Coronavirus And Mental Health

There are things you expect to happen in any given year.  For example, people will inexplicably become obsessed with Love Island, we Brits will moan about the rain until the sun comes and then we'll freak out about being too hot, and the DFS sale will continue to be a never-ending feature of our daily lives.  But what we didn't expect was a global pandemic that would kill hundreds of thousands of innocent people across the world and cause schools, pubs and restaurants to close, whilst we stay at home and obsessively wash our hands until the skin cracks.

And once it became obvious that that was indeed what 2020 was going to bring, what I didn't expect was to receive a text (followed by a letter) from the government, telling me that I was on their "extremely vulnerable" list and that I was under instructions to "shield" for twelve weeks - i.e. not go anywhere or have anyone come to see me.  

I didn't expect to receive a further government message, warning me to pack a hospital bag, "just in case."

I didn't expect supermarkets to offer me next-day delivery, after I'd registered my "vulnerable status" online (although I was hugely grateful, given that I live with my parents and they've both been largely shielding with me).

What I did expect, once all of this had begun to happen, was that it would have one hell of a knock-on effect on my mental health.

Ironically, I'm a fairly introverted person.  I like my own company; I'm happy to watch something on TV curled up on my bed by myself, or spend a quiet evening with my nose in a book.  I've never been a hugely loud person who feels the need to be centre of attention, nor have I ever had a huge social circle and a diary filled with parties to attend.  I am the clichéd "you'll always find me in the kitchen at parties" type, anyway.  Give me food and a drink and don't make me talk to anyone I don't know, please.

But I am still a people person.  I'm just picky about who those people are.  If you're someone who barely knows me and with whom I have to make awkward small-talk, then you might find it hard to imagine me as someone who loves being around people and who is happy to lead a conversation.  But if you're someone close, you'll know that I thrive on being with the ones I care about.  I love cuddles.  I love planning fun days out.  I love spending precious time together doing almost nothing and loving every second.  And for the last seven weeks, that has all gone.  It will remain gone for at least another five.  

And I'm not handling that very well.

A lot of things happen to you when you're someone who thrives on being with the ones you care about and you suddenly have that taken away.  Firstly, you just feel sad.  When I got that text from the government seven weeks ago, I cried.  I cried at the thought of not seeing my best friend for three months.  Not being able to hug her or sit beside her.  Not being able to hang out together at her house or mine.  Not going out for dinners or pub quizzes or any of the other little things that I value as being a precious part of my life.  In the grand scheme of things, three months may seem like a tiny, trivial slither of time.  But for me, it was a case of being told I couldn't see someone I usually saw at least twice a week, often more.  That was a big adjustment to have to make.

Then I started thinking about other people, too.  The friends I was forever saying "we should do this more often" to, when we met for cake or lunch.  The ones I saw less frequently, but who I was sure I'd have been spending at least three or four afternoons out with over the course of a normal three month period.

I thought about my friends at chorus, who I'd normally be singing with every week.  I thought of the catch-ups over a cuppa at the end of rehearsal and the giggles we all have when we get together.

Don't get me wrong; I know I'm very lucky not to live alone.  I have my parents here as well as the dog, so I have company.  Skype, Zoom and Facebook video messenger have all come in handy as ways of staying in touch with people, too.  But, as a friend said yesterday, a video call can't replace a hug when you're really missing someone.

And whilst physical affection has always been something I knew I needed to give and receive, I've started to realise just how important other forms of non-verbal communication are to me, too.  I've always said my best friend and I can communicate entire sentences without words.  Just a particular look from her and I know exactly what she's saying.  We can't do that so easily online.  You can barely hold eye contact when talking via a video call, because you'd both have to be looking at the camera.  And I never realised how much I cherish eye contact until now.

With all of these thoughts and feelings to deal with, my number one urge is to go out for a walk to clear my head.  And...  Well, that's not really allowed.

Again, this is where I know I'm lucky.  I don't live in a flat or a house without any outdoor space and I feel terrible for those that do, who are having to shield.  I know that I'm fortunate to have a garden that's big enough to walk laps of a few times before sheer boredom sets in.  I also live in a pretty quiet road and have braved walking a few feet up and down it (always within sight of my house) twice a day when there's nobody around.  The few times I've seen someone walking, I've legged it across the road or even gone straight back into the garden, so I'm not taking any chances.  But stimulating it isn't.  Walking endlessly up and down the road (not even the whole road, obviously) is not the most interesting path to tread.  I've found myself desperately wanting to just say "to hell with this" and walk into town, but I know I can't.  I reach a certain point, where I can still easily see my house (and reach it within 30 seconds - I really don't go far), then I know I have to fight the urge to carry on and instead turn around and walk back again.  It's frustrating and repetitive, especially for someone who really does use a walk down by the river, or a stroll into town, as a well-practised method of dealing with any mental health issues I might be having.  Feeling sad?  Take the dog for a walk.  Too many thoughts in my head?  Walk into town have a mooch around the shops.  To be stuck in a situation that is making me feel really sad and to not be able to go for a proper walk anywhere has left me struggling to find new ways to try to handle any mental health issues that crop up, not all of which are exactly healthy.  I am, for example, currently obsessed with having a constant "project" to be working on, so that I'm not just thinking about how much I miss someone, or how bored I am of not being able to go anywhere.  But productivity and depression aren't exactly happy bedfellows, so half the time, I'm forcing myself to script and film a video, or obsessively polish my bedroom furniture, when what I actually want to be doing is lying under the duvet, sobbing and eating chocolate until I feel sick.  It's not like me to feel as though I'm almost forcing my feelings to one side all the time.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, usually.  But lately, I feel like every time I try to speak - or even think - about how I feel, the words just don't seem to come.

