Relax

I was going to go back to blogging about books because I’m a bit fed up of talking about myself and I’m sure you are too - blah, blah, blah, insecurity, blah, blah, blah, body issues, blah, blah, unsuccessful forays into veganism...etc.  But I’m going to expand on that by focusing on reading, amongst other things, as an aid to relaxation, instead.

Reading

So let’s talk about books first, yeah, ‘cause everybody loves books, don’t they? And if they don’t, they should do because reading is good for you, it’s a FACT:

https://www.realsimple.com/health/preventative-health/benefits-of-reading-real-books
If you can’t be bothered to click on the link - it’s a very short, snappy article, but that’s your business, and you’re already reading this so I thank you for that, I’ll paraphrase it for you: reading makes you more intelligent, empathetic and it’s very relaxing! Bosh!

I am currently reading: The Good Immigrant - Edited by Nikesh Shukla

I’ve been meaning to read this for quite some time, since the E.U referendum, in fact. Perhaps it doesn’t seem like the most gentle and calming bedtime read but I’m certainly experiencing all kinds of ‘Oh, my god - that’s me!’ points of recognition in the book, and I’m only four essays in. And there’s something very reassuring about seeing your experiences reflected in literature. Even if you don't have any experience of immigration, historical or otherwise, yourself, (What I've read so far of) The Good Immigrant is a highly entertaining and illuminating read.
P.S It's only when reading something so choc-full of diversity and representation, that you realise how lacking in diversity other things are: posters, adverts, the little picture of the journalist who has written the piece you are reading (not this piece - other pieces). The people who produced The Good Immigrant are crowdfunding to produce a periodical called The Good Journal. You can contribute here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thegoodjournal/the-good-journal-a-quarterly-literary-magazine?ref=email

I've just finished reading:  All Grown Up - by Jami Attenberg.

I can’t go into too much detail about this book as I read it for book club and we haven’t had the meeting yet. I have a feeling that this might be one that the others in my book club either
a) Read and hate and blame me for choosing it and hating it. Or
b) Don’t bother to read at all.

All I'll say about All Grown Up is that it’s an examination of the life of single woman in New York and that one of the reviews said it was more Fleabag than Sex and the City. To me this felt like a book about family. The main character, ANDREA, details her relationships with men, her mother and with her friends. It doesn’t pull any punches; is quite brutal in places, in it’s honesty, but it is witty and well written and it has a heart.

Moving on from books, the thing I keep meaning to go back to and, aside from the odd, impromptu, stress-busting downward-facing-dog, never quite ever doing it:

Yoga

Not only does it aid relaxation but this study claims that it helps with period pain too:

http://www.stylist.co.uk/life/yoga-can-ease-period-pain-and-pms-health-fitness-exercise-pain-relief-science
Someone give me a kick up the arse would you!

The thing I still do and which, despite my gleeful abandonment of My Fitness pal (you ain't no pal of mine!) is keeping me from becoming one of those poor folk who become so vast that the emergency services have to remove a wall in order to lift them onto a pallet and transport them to hospital:

Walking

Yes, I’ve already blogged about it:
http://msmuddles.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/the-joy-of-walking.html

Being around animals

My brother and I used to take great pleasure in telling our pet-hating father that studies had shown that stroking a cat could bring you heart rate down and was shown to aid relaxation.

Years later, a fully grown adult, I don’t have any pets either (my partner is allergic to pet hair and I don’t want to pick up any creature’s poo - especially now my own children are out of nappies) but I do enjoy a visit to the local urban farm.

Most of these places allow you to feed and stroke some of the animals so you get some of the benefits of having a pet, without having to pick up animal faeces and put it in a bin!

Doing the crossword

Love it - thinking but not too deeply, problem solving without any consequences, a challenge without any losers. This is my favourite:

https://www.theguardian.com/crosswords/series/quick

So, it's the weekend, I hope you have a wonderfully relaxing break, find a book that you can't bear to put down, cuddle up with the cat and withstand the ravages of Storm Brian!

The Happiness Project

Yeah, yeah, I can see you sneering and curling your lip - it does sound cheesy.  The Happiness project - it’s not my title but the name of a project at work, where we get sent motivational quotes and mini ‘tasks’ to focus on each day, via email, for ten weeks. Tasks centred on living in the moment and trying not to complain, things like that. It's a work in progress...

