When the Body Says No by Gabor Maté

A friend recommended this book to me, whose subtitle is "The Cost of Hidden Stress".  The book is
about the link between body and mind, and the fact that our emotions can make us ill, especially if we do not resolve any hidden stress in our lives.

The synopsis says:

Can a person literally die of loneliness? Is there a connection between the ability to express emotions and Alzheimer’s disease? Is there such a thing as a ‘cancer personality’?

Drawing on deep scientific research and Dr Gabor Maté’s acclaimed clinical work, When the Body Says No provides the answers to critical questions about the mind-body link – and the role that stress and our emotional makeup play in an array of common diseases.

When the Body Says No:

- Explores the role of the mind-body link in conditions and diseases such as arthritis, cancer, diabetes, heart disease, irritable bowel syndrome and multiple sclerosis. 
- Shares dozens of enlightening case studies and stories, including those of people such as Lou Gehrig (ALS), Betty Ford (breast cancer), Ronald Reagan (Alzheimer’s), Gilda Radner (ovarian cancer) and Lance Armstrong (testicular cancer)
- Reveals ‘The Seven A’s of Healing’: principles in healing and the prevention of illness from hidden stress

Now, I have to say that when people give me 'cures' for cancer - whether it be green juice, blueberries, cutting out sugar, or whatever - I am usually rightly skeptical.  So when I started reading this book, I was a bit worried that it would be of the same ilk, but I was pleasantly surprised!

This book is based in science, but links psychology to medicine via what it calls the PNI system - Psychoneuroimmunoendocrinology system. 
It is widely known that hormones can affect your physiology and how well your immune system works.  Your hormones, in turn, are affected by your emotions and what you are feeling, so it is not a big leap to hypothesise that your emotions can have a direct link to your physiological well-being, specifically if your body is rife with stress hormones such as cortisol over sustained periods due to repressed emotions.

Dr Maté says this link can lead to many illnesses and diseases from arthritis,CFS, to cancer, MND and Alzheimer's.  As much of this repression is caused by how we were brought up as children, Dr Maté is quick to mitigate the assumption of blame apportioned at our parents, though does show that this cross-generational dance of repression can manifest itself such that some diseases appear like they are hereditary, without the genetic link.

For me, I found this a really interesting book, and it wasn't too difficult to read.  It makes sense from both a scientific and a common-sense understanding, and has encouraged me that going to speak to a therapist is the right thing for me.

Why don’t I like myself?

Recently a friend recently received some abuse because she posts a lot of selfies on her FB newsfeed. Now this friend does read this blog, so I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this. I luv ya lots xx

She was asked whether she posted because she ‘needed the likes’ and had apparently had ‘offended his beliefs’; and she came back with a brilliant explanation (not that she needed to) of why she does what she does, posts what she wants, because her body is a miracle that she is proud of. To quote her “So here it is, for likes and comments, my magical, amazing, miraculous, super strength body, on display, thin, chubby, pregnant, scandily[sic] clad, wrapped up and glitter dusted. I am not ashamed anymore and neither should you be of your magical skin sock.”

This friend has been through her fair share of shit in her time, and has come through stronger than ever. She is a fabulous woman, and I would love to learn to like myself like that.

I don’t like my body. It does what it needs to do (and my dislike isn’t enough to stop be going nude on a naturist beach – you don’t like it, don’t look!) but it’s not fit and it’s not healthy. Since going into surgical menopause, by waist has gotten wider and my stomach larger, yet I still have my huge hips and thunder thighs to match, so I’m big all over.  And I mention regularly that I need to lose weight and get my BMI below 30 (preferable below 25) before I can have the mastectomy I want.

I am very aware of the link between the state of my mental health and my ability to lose weight. I want to lose weight, but when my MH is low, I self-sabotage and I’m becoming aware that I self-harm too. Not in any overt way, but little things like not brushing my teeth, or washing clothes as often as I should. And the self-sabotage is usually along the lines of comfort eating or binging, then feeling guilty about it, and both of which then adds weight, rather than loses it. And then there’s the exercise thing, or lack of it, that I only have the impetus to do when I’m feeling good, yet my brain knows would be good for me to do especially when I don’t feel good. Yet another stick to beat myself with.

I also don’t like me as a person. I don’t think I’m horrible or anything, I just don’t think I’m particularly nice either. I do have friends, so there must be something about me that I’m not seeing, because I know for a fact they’re not friends with me for what I do for them, simply because I don’t do anything for them.
(And anybody reading this, I am not asking people to say they like me, just getting my thoughts out-there about how I feel about myself.)