But sadness isn't the only emotion I've been struggling with.  Feeling isolated is making me horribly needy and paranoid.

Like I said, I wear my heart on my sleeve.  If you're special to me, you'll know about it, either because I will literally say "I love you," or because I show it in my actions.  I've always been really good at reading body language and picking up on non-verbal cues from other people, who maybe don't wear their emotions as visibly as I do mine (I'm well aware I'm weird) and that's all I've really needed in return.  Actions speak louder than words and all that.  But with lack of contact, I don't have those cues to pick up on and I end up being tortured by my own brain.  "They don't miss you, you know.  They're probably glad they don't have to see you.  Why would anyone be sad not to see you?!"  I torment myself over and over, because I'm too bloody proud to say "hey, I know this is needy as hell, but you miss me, right?"  Instead, I dwell and I convince myself nobody does and it sinks me further and further into a sadness I was already struggling to crawl out of.

I also find myself getting paranoid that absence is going to make the heart grow forgetful, rather than fonder.  That when this is all over, I'll be chomping at the bit to see people and they'll have grown used to not having me and my various irritating habits to deal with, so will be rather reluctant to go back to the way things were.

Believe me, if you're reading this and thinking "ugh, what a needy cow," you aren't alone.  I hate it about myself.  

So, sadness, frustration and paranoia are order of the day, right now.  But you know what else is?  Anger.

I don't just mean that "I'm mad that this is happening to me" type of anger.  I mean anger at other people.  Not at anyone I care about, but at the people casually breaking social distancing rules, because they fancy a drive to the seaside and it's only an hour or so away.  At the folks inviting their families round for drinks in the garden, because the sun's out and surely their own family members must be safe to all pop over for the afternoon?!  At the people writing "I had it and it was no worse than the flu, so end lockdown NOW, because it's only vulnerable people who are at risk" on their social media pages.

It's not "only vulnerable people who are at risk," for a start.  Several people have died, despite having no underlying health conditions at all.  But even if it was, who do these people think constitute as "vulnerable" and why the hell do they think those vulnerable people's lives aren't important?!  I'm only 37 years old.  I have family and friends who care about me (see, logically I know this to be true, despite the horrific paranoia).  I have a nephew due in a few months.  My best friend and I are starting a business that I'm excited to get off the ground.  I have places I want to visit when this is all over.  Why am I okay, in the eyes of some people, to be seen as "collateral damage," simply because they're fed up of lockdown?  How can people be so ignorant - so selfish  - as to assume that they should have free reign to go wherever they like, with whomever they choose, purely because they don't think they would be adversely affected by this virus?  How can they be so sure?!  And what about the people who would be hugely affected?  Are we on the vulnerable list supposed to remain indoors for several more months, cut off from those we love, letting our mental health fall further and further into decline, just so a few outwardly healthy people can go out early to try to prove some kind of point?!

I've spoken to people who also found themselves on the government's "vulnerable list" and they are of all ages and come from all walks of life.  Some are children.  So if I seem furiously angry when I see people writing this virus off as "something that only effects the vulnerable," as though the vulnerable don't bloody matter, it's because I AM.  

If I can stand another month or more of going no further than a few feet up my road, only seeing the person I love most through a computer screen and dealing with constant paranoia and depression over the whole situation, then people can adhere to social distancing rules properly, rather than behaving as though they're somehow invincible and don't have to worry about spreading this thing to all and sundry.  And they can sure as hell stop referring to people like me as though our lives don't matter, anyway.

I want to go out, just as much as you do.  I want to hold people I love close and have dinners in restaurants, visit shops again and stop feeling as though my life is on pause.  

And I will.   And so can you.  When it's safe.  Not before.

That's not to say that I think things will all just casually go back to normal.  I know that there are ways in which life will change, following this.  Possibly forever.

I've always been a hugger, but physical affection is going to be reserved for those I'm super close to, now.  I can't wait to put my arms around my best friend, but the rest of the world...  Not so much.  

I've realised my job isn't necessarily the healthiest for me to be in, given my medical conditions.  That's something I'm going to have to think a lot about.  I'll be throwing all my energy into getting our business off the ground, at the very least.

And there are so many little things I won't take for granted, anymore.  Making plans for a trip out, somewhere.  Holding eye contact across a table.  Chorus rehearsals.  A walk around the park.  Little, everyday things that were just a part of my life I assumed would always be there, will now be cherished as they deserve to be.

In the meantime, I will keep going as best I can.  

Stay safe.

My Top Ten Crazy Ex Girlfriend Songs

Around 2-3 years ago, my sister and sister-in-law were visiting and had gone into the kitchen to watch something.  I could hear them laughing to the point that I became determined to find out just what was so funny.  After I joined them in the kitchen, they showed me what it was that they were watching; a musical comedy show called Crazy Ex Girlfriend.  They were on episode two and the song that caused so much mirth was called I'm So Good At Yoga.  I watched it with them and by the end of that one song, I was completely and utterly hooked.

Last night, after four seasons of sheer brilliance, Crazy Ex Girlfriend reached its finale.  A show that started off as a slightly oddball pastiche of romantic comedy, about a woman named Rebecca uprooting her life to chase down her first love and win him back, had ended up becoming a raw and yet ultimately uplifting portrayal of mental health problems, a beacon of feminism and inclusivity and a heartwarming display of the many different forms of love we find in our everyday lives.  If it sounds a little ridiculous to say that my life is better for having discovered the show, so be it.  It's true.

