Hello friends!
Just a quick check in to let you know my plan to pick up my blog again and try my best to post more regularly.
I've decided that a monthly post, going out on the last Sunday of the month is doable.
Sorry if I fuck it up. I'm gonna try my best.
So please expect my first proper post of the year this Sunday 26th January.
I haven't thought of a title yet, but the theme will be around how I manage/cope/thrive at work and that.
See you then!
Friday, 26 January 2018
Friday, 22 September 2017
Manspreading
I managed to get a seat on a busy train, this morning, in between two men spreading out. Manspreading, if you like that term. (I do)
I had my rucksack on my lap and my legs pressed tightly together.
I wanted to spread out, to show that they are not entitled to my space.
That maybe I was actually entitled to theirs as well as my own.
I couldn't do it. Even if my feeble lady legs were strong enough to push the manly legs away, I wouldn't have.
Fellow women or AFAB people, can you imagine the feeling of being so entitled to the space around you.
I can't, and the thought makes me feel uneasy.
The men I was sat between probably didn't realise they were doing it. I don't think they were doing it to oppress me, it just shows how we raise our boys and girls.
Girls must make space for boys. Boys get the space because they are big and strong.
I also assume they have to spread to accommodate their massive penises.
I had my rucksack on my lap and my legs pressed tightly together.
I wanted to spread out, to show that they are not entitled to my space.
That maybe I was actually entitled to theirs as well as my own.
I couldn't do it. Even if my feeble lady legs were strong enough to push the manly legs away, I wouldn't have.
Fellow women or AFAB people, can you imagine the feeling of being so entitled to the space around you.
I can't, and the thought makes me feel uneasy.
The men I was sat between probably didn't realise they were doing it. I don't think they were doing it to oppress me, it just shows how we raise our boys and girls.
Girls must make space for boys. Boys get the space because they are big and strong.
I also assume they have to spread to accommodate their massive penises.
Wednesday, 1 March 2017
Early Intervention Saves Lives
As you may know, the theme of this year’s Eating Disorder Awareness Week is ‘Early Intervention’. I am now fully recovered from anorexia nervosa but I had to go through a lot to get to where I am now. I wanted to take some time to share a couple of my experiences of asking for help and the responses I received.
The first time I asked for help was when I was at sixth form. I told my mum that I was struggling and she came with me to my GP. The doctor weighed me and my BMI was 'healthy'. I don't remember much about what was said during that conversation, but I know that I wasn't poorly enough for real help. I remember that he asked me if I thought I was overweight. I knew I wasn't overweight. I knew my BMI was at the lower end of healthy weights, so I had no idea how to answer this. I now know that he wanted to find out about my body image, but I didn't understand and he didn't get a picture of how unhappy I was. I was referred to a counsellor who was based in my GP surgery, had no idea how to support me as someone with eating difficulties and made me feel worse. I only saw her a few times. I just stopped going and had no follow up.
I moved to Leeds when I was 18 to start professional dance training. During my time there I started to get worried about my eating behaviours again. I went to my GP, thinking I could nip it in the bud. The doctor I saw told me that because I was a healthy weight "nobody would take [me] seriously"
Nobody would take me seriously.
I eventually became too unwell to participate in the classes, which then led to me needing to go back home.
I was referred to the eating disorder service and, later, admitted to hospital. By this point I was really poorly and it took a long time to get to anything resembling recovery.
It makes zero sense to turn people away who are asking for help because they aren't ill enough.
The criteria used to determine poorly-ness is so limited as well. Thinnest does not equal sickest, but professionals still use this to determine who deserves treatment. That is how it feels. When I was turned away from appropriate support, it fed into everything my eating disorder was making me believe. I wasn't thin enough, I wasn't good enough, I didn't deserve help and support.
Maybe if I'd been able to access support and treatment early on, I wouldn't have become as unwell as I did. Maybe it would have been a quicker recovery.
I am grateful for my own experiences. I met my late best friend through eating disorder treatment and many other amazing people through her. Without my experiences, I wouldn't be as passionate about mental health care or be able to support others in the way that I can.
I am lucky that I am able to look back at my experiences and know that maybe 'everything happens for a reason'. However, eating disorders have a huge mortality rate. Not everyone recovers.
