Count me out

I like a bandwagon.

Except when I don't.

#365daysofselfcare is currently a thing on Twitter.

I'm giving it a go.

If it's anything like my photo a day blog I'll love it until about day 180...

Today's self care is all about doing what makes me happy.

Even if that pisses other people off.

A bit like the grammar in this meme.

Which I love.

The meme.

Not the grammar.

Why am I explaining myself?

#365daysofselfcare

This is Day #3.

Stuck on the guilt-a-whirl*

Gemma Correll is the rock goddess of illustrators for me. She completely captures, in a humorous way of course, how I feel as a depressive. I remember many people being shocked when I told them I suffered with depression: “but you’re so smiley”; “so happy”; “outgoing”. Yep. None of these characteristics are mutually excluded from the life of someone who suffers with mental health problems. In fact for me they are part and parcel of my general demeanour along with being a key component of my many coping mechanisms.

This particular low point I’m currently experiencing has come at me out of nowhere, a bit like the lorry in Cold Feet when Rachel was reaching for a cassette to play in the car. God. Remember cassettes? Imagine having to piss about with a footwell full of those just to save yourself from the repetitive drivel that’s played on most radio stations (6 Music excluded of course).

Back to Gemma. If you haven’t seen her work check it out www.gemmacorrell.com — if we’re friends I’ve shared most of it already because, well, I’m a bit obsessed with her — this sums up much more eloquently than I ever could how I feel at the moment.

From the top:

Visit Depression Land — if you have the energy to get out of bed. As I sleep an average of 2 hours a night I could blame this for my lethargy but the truth is I’m wide awake most of the time, I just can’t be arsed to move.

But assuming I’ve hauled my Padfoot carrying carcass off the mattress and somehow managed to get dressed and travel to Depression Land I’d probably skip the cruise. (I’ve ignored the mascot because I don’t want to get into an “I’m more tired than you” competition. I’d win.) Love the fact Gemma references one of the most irritating Disney songs of all time ‘It’s a small world’ because it perfectly captures the irritation at struggling to do things like read a book, go to the cinema or catch up with friends. I do still listen to a lot of music albeit my obsessive tendencies mean I’m inclined to hit repeat on inappropriate songs…

The Meh-Go-Round is more enticing. If only to use it as platform for launching non lethal missiles at well meaning people who really believe that positive thinking or more exercise are the answer. I don’t want to belittle anyone who’s genuinely trying to help but if it was that simple we’d all do it. I do feel better when I exercise but I refer you to my earlier point — some days I don’t even get dressed. In ordinary clothes. My gym kit is a stretch too far. And thinking about it, in more ways than one. Comfort eating is a life saver.

Please, don’t stop trying, just try something different.

1. Send a hug. Hugs are ace. They convey a battle bus of emotion without the need for tongues.
2. Tell someone you’re thinking of them. Probably not if they’ve just told you they’re in bed, unless you have those sorts of privileges — being in someone’s thoughts is very comforting.
3. Post a funny pic on their Facebook wall/ via whatsapp or if you’re old school in the actual post. Funny. We all need more funny. Read the message below with a Scouse accent… You have to admit that’s a little bit amusing?

Then finally, before the gates on Depression Land close for another day, as the sun is setting in the sky and teletubbies say bye bye (no fucking idea why that just popped into my head — does the avodaco look a bit like La La?) it’s time to take a spin on the guilt-a-whirl. An absolute favourite spot for all us mentalists. We feel bad. Then we feel bad because we feel bad. Which makes us feel bad. Round and round we go. Feeling guilty for being depressed. Feeling depressed because of our guilt. What a never ending circle of Dante like emotions.

Cheery little post this, isn’t it? Watch this and remember I NEVER fail to dance when I hear it. Plus I epitomise the ‘dance like nobody is watching’ quote mainly because I’ve got sunshine in my pocket and it’s burning a hole in my pants. It’s a win for us all.

*Hats off to Gemma for the guilt-a-whirl. Brilliant name.

World mental health day: sharing is caring

My interest in mental health means I already follow* plenty of people who write or comment on the subject but I like to think that World Mental Health Day (WMHD) has raised awareness outside of the inner circle.

Over the past 5 days I’ve been part of something very special. Deep down I know this is the norm but it’s hard to accept that when I’m spiralling downwards.

On Monday I sketched out some of the thoughts that go round in my head. Not all at the same time. Nobody could cope with that much negativity every day. If you do however, hats off to you, you’re a stronger person than I am. Stick with it but for God’s sake ask for some help.

My simplistic illustration was an easy way to ask people to get involved. To take some time to consider how it feels to live with mental health problems. Life’s not all misery and despair but the strength it takes not to fall into that rabbit hole can be exhausting before the day’s even begun. I thought if I was prepared to share some of my innermost thoughts I could legitimately ask others to invest themselves just a little.