Crazy Ex Girlfriend took comedy tropes and turned them on their heads.  It used music to deliver jokes and communicate ideas fresher and braver than many shows dare to put out into the world.  The cast were mind-boggling in their talents - this was no mere acting job.  This was an ensemble who danced and sang in a whole host of styles.  Over the course of 4 seasons, over 150 songs in a wide variety of genres were gifted to us and it's for that reason that the only way I can truly explain how much this show means to me and just why it's so amazing, is to go through some of those songs right now.  Besides, I can't resist a top ten list...

10) "I Have Friends"

So, a few months after I got really into Crazy Ex Girlfriend, some stuff started going on in my life.  A stupid argument with one friend led to the implosion of my entire friendship group and shortly afterwards, I realised the person I'd spent years referring to as my "best friend" was...  REALLY not.  Like... A whole lot of "NOT."

Being the kind of weirdo who mercilessly mocks my own tragedies in life as a kind of bizarre coping mechanism, I took to singing this song to myself as a way of distracting my mind from the fact that I kind of... didn't have friends.  Which, you know, is essentially what Rebecca is doing in this song.  

Sarcastically singing "I have friends, I DEFINITELY have friends" was just a thing I did to get through a bad situation.   And it worked!  I'll always have a soft spot for it, as a result.  Also, just like Rebecca realises she very much does have an incredible new support network of friends as the series continues, so I went on to realise I wasn't friendless, after all.  Hooray!

I Have Friends, I DEFINITELY have friends!

9) "Let's Have Intercourse"

Whilst we naturally focus on Rebecca and her character development across the four seasons, it's important to remember that one of the awesome things about Crazy Ex Girlfriend is the way it constantly develops the other characters in the show, too.

When we meet Nathaniel, he is hard, uncompromising and seemingly uncaring.  Only once he is brought off his pedestal (by a bout of diarrhoea, because duh, of course that's what it took) and eventually realises his strange crush on Rebecca is actually love (that plot line is not connected to any bowel functions...), does he start to change as a person.  And what's perfect is that he changes willingly, originally purely because he thinks only by becoming a nicer person will Rebecca want to be with him, but ultimately because he realises he's happier in all areas of his life when he does make the effort to be a better man.  By the end of the final season, he's almost unrecognisable from the emotionless taskmaster he entered the show as.

Crazy Ex Girlfriend does pastiches of well known songs and singers extraordinarily well and this song is a perfectly pitched play on Thinking Out Loud, by Ed Sheeran, but without any of the romance.  As a result, it's both hilarious and somehow instantly familiar, even the very first time you hear it.  And as for Rachel Bloom's ballet dancing... Wow.  I mean, I know I have a super massive crush on her and I'm therefore biased, but the girl knocks it out of the park.

I won't be back to normal til I see what your nipples look like...

...They're probably straightforward nipples.

8) "A Boyband Made Up of Four Joshes"

In season one of Crazy Ex Girlfriend, Rebecca's psyche is often explored through her reminiscing over events from her childhood and early teens.  In episode three, she recalls inviting everyone from school to come over and watch a boy band concert on pay per view at her house.  Distressingly for young Rebecca, very few kids show up and when they do, they witness the breakdown of her parents' marriage, explaining why adult Rebecca has some pretty major issues with abandonment, lack of a reliable male figure in her life and the prospect of throwing parties...

Of course, at this party, Josh turns up and Rebecca instantly believes it's his presence (and not all the background work Paula's done to ensure plenty of people actually come...) that makes it a success.  She dreamily revisits the pay per view boy band concert she never got to see, only in her own private fantasy, every member of the band is Josh.  Now, having been a  big fan of boy bands when I was growing up (and...er... I quite like them now, too...), I'm not about to suggest that anyone who enjoys a boy band has some mental health issues they need to address, but I do love the fact that in this song, the boy band is very much presented as a non-threatening entity, where all four members are offering to "fix" Rebecca's problems.  Not only does it tie in to the fantasy a lot of young girls have (holding my hands up to this one) about the "perfect" member of a boy band being the ideal person who'd understand them and love them the right way (not like real guys, who might hurt them...), but it also neatly continues to emphasise Rebecca's delusional insistence that she requires the love of this one specific person in order to make her better, rather than working on fixing herself.

The song is also catchy as heck!

Baby you can kiss all your unexplained symptoms goodbye,

you're never gonna miss all those nightmares in which you tend to die...

7) "You're My Best Friend (And I Know I'm Not Yours)"

Crazy Ex Girlfriend has always been a fantastic analyser of relationships, be they romantic or otherwise.  Whereas Rebecca's obsessive nature and often over-the-top feelings for her romantic interests was one of the main themes of the show, other characters and their relationships were usually given a fair amount of airtime, too.  Darryl, originally Rebecca's boss in the show, is a favourite of mine, because (again, I hold my hands up) I often find that I identify with him.  

Darryl is unashamed about his feelings and he finds it hard to keep them in.  He loves completely and the people he loves are exceptionally important to him.  Before Rebecca comes along, he lives quite happily, believing his workmate Paula is his best friend.  Then Rebecca enters the equation and she and Paula have such an intense level of closeness, it's difficult for Darryl to get much of a look in.  His feelings towards Paula don't change, but it's clear that she thinks of Rebecca as a much closer friend than he is.  The trouble is, Darryl isn't great at stepping back and making Paula feel comfortable.  He has a few boundary issues and whilst they come from a good place - loving and caring about the people in his life - they can serve to make people feel a little uncomfortable (I'm hoping this isn't something we share...).  So, this song is Darryl's way of recognising that he's perhaps not as important to Paula as he wishes he was, but that that doesn't have to change the way he feels about her and she doesn't need to feel bad about it.