'Right now, we are letting people with eating disorders down. They are turned away by the health system, told they aren’t ‘ill’ enough for treatment and are confused about where to turn. This can’t continue.' https://www.b-eat.co.uk/early-intervention
Have you ever heard of anyone finding out that they have cancer at an early stage, but were told to come back once the cancer has spread, treatment becoming much more difficult, and their chances of surviving are much lower?
This is the exact experience of so many people with eating disorders.
The evidence is so clear: early intervention is key to a quicker, sustained and full recovery.
Early intervention saves lives.
Waiting for someone to get 'sick enough' costs lives. People are dying and it's not fair. Individuals living with an eating disorder can recover. These deaths are preventable.
The importance of early intervention, and the devastating impact eating disorders have, needs to be recognised.
The first time I asked for help was when I was at sixth form. I told my mum that I was struggling and she came with me to my GP. The doctor weighed me and my BMI was 'healthy'. I don't remember much about what was said during that conversation, but I know that I wasn't poorly enough for real help. I remember that he asked me if I thought I was overweight. I knew I wasn't overweight. I knew my BMI was at the lower end of healthy weights, so I had no idea how to answer this. I now know that he wanted to find out about my body image, but I didn't understand and he didn't get a picture of how unhappy I was. I was referred to a counsellor who was based in my GP surgery, had no idea how to support me as someone with eating difficulties and made me feel worse. I only saw her a few times. I just stopped going and had no follow up.
I moved to Leeds when I was 18 to start professional dance training. During my time there I started to get worried about my eating behaviours again. I went to my GP, thinking I could nip it in the bud. The doctor I saw told me that because I was a healthy weight "nobody would take [me] seriously"
Nobody would take me seriously.
I eventually became too unwell to participate in the classes, which then led to me needing to go back home.
I was referred to the eating disorder service and, later, admitted to hospital. By this point I was really poorly and it took a long time to get to anything resembling recovery.
It makes zero sense to turn people away who are asking for help because they aren't ill enough.
The criteria used to determine poorly-ness is so limited as well. Thinnest does not equal sickest, but professionals still use this to determine who deserves treatment. That is how it feels. When I was turned away from appropriate support, it fed into everything my eating disorder was making me believe. I wasn't thin enough, I wasn't good enough, I didn't deserve help and support.
Maybe if I'd been able to access support and treatment early on, I wouldn't have become as unwell as I did. Maybe it would have been a quicker recovery.
I am grateful for my own experiences. I met my late best friend through eating disorder treatment and many other amazing people through her. Without my experiences, I wouldn't be as passionate about mental health care or be able to support others in the way that I can.
I am lucky that I am able to look back at my experiences and know that maybe 'everything happens for a reason'. However, eating disorders have a huge mortality rate. Not everyone recovers.
'Right now, we are letting people with eating disorders down. They are turned away by the health system, told they aren’t ‘ill’ enough for treatment and are confused about where to turn. This can’t continue.' https://www.b-eat.co.uk/early-intervention
Have you ever heard of anyone finding out that they have cancer at an early stage, but were told to come back once the cancer has spread, treatment becoming much more difficult, and their chances of surviving are much lower?
This is the exact experience of so many people with eating disorders.
The evidence is so clear: early intervention is key to a quicker, sustained and full recovery.
Early intervention saves lives.
Waiting for someone to get 'sick enough' costs lives. People are dying and it's not fair. Individuals living with an eating disorder can recover. These deaths are preventable.
The importance of early intervention, and the devastating impact eating disorders have, needs to be recognised.
Monday, 23 January 2017
Conversations
We are currently approaching Time to Talk Day, which is held on the 2nd February.
The theme this year is 'conversations change lives'
With this in mind, I'd like to share why I believe it is so important to have honest conversations about mental health.
It is something that affects us all. We all have mental health needs. We don't all realise this, though. Some people still really struggle to discuss mental health difficulties openly. Maybe this is out of fear that they'll say the wrong thing and offend someone or maybe there are fears around being judged and appearing vulnerable.
I have learnt, over time, how to have these conversations; being open about my experiences, and encouraging others to be open about theirs. We can't always get it right all the time. We will make mistakes when we have these conversations, especially when we first start. Someone is bound to get upset at some point, but it is important to learn from these moments and keep trying!