And some of you did. With bells on. Great big jangling shiny bells. No euphemisms here. Think Christmas and Liberty, not end.

This is my illustration:

Not a great work of art and with full disclosure it only took me about 30 minutes but it is an accurate representation of how I’ve felt in the past (and some of the things I'm feeling today).

It clearly struck a chord. I can’t remember the last time one of my tweets made such an impression (see what I did there?). But more than that I was blown away by the response by my friends on Facebook. First up Paul Walker, my much loved friend from Uni commented that he thought it would make a cool canvas — Paul is an incredible artist so a huge compliment! Then Lesley Marshall, a friend from my days at BT, asked if she could share it.

And then things went a little crazy. Paul, Lesley, Jo McEnery, Will, my sister Ruth, Mark Doughty and Andrew Sugden used it as their profile pic to raise awareness of WMHD. Plus other friends shared very lovely messages of support — Sophie, Carry, Carrie, Rachel W, Rachel D, Tim, Ben, Paula, Sarah, Kirsti, Vicki and Julie.

And then, things got really silly and I was asked if the image could be used by several companies who were planning campaigns during WMHD. Of course I said yes and I feel ridiculously proud (and also somewhat embarrassed).

The irony of my mind map and the support network I have isn’t lost on me. I use phrases like ‘unlikeable’ and ‘unloveable’ because I genuinely feel like that, most days. Which is why I also say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ because it’s the truth. Don’t give up on me or other friends/colleagues/family members like me. We’re probably doing everything we can to stop ourselves from sinking and you never know how much that kind word or thoughtful gesture might mean.

Finally, to everyone who liked, loved, shared and engaged with my picture — thank you. I hope it’s given you a look behind the curtain. If I forgot to mention you I’m sorry, take your pick of the statements in my illustration; one of them will provide a reason/an excuse I’m sure.

*Online obviously. I’m not loitering outside Matt Haig’s house, or trying to catch the same train as Ruby Wax.

Be the reason someone smiles today

Hello you lovely lot. It's World Smile Day. Yesterday it was National Teacher's Day. Tomorrow National something else Day. Actually October 8th is National Fluffernutter Day. I kid you not. Some things are too ridiculous to be made up.

Ignore my fake cynicism.

I'm a big fan of smiling. I like to think I smile a lot, even though I have depression. They're not mutually exclusive thank God. I did think about sharing a venn diagram to illustrate the point but, well, you know...

Although if you think you sit firmly in the blue camp take a look at this:

You have to admit, that's pretty funny!

I've lost the point of this post after falling down a Venn diagram rabbit hole. But along with pie charts they're one of my favourite mathematical props. As I've mentioned pie charts this is smile worthy surely?

No? What about this?

If your mouth failed to twitch at any of these pics we're probably not great friends but it's a day to celebrate smiling so whatever tickles your fancy go with it. Just remember to spread the joy. We can never smile too much.

Thanks to all of you that regularly make me smile. I hope this post has returned the favour just a little.

10 top tips for good parenting - Emma style

What makes a good parent? 

Kindness? Patience? Being a suitable role model? 

Google 'good parenting' and you'll be rewarded with page after page of articles like: 10 little things good parents do; nine steps to more effective parenting and 50 easy ways to be a fantastic parent. 

Easy? Easy ways? Fifty of them? I've been a parent for almost 12 years now and easy has never been a word I've associated with the job. And yes, I do think of it as a job. Motherhood doesn't come easy to me. Not the love bit; that's pretty straightforward especially when you have a funny, kind, bright child. But like most children she's also argumentative, stubborn and domineering and I'm constantly having to up my game. I don't want to pass on my insecurities, my indecisiveness, my depression. 

Since asking for help over a year ago my condition no longer manifests itself in an inability to get off the sofa. My diet is far from good but I'm not single handedly supporting the bottom line of Walkers. I drink alcohol again - more than the recommended guidelines but less than Oliver Reed. I can see I've made progress but I recognise that at times I'm still a mess. I'm ok with that when there's only me to consider but how do I make sure I'm not setting a precedent with B where she sees my behaviour, my character as the norm?

I try to be honest with her and provide her with some context - only as much as she needs of course - if I let her see the whole truth I'm pretty sure I'd scare the hell out of her. However how do I really know how much she needs or whether this is more about what I need? That's when I start to question if I'm a good parent. Aren't most of us winging it every day? Please say yes. If I find out that you've all got this whole parenting thing sussed it might just tip me over the edge and I don't think there are enough packets of Wotsits on sale in Swaffham.  

One definition of good parenting I've seen is:

Good parenting happens when a person creates for a child a stable, nurturing home environment, is a positive role model, and plays a positive and active part in a child's life. Good parents provide moral and spiritual guidance, set limits, and provide consequences for a child's behaviour.