Friends, it’s come at exactly the right time for me;  a time of post-summer doldrums, a load more responsibilities at work, new school starts for kids (all change) and a professional disappointment. (And, yes, I know that a lot of people, all over the world, have got it a lot worse, OK. Knowing it doesn't always make you feel better though, on a dreary Monday morning, does it?)

For this post I’m just going to focus on the last point - the professional disappointment.
I was going to write a piece with the rather melodramatic title of  

‘There’s more than one way to have your heart broken’!

I am prone to exaggeration, I’ll admit that, but I did feel particularly heart-sore, after this literary rejection, last week. The knock-backs are always difficult but this one felt especially bruising.

A few weeks ago I attended an 'insight day', along with 50 other writers, which had been put on by a well known publishing house. This publishing house wanted to support underrepresented writers - writers classified as BAME, LGBTQ, people with disabilities or economically disadvantaged people. To qualify for the day, you had to submit some of your work and say why you felt you met the criteria. Apparently over 1700 people applied and of those 1700 +, they chose 150 to attend one of the 3 days they were running, based on the quality of their writing.

I’d applied, not really expecting to get through, so I was surprised and delighted when I found out that I had been invited to attend one of the days. I duly booked my hotel room.

The insight day was to include a panel of authors, a panel of literary agents and, perhaps the most important part of the day,  a one to one editorial feedback session with an editor from the publishing house.

The morning of the day felt like my wedding day, the first day of university and going to sit an important exam, all rolled into one. I was numb with nerves.

What was the big deal?

1. A room full of strangers - argh! Difficult at the best of times, but when there was so much riding on the day - whoah!  
2. The aforementioned editorial one-to-one session with the editor from the publishing house. Definitely in my best interests, but what if he dismantled my writing piece by piece and I wasn't able to take the criticism? What if he hated my work and had trouble hiding it? It felt like there was an awful lot riding on this.

What a day it was - encouraging, informative, energising and really emotional! There were some inspirational speeches and some really useful advice.
However, I'd found out, a week or so before the event, that of the 150 who attended the events, 10 would be selected to join a mentoring scheme, where they would be assisted on their journey to publication. I went into the insight day with a very low expectation that I would be one of the 10 selected. I also resolved to put aside my fears and take on board all of the advice, criticism and suggested amendments, that the editor had to offer.

Do you know what? The editor loved my writing - he actually told me that! It was the first thing he said to me. I was not expecting that at all. He also said that it had made him laugh out loud. I felt elevated by his approval. Even when he suggested the improvements/amendments he felt the manuscript needed, he managed to make it sound like praise. I bathed in the glow of all this positivity. OMG - I thought, does this mean that I’ve got in the bag? Am I going to be one of the chosen few, to get onto the mentoring scheme??*

* Spoiler - I wasn’t.

So when I found out, two weeks later, that I hadn’t been selected, my first feeling was not disappointment but disbelief. But...but...the editor said...I thought. Hubris, my friends, hubris! Then, I don’t mind telling you, I cried my eyes out.

Back to the 'happiness project'. On the day that I got the bad news, the very first ‘happiness challenge of the day’, waiting for me in my inbox, was this:

Choose happiness.

For the next 24 hours, make a commitment to yourself to choose happiness. Consciously track these happiness choice points throughout the day and at each juncture, consider if your choice will make your future ‘self’ experience more or less freedom.

I could choose to view the fact that I didn’t get through to the mentoring scheme as part of this negative narrative, whereby I never quite achieve what I want. A barren landscape of missed opportunities. Or I could say that I had attended an incredibly helpful day, and that the feedback from the editor was the pinnacle of that - both valuable and encouraging! I also have a list of literary agents and their contact details, who, according to the rejection email, would 'love' to hear from me. By choosing to see it in these terms, it makes me more likely to keep trying.

It wasn’t heartbreak, just disappointment.

This is what I wrote, a few days after attending the writing event:

I felt safe, I felt included, I felt welcome!

Nothing can change that.

Incidentally, of the other people who didn't get selected for the mentoring scheme, one has gone on to be shortlisted for a prestigious short story prize, one has a publishing deal with an indie press and another has had some journalism published in a national, broadsheet newspaper.

Picking up the Pieces

So friends, it’s been a while. I hope that you’ve had a great Summer and are now infused with the enthusiasm and the keenness of a crisp Autumnal morning!

I thought that my first post after the break would be about writing but I’m actually going to talk mental health instead.