I started working as a mental health support and recovery worker just under 12 months ago. I was open about my own mental health from the start, which I will never regret. I am lucky that I work in an office with an open and supportive culture around mental health, I understand that not everyone has the same positive experience. Being able to discuss my mental health in the same way as I would discuss my physical health has been really helpful in getting my mental health needs met, and being supported at work. I know that the growth in my ability to talk openly about my mental health has led to a greater awareness of my own, and others, struggles and resilience. I am also really glad that I have seen my colleagues discussing their mental health, and witnessed some beautiful, compassionate conversations.
I love talking about mental health with people who don't normally get a chance to. It's good to be able to remind people that whether you have a diagnosis of a mental health difficulty, or not, you still have to look after your mental and emotional health. We all have our breaking points. Not talking about it is sure to make your breaking point arrive sooner. Tell someone that you're feeling stressed out, anxious, exhausted, sad, overwhelmed... It is not a sign of weakness. There is a certain beautiful kind of strength in recognising when we feel not so good and asking for some help.
That being said, the onus shouldn't be placed solely on the individuals needing support. Everyone has a responsibility to contribute towards a culture of acceptance and compassion around mental illness. This could be making a decision to stop using negative or stigmatising language. This may be deciding to challenge unkind comments when you hear them. It may be as simple as asking a friend or colleague 'how are you?', waiting to hear their answer and being there if they need it.
The theme this year is 'conversations change lives'
With this in mind, I'd like to share why I believe it is so important to have honest conversations about mental health.
It is something that affects us all. We all have mental health needs. We don't all realise this, though. Some people still really struggle to discuss mental health difficulties openly. Maybe this is out of fear that they'll say the wrong thing and offend someone or maybe there are fears around being judged and appearing vulnerable.
I have learnt, over time, how to have these conversations; being open about my experiences, and encouraging others to be open about theirs. We can't always get it right all the time. We will make mistakes when we have these conversations, especially when we first start. Someone is bound to get upset at some point, but it is important to learn from these moments and keep trying!
Anyway, back to the point!
I started working as a mental health support and recovery worker just under 12 months ago. I was open about my own mental health from the start, which I will never regret. I am lucky that I work in an office with an open and supportive culture around mental health, I understand that not everyone has the same positive experience. Being able to discuss my mental health in the same way as I would discuss my physical health has been really helpful in getting my mental health needs met, and being supported at work. I know that the growth in my ability to talk openly about my mental health has led to a greater awareness of my own, and others, struggles and resilience. I am also really glad that I have seen my colleagues discussing their mental health, and witnessed some beautiful, compassionate conversations.
I love talking about mental health with people who don't normally get a chance to. It's good to be able to remind people that whether you have a diagnosis of a mental health difficulty, or not, you still have to look after your mental and emotional health. We all have our breaking points. Not talking about it is sure to make your breaking point arrive sooner. Tell someone that you're feeling stressed out, anxious, exhausted, sad, overwhelmed... It is not a sign of weakness. There is a certain beautiful kind of strength in recognising when we feel not so good and asking for some help.
That being said, the onus shouldn't be placed solely on the individuals needing support. Everyone has a responsibility to contribute towards a culture of acceptance and compassion around mental illness. This could be making a decision to stop using negative or stigmatising language. This may be deciding to challenge unkind comments when you hear them. It may be as simple as asking a friend or colleague 'how are you?', waiting to hear their answer and being there if they need it.
Sunday, 23 October 2016
What I Wish People Understood About My Mental Illness
Nowadays, what I really wish people understood about my mental health problem, is that it could affect anybody.
We all have mental health.
Just as we all have physical health.
Having a mental health difficulty does not define who we are. It does not separate us from the rest of 'normal' society. We certainly shouldn't be made to feel that way.
Just as we can have good physical health and poor physical health at different stages in our lives, we can also have good mental health and poor mental health. Some people simply need more support than others at different times in their lives. People who experience mental health difficulties are not different or strange. We are all human, with human experiences. Mental illness and wellness are simply part of that experience. It is essential for everyone to have their individual needs met in regards to their mental health, whether they have a diagnosis or not.
Having a diagnosis of a mental health condition does not make me different. It simply means that at one point in my life I needed extra support to get by. Thankfully, I got that help and I am now supporting others to get by. I see folks making a distinction between mentally unwell people and 'normal people' all the time and this needs to change.
Mental health needs to be taken seriously, of course it does, but to act like the person is somehow separate from everyone else just makes it that much harder for that individual to ask for help.
We are all different in our own wonderful ways, but we need to remember that we all have mental health. We all go through those times when we feel sad or scared. If we have good mental resilience we can bounce back quickly, but sometimes we can't. We all need to take care of our mental health, whatever that means to us.