And there may be some people reading this who question my right to call myself a Christian when I can articulate so clearly why I’m not worthy. I know God loves me. I know God died for me. I know God thinks I’m worth saving. Yet, I don’t know why God loves me? I can only assume it’s because of His infinite goodness, that He can like someone like me. I’m not a good person, and often am very self-absorbed. Whereas when I was younger I was only aware of “happy”, “sad” and “angry” (though happy was more neutral than elevated), now I am aware of many more negative emotions including boredom, jealousy, apathy, amongst others. I’m not a good Christian, and am fully reliant on God’s power to draw me to Him, as I don’t have the strength or willpower to do it myself.

Would I be friends with myself? Possibly, I don’t know. I think I would try to be friends with me, but I would doubt that the other-me wanted to be friends with me, itms. I don’t really know how to make friends, I just hang around and hope somebody will talk to me. At some point, they talk to me whenever they see me, and eventually we go out eating and drinking together and I think we’re friends. Similarly, however, I can lose friends unintentionally. I tend to continue thinking someone is my friend until they do something to make me think otherwise. For some friends, this is great, because it means that we can go weeks, months or years without seeing each other, and when we do, it’s like we’ve never left. Other friends, however, we slowly lose touch. Because I always assume that people don’t really like me (why would they – I don’t like me), I will try to keep in touch a couple of times, but if nothing comes of it then, I’ll think maybe I’m not getting the hint, so I’ll no longer contact them as I assume that’s what they want. Not least because the final time, I’ll specifically ask them to arrange whatever-it-is, so if they don’t, I know they don’t want to.

The other thing about making friends is that I don’t like small-talk and I don’t like saying things for the sake of it. Why can’t more people be comfortable with silence? Though I admit, I do find it funny when I can clearly see the other person is uncomfortable, and I’m not.

But back to liking myself, this is an area I do need to improve. A different friend recently gave me a notebook in which to write things I’m grateful for. I’m not going to share what I’m writing, but since receiving it, I have managed to find 3 things each day that I am grateful for. Sometimes something big and sometimes something small. I hope this will help my MH as it gives me something to look over when I’m feeling down.

And I have found a counsellor that I like. I did a trial session with her, and I have booked her from September, so hopefully that will be useful to. I don’t know if I could ever get to the point of loving myself, but liking myself would be good. I know I need to be kinder to myself, as I know I’m harder on myself than I am on other people, but that’s because, in my mind, I deserve it. Then maybe I can be more successful losing weight as I realise I deserve to treat myself right and feed myself the right foods, and move my body in ways that make me feel good.

Weekly Update No30

I've lost a bit more weight! Only about half a pound, but it all adds up.

I've had a good mental-health week, and so it is easy to lose weight, as I haven't really tried.  The main thing has been that when I didn't need a meal, I didn't eat.  Simple.  So last night, after having a big lunch, I only had a couple of slices of French bread for dinner.  And on Friday, even though I was looking forward to having a Miller and Carter Steak in the evening (my girls were out dancing, and my husband away with work, so I was looking forward to good food and a good book), I was again, too full from lunch, so rather than going out and spending money on a steak which I would then force down because I had paid for it, I stayed in instead.  (Admittedly I did eat a whole tub of ice cream in front of the TV, but it was one of those "150kCals in 1/2 a tub" ones, so I didn't feel guilty about eating the whole thing, because it would have been less calories than the steak dinner.)

I'm going on holiday later this week, all-inclusive, but am going to try and make sensible food choices.  Last year, I went away for a fortnight and didn't put on weight at all, despite eating whatever I wanted, and drinking most of the day as I followed the 2B Mindset.  I'd be happy to replicate that this time, though obviously it does depend what the buffet choices are.

Weekly Update No29

I have lost a little weight!  Not much, but a lost weight at the start of last week, and then kept constant weight for the rest of the week.  Considering I hadn't been feeling great and had been eating everything in sight, that's a win!

I am feeling better than I was last week, so thank you for your thoughts, prayers and messages.  I have some great friends, and though I still don't think I'm worthy of you, I thank God for you.  And I am seeing a counsellor for the first time this morning.  I don't really know what to expect, but it's a free session so we'll see.  At least I'm doing something proactive, which will hopefully turn my life to the better.

I am still having smoothies for breakfast/lunch (I drink them slowly so they last from 11am to 3 or 4pm).  I have had a couple of takeaways over the weekend, which was a bit naughty.  I'll be cooking properly tonight.  My husband is away with work for the week, so it's just me and the girls.  They have planned the food we'll be eating this week, but it's not all bad.  Yes there are hotdogs on one day (proper sausages for me and DD2, and yucky frankfurters for DD1), but there's also spaghetti and meatballs on another, and a few days they need packed tea due to their dancing.

Weekly Update No28

No weight loss this week.  Quelle surprise.

Sometimes I wonder if I should give up on pretending to lose weight, but I know that I need to in order to have the surgery I want in a few years time.