Also, being that I am someone who loves completely and finds it hard to keep my feelings in, but who also self-analyses a lot and isn't as kind to myself as I possibly should be, I can massively identify with the idea of having to say "sure, I adore you but I realise you probably adore other people more."  Tragic?  Kinda.  

"That's why I love you like a sister 

and you love me like a second cousin..."

6) "I Hate Everything But You"

At this point, picking songs and ordering them has gotten hard.  In a lot of ways, this should be top three, but it's landed at number six and I had to bump a lot of songs I like, along the way.

When Skylar Astin arrived in season four, taking over the role of Greg from Santino Fontana, I had some... feelings.  I had shipped "Grebecca" hard and I'd spent two thirds of season two and all of season three wishing that Greg would come back and that they'd eventually get back together, but that was all based on the original Greg.  Having him back and it being a different actor felt weird for a while.

But Skylar is a great actor and singer and his portrayal of a slightly more easy-going Greg (believe it or not, given this song!) was hard to resist.  Greg, with his enormous walls around himself and his habit of snarkily criticising things, was always the antithesis of Rebecca and her overly-emotional, almost childlike naivety and this song proved that Skylar Astin's portrayal of the character was just as true to who Greg really was as Santino Fontana's version in seasons one and two.

Rebecca's high level of enthusiasm for things that others might deem merely "okay" is something I very much identify with.  I get ludicrously excited about things and it's definitely fair to say I sometimes feel things a bit too much.  So I understood her disappointment at Greg not being as ecstatic about their day trip to a water park as she hoped he might be.  That said, I think this song is rather beautiful in its own way and I feel like if someone wanted to serenade me with it, I'd probably melt!

I hate the phrase "love conquers all" 

and I hate that it's true.

5) "Friendtopia"

Crazy Ex Girlfriend does an incredible job of exploring the ways that friendships can affect our lives just as much as any other kind of relationship, and it often uses the friendships the characters have as a mirror to their behaviour in their romantic attachments.  For example, the way Rebecca tries to force Valencia and Heather into her idea of what a "girl group" should be is hugely similar to the way she desperately tries to squeeze her love life into her own unrealistic fantasy of what romance is.  In a lot of ways, the season 2 episode that contains the song Friendtopia is difficult to watch, as Rebecca attempts to engineer two women who've openly confessed to not having had a lot of close female friends in the past, into being her new "squad," whilst also failing to recognise that in doing so, she's massively alienating her best friend, Paula.  It's a clever way of highlighting that Rebecca's mental health issues don't only affect her romantic relationships, as well as being a reminder that friendships are better when they're not forced.  Rebecca's behaviour risks causing the end of the friendship she has with Paula, simply because it doesn't fit her pop-culture-influenced mental image of what female friendship is supposed to look like.

Also, this song sounds like the Spice Girls and takes the concept of "Girl Power" to slightly scary places.  Which will never fail to amuse me.

All citizens must watch Hocus Pocus, or they will be killed.

ZIG-A-ZOW!

4) "It Was A Shit Show"

This song marks the first time (very much not the last) that Crazy Ex Girlfriend made me cry.  I mentioned earlier that I was very much Team Grebecca and despite the hugely dysfunctional nature of their relationship, I held out a lot of hope that they'd eventually settle into something lasting and healthy.  Greg's perfectly sensible decision to call it off and go to business school in an attempt to get his life back on track, having admitted to being an alcoholic, was one that was hard to argue with, however.  Santino Fontana was also one hell of a singer and the emotion in his voice during that last refrain "I won't regret this beautiful, heart-stopping, breathtaking, life-changing..." broke me.

It's a huge credit to the show's songwriters (Rachel Bloom, Jack Dolgen and Adam Schlesinger) that this song manages to so perfectly encapsulate the tugging of the heartstrings that takes place when you know you have to end something for your own good, despite knowing that it's going to hurt like hell to walk away.  I'm putting the original show-version of this song as a link, because Santino's version is gorgeous and fully deserves to be heard, but I'd urge you all to seek out Rachel Bloom's live tour version, because DAMN.

Not to be crass,

but this sucked ass.

This was a shit show.

3) "Getting Bi"

Okay, let's get emotionally honest.  

First things first: if there was a couple on Crazy Ex Girlfriend who I shipped even harder than Greg and Rebecca, it was, without question, Darryl and White Josh.  

Darryl is a divorcee, who thinks he's 100% straight.  So, when he starts to connect with White Josh, he thinks it's purely as a friend until, after helping him clean up following a party, White Josh kisses him on the cheek and winks as he leaves.  This causes Darryl to openly question what it might mean and whether he's got to look at himself in a whole new light.  He tries to tactfully find out whether White Josh is gay, by asking why they call him White Josh and not Gay Josh (way to go, Darryl!) and is stunned when White Josh laughs and says it's not like people call him "Old Gay Darryl."  Darryl insists that he's straight, but the fact is, he's obviously intrigued and excited by the idea that White Josh might like him.  There are full-on butterflies and loaded looks and it's just too adorable for words.  Eventually, Darryl realises that he's bisexual - a fact he never cottoned on to until he was middle-aged and is therefore pretty stunned by.  But Darryl being Darryl, he's also not someone who can hide his feelings.  He quickly tells White Josh about how excited he is to be "out" and when White Josh suggests he try some gay dating apps, Darryl gushes that he won't find anyone he likes as much as him.

AAAAAAAAAAW.