I wish people understood that myself and the countless others with a mental health diagnosis are not abnormal. Mental illness can and does impact everybody and this needs to be recognised.
We all have mental health.
Just as we all have physical health.
Having a mental health difficulty does not define who we are. It does not separate us from the rest of 'normal' society. We certainly shouldn't be made to feel that way.
Just as we can have good physical health and poor physical health at different stages in our lives, we can also have good mental health and poor mental health. Some people simply need more support than others at different times in their lives. People who experience mental health difficulties are not different or strange. We are all human, with human experiences. Mental illness and wellness are simply part of that experience. It is essential for everyone to have their individual needs met in regards to their mental health, whether they have a diagnosis or not.
Having a diagnosis of a mental health condition does not make me different. It simply means that at one point in my life I needed extra support to get by. Thankfully, I got that help and I am now supporting others to get by. I see folks making a distinction between mentally unwell people and 'normal people' all the time and this needs to change.
Mental health needs to be taken seriously, of course it does, but to act like the person is somehow separate from everyone else just makes it that much harder for that individual to ask for help.
We are all different in our own wonderful ways, but we need to remember that we all have mental health. We all go through those times when we feel sad or scared. If we have good mental resilience we can bounce back quickly, but sometimes we can't. We all need to take care of our mental health, whatever that means to us.
I wish people understood that myself and the countless others with a mental health diagnosis are not abnormal. Mental illness can and does impact everybody and this needs to be recognised.
Friday, 16 September 2016
My day of delayed trains, sweaty anxiety, soggy feet and inspiring humans
Today I travelled to London to join in with a Time to Change event.
It has also been one of the worst days anxiety-wise that I've had all year.
I love events with Time to Change & Rethink Mental Illness.
I love hearing other people's stories and feeling encouraged by their responses to mine.
I was so looking forward to this.
I woke up with that familiar, yet somehow always unfamiliar, sense of dread and impending doom that feels like it has access to every cell in my body.
I am grateful for my beloved, who encouraged me to get out of bed, fed the cat, helped me choose what to wear, made breakfast and drove me to the train station.
Some days I am 100% capable of being an independent adult. Today was not one of those days.
I got to my reserved seat to find that someone was sat in it.
There were so many available seats and he was sat in the one that had a reserved notice on that little screen above the seats.
Most days I would be able to easily shrug this off. Accept and let go.
I sat in an available seat, seething that he was so self-entitled.
I managed to settle to some degree but then the train stopped. We were going nowhere. The announcement man didn't know when we'd be moving again.
I was trapped. Every announcement gave no more answers. More people got on the train. More noise, more movement, more anxious energy buzzing around me. The heat started to get to me. I'm sure my seat got smaller, or the space around my seat got smaller. I was trapped. An announcement that another train was going to London Euston from the station we were stuck on, should I get off and try that? Turns out I was stuck in my seat and my brain couldn't possibly comprehend the decision to get on a different train. Jeez, it got so hot. My body was so uncomfortable, dizzy, shakey, sweaty.
When I finally did get to Euston, I had to then walk to the event in the rain.
Silly choice of shoes for a wet day. Soggy feet.
So. Many. People.
So. Much. Noise.
I had a lovely welcome when I did arrive and I felt better...ish.
I'm usually in my element at events like this. Conversations about mental health are my favourite (Well one of the very few topics I can actually hold conversations about)
Today it was a bigger challenge than usual, but I stuck it out. I made it until the end (even if I did leave as quickly as I could)
For that I am proud.
I have some great ideas and things to take forward; things to ponder on.
I met some wonderful people who I hope to work with again.
I got that reminder that talking and hearing other people talk about mental health, ignites something in me that not much else does.
I was foolish to think that the issues with the trains would be sorted nearer the end of the day.
When I got back to the station, I was met with absolute chaos.
So. Many. People.
So. Much. Noise.
Crowds of people looking up at those boards, waiting for the platform of their train to be announced so they could rush forward.
Panic well and truly set in. Heart racing. Struggling to breathe. Feeling sick. Shaking all over.
I couldn't help wonder how everyone else was feeling.
Did their emotions differ to mine?
How much was the stress affecting their physiology?
Was this simply mild annoyance to them?
Was anyone else feeling like the station was caving in on them?
I am glad I went. I'm glad I stayed. I'm glad I had this experience today.