Yes, this is how I started last week's update, because I need to do everything I said I was going to do last week.

My MH dropped at the end of last week.  Not because of my failure to lose weight, but that contributed to it.  I feel like a fraud and that I don't have any worth.  

On the positive side, I actually called out for help - in a way.  I put a vague status update on FB asking for prayers.  But I did get the help and validation I needed and I feel better this morning.  It's easy to pretend, especially on social media, but we all need help sometimes.  Me especially. I can't even answer "how are you?" honestly, even if I know the other person would want to hear the truth.

I am drinking smoothies for lunches, and I have been all week.  I do tend to get really hungry around 5pm, though, which is when I crave foods not conducive to weightloss, and to which I have been giving in too easily.  I need to get back to meal planning properly.  My cleaner has come back now, so my kitchen is reasonably clean, which means I don't really have an excuse not to cook more.

Ugly Me: My Life with Body Dysmorphia

Last night I watched Ugly Me: My Life with Body Dysmorphia a documentary on the BBC about how some people view their own bodies (it is currently available on iPlayer if anyone wants to watch it).

The write-up says:

Documentary exploring body dysmorphic disorder, a condition which causes people to believe they are extremely ugly. The film follows 29-year-old Liane and her boyfriend Mitch over a year as Liane starts therapy to try and conquer this crippling condition. Each week Liane meets Professor David Veale, one of the world's leading experts on BDD, who attempts to undo some of her deeply entrenched habits, often leading to uncomfortable and revealing realisations.

The documentary also hears from a range of people who are in recovery from BDD. Talking movingly about their own personal experiences helps illuminate Liane's journey and reveals more about this illness.

What I found interesting about this program, is that these people are patently not ugly.  Yet, they were vocalising my thoughts.  Is it not BDD if it is true?  I am fat and I am ugly.  I am not good at makeup, and as Liane says in the documentary, what's the point spending hours on your makeup when it makes no difference?  So, I don't.  I rarely wear makeup, because I feel like I look like a dog's dinner when I do.  At least this way, I haven't put in loads of effort to still look ugly.  I have papulopustular rosacea, which is largely controlled by antibiotics (compared to previously where I was continually asked if I had chicken pox or if I was contagious), but still have breakouts in spots and a red face.  And spots still look like spots, even when covered in foundation and concealer, the raised bumps are still visible and, in my mind, look worse than just admitting I'm covered in spots in the first place.

The other difference between me, and these people, is that I don't let it stop me doing anything (unless I'm getting swamped by my depression).  I am ugly, but I figure that other people can not look. I am fat, but I don't let it stop me (and I've never liked buying clothes anyway).  Depending on what I'm wearing (or whether I've been drinking, as to whether I'm concerned about it) I do feel self conscious, and if people start laughing I'm always convinced it's about me.  One of the reasons why I carry my kindle (or kindle phone app atm) is because I'd rather be alone by choice, than excluded.  If I'm upset or overwhelmed, I can stare at my book/phone pretending to read, rather than face up to the fact that people are talking about me or laughing at me.  If I pretend long enough that I'm fine, maybe it'll be true?

Growing up, I was always fat, and was bullied in primary school because of it.  At home, I was "the clever one" and my sister was "the pretty one"/"the sporty one" (none of these names did either of us any good).  And yes, my husband regularly tells me I'm beautiful etc and I have slowly come to believe that he truly believes that.  I don't doubt him at all.  He is, however, misguided.

So after all this, do I think I have BDD? No.  Firstly, it's true: I'm not pretty or beautiful in the slightest.  But also, it doesn't impact my life much or stop me doing stuff.  I mainly just thought the program was interesting because I assumed that everyone thinks these things about themselves.

Weekly Update No11

So, if you've been reading more than these updates, you'll see I went into a bit of a funk last week,
and ended up splurging over £200 on a 10day juice programme.  I've done 3 full days so far, so am just about to embark on day 4, and it is working! 

From last Monday, I have lost 1.5kg, but my weight was increasing throughout the week, and Thursday I hit an unwanted peak of over 98kilos.  But, I started the juice programme on Friday, and since then I have lost 2.5kg, over 1kilo the first day, and over 0.5kg on the two subsequent days.  (And yes, anyone who follows my facebook page will notice a discrepancy, where yesterday I claimed I had lost 2.5kilos - turns out despite being a maths tutor, I can't subtract. Doh!)