Getting Bi is not only a massively catchy Huey Lewis pastiche, but it's just perfectly played on a variety of levels.  Firstly, it's very on-brand for Darryl.  Of course he would feel the need to gleefully dance around, telling everyone about his sexuality whether they want to know or not.  Secondly, the reaction from everyone is perfect.  They're not remotely bothered.  They've been encouraging and helpful and nobody has seemed remotely fazed by the fact that their "straight" friend is agonising over his feelings for a guy.  The only thing that riles them is that their boss is singing "yes I like sex" in the middle of a work meeting.

Now, I watched that episode at a fairly important time.  As I mentioned at the start of this countdown, I got really into this show when I was going through a rough period with friends... well, not being friends, anymore.  Something that came out of that whole thing was that a girl I knew at the time offered to be a support, over the internet.  We'd talk every 2-3 days for an hour or so and she'd just check in on me and see if I was okay.  I didn't really think anything of it, until I realised how much I was looking forward to hearing from her.  And how pretty I thought she was.  And how much she made me smile.  Eventually, I asked myself a very simple question: If she asked me out, what would I say?  And I realised the answer was a resounding yes.  It suddenly didn't matter to me that she was a woman and I'd only ever been with guys and only ever imagined myself with a guy.  I figured her gender would be too small a reason to turn her down, given how much I liked her.  There'd be no harm in going on a date with her, just to see.

She never asked me out and I never told her how I felt.  And given all the crap that was going on in my life at the time, I didn't quite have the emotional capacity to deal with what this newfound revelation might actually mean about me as a person, so I sort of... Pushed it out of my thoughts.

Until around ten months later when I had that feeling "like glitter was exploding inside me" (to borrow a quote from the show I'm meant to be discussing) and that feeling was caused by locking eyes with a woman I was just instantly attracted to.  That was when I started to admit to myself that actually, yes, I was bisexual.  And that that was fine.  No biggie.

Seeing LGBT representation - specifically bisexual representation - provided so perfectly in Crazy Ex Girlfriend was a big deal for me and that was compounded in season 3, when Valencia - again, someone who considered herself completely straight and had only ever been interested in guys - met Beth and instantly "clicked" with her, then when the show did an "eight months later..." time jump, the pair were shown sitting, holding hands and clearly very much in love.  And just like with Darryl, nobody batted an eyelid.  Valencia had fallen for someone who was right for her.  That person's gender was completely irrelevant.

The message Crazy Ex Girlfriend sent out with these two storylines was that you can think you're one thing, only to meet someone who makes you realise you're something else entirely.  And that that doesn't have to be something frightening, or shocking.  It's just about meeting someone you click with and realising that love doesn't always take the form you expect it to.  You are who you are and that's fine.

God, I love this show.

I don't care if you wear high heels or a tie,

you might just catch my eye because I'm definitely bi.

2) "You Stupid Bitch"

In a lot of ways, Rebecca Bunch is an anti-hero.  She's a hugely troubled individual, whose actions are often questionable at best.  In the episode from which this song is taken, she crosses a huge line and goes from "quirky girl driven to bad choices by her naive belief in happy ever afters" to "actually borderline psychotic."  Having broken into Josh's apartment to delete a text she sent him by mistake, she's mortified when he finds her there and she has to make a quick excuse.  Lying that someone threw a rock through her window and she was too afraid to be at home alone, Rebecca is put on the spot when Josh offers to go back to her place with her and she's forced to call Paula and beg her best friend to put a rock through the window before she and Josh get back home.  The trouble is, the rock in question turns out to be a decorative rock that Paula's husband took from Rebecca's coffee table, whilst nipping into the apartment to use the bathroom.  Josh quickly realises that the rock came from inside the apartment and questions everything that has happened, eventually leaving Rebecca alone and devastated.  She tries to fall back on Greg, who happens to be passing by, but he's determined not to let himself get close to her again and Rebecca ends up spiralling into self-pity, realising she's "ruined everything."

Whilst I'd like to think I've never done anything as stereotypically "crazy" as the events leading up to this song, I can empathise with feeling like you've done something monumentally stupid and ruined everything.  I'm someone who beats herself up over the tiniest little thing and I've been known to attend the odd private pity party for myself.  This song has, therefore, become my go-to tune when I'm feeling especially down on myself and fancy wallowing for a bit.  It's a very pretty ballad and it perfectly encapsulates that angry-sad feeling of "well, I'm the worst human ever."

Bitch.  You're a stupid bitch.  

And lose some weight.

1) Face Your Fears

Paula Proctor is an absolute badass.  Yes, she's also a deeply flawed character in a lot of ways, given the huge amount of insane stuff we find out she's done in order to help Rebecca win Josh, over the course of the first season.  She pours all of her energy into her best friend's love life, rather than face her dissatisfaction with her own marriage, her career and her family life, for a long time, which is...  Less than healthy.

But Paula is fiercely loyal, tough, smart, funny and someone who you would absolutely want fighting your corner for you.  Besides which, Donna Lynne Champlin has one of the best voices on the whole show, combined with some of the greatest comic timing, both of which combine to make Face Your Fears my absolute favourite song from the show.  The advice she gives in the song is unquestionably bad, but even having heard it dozens of times, it still makes me laugh.  It was also only the second song I ever heard from the show and it takes me straight back to sitting in my kitchen with my sister and sister-in-law, marvelling at the amazing TV series we'd just discovered.

And just like that, this blog has gone full-circle.

If a bear runs at you in the woods, don't run away.

Look it deep in the eyes, put your hand on its chest and say

"BEAR, I'M NOT AFRAID!"

