I’m very well aware that recently the posts have been positive and life affirming for me. Well, I’m writing today and I haven’t stopped greeting….
Now; this could be the new med I just started yesterday, it could be PMT or it could be that getting dumped unceremoniously by text while on holiday (don’t worry, it was just a few dates) was the straw that broke the camels back in a shit show of a year!
Whatever the cause, you all know by now that pouring it out in a wee blog post is my coping mechanism.
Hedging my bets, I contacted both the NHS psychologist who has been my therapist for the last 3 rounds and The Moira Anderson Foundation who I had my first lot of therapy with; way back when I hadn’t even been diagnosed with anything yet.
I had been having a bit of a spiral anyway and had very sensibly (even if I do say so myself) referred myself back to therapy. My physical health has been shocking since before Christmas and the wait to see consultants has been long. I’ve been absolutely terrified about the ramifications of my health on my quality of life and safe to say, that, along with the usual shite has had me bouncing off the walls.
The Moira Anderson Foundation is a charity that you can also self refer to if you fit their criteria. I think it’s worth mentioning that if you are in crisis or just need to start the healing process. There are charities out there that offer the same services, my G.P. initially gave me their details so it’s definitely worth a conversation if you want to get started. This time, I would have waited 5 months for NHS help but was only 10 weeks with the charity.
As always, none of these posts are for you to feel sorry or pity me. Just to tell it like it is in the hope that it resonates with someone somewhere.
The constant unknown with what’s going on physically has certainly taken it’s toll over the last 8 months and I’m hanging on in there. Using all my mental health toolbox to help. It’s not just the ‘usual’ crazy symptoms but not knowing if it might not be lupus after all and why you are having headaches that are taking away your vision and speech then throw in weird wee non epileptic seizures and it’s all a wee bit scary for a girl.
This post is really me taking a breath, I finally got to see a rheumatologist last week and have a wee appointment to see if I actually have a brain this week. I can only hope for some clarity soon…..
But; as usual it’s necessary to be grateful for the amazing things that have also happened in that time.
I tried to finish school, published 2 articles, project managed a one day wellness festival with my pal, organised a surprise birthday, kept up with the amazing East end community radio as long as I could, tip toed in the depths of online dating (I’m sure the majority of men in Glasgow have no emotional maturity whatsoever) (wee dig? Well if the shoe fits but let’s not get bitter 😉) and finally managed an amazing week in the sun with a dear friend. This makes it even more frustrating that I’m feeling so rubbish, I just had the best week away relaxing and soaking up the sun and laughing with a pal. 2 days later, I’m not loving life and it’s doing my head in.
And then; logic kicks in and I have to remind myself that I managed all of this whilst in the middle of the worst flare of whatever is wrong with me that I’ve had in years. I’ve been admitted to hospital several times, so it’s no wonder I’m shimmying back to some talking therapy to ground myself again.
I’ve never been great at pacing myself and the end result is probably feeling like this. But the main thing, I think. Is to recognise what’s going on, be accountable for it and take the right steps to make yourself feel better. I harp on about this all the time but it’s time to take my own advice. Be kind to yourself first and foremost, don’t forget your own power, practice gratitude and try to live with grace even when you feel like howling at the moon!
Ah, it’s Valentines day. Absolutely a hallmark holiday, but it could be very easy to get caught up on social media in the barrage of roses and hearts and let your head and heart sink a bit if you’re single. Don’t!
It’s a funny one; because, of course I’d love to share my life with someone wonderful and buy into the cheesy nonsense of the day but it’s also actually almost four years to the day that I packed a bag and left my marriage. I very seldom talk of it because that’s just a bit too intimate for even me to share with the world.
What I will say is that it became unbearable and did a good number on messing my already messy head up even more. It did contribute to the already present undiagnosed Cptsd. It was a long time coming and there was a straw that broke the camels back, so to speak.
That’s not what this post is about though, I’m sitting today celebrating me, myself and I because in four years, my life and self couldn’t actually be any different. I don’t feel at all like the person who shakily called her parents to get me out of there. I have put in a lot of work and so today, I’m celebrating that.