It was a messy, exhausting day but it was a challenge that I made it through.
Life is messy and it's exhausting, but I'm glad to be living it.
Sunday, 24 July 2016
Commitment issues
So it has been a while since I've written anything here, I've had a lot of new stuff happening in my life. A lot of very new things.
Today I'm going to talk about commitment.
In a sort of round about way, of course.
I've not been as committed as I originally planned to writing this blog. It had to take a back seat from all the other things that were bigger and/or more important.
I started my first ever grown up full time job in February this year. It has understandably been one of the biggest challenges of my life. I didn't know if I could do it. Turns out that it was a very good decision. I definitely didn't imagine that I'd be saying that 6 months from starting. Maybe, 'it's okay, I'm getting through it, but it's really hard and I'm struggling'. Instead, it's been brilliant. I've learnt so much about myself and other people. I've learnt how absolutely capable I am and my self esteem has grown in a way that I didn't expect. Don't get me wrong, it is hard. I do get really tired and sometimes it is difficult to manage my own mental health but I am learning how to. I am learning to set boundaries and take the time to look after myself, to slow down. I am now approaching my end of probation review, after 6 months in my job and I am so proud of where I am now.
Last night (Saturday 23rd July) was the summer concert of Rainbow Voices, the LGBT choir I'm part of. This is another commitment I have really struggled with, but one I love and is so so important to me and who I am. The fact that I made it to the end of the summer term and performed is a really big deal. I came down with some horrible cold thing when I was in London the other day, and I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to perform. I'd worked so hard to hang in there and stay committed to this thing that I love, so the thought of missing the performance was devastating. I was so close to giving up on Saturday morning, but I decided to try. I drove to the venue and took part in the rehearsal. I tried my best, and I managed to sing as part of this amazing group of people and I performed my wee solo, which I am so proud of. I could have thrown in the towel before I tried, but I didn't. I stuck it out and it paid off and I'm so happy I did it. (I do feel like utter shit and my throat is killing me today but I think it was worth it)
I have been part of a group therapy programme for nearly 18 months now. This has been a really really long process. I was referred to the service early September 2013 and had three assessment interviews, in October, November and December 2013. I then began the 12 week preparation group late May 2014. This happened, but the therapy team and I were unsure about the next step. I ended up doing this preparation group for a second time, then eventually started the main one day group therapy programme 25th February 2015. Now here I am, due to finish group in September this year, over three years after the ball started rolling. This has been one of the biggest commitments of my life and I really do believe that it has saved my life. It has helped me to find parts of myself that I never knew existed. I have achieved a lot in the last couple of years and I know I couldn't have done any of it without the fierce love and gentle compassion that I found in that group therapy room.
I have real trouble committing to stuff, but I am so glad for the things that I have tried and persisted with this year.
Last night (Saturday 23rd July) was the summer concert of Rainbow Voices, the LGBT choir I'm part of. This is another commitment I have really struggled with, but one I love and is so so important to me and who I am. The fact that I made it to the end of the summer term and performed is a really big deal. I came down with some horrible cold thing when I was in London the other day, and I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to perform. I'd worked so hard to hang in there and stay committed to this thing that I love, so the thought of missing the performance was devastating. I was so close to giving up on Saturday morning, but I decided to try. I drove to the venue and took part in the rehearsal. I tried my best, and I managed to sing as part of this amazing group of people and I performed my wee solo, which I am so proud of. I could have thrown in the towel before I tried, but I didn't. I stuck it out and it paid off and I'm so happy I did it. (I do feel like utter shit and my throat is killing me today but I think it was worth it)
I have been part of a group therapy programme for nearly 18 months now. This has been a really really long process. I was referred to the service early September 2013 and had three assessment interviews, in October, November and December 2013. I then began the 12 week preparation group late May 2014. This happened, but the therapy team and I were unsure about the next step. I ended up doing this preparation group for a second time, then eventually started the main one day group therapy programme 25th February 2015. Now here I am, due to finish group in September this year, over three years after the ball started rolling. This has been one of the biggest commitments of my life and I really do believe that it has saved my life. It has helped me to find parts of myself that I never knew existed. I have achieved a lot in the last couple of years and I know I couldn't have done any of it without the fierce love and gentle compassion that I found in that group therapy room.
I have real trouble committing to stuff, but I am so glad for the things that I have tried and persisted with this year.
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