Nothing too scary there. Suitably broad so that even I can relate to it and agree that, in general, I'm a good parent.

Ask people to define bad parenting though and my discomfort level is turned up to 11. Especially when they cite things like 'someone who puts their own needs before their child'. Put it this way, if I hadn't finally put my own needs first we'd be in a dire situation as a family today. Depression is cruel. It makes me feel worthless, helpless, incompetent and inadequate. In my desire to the do the right thing for my child I ask a lot of questions. Questions like:

• Is it healthy for B to see that medication is a core part of my life?  In one of my first posts I said that we're ok with people taking pills to help with long term conditions like diabetes, arthritis or heart problems and mental health shouldn't be any different. But we refer to anti-depressants as happy pills and that underplays their importance. I'm not unhappy. I'm depressed. It's different. 
• When I can't force myself out of the door to exercise how can I then talk to her about a healthy lifestyle? She called me up on this over the weekend when she had agreed to go for a run and then didn't want to. "You say you're going for a run and then don't; why is that any different?" In some ways she's right, it isn't any different. I want her to be able to trust me to be true to my word but when my body feels as if I've swallowed an Acme anvil I don't stand a chance. We don't live in a society where 'do as I say, not what I do' is a suitable response (thankfully) but we do live in one where I can try to explain how I feel even if it's hard for her to understand.
• I could go on. I won't, but I could.

I don't believe any of us fully appreciate what makes us good parents. Sometimes it's luck. Sometimes it's what we do. Sometimes it's the kids we have. I've come up with my own top 10 tips all of us simply trying to get through another day as a Mum or Dad or similar.

10 top tips for good parenting - Emma style

Try to:

1. Greet your child with a warm smile and a proper hug when they wake up in the morning. You can go back to sucking lemons when they take a nap/ go to school/ go to work.
2. Make it through the day without swearing in front of them. The money in the swear jar will probably go towards a visit to watch some wretched teen film - in your purse/wallet you can buy chocolate/wine/that handbag you've been googling.
3. Bonus points if you don't swear at them (some of you will totally get this - that's who this list is for).
4. Avoid hiding away in the bathroom unless you're about to break down in front of them. In which case lock the door and muffle your screams with a bath mat or a large towel.
5. Cook a balanced meal and eat at the table as a family - it sets a good example. Anyway the meal will be over with more quickly if you're still wearing your lemon sucking face.
6. Eat takeaway and cake in front of the TV because experiences are much more important than good examples. Plus if you don't watch Bake Off live you won't be able to sit on twitter later.
7. Take your meds with a glass of wine and explain that it's the wine that makes you happy, not the pills.
8. Wear pjs all day - it reduces the amount of washing you have to do and hell that's great for the environment. You will eventually have to wash your dressing gown though - we don't want to cross the line into complete and utter slovenliness. 
9. Take the piss out of yourself and your family. None of us are perfect and being able to laugh at yourself is one of life's greatest skills. Don't try this one if you have a dodgy sense of humour. Jokes about suicide don't go down well with everyone. So I've heard...
10. Make sure your kids knows they're central to your life but not the centre of your life. We have to be responsible for our own happiness and one day they'll leave home and you have to be able to cope with that. Unless you live in London in which case you're stuck with them forever because they'll never be able to afford to move out.

I think I'm a good parent most of the time. I know I'm a terrible parent some of the time. And just occasionally I get it right and I'm a great parent. That's as much as I can hope for isn't it?

#depressionfeelslike

"Yawn, yawn - is she still harping on about depression?" Nobody has actually said this to my face. Quite the opposite really but I still feel believe that's what people think. I'm sure some of you have thought that at least once - I promise I totally understand. It's boring for me too.

Repetition isn't always dull though. I never tire of Eddie Izzard enacting 'There must have been a Death Star canteen', or of watching The Two Ronnies perform their 'Four candles', or should that be 'Fork handles', sketch. Ok so both of those make me laugh but I also like to rewatch things that make me cry. Like the end of Ashes to Ashes "See you around Bollykecks" and Sally Field in Steel Magnolias "I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't!"; although again humour is part of the pathos in these scenes.

It's also an enormous part of my life. I like, need, to make people laugh; I'm often the (self-elected) comedian at family gatherings. When you feel like shit as often as I do a clown mask is a great way to deflect people, to cover up your true emotions, to make it look like you're ok.

I've been blogging less because it feels self-indulgent (I've said that before) and repetitive (I've said that before too). I've been blogging less because I began to question if my depression is something that happens to me or something I bring on myself. I've been blogging less because FFS - I have a great kid, a job I enjoy, the support of some amazing people and a pretty nice roof over my head. Fair enough I also have questionable fashion sense and middle-age spread (which is nowhere near as interesting as Lotus - middle class spread) but overall the positives in my life are tipping the scales.