So, my plan for this week, is to keep on the programme.  The programme itself says you can just drink the juices and smoothies, but you don't have to, and if you do eat, you should eat raw fruit and veg.  Everyday, I've been enjoying a sliced apple dipped in 100% almond butter in addition to the juices.  I plan to keep this up for the full ten days.  However, I'm going out with friends on Friday (yes, despite my wobble last week, I do have friends :) ).  Normally, I'll eat too much and drink at least a bottle of wine to myself...  I asked the makers of the programme for their advice, and they said to avoid alcohol, caffeine and to eat as healthily as possible. I'm going to "be good" and not drink alcohol, and whilst I will try to eat healthy-ish, I want to fully enjoy the Moroccan Tapas we'll be having!  What I haven't worked out yet, is whether I should have the 7pm juice (we're meeting at 7pm in a bar, before eating at 8) and hope that it'll stop me overeating afterwards? Or, should I avoid the extra calories of the juice - save it for another day - and accept the fact I will be eating more than I should either way? 

And, I need to think about how to reintroduce food and eating normally, without piling all the weight back on; or whether I should continue the programme for longer; or whether I should try and recreate the programme at home (I do have a high speed blender for smoothies); or whether I should work out a system where perhaps I eat 2 smoothies a day and a proper dinner; or something else that I haven't thought of.  Any advice gratefully received!

Feeling like shit

Bit of a frank post this one.  I've been feeling like shit recently.  A combination of lots of things, including the fact that I ran out of antidepressants on Monday.  I ordered more last week, and thought I had a week's grace, but obviously not. As it takes 4 working days for repeats to be fulfilled, I was only able to collect more on Thursday.

My weight is also increasing.  As I'm an emotional eater, my response to this is to shovel more crap into my pie-hole.  Part of me is curious whether I can actually make it to 100kg?  Anther part of me wonders how high I can make my weight? And the sensible part of me tells me that's a crap idea, I need to lose weight as it is (because I need to have surgery in a couple of years, not just general health reasons), and I'm stupid for even thinking otherwise.

I'm meant to be a 2B Mentor, but I can't even sort out my own head.  I wanted to do the Body Groove Facilitator Training at the end of this month, but thankfully saved my money, as I'm not even managing to do 10min dancing a day, let alone claim to be able to get others dancing.  It is something I would like to do one day, maybe they're next offering it in the UK, but my head isn't there yet.

I watched Isn't it Romantic? last night: "After hitting her head, an architect who hates romantic comedies wakes up to find her unremarkable life has become a dazzling, cliché-driven rom-com".  It was really enjoyable, but made me realise that I don't love myself.  I don't even like myself half the time.  I'm amazed I have friends at all, as I can be so clingy and melancholy at times << I'm hoping that's the depression talking, though it feels very real.

One good thing to come from this slump, is that I haven't got angry!  I always thought, and it seemed to be in the past, that if I came off my ADs, then my temper would run riot.  Actually, it hasn't been the case at all.  I haven't argued with DD1 once this week.  All my anger has turned inwards on myself, which is probably what you'd expect with standard depression.  I did think about going to the chemist/doctors to try and get my medication early since I had run out, but I couldn't convince myself that I was worth it.

I have lost weight before, and I know I can do it again.  But I also know that my head has to be in the right place.  Previously, my weightloss was kickstarted because I had HG when pregnant, causing me to lose 3 stone in the first trimester.  After that pregnancy, I lost a bit more weight, before becoming pregnant again, and managed to lose even more, so I was comfortably down to 64kilos.  That is where I would like to go again.  The 'diet' I used (inverted commas, because it was a lifestyle change) was based on the book Fat Burner Foods by Dr Caroline Schreeve.  It was low carb, high fruit and veg, and high amount of liquids/soup throughout the day too. It showed me that I really don't have to eat very much at all, to stay full and satisfied.  I seem to have lost that along the way.

A few years ago, I was making smoothies daily for breakfast or lunch, and though I didn't lose much weight, I felt much healthier and better in myself, as well as being fitter (I was exercising more then too).  Right now, I have tried to pre-prepare salads and vegetables, I have bought fruit with the honest intention of eating them, but I am wasting lots of food.  Not in the worst way, as I do compost, so it's not just going straight to landfill, but still a waste of food and money.

So what am I doing about it?
Spending even more money of course...

The Core is a raw food and juice bar that also offers programmes. Right now, I don't seem to have the mental function for making food for lunch or dinner (I'm not sleeping well, so am not even waking up for breakfast!), so having everything ready made will be good for me.  I'll be doing the standard 'Juice Programme' and have not yet decided whether I am going to stick to liquids alone, or whether I will need some food alongside, but we'll see how we do.

Now I have started taking my medication again, I hope that this increase in nutrition will kick-start my body into behaving and give me more energy, and help me make the needed steps in the right direction.

Edited to add: I wrote this yesterday and took an AD when I received them in the afternoon.  In the evening, my husband commented how much happier I'd seemed.  It's kinda scary (but good!) how fast/much they affect me.
Last night I even slept well, not waking up until this morning!