I feel compelled to revisit this topic because I’ve heard, via social media, that someone I went to school with has died. I don’t know for sure but I have a sense, reading between the lines, that she probably committed suicide. I haven’t seen this person for about 25 years, I wasn’t close to her, haven’t spoken to her, but her death has haunted me.  I feel stupidly, uselessly, that maybe I could have helped her if I’d known her better - talked to her or something. This is highly unlikely and possibly only expresses a tiny fraction of how the people closest to those who take their own lives feel.

A year ago I wrote a post about depression; it’s something that a lot of people suffer from but many people (myself included) are uncomfortable talking about. http://msmuddles.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/the-missing-piece.html

It might sound inconsistent (to say that I’m uncomfortable discussing it) given that I blogged about it, but there is a vast difference between talking to someone in person and in writing it down. Although it can feel like a real exposure, when you blog, the immediacy of a conversation isn’t there.  You don’t get to see the reader’s reactions, and if they do respond, with a written comment, you have time to formulate your response.

I think that we worry how people will respond if we talk about internal struggles; will they tell us to pull ourselves together? A G.P said this to a friend of mine when she was suffering from depression, in her early twenties.

Do we worry that we’ll be boring or burdening the other person?  (Perhaps this is where counseling comes in)

Will people see it as a weakness and judge us for it? Might it endanger our job prospects?

If you haven’t read the original post, I wrote about suffering from a crippling bout of depression when I was sixteen, which lasted for about a year, during this time I had moments when I was suicidal.  

I just want to clarify that I’m not depressed now and haven’t been for some time. I’ve had periods of depression since that first terrifying time; once after I suffered an ectopic pregnancy, then, after the birth of my first child, but it’s never been quite as bad as that first instance, and, thankfully not lasted for as long.  

One thing I remember from all of those times though, a common theme, was that I didn’t feel comfortable admitting to the way I felt. At times (particularly the postnatal bout) I was deeply ashamed of it.

And, as I wrote in the original post, one of the hardest things about mental illness, is the acute isolation.

Because of my own experience, I tend to associate severe depression and suicide with the teenage years but the facts show that this isn’t the case at all.  It certainly wasn’t the case with the girl I went to school with who would have been in her early forties. These are the statistics from the Samaritans:

The highest suicide rate in the UK in 2014 was for men aged 45-49 at 26.5 per 100,000.

And:

The female suicide rate in the UK is at its highest since 2011.

So what can we do about this? Is there nothing we can do? Or, would it help to start a conversation, make it more acceptable to talk about mental health, make a vow never to tell a person with depression to ‘pull themselves together’?  What should society do? Subsidise long term therapy, stop telling boys that boys don’t cry, stop telling men to ‘man up’, talk about our own experiences?

I don’t know about you but when I walk into a room full of strangers, it almost always seems as if everyone else there is more confident than me - they seem be in control, be better at negotiating life and yet, statistically, this cannot be true!  It just just to show how powerful perception and viewpoint is. There are probably a lot of people out there who are suffering from a myriad of disorders and suffering in silence.

I’ve heard some people scorning the fact that people get signed off with stress nowadays; saying that their generation just ‘got on with things’ and I wonder, just how many suicides are people who were perceived to be ‘getting on with things’.  I also think about the men who came back from the First World War suffering from shell shock - mute with stress. Sometimes you can’t just ‘get on with it’ or move on without getting some help.

I stopped blogging for a while, partly because I felt that I was revealing too much about myself in the posts. I felt exposed. But perhaps, if no one talks about depression it perpetuates the notion that it’s something to be ashamed of.

So, once again here are some places to go to for help:

The Samaritans

https://www.samaritans.org/

The British association of counsellors and psychotherapists

https://www.bacp.co.uk/

A free service where you can text for help, as many people don’t like talking on the phone

https://www.dailydot.com/irl/crisis-text-line/

When I discussed the writing of this post with my partner, he said he’d listened to a podcast about suicide:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p05dlzld

In it someone likened suicide to jumping out of a burning building - the jumpers probably know that they are probably going to die, but anything is better than being burned alive.

I’ve never heard a more devastating or apt analogy - when life feels like hell - death is preferable.

I really want to end on a positive note so I'll share the fact that when I looked up the Samaritans, to find the link to their website, one of the facts on their homepage is this:

Suicide rates fall to six-year low

Take care!