Of course, living alone gets lonely at times but I have the dogs and am surrounded by ever loving friends and family. I have healthy boundaries and when someone comes along, that’ll be lovely. It’s not really about that though, I don’t need that external validation anymore so I’m going to have a not so humble brag now.
It’s about being proud of overcoming most of the obstacles in my way, it’s about starting from scratch in my 40’s, it’s about finding a new purpose and direction in life, it’s about redefining what I actually want out of life and the people around me.
And even though I couldn’t see a way through anything four years ago, there wasn’t just a path. There was a bloody exciting new motorway to drive on!
I never imagined I’d be giving it big licks on a community radio station every week or be paid for writing. The love of writing began with this very blog as a cathartic exercise to calm my brain down and now I’m going to follow that dream and get paid to do it.
Let’s keep it real though, I still opened the car door and battered my face at the weekend. So; still absolutely ridiculous and unsafe in the real world at times….
My base emotion is no longer just anger and fear; that in itself is life changing. I can guarantee if you’re doing the work right now, realising how much more laid back you become is a great feeling.
Of course, it’s all still a work in progress and there are still curve balls to deal with. Keeping myself on an even keel when my physical health has been playing up since the start of the year has been a challenge. I’m getting there though and I can’t stress enough how much your inner commentary affects the external outcome.
I know what hurdles I still want to jump and posts like this remind me that I can and will do them. I just need to put my mind to it and concentrate on the next step.
I do have my degree in singleness today, that’s OK though. I’m going to see some of my favourite people for some food later instead of sitting alone. I don’t know if this will help or resonate with anyone else but it’s a reminder to keep bloody going. Life can change beyond recognition in a relatively short space of time and if I can do it. So can you.
Keep doing the work and be grateful for everything you have achieved, try not to dwell on the curveballs and always always be kind to yourself first and foremost. You’ll be surprised at what those small things can help you achieve.
Happy Valentines day to everyone and Big love from me 💜
The start of 2022 has been a rocky one for me, my good intentions of a dry (ish) January were enforced a few weeks ago when I was diagnosed with a kidney infection and possible kidney stones. I hadn’t been feeling great for a few weeks before that, I’d asked for blood to be taken just before Christmas because I just didn’t feel quite right. Now, I’m very well aware that could have just been the winter blues and a bit of a Fibromyalgia flare but it didn’t really feel like that’s what it was so off I went to be checked. And so it began…..
After a week of antibiotics and pain relief, a follow up with my GP resulted in my immediate admission to Ward 66. Now; let me be clear, I felt bloody awful, was worried sick about what was going on but with the ongoing plague. Hospital was the last place I wanted to be.
What happened next then?
Patience readers, patience.
I’m sure your thoughts must be that a week in a room with five other women in a busy surgical ward sounds like hell and there were certainly aspects of my stay that were far from Bupa! The food was pretty rotten, sleep was sporadic at best, I really did feel like death warmed up but I’m writing this post with a full heart from my experience last week.
We read all over social media about groups of women being a powerful force, I have already experienced this in every day life with my friends. I’ve written before about the effect a right good laugh can have on our general mental health and how important this is for me. I’ve also written several times about how lucky I am to have the friends and family around me that I do.
What I didn’t bargain for, was leaving Ward 66 with a handful more of those friends. But, that’s exactly what has happened. I’m very sure this isn’t always the case and I could as easily be writing a blog post lamenting of a terrible experience. Maybe the stars aligned exactly as needed but whatever the reason, I’m here for it.
Here we were; six complete strangers, with an eclectic mix of medical problems. All with the real possibility of surgery. A few changes to the cast of us during the week I was there but not much change to camaraderie that was apparent from the moment I arrived. Every one of us anxious of what might come about in our health but all with the ability to make each other feel calmer.
We all spent the week doped up on various pain medication and having tests for this, that and the next thing. And each time someone was taken away for a scan or other such thing, there was genuine concern until they arrived back on the ward.
There were moments of outrageous chat and absolute hilarity, well, until we exhausted ourselves in the states we were in! I spoke more about my bowel movements than I ever have before.
But in amongst all of that; there were very real conversations about life. No hold barred chats that I know we all benefited from. Deep and meaningful conversations usually reserved for very close friends, yet they seemed like the most natural thing ever.