Weekly Update No10

I've been a bit quiet this week.  Life has been a bit overwhelming (for no obvious reason) so I've been in hibernation, and scoffing all the wrong things.  I've woken up brighter today, so hopefully I've turned a bit of a corner (though in the bad side, I've run out of my meds;  I ordered them last week, thinking I had another week left, but I don't.  I'm hoping this doesn't set me back).  Sunlight definitely helps, and I managed to do some washing and put it on the line. My cleaner also helps, especially on days where I can't face the world.

So, I've not lost any weight (put less than half a kilo on).  I'm going to try and cook better, because when I cook, even if it's the "wrong" things or reheating stuff in the oven, it is still much better for me than takeaways and eating out.

Depression and Me

I thought I’d write this post about my depression, because it’s something I don’t talk about very much in real life, and mental health is something really important, and we shouldn’t be afraid to speak about it.

Depression is defined in Google’s dictionary as “feelings of severe despondency and dejection” and by the NHS as “if you're depressed, you feel sad, hopeless and lose interest in things you used to enjoy”. Some people call it the black dog, under the black cloud, the invisible illness, or simply say they’re “not well”. Statistically more than 3% of adults are diagnosed/depressed each year, but it’s very important to remember that everybody is an individual, and just because something worked for you or a friend, or your second-cousin-twice-removed’s neighbour’s uncle’s dog, does not mean that it will work for the next person, especially if you are also advocating that they come off any prescribed medication.

Trigger Warning: I do talk about suicidal thoughts etc.

When I was a teenager, I was depressed. I don’t remember when it started, but I do know a catalogue of things that contributed to it, and I was depressed by the time I was 13. At one point, a couple of my close friends were also depressed and talked of suicide, so at school I would try and comfort and support them. I think I did an ok job? (none of them committed suicide), though one did self harm occasionally. Looking back, I never told a teacher or their parents about it. I didn’t want them to get in trouble. I was stupid and wrong.

At 15yo I was definitely suicidal. On the outside I have everything going for me, and I didn’t like to be the centre of attention, so I didn’t tell a soul. Literally nobody. I was a “good” girl, I was academically able, I had friends to chat to at school and would visit their homes. There was nothing “wrong”, so I kept all my feelings inside and lived inside my head a lot of the time. At one point, I was very low, and held a steak knife pointed into my stomach, under the table, over dinner. It was pointy! (understatement!) but I was aware enough to know that that wouldn’t be a pleasant way to go, especially as if I'd failed, I would probably have given myself an infection. I had actually planned out my suicide. I’m not going to describe it here. I will say, that it was the ‘best’ that I could come up with, that would achieve it’s goal according to my own parameters. Nobody needed me. Nobody liked me. Nobody loved me. I was an annoyance at school and to my family. Nobody would miss me. Why didn’t I go through with it? Because, knowing how my family worked, it would be my mum who found me and I didn’t think that was fair on her.

Throughout this time I was a Christian. I didn’t attend church (I wasn’t allowed to), but did go to (and run for a while) my school’s Christian Union. I read the Bible, and prayed daily. Often crying out for help. I do believe God heard me. I came through my suicidal thoughts, by the time I was 18. Looking back, I should have told someone. I should have gone to the GP and got antidepressants. I should not have tried to go through it alone (albeit with God by my side). I was lucky, and do feel blessed by God for that experience.

Depression has never totally gone away; it always bubbles under the surface. Most of the time at university, I forgot about it. Occasionally my mood would dip, especially if I was struggling with the work, but overall things were ok.

When I became pregnant with DD1 I had a horrendous time. Initially I was told I’d miscarried, but I hadn’t.  Then I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum - extreme “morning sickness” that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Because she was “small for dates” I was told she probably had a chromosome disorder, but they wouldn’t know until she was born because I chose not to have the full set of tests available. She was 2 weeks overdue when born via Emergency Caesarian Section, after a failed induction. From the EmCS I got an infection in my abdomen, and because of the pain meds I got an anal fissure. And she didn’t take to breastfeeding very well, despite having may breastfeeding counsellors trying to help, so I had bleeding and agonising nipples for the first 8 weeks of her life. Was it a surprise I had PND and PTSD?
Fortunately, my health visitor was a wonderful lady and picked up on the signs. I am very self-aware, and knew something wasn’t right, not least because of the effect my husband had on me: I had such a fear of getting pregnant, that if my husband came near me, even to the point of holding my hand, my head, my brain would SCREAM at me. A high pitch, not-quite-audible alarm, even though my rational brain knew my husband just wanted to show affection or comfort me, and I wanted him to. So, my HV arranged for me to see a counsellor – what a waste of time and space. I explained everything that happened in the pregnancy, birth, post-birth. I explained about my head screaming if my husband would dare to touch my shoulder, even though rationally I knew there was nothing to fear. She asked me whether I wanted to have sex with my husband – yes I wanted to, but physically/psychologically couldn’t. Then her advice to me what to buy a vibrator. Seriously! I never went back.