There's not much more I can say, other than thank you to Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh McKenna for creating this incredible TV show.  For giving the world something that picks apart stereotypes and portrays mental health problems realistically, even though that sometimes means it's uncomfortable to watch.  For showing female sexuality as an empowering thing and female friendships as something beyond the usual sitcom trope of "the girls," drinking wine and giggling on the sofa.  For making it blatantly obvious that a person can fall in love with anyone, regardless of gender and regardless of the way that person might have previously identified, sexually.  For giving us characters who are believable, with massive flaws and ridiculous ideas, as well as all the things that make them loveable. 

And I should add that several songs I love didn't make this list, purely because I would have been here all night, doing a top fifty.  So, special mentions to:


Let's Generalise About Men

Dream Ghost

Group Hang

We'll Never Have Problems Again

Ping Pong Girl

And so many other songs.  Just...  Go watch the show.

You won't regret it.

I'm A Liddle Enraged...

Every morning, almost as soon as my alarm goes off, I find myself browsing social media, as a way of joining the ranks of the already-awake.  There's something about scrolling through posts about anything from someone's breakfast to their hectic school run each morning, that forces me to shake off sleep and wrench myself from beneath the duvet, in order to be a part of the world, again.

Some mornings, I stumble upon a funny article, or a really witty tweet that ensures that my day starts with a laugh.  And then, other mornings, I'll find myself reading something that raises my blood pressure and means that, once I get up, I'm stomping about like a bear with a sore everything.

Today was one of those days.

Now, there are people in this world whose sole existence is to court controversy, because they have no other discernible talent.  Katie Hopkins, for example.  And whilst I don't ascribe to the "don't feed the trolls" mentality that others have regarding these people (because I believe we should call out things that are wrong or harmful), I also don't like to give them too much of the attention they crave.  So, I'm kind of annoyed with myself for the fact that I'm sitting here, writing a blog in response to an article that was blatantly written with the intention of whipping up a frenzy of "liberal leftie" anger.  But then again, the article is full of genuinely problematic material that has the potential to do more harm than good, so...

This is the article I stumbled upon as I browsed Twitter, this morning.  Written by Boris Johnson's uglier brother from another mother, Rodd Liddle, the piece begins by bemoaning the fact that Scotland has outlawed smacking children.  Liddle refers to smacking kids as "one of life's harmless little pleasures."  And again, I'm really mad with myself for letting that despicable line enrage me as much as it did, seeing as I'm sensible enough to know Liddle wrote it purely to have that effect, but here's the thing: I work with children.  I'm trained in safeguarding and behaviour management.  So, not only do I know how to discipline a child without ever resorting to hitting, I also know what the effects of frequent physical punishment on a child can be.  I know personally, having been raised in an era where smacking was still relatively commonplace, that it doesn't bloody work.  It doesn't build respect, it instills fear.  It instills shame, when you're trying to cover up a mark the next day in your PE lesson.  Maybe a smack stops a child from doing the thing you're punishing them for, but they don't really learn why they shouldn't do whatever it is they did wrong, which makes it pointless.

In the 17 years I've worked in childcare, I've dealt with cases of bruising from "physical discipline" in the home - although thankfully, not for many years.  I've heard firsthand accounts that would make your hair stand on end.  I've counselled teenagers who have been smacked all their lives, for the most minor misdemeanours, and have not only lost respect for their parents as a result, but have never been talked to about right and wrong, so end up confused and scared.  And for that reason, hearing someone describe smacking a child as "one of life's harmless little pleasures" makes me feel physically sick.  

The point of disciplining a child is not to gain some kind of sick enjoyment from "hearing them howl in pain," as the article claims.  It's to teach them to grow into decent adults.  You don't do that by giving them "a nasty pinch to the upper arm."  All that does is make them associate whatever they're being punished for with pain.  Sure, that might stop them doing it again, but as I said earlier, it won't teach them why.  And that why?  Is important.  That's what makes a child stop and think about their actions, in future.  It's what encourages a child to consider others and make decisions that ultimately make them better people.  Because they understand why they shouldn't steal someone else's toy, or bully a kid in the playground.  At each stage of life, a child is learning the right and wrong ways to behave.  It's the jobs of parents, care-givers, teachers etc to reaffirm the right way and explain what's wrong with the alternative.  Can that be done purely by giving them a slap every time they make the wrong choice?

And it's not as if we live in an age where smacking is the only choice a parent or care-giver has.  Ground the kid.  Stop them going to the park after school.  Take their iPad or mobile phone away from them for 24 hours.  Discipline should exist and it's important (believe me, I've seen the consequences of not disciplining a child at all), but it doesn't have to be solely physical for it to work.

Liddle immediately goes on to prove himself full of manure, when he suggests that nowadays, we're "expected to smile indulgently" at "unruly brats" in restaurants, explaining that they're probably only "screaming their little lungs out" because they "shouldn't be there in the first place."

I was taken to restaurants from a young age.  I was also raised in a family that recognised the importance of eating together.  There weren't multiple meals cooked, because I kicked off and refused to eat my greens (actually, it was mushrooms I refused to touch and I still do, but that's besides the point).  Mum made one meal and we all ate it.  Together.  My parents modelled the right way to hold a knife and fork and my sister and I learned to copy.  We'd sit around the table and talk as we ate - we still do.  There is absolutely no reason why kids can't be taken to restaurants and to suggest as much is stupid.  Sure, I've been to restaurants where parents are letting their kids run between tables, screaming their heads off and in those circumstances, yes I've bitten my lip.  But I've had many more meals out where children are sitting at the table perfectly nicely, talking to their families, or colouring in books to entertain themselves before their dinner arrives.  When we start saying things like "kids shouldn't be in restaurants," we may as well revert back to "children should be seen and not heard," which is just utterly backwards.  Kids need a variety of experiences in order to learn how to behave in different situations and why should they miss out on a dinner at a restaurant, just because some middle-class twonk who enjoys hitting children says so?!