Now, I don’t know about you but I feel pretty damn grateful for that. Yet again, something very special from something pretty awful. undoubtedly down to the specific circle of women involved, all from different walks of life and age groups. An experience to be treasured despite the original circumstances. I know for a fact that we all felt better having each other there last week and for that I thank every single one of you. I hope that the phone numbers exchanged and the messages sent continue and that I really have made some new friends.
They say time flies when you are enjoying yourself but that certainly isn’t necessarily true for 2021.
Personally there have been crushing disappointments and grief but big highs too. Put that with a global pandemic and there’s certainly been some tough weeks or even months.
The start of the year was amazing for me despite the lockdown and plague. I managed to actually get my shit together and put loads of effort into the daily practices that I need and I felt bloody brilliant despite everything going on round me.
Then came a bitter disappointment in the middle of summer and I’ve fought with myself and those daily practices since….
There was tragedy at the end of summer and going into winter was a real struggle this year. I’ve been in constant pain and the fatigue has been a killer but I’ve been trying my best as that’s all we can all do.
Although, don’t get me wrong. It’s not been all doom and gloom by any stretch. There have been many many good times and so much to be grateful for in there too and I figure that’s the most important part. All the laughing and good times with friends and family are what sees us through the bad.
I’m still proud of what I have achieved this year and even though there’s still uncertainty in the future. I know that there are many things to look forward to and add to. Everything may not turn out as planned, not even close sometimes but the last few years have taught me that if you’re always trying to put your best foot forward and being as kind as you can to yourself and others then you will get there in the end.
Happy New Year and here’s to a happy and healthy 2022. That’s all that really matters in the end, everything else is a bonus.
I started my third round of therapy a while back. At the time, I had specific behaviours in mind that I wanted to work on. Trauma and anxiety based ticks that really bug me. My relationship with food being another trigger point that I wanted to focus on. Then, the usual peaks and troughs of life happened and the therapy organically becomes what it needs to be for that moment in time – the funny thing is, the ticks and quirks seem to be taking care of themselves within that.
I’m writing today because I need to get it all out. Writing is my release and the events of the last few months need clearing to make space. I’m really sad this week but let’s begin with the good stuff, eh?
I posted this transformation photo a few weeks ago and I’m incredibly proud of myself and what I’ve achieved in a year. Bugger the humble brag, I’m bragging and I don’t give a flying fuck! It’s not really about the physical transformation; although don’t get me wrong, feeling better when you look in the mirror does help overall. It’s about everything that’s happened and what I’ve achieved in the past 12 months. I began getting up every morning and doing a wee bit of dancing to music I feel like listening to that day. It wasn’t very consistent to begin with and with my health conditions, I initially lasted about 10 minutes before I was gubbed. Now I’m giving it laldy for up to 40 minutes at a time and let me tell you, what a way to start the day. I guarantee you’re smiling by the end of it. Some days it’s old school to get all nostalgic for the 90’s, sometimes it’s disco and sometimes it’s still banging techno so I can pretend I’m young again.
Left hand photo by @elainelivphoto
My last post was about how I was learning to love myself again and I suppose this post is explaining how I got there. A few folk commented on my transformation post so thought I’d let you lucky lot into my process.
I’ve always craved a routine, it’s always eluded me. Therefore, I craved it more. It made me more miserable that I wasn’t able to achieve a seemingly normal routine life. The thing is; looking back, apart from working in an industry where that’s just about nigh on impossible. My mental health would never have allowed a routine even if I’d been able to try. My therapist and I had discussed this need and want many times but it was still elusive to me by the end of my last round of therapy.
Lo and behold, the winter of 2019 brought with it the dreaded pandemic that we are still in the clutches of and although this has been difficult in so many ways. It was also a bit of a blessing for me. It was during the first lockdown that I was finally able to start getting my shit together. I can’t verbalise enough the difference beginning simple healthy daily habits had and still has on me and my overall health. I knew that the key was to start with one thing and get that going before adding anything more. I know me and I know that if I had tried to do it all at once then I’d have become frustrated and fucked it all.