It took longer than I hoped, but by getting a copy of my maternity notes, and getting support from various online communities, I did get past it, and DD2 was born. I had a slight dip again, after she was born, but nowhere near as bad as after DD1’s birth.

Life went on, and my mood would go up and down. I discovered that internally, I’m a very angry person. I wouldn’t necessarily show it in public, but sometimes some of my thoughts or actions would scare myself. I put myself through an anger management course, and did learn some useful techniques. However a few years ago a load of shit happened at the same time: beloved grandparents died, my mum’s cancer diagnosis, my father-in-law’s mental health issues, my husband had job issues – it all felt like it was getting on top of me.

At first I didn’t do anything about it. I’ve been depressed before, and I wasn’t as bad as I was then. I wasn’t suicidal, though I occasionally had bad thoughts – that was my gauge: if I started thinking about how I’d planned suicide previously, even though I knew I didn’t want to go through with it, that was the time to start making time for myself, looking after my mental health and start to work through it.

Then, over 2 years ago now, I had a full hysterectomy and BSO. I was put into immediate surgical menopause, but thankfully was given HRT (oestrogen patches) straight after the operation. After a few months, I could feel myself getting more and more angry, and wondered whether it was a side effect of the menopause and my HRT needed increasing, so went to see my GP. She was lovely, asked a few questions, including whether I thought I was depressed and whether I was suicidal. I explained that I had in the past, but didn’t think I was depressed now; and that I wasn’t suicidal, but thoughts about suicide had started occurring more frequently, so I knew it was a sign that something had to be done. I was told that what I was feeling was not due to the menopause, but I was clearly depressed – I’d just lived with fairly low level depression for so long that it was normal for me, and she prescribed me with antidepressants.

It makes such a difference to me. I’ve been on the medication for 2 years now, and if I accidentally forget to take it, it makes a difference to my mood immediately. Admittedly, I tend not to notice at the time – I’ll think the girls are playing up more than usual, or DD1 is having a pre-teen mood swing – but when I realise I have missed a tablet, all the extra arguments, irritations and niggles makes sense.

My mood does still go up and down. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. Normally it manifests itself in terms of my executive functioning ability. I can’t keep control of my house. My personal hygiene starts to decline. I feel like my children hate me. I want to hide from everything and everyone. Getting out of bed is difficult. I can’t sleep until the early hours, and then can’t wake in the morning. Everything is too much effort. I can’t cook, so my eating goes out of control, and then I feel guilty. It’s a vicious cycle. And I’m angry.

But it is somewhat predictable. I know it will pass, and it does. I try not to impact my children, and will still drive them about the place, even when I really don’t want to. And soon enough, it has passed, and I’m back to being stable again. I know I get affected by SAD, so as the nights and mornings are getting lighter, I feel in control again, and there is longer between the dips.

If you, or anyone you know suffers with depression, please encourage them. Include them and invite them, even if you know they may need to turn it down. Give them practical help, especially if they feel they can’t leave their home for a while. Love them. Encourage them to see their GP, because 1. medication is not evil and 2. there are other treatments such as counselling, or CBT etc. Listen to them. Be there, not necessarily saying or doing anything, just sitting. Remind them that they are not alone.

We care. We will help. We love you.

I wish I knew who created this to give them the credit.

Here are some useful websites and phone numbers (if you're UK based):

Samaritans: 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org

Mind: 0300 123 3393 or text 86463 or email info@mind.org.uk 

Time to Change: here is a longer list of support they recommend

Listen to your body!

That's my own advice I should be taking.  And it is a good thing to learn.

Yesterday I had a... I'm hesitant to use the words "bad day" because with the 2B Mindset, there are no bad foods, just foods that you should eat less of as they may not be as nutritious as other foods.  Yesterday, I did not eat as I know I am capable.  I snacked, cooked (reheated from frozen) beige food, and snacked some more.  At the end of the day, I did eat some slow cooked stuffed peppers, but my stomach was so full and bloated that I didn't enjoy it.

Taking the positives, the salt content of the food meant I more than surpassed drinking my water target. It didn't have a good effect on my bowels either, and when I woke up this morning, my body was crying out for vegetables, fibre, nutrition, anything!

Today, I have eaten better: a delicious ham and egg salad.  And when I prep my food for the week, I need to prep more - I enjoyed my homemade mix and match salads, so need to cut enough veg to last the full week, not just 3 days.