But, perhaps shockingly, it wasn't just the "smacking kids brings me such joy" stuff that solely caused my ire, in this particular pile of garbage.  Because Liddle goes on to talk about mental health issues in a way that made that funny vein in my head start throbbing...

Liddle describes a rise in mental illnesses amongst children and young people as evidence that "we're not bringing our children up terribly well."  But I would almost go as far as to argue the opposite.  Hear me out...

Back in the "glory days" of acceptable racism, the British stiff-upper lip and disregard for public safety, nobody talked about their feelings.  Parents with a teenager who expressed hormonal angst would almost certainly have told them to "man up," or simply said "we don't talk about things like that."  It wasn't that mental illnesses didn't exist back then - possibly in similar numbers to these days - it was that we didn't speak about it.  We repressed it.  We forced those suffering to shut up about it, because it wasn't the "done thing" to discuss depression, back then.

Thankfully, we don't live in a world like that, anymore.  Dinosaurs like Liddle might pine for those times, but mercifully, they are gone.  Teenagers today are far more aware of social issues.  They can be more open about their sexuality and they are arguably more politically aware.  Most importantly, these days, if a child or young person expresses anxiety or depression, we don't try to sweep it under the carpet.  We let them talk.  We encourage them to work through their emotions.  It's medically proven that bottling things up can cause all manner of physical and mental problems, so why are certain people like Liddle so desperately keen on forcing our young people back into silence?!

Indeed, Liddle refers to "safe-spaces" and the "terror of encountering an opinion which differs from their own" as evidence of a "profound derangement."  Yet, most of the teenagers I know thrive in debates.  They enjoy thrashing out their views with someone who holds the opposite opinion.  Why?  Because young people these days are given the freedom to express themselves and they have far more on hand to help them form their opinions than my generation or any generation before have had.  The internet, social media, societal awareness growing constantly... All of those things help people of all generations - but perhaps the young in particular - to form their views and to read up on those who oppose them.  And as for "safe spaces," if you're someone who genuinely scoffs at the idea of places where a person can speak freely, without judgement, then you must be lucky enough to have never needed one.  Those of us who have encountered abuse, sexual harassment or anything else that means we might want to be somewhere we know will be free from trolls mocking our experiences, know how vital safe spaces can be.  It was a particular Twitter page that advertised itself as a "safe space for abuse survivors" that was the first place I was able to truly talk about what happened to me, without fear of reprisal.  That was a vital step towards putting my life back together and if someone wants to mock safe spaces, I can only say that that person must have no idea how important safe spaces have the potential to be, for those who really need them.  I won't listen to people insult the idea of a safe space without standing up for them, in return.  Too often, critics believe a "safe space" refers to wrapping someone in cotton wool, protecting them from differing opinions and treating them as though everything they say must be right.  That's not my experience at all and I don't like seeing safe spaces reduced to that overly simplistic and unhelpful stereotype.

Liddle goes on to suggest that "mental illness and gender stuff" aren't stigmatised the way they once were (as though that's a bad thing) and instead insists that they now have a "very potent cachet."  He describes young people as "revelling in their victimhood" and it's at this point in the article that I want to reach through the screen and smack Rodd Liddle, so that he howls in pain.

When I was a teenager, I was horrifically bullied, because I wasn't as pretty as the other girls in my class.  I tried to hang myself with my school tie when I was twelve, maybe thirteen years old.  This was something you just didn't talk about, so I kept it largely to myself.  I didn't talk about how depressed I had become, because I was embarrassed and ashamed.  Instead, I would take the badges off the backpack I wore and run the pins along my arms, creating ugly, raised, red lines.  If I couldn't let the pain out by talking openly, I had to let it out some other way.

I don't say any of that in order to revel in my victimhood.  I say it because I know I'm not alone.  And I know how vital it is to realise that others are either going through the same thing, or even better, that they went through it and came out the other side.  Because when I was a teenager, it didn't feel as though there even was another side.

I was far from alone.  When I finally did open up about my experiences, I was stunned to discover how many people had gone through similar things.  These days, we know how common depression, stress and anxiety are in teenagers.  Their bodies are going through physical changes, they have hormones raging through their veins and they're trying to work out who they are and what they want to do with their lives.  It's an enormously stressful time and it's not in the least bit surprising to me that now that we're more open about mental health, more and more young people are talking openly about their experiences.

Liddle - frankly disgustingly -  describes mental illnesses as "the new, exciting activities of our young people," which is dismissive and ignorant.  Anyone who has ever dealt with depression on any level will tell you how un-exciting it is.  There's no glory in it and anyone who does "revel" in depression is almost certainly not actually suffering from it.  The fact is, when you're depressed, rather than "revel" in your "exciting new activity," you would do almost anything to stop feeling as hopeless as you do.  I know that even now, at the ripe old age of 35, I often feel as though my entire teens were robbed by depression.  I should have been out having fun and making stupid mistakes.  But I spent much more of that time inside, hating myself and feeling embarrassed for not being a "proper" teenager.

The fact that mental illness is so openly discussed now and that there is much more acceptance of it is not a damning indictment of our terrible, modern world.  It's an endorsement of our ability to learn to drop our stigmatised, negative attitudes.  Rodd Liddle's reduction of mental illness to some kind of badge of honour, worn by attention-seeking teens, is the kind of harmful bullsh!t that too often stops young people from speaking out.  And not speaking out and getting help can lead to suicide.  So, in my view, it's highly important that young people continue to talk openly about mental health.  It's Rodd Liddle - and those who harbour similarly damaging views - who need to shut up.

