with taking some.
If you feel as though you're always there for other people and you're taking on their stresses as your own, there is nothing wrong with turning your phone off for an hour and having a bubble bath, or lazing around watching YouTube videos, or whatever else makes you feel relaxed.
If you're dealing with a situation involving a family member or friend who's having a hard time and is leaning on you, there is nothing wrong with arranging to meet for coffee with someone else and talking things through, so you don't keep it all inside. After all, if you're listening to someone else's worries on a regular basis, how else do you stop yourself from internalising their pain, other than by letting it go in some way? Sharing the burden helps.
If you need time away from a situation, take it. If you need to do something nice for yourself, to counter the stress you're going through, do it and don't be ashamed about it. Your loved ones will never want you to be putting yourself last, all the time. Your friends will understand if you need a bit of "you" time. And if they don't understand that, then frankly, they're not very good friends. The people that are good friends will get that to be at your best - for yourself and for them - you need to take some time to put yourself first, every now and then.
I feel like I'm finally getting to grips with the idea that positive selfishness (even though I still don't like using that word) exists. And that deciding "you know what? I'm turning my phone off for a while, I'm watching a film and eating a big bowl of popcorn and I'm not going to think about stressy problems - mine or anyone else's" is not a bad thing to do. On the contrary, it's good for you.
We should all remember, that whilst it's nice to put other people first, we must never continually put ourselves last. It's okay to be "selfish" now and then.
So, my last blog was written whilst I was in the grip of the worst depression I've had in a fairly long time. I'd been in a metaphorical hole for three days, with very little sunlight making its way in. Three days of constant blackness might not seem so bad, but when you're living it, believe me, it feels like a lifetime.
Thankfully, the fog has now lifted and it began to lift the very same day that I wrote that blog entry. I can't help but feel like the two things are related...
I've always been a talker. Ask my parents, friends and anyone else who knows me well and they'll probably tell you that there have been times when they've desperately wanted to search for the 'off'' button. I talked early - by two years old I was having fluent conversations - and I've never really stopped.
When I was two, I looked like a fully grown man. It's weird, I know.
The thing is, talking is the best way of untangling thoughts (besides writing them down, which... Well, I'm doing that right now... BLOGCEPTION). Once you've put your feelings into words, it's much easier to make sense of them. Until you do that, they're just a jumble of noise in your brain; confusing and scary. Trapping your feelings inside and never verbalising them is like continually scribbling on a piece of paper. Eventually, you press down harder and harder and keep going over the same spot, until something gives and the paper rips.
I've always been very self-analytical. I like to know why I think and feel the way I do. I like to be able to rationalise my actions and understand myself that bit better as a result. When I was in that metaphorical hole, for the first day or two, I was unable to really talk about why I felt the way I did. I just had these heavy feelings pushing down on my shoulders and I felt I had to internalise them, because I wasn't sure I entirely understood them. I knew that there were things going on that were making me sad, but I hadn't fully connected the dots, yet. I wasn't sure why I was reacting the way I was and that just made me even more frustrated than I was to begin with. I was managing to get out of bed, go to work and do everything I had to do, but inside, my mind was scribbling furiously at that imaginary sheet of paper and it was weakening under the pressure. A tear was inevitable.
That's when the talking started. And it started, because it had to. Because, if scribbling too hard on a piece of paper causes it to rip, I didn't fancy finding out what would happen to my head, if I carried on metaphorically scribbling all over my poor brain. It was time for some serious untangling.
It started with my mum. I got some stuff off my chest and she really listened and gave me the support (and hugs - lots of hugs) I needed. I emailed my friend Rachel and admitted to feeling depressed and not entirely knowing what to do about it. Then, my sister-in-law called me and I talked to her about the way I was feeling, too. And every time I spoke about it, the weight on my shoulders got a little lighter. The big, tangled mess of thoughts in my mind started to loosen, until it resembled a knot that even I - with my stubby fingers and flimsy, short nails - might be able to unpick.
I had a big heart-to-heart with my best friend and admitted to silly things I'd been keeping in, which I should have been more open about. That was a conversation that led to tears (of the "OH MY GOD, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" variety, rather than the sad kind) and, eventually, a rap battle. My best friend and I are weird. And I wouldn't have us any other way.
She is Dan. I am Phil. Which means my number one crush is... Myself? Er...
The point is, the more talking I did, the better I started to feel. I'm not saying that all forms of depression can be magically cured just by having a damn good natter about it, but it's definitely a worthwhile starting point.
For what it's worth, almost a week since the black dog arrived on my shoulder, it's now off, chasing a squirrel or whatever it does when it's not with me. I can still see it, but I can't feel it anywhere near as much. And a big reason for that, is that I grabbed hold of that knot in my head and, with a little help from my friends (and family), I worked out ways of untangling it. I couldn't have done that if I'd left it in my head. I had to open up to make things better.
I guess I had two realisations, as a result of my most recent trip down the metaphorical hole of depression:
1) Talking is so important. I think you've probably got the gist of that by now, right?!
and
2) LISTENING is vital.
Seriously, had I not had amazingly supportive people to talk to in the first place, I wouldn't have shaken the storm cloud above my head anywhere near as fast. Sometimes, just having someone say "I'm here if you want to talk," even if you're not ready to do that yet, is so important. I've always been someone who tries to make herself available for others to talk to about stuff if they need to, but this most recent trip to the other side of that particular fence has made me all the more determined to keep doing that and to encourage others to do the same. If you want people to be there for you in your hour of need, you need to be there for them in theirs, after all.
The theme song is now kind of stuck in my head, not gonna lie...
I suppose what I'm trying to say is, if there's stuff in your head and you're getting to that point where you feel like your metaphorical paper is about to rip from all the internal scribbling, let it out, if you can. Talk to someone, write it down, talk to yourself if you think it'll help. Just don't keep it all inside.
And if you're on the other side of the equation and there's someone you think is going through their own hard time, just offer them a shoulder. You don't have to be great with advice; just listen. Sometimes that's all it takes.
It's good to talk. And it's good to listen. Heck, it's good to be good to each other. So let's all just keep doing that and the world will be a nicer place.