I also need to work on my triggers and feelings regarding eating.  It's no surprise to me that I post that I'm eating well, and then immediately self sabotage.  Healthy eating is more than just knowing what you should or shouldn't eat - if it were easy, nobody would be overweight or malnurished!  I need to tackle what is going on internally too.

Difficult decisions

I've been very quiet this past week, because we have had a lot going on, and it has been quite stressful.

My husband's dad has various mental health issues which we had repeatedly been told was "only" anxiety and depression, but this past summer he was also diagnoses with vascular dementia.  he appeared to be fine until he retired 5ish years ago, and then rapidly went downhill.  He lives alone, but has at times had to be sectioned, and has had spells in hospital due to physical ailments (for example the time he fell down the stairs at night, only for his carers to find him, take him back upstairs and put him to bed rather than calling an ambulance - it turned out he has broken his neck and had bleeding on the brain!).  Unfortunately, he lives 2+ hours away, so though my husband tries to visit every weekend he can, it isn't easy for us.  My sister-in-law (SIL) lives closer to her dad, but still an hour away.  At least she can visit during the week, and she takes a greater hands-on role with regards to her dad's finances etc.

Recently, my father-in-law (FIL) has been getting better.  He has started taking care of his appearance and health by going for runs.  He cooks for himself, and has been going shopping both for food and

for presents for my girls.  Things had been looking up, though he does sometimes still get confused, so SIL still tells him to let her know if he spends anything.  He took this to mean, don't spend anything at all - so he cancelled his house insurance without telling anyone.

Last week, FIL fixed a leaking pipe in his house.  A couple of days later, his house flooded.  The pipe was leaking anyway, so it could have flooded without his fix, but either way, his house is uninhabitable and he has no insurance to cover it.

FIL told his social worker (SW) that he would live with us as we have a big house.  His social worker phoned my husband saying that we needed to take him, which my husband refused without being able to speak to me first.  (Sometimes, in day to day living I forget how blessed I am to have such a considerate husband.)  The SW then put FIL in a carehome that costs £600/wk!  SIL then starts pressurising us to take FIL into our home, and that she would in an instant be she only has a 1bed and FIL would have to sleep on the sofa.

Now, we do have a big home, but we also have 4 of us living here.  If FIL were to have turned up last week, he would be sleeping on the sofa in our house. 

In addition to this, whereas SIL works all day so her flat would be empty (FIL lives alone anyway, so it wouldn't make any difference to him), I home educate my girls, so we use all the rooms in the house during the day, and the girls have to be my priority, not caring for someone else.
If we did have him stay, we would have had to empty the junk work room, and put a camp-bed in there, so he would have been sleeping practically on the floor. 
I also tutor in my home during the day, so for those hours, he would have either had to stay in his box room, or go out on the streets of an area that he is not familiar with.
We would have to register him with our GP, but getting appointments etc is a nightmare at the moment, so that would not be good for him.
We briefly mentioned the possibility to the girls, but DD1 immediately had a meltdown.  Obviously she loves her grandad, but her anxiety shot sky-high at the thought of having someone else in her safe-space/home.

Both the SW and SIL think it wouldn't be a problem having FIL here.  He could get the two trains here by himself [without getting lost? really?]; he wouldn't interfere with our routine at all; he'd only be here a few days or maybe a week [really? I don't know the details of the damage to his home, but if it is uninhabitable, it could take months to dry out before any works can begin to fix the damage] and basically we're really selfish for not having him here straight away.  If he is that 'well', why has he been put in an expensive carehome, rather than a hotel for a few nights or even renting a 1bed nearby where he can check on the progress of his home?

My husband and I spent a lot of time, thinking through different options.  Having him here to stay isn't impossible, however I would have to have some ground rules.  My own anxiety/autism would require there to be a definite end-date.  I could cope having him here until the end of January, but no longer.  If he were here, how could we get him to leave if he didn't want to? He only eats plain/British foods; I'm happy to cook for him what I'm cooking, but given that I already cook 2 different meals if the kids don't eat what I like, I don't want to cook more.  He currently has carers coming in for him, how would that transfer here?  Would the SW be signing him off to us, to reduce her own caseload, and refuse to have him back afterwards?

I spent some time praying about it because, as a Christian, I do want to do what is best, but I have come to the conclusion that I don't think having him here is the best thing for him.  If his dementia gets worse, I don't have the skills to care for him.  Even if his dementia doesn't, if his anxiety/depression worsens, I would find it difficult to cope, let alone the kids!

My husband has gone to visit his dad again today.  I have emailed across a list of places to rent - there is currently a 1bed, partially furnished, house round the corner from FIL's house for only £300pm!  (An eighth of the cost of the carehome he's been put in.) It's a good price, and he would be able to go to his house when he needed anything, and would be around to check the drying out and work being done on his own home.  Even local B&Bs and Hotels are only roughly £55pn (less than £400pw), considerably less than £600pw carehome that presumably he doesn't need to be in, if he is as well as the SW and SIL claim!