Call me a liberal leftie.  Tell me I'm too PC.  I genuinely don't care.  But when I see someone firstly gleefully claiming to take great pleasure from causing physical pain to a child, I'm going to call that person out as, frankly, abusive.  And when that same person then reduces mental illness to some kind of weak, attention-seeking and seems to want to hark back to a problematic age when mental health was stigmatised and swept under the carpet, I will also call that person out as a clueless, potentially harmful idiot.

If you're feeling depressed, stressed or anxious, please talk to someone.  Please be open about your mental health and if you need a safe space, free from idiots like Rodd Liddle who choose to mock you and make accusations that cause you to feel unable to speak out, this blog can be one, if you need it to be.

And Rodd?  I hope your daughter continues to grow up in a world where she can talk openly about emotional wellbeing and mental health if she ever needs to.   And as for your enjoyment of causing her physical pain, I'm going to end this with a quote from my Dad:

"I'd say if someone is actually getting pleasure out of hitting their child, then they must be sick in the head."

I'm inclined to agree.

I Need A Little Time...

I'm not very good at taking time for myself.  It's funny, because I really thought I was.  I'm good at binge-watching TV shows on Netflix, with a scented candle lit and a big bowl of popcorn on my lap.  It's just, I've recently discovered that that's not entirely the same thing.

Because often, whilst I'm watching TV, I'm also checking my phone, to see if anyone has texted.  If someone has, I feel the need to reply right away, because I know how much I hate it when you message someone and they either never respond at all, or they take days to do so.  I feel that need to reply even more if the person texting has some kind of problem they need to talk through, or if they might be feeling lonely, angry or just fed up.  

And, whilst I'm half-watching TV and checking my phone to see if there are texts I need to reply to, I'm also checking Twitter, to ensure that the abuse-awareness account I run isn't being forgotten about.  

Before I know it, my "Me Time" has turned into "Me, You, Them And Whoever Else Time."

Normally, that's actually pretty fine.  I'm a people-person.  I like to have other people around me.  I like being in touch with people.  But my problem is, I have a habit of putting other people first.

Yes, I know.  That sounds like a humblebrag.  "Oooh, I'm just soooo selfless.  I put myself second aaaaall the tiiiiime."

But, I promise you, I'm not trying to sound like that.

I just mean that if someone's need seems to be greater than mine, I will put my own needs second, in order to accommodate theirs.  I tell myself that it's a nice, compassionate and mature way to be.  But, in reality, it's not always helpful.

Because, in deciding that my feelings are less important than everyone else's, I end up doing a disservice to myself.  I end up feeling guilty if I tell someone that they've made me feel hurt or angry (and, sadly, recent experience in that area has made me feel like I should never voice those feelings again).  Indeed, sometimes I end up swallowing those feelings entirely, rather than risk a negative response to them.

I end up pushing myself to be there for everyone else, whilst ignoring my own feelings.  My gut reaction to seeing someone I barely know on Twitter saying that they feel sad or lonely, for example, is to offer them my inbox as a place to rant.  To offer my metaphorical shoulders to cry on.  But too often, what I really need, is someone to talk to, myself.

What happens when you bury your own needs and feelings?  They start coming out, elsewhere.  You get short-tempered with people who have done nothing wrong.  You feel absolutely furious with people who have (anger just starts gnawing at you like a dog with a bone).  You start feeling the physical symptoms of stress.  For me, in the last 4 weeks, that's meant a worsening of my asthma, a return of the griping stomach pains I'm on medication to prevent, lack of decent sleep leading to exhaustion and a desperate wish to escape.  To literally anywhere.

Thankfully - and it seems bizarre to use that word in this context, but go with it - I'm having counselling, as a result of the grief I'm still going through because of losing two of my closest friends in the world.   So, I was able to talk these feelings through with my therapist, this week.  Her advice?

Go off the radar, a little.  Stop trying to be there for absolutely everyone but yourself.  Put Emma first, for a while.

It's alien and weird.  All week long, I haven't sent a single text to anyone, asking "how are you?"  Not because I don't care about any of the people I usually get in touch with to ask that question.  But, because I recognise how thinly I was spreading myself.  How much I was ignoring my feelings in order to try to put everyone else first.  

Because if anyone had texted me that question, had I been brave enough to answer it honestly, I would have had to say: "I'm not okay."

The fact of the matter is, you can't be all things to all people.  And you can't be anything to anyone, if you're not looking after yourself.

It's not selfish to say "I can't do X," or "I don't want to do Y."  It's perfectly reasonable to feel a negative response to something and to express it.  And it's not a character flaw to step back from the world and concentrate on fixing yourself, first and foremost.  Because nobody else can: you have to recognise what your needs are, what your problems are and what you can do to sort them out.  Nobody else can do it for you.  And, in realising that, I finally realised that I can't fix everyone else's problems, either.  Offering a stranger the chance to "DM me, if you ever need to talk" is kind and thoughtful, but there is no pressure on me to cure anyone's woes, because I can't.  

I'll always be someone who likes to please people.  I'll still be someone who offers her shoulder for strangers and friends alike to cry on and who tries to go along with what others want to do, because I don't like letting anyone down, or making people feel like I don't care.  

But I can't do it, right now.  I need to fix my own stress.  I need to concentrate on what I want and what I need.  I need to fall off the radar, just a little, and fill my life with things that make me feel happy.

I need a little time to put me first.  

And that's okay.