And yet it's still there. The black cloud. The black dog. Padfoot. I'm making some major changes at the moment and wondering if these will help improve my condition. I'm unconvinced. If anything I'm scared I've created another opportunity for anxiety to creep in.

There's a hashtag on twitter - #depressionfeelslike - to share insights into its affects. Insights that are far more eloquent than anything I could ever write, illustrations so simple yet managing to convey complex emotions. Strong, courageous people who feel weak and cowardly.

#depressionfeelslike a parasite has locked itself in its own created world within my brain and evicted my own mind.

#depressionfeelslike depression isn't always suicide notes and pill bottles. Sometimes it's all smiles and fake laughter. It isn't always easy to notice.

#depressionfeelslike with every minute that passes by, I keep saying I'll get out of bed but my body is frozen. 

And mine?

#depressionfeelslike sinking in quicksand, then being rescued. Sometimes you want to sink in quicksand; sometimes you want to be rescued.

I'm not really sure what my point is. Perhaps I want everyone to remember that we're all doing the best we can with the flaws we have.

So a big thank you to Mark for replying to my tweet today with 'Lifeguard bear on duty'. Thank you to everyone who continues to send me messages of support. To all of you who make me smile and accept me in spite of my flaws. You're the ones who get me through even the toughest of days. You're the ones who know when I want to be rescued.

Imperfect and inevitably flawed. I'm ok with that.

Applying sun screen for 11 days has forced me to be honest about how my body looks. Generally I'm not one for short sleeves, skirts or tight fitting clothes but in a break from Mumsy tradition I've opted for bikinis during our trip to Spain. One has a tiny half, the other a skimpy top. They're not at all me - far too much flesh on show. Like many women I'm not hugely confident about the way I look and yes I know I could exercise more, eat less, blah blah blah but honestly I don't want to. If I exercise I want to do it because it makes me feel good not have it linked to weigh-ins and inches lost. Plus I like my food. A lot.

I've had plenty of time to reflect on the way I feel about my appearance and it's time I started to view things a little differently.

I'm short. People love to tell me this. Like I hadn't noticed. "What? Am I? I had no idea. I thought everyone else was wearing stilts/standing on steps." When I was a kid I was told I probably wouldn't grow beyond 4'11". I'm 5'2". I'll take that as a win. Plus being small means I can sit anywhere (cinema, theatre, plane) without feeling too cramped. It's not all bad.

I don't have a six pack. Unless you count the San Miguel or the Coke Zeros in the fridge. Some people claim they do - it's simply hiding. Mine isn't. I think I left it somewhere back in the '90s. Actually I know exactly where it is - Anvin - crushed by the weight of too much Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Nutella and crisps. One glorious week spent eating, drinking, reading and sleeping. Laughing with Will and two very dear friends as we made memories that are now part of our personal lore: Monsieur Darkness, Titi and Hesdin. That top trumps a six pack any day of the week.

I have dimples. One on my left cheek and too many to count on my thighs. After the Anvin trip and a recalibration of what would become my natural weight I wholeheartedly embraced the hedonism of London/pre children life and ate/drank my way from North to South, East to West. A dining club with friends took us around the country to some of the best restaurants the UK has to offer. I spent Sunday mornings reading the papers, eating bacon sandwiches and drinking good coffee. Barely a week passed when I didn't have tickets for a show, a play or the cinema. Years and years spent perfecting the imperfect thighs that I have today and this holiday I've covered them up less and enjoyed myself more.

Big boobs aren't all they're cracked up to be. Stop it! Try buying an off the peg bikini when you need the equivalent of a 34DD matched with size 10 pants. The comedic value alone of trying them on is worth it - either I end up with too much side boob or run the risk of my pants falling down as I take my first step towards the pool. And that's before we encounter the ridiculous differences in sizing charts across retailers. I've spent my trip in one old faithful and one new one. Sometimes mismatching the tops and bottoms and accepting that my top heavy shape is what it is.

Lines. I must not worry about my lines. I must not worry about my lines. On my face. My neck. My hands. A tan is apparently the worst thing for advancing the ageing process. I no longer care. With a tan I can travel home in white jeans and a light coloured top; yes it will no doubt be raining but I'll be golden and glowing for a few weeks at least and I've already curated a very impressive scarf collection.

Scarred for life. My c-section scar. It gave me Bea. Need I say more?

There we have it. I have a body, I'm confident of that. In support of helping all those younger men and women who struggle because they don't feel perfect I'm embracing the way I look because it's what makes me, well me. Not the way I look. The way I think about it. Like my mind it has its flaws and imperfections but it also has aspects to be admired.

If I can find a positive in areas that others might see as negative that's a good thing right. Next time you see me in a skirt that reveals a bit too much thigh or a top that shows my arms may soon be ready for a night at Gala Bingo, remember many happy events have led me to this point. My body can change. So can my attitude towards it.