Coming to this conclusion has been difficult, and I do feel bad about it - mostly for my husband who is the one getting pressurised.

"You better hope I don't die, then"

Last night, it was my turn to take the girls to bed. 

DD2 can't sleep unless someone is nearby.  As she has bunkbeds, it used to be the case that she'd sleep on the top bunk, and my husband or I would lie on the bottom bunk until she fell asleep.  This wasn't too bad an arrangement, because it was comfortable, and with a torch I could get on with some much needed reading.  Over time, we managed to pull away, so that we were sitting on the landing outside her bedroom door as she fell asleep; which meant we could get away a bit earlier than previously.  Recently, however, she has taken to sleeping on her bedroom floor, with her head on the landing, so she can watch us as she falls asleep, meaning we're back to being upstairs for hours in the evening.

DD1, otoh, being older is generally ok at going to bed by herself.  She is s...l...o...w getting washed, preferring to tap dance in the bathroom than brushing her teeth, but usually she does it, goes to bed, has a quick hug, reads a bit and goes to sleep.

Not last night.

DD1 has arachnophobia and really really panics if she sees a spider, even a money one.  Yesterday morning, she saw one on the corner of her ceiling as she was waking up, and managed to get up and get out without screaming the house down. Hurray for small wins! 

Unfortunately, this all came back to her as she was going to bed.  She does have anxiety at the best of time, and this was too much as she was heading into a full blown panic.  DD1 doesn't panic quietly, or hyperventilate or anything like that; she screams; full volume; and gets angry. 

So, I'm trying to calm DD1 down and quieten her down whilst simultaneously getting DD2 to sleep, and it's not working.  I suggest to DD1 that she takes one of her anxiety sweets and she angrily retorts "That's not going to help at all, is it?".  I ask her what will help, and she wants me to search her room for hidden spiders.  I look in all the corners and they are all spider-free, but that's not good enough for DD1, she wants me to hunt through all her things.  Now, DD1's bedroom is a mess.  She has a small bedroom, but between both children they share a 'play room' so there does not need to be any toys in her bedroom, just clothes, make-up and a few personal belongings.  DD1 is screaming at me that I need to look harder. I  repeat that I have looked, there's nothing there, and I need her to quieten down so DD2 can get to sleep.  I also suggest that she tries some deep breathing exercises (I particularly like the 1 breath in, 2 counts out, 3 in, 4 out... up to 10 counts, then start again) but that just resulted in DD1 getting more angry at me.

Meanwhile, my internal stress levels are rising rapidly.  I don't know whether it's because of my autism or my depression or my childhood or just that I'm emotionally inept, but I hate being shouted at.  I cannot cope with it, and my body goes into fight or flight mode.  I can feel it, but can't seem to do anything about it.

I try explaining to DD1 that I can't cope with the noise, that I need her to be quiet, that I have looked for spiders and there are none, that I have suggested things to calm her down, but she just needs to sleep, and that if her bedroom were tidy as I'd asked then it would be easy to check for spiders.  Admittedly, with my rational head this morning, my fight response may be winning at this moment, and my rational explanation may be coming across a bit shouty...

Either way, I realise there's no point DD1 and I shouting at each other, especially when I'm trying to get DD2 to sleep. So, I withdraw and go to DD2.  DD1 is still crying, but I cannot think what else I can try, that won't make it worse?  So I do something I'm not very good at, and ask for help.

My husband was watching TV when I ask him to help me.  His response, without asking what I need help with, is to storm upstairs, complaining how it's his turn to watch TV in an evening and I'm the parent so should know better.  He goes into DD1's room, and checks all around her room, accepts being shouted at, mysteriously calms her down, then comes out complaining to me again.  I start to say to my husband that I wanted help, I wanted to know how to help DD1 and I wasn't wanting him to do it for me. 

Apparently, it's easy: I simply have to stand there and let her shout and scream at me until she calms down.  But, I can't do that.  My body/brain/whatever won't let me.  I've tried.  I put up with it when she was a baby (you literally could set your watch by her.  Between 2pm and 6pm every day, she would scream constantly, no matter what I tried.  Not helpful when I had PND) but I just can't do it any more.  And that's when he retorted "You better hope I don't die, then" before going back into the living room.

I was fuming!  What a fucking thing to say!  As if I'm there going, "You know what? I want my husband, the love of my life, and the father of my kids to die.  It's just a shame that I need him to get shouted at on my behalf because I can't cope with it myself, otherwise, bye-bye." FFS. 

I have actually calmed down quite a lot from last night, but really!?!