Dancing was the beginning, then I added going to bed and getting up at the same time every day. It would have been so easy in isolation to turn night into day and vice versa but all that would have achieved for me would have been a good bout of depression and I knew that would be the case so that was my next step. I go to bed at 10pm every night unless I have something on and I originally began getting up between 7-7:30am. That’s more like 6am these days but I enjoy being up at that time now as I naturally have more energy in the morning (I annoy the living hell out of most of my pals with my cheery morning repertoire…….).
Food and walking the dogs were the next ones. It’s shite cooking for one person so I had gotten into a horrible wee habit of eating takeaway and rubbish all too often and It wasn’t making feel very good. Diet is important with fibromyalgia and the more processed crap you consume, the more you feel crap physically. I joined a facebook group called Team Rh and have lost around 2 stone since the beginning of the year. I’m not going to lie, this has been the most difficult for me to keep consistent with and I have struggled with comfort or binge eating. As mentioned, its been a busy and stressful few months and I hope I’m getting on top of that now with therapy and trying to understand why I want to binge. It’s about more than just losing weight, I crave a healthy relationship with food. My own body hang ups mean that losing weight makes me feel better about myself. I’d love to not give a fuck but I do so I will try to get to a weight I’m comfortable with for me. This time though, I’m doing it sensibly. A consistent caloric deficit due to all of the above is more than achievable. The reality is, I’m eating more than I ever have. I’m just eating more of the right things and seeing the results I want. I’m in no way endorsing diet culture or fat shaming, this is just a healthy choice for myself and my life.
Then, there’s the dogs. My wee pack have kept me going through many dark days and having them gives me a comfort as well as company living alone. Their daft antics keep a smile on my face daily, but they also keep me accountable. They have needs and even if I’m having a shit day; they still need walked, watered and fed. Walking them consistently is the last thing on my list and something I really enjoy. Getting outside and walking them not only helps with my physical quest, being outside is really grounding and good for the old mental health. Ensuring I get at least 10,000 steps in each day has been a huge struggle at times but something I’m determined about. So it’s me dragging the divas out in all weathers to get my my steps in.
Sorry folks, this is turning into a saga but hey ho. I promise I won’t ramble on much longer. I’m going to leave the sad stuff for now, I’m not quite ready to share it with the world at large but what I will quickly say is that as always my friends and family are the very best. Your never ending support means more than you will all ever know and I’m eternally grateful that you are all in my life. There’s much more laughter and hilarity than ever before, making the tough times bearable. Thank you.
I’ll finish with the the thing that I’m most proud of and grateful for. It’s easy to underestimate the power of having a purpose in life, something that makes you tick and work for. I decided to try and go back to studying and was accepted on to a course which encompasses my love to write as well as various other useful subjects for the future. Living with fibromyalgia, I knew this was going to be a challenge. Doing it all via zoom, doubly so.
But, through much sweat and tears and feeling like a stupid old woman a lot of the time. I bloody managed it and am continuing in September.
Fibromyalgia robs you of memory; the old fibro fog (still hate these sayings) means that if I’m over tired, I forget my name never mind anything else. I only have so many productive brain hours in the day before it becomes counterproductive but despite all of that and some other curveballs along the way, I got an A for my graded unit this year. I wrote a children’s picture book to support kids whose parents have chronic, lifelong and invisible illnesses. I’m immensely proud of this achievement and this is another not so humble brag!
It’s easy to fall into the pits of despair when something devastating and unbearably sad happens and it’s more than Ok to sit with that sadness. In fact, you absolutely must sit with those feelings. it’s the only way to process and heal.
This post has been a brain dump for me to remind myself that although I’m sad and upset and my mental health is taking a bit of a battering this week. At the end of it, all of the above is a huge list of things to be grateful for and proud of. That’s progress for me, my immediate reaction wasn’t to go get absolutely wrecked or to hide under the covers unwashed for days. It was to take what I’m feeling and sit with it.
I’ve used the coping mechanism of keeping busy but that’s a much healthier scenario than drinking myself into oblivion or any other such nonsense. I hope that some of this resonates and even helps someone out there have a wee bit of hope. Even when you don’t think you can, with a wee bit of determination anything is possible. Keep going, it’s absolutely worth it.
How did it get to this? 