Money makes the world go round

Everyone has an experience with money and I don’t think anyone I know anyone who likes it. However, money is a fact of life we all have to deal with, from counting pennies as a kid to paying bills as an adult.

But money scares me a little. The power it has on our lives. Money does not bring us happiness but it can sure help to make us feel comfortable. Money is not more important than our health, but we have to pay for medical care. Even on the NHS paying prescriptions and things you cannot get on the NHS, like I pay for my private therapist and a chiropractor.

Without money life can be bleak. However I also think that happiness gained from money plateaus after we have the essentials we all need; home, water, food, warmth and a few comforts.

I think my fear comes from my childhood, as probably most of our relationships with money were formed. My parents were not good with handling money and they also had very little. They did not seem to budget and ended up with loans they could not pay. I remember sitting in the car as they went into offices or banks to discuss loans. I do not know their full situation as this is just from my childhood memories and I am sure they did the best they could.

However, I also remember the arguments, lots of arguments about money. I am not sure my parents really argued about anything else. I have no idea who was right or wrong, probably both and yet neither. I just remember the family never having enough money and the arguments.

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I also have no judgement on my parents as I find it so hard to stay in budget with my own money. You would think seeing my parents would make me meticulous about looking after my money. But no, I think it might be because as soon as I earnt my own money, it was always gone on things my teenage self felt I needed. I could never keep up with my friends but I tried and having my own Saturday job helped me to have my own money for the cinema or a new top. I could finally buy clothes that were not from a charity shop or car boot sale. I felt so grown up.

Now as an adult (apparently) I try to be more careful. My bills come out at the beginning of the month. I try to budget and I love a good spreadsheet. However recently I took a pay cut to help my stress and mental health. It was the right choice but it does mean I might need to keep a closer eye on the budget and take out some of my luxuries.

The pay cut has stressed me out and has me anxious about living and not getting into anymore debts. Yet I cannot change it and have to move forward. I remind myself I am on a good wage as an experienced teacher, although living alone does make things costly.

Anxiously I have balanced my spreadsheet and now comes the challenge – to stick with the budget I have set. Somehow I feel I have already failed, before I have eben started. I cannot seem to believe in my own ability to do this. How do some people find this so easy? I admire people who put money into their savings account no matter what, I am jealous even.

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For me money makes me feel like I have failed even before I have begun. Like I will be told off or find myself in trouble. My mum was always worried about bailiffs and she had promised they would never come to her door as they had her parents. I think I feel that fear and I do not know how to let it go. I feel ashamed I cannot just be better at this. I have an A Level in Maths, it was my best subject in school. I can do the maths ,yet I do not have control.

I also know I am an emotional buyer and my amazon account is littered with purchases on a whim. I hope they will make me feel better and it is always something I feel I need. But the parcel only bring guilt and anxiety in the end. Don’t get me wrong I have never even had a letter threatening the bailiffs. My fear might be irrational and inherited but it is real in my life in this mental world.

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What do I eat?

It is 3rd February and Veganuary is over. I have actually been a vegan for longer, I did not start it this month but back in the autumn and will be continuing it. However, I did think it was a good time to review how it was going.

Maybe I should start with why I am vegan. Like many people I did it for many various reason; mainly the animals, the environment and my health, not necessarily in that order. All of these were important but I chose to do it now, as I can.

I have wanted to be vegetarian for a long time. I did do it for a little while when 12 years old but was branded a ‘fussy eater’ and it singled me out when I was already being singled out through the scapegoating and bullying. Then was told it was the reason that I was anaemic. I listened and so I stopped and ate meat again.

Then as an adult, I felt due to my citrus allergy and lack of self-worth that I could not make the choice. This choice does affect the people around me; dinner parties, lunches and cafe visits, it just make things different. To be able to say ‘I choose this’ takes a voice, that I just did not have. Especially as this is a choice, unlike my citrus allergy and I still felt inconvenient for having that.

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Over the last three years I have been gaining my voice and getting loudly. Then I have my sister-in-law who is also vegan and supported my decision. I opened my eyes to the very many reasons to be vegan; I watched Cowspiracy, What the Health and Earthlings. I have also looked at the other arguments that these are exaggerated and a load of rubbish. I am a historian after all, so I have to know both sides to each story. The problem is that both sides have motives to argue to their point. There seems to be no neutral ground on which to see both sides.

All I can say is what I know from my experience. I am not in a clinical study or creating one, but I can say that usually this time of year my Fibromyalgia is in flare up mode. The cold weather has usually increased my pain by now and that just hasn’t happened. I am on the lowest pain medication I have been on for years and although I have symptoms they are mild. I have no explanation for this except I have gone vegan. It could be I am getting better at managing the condition but I just do not think that is true. There are studies that state that dairy has inflammatory properties and some that say it doesn’t. Usually dairy versus non-dairy studies and I have no test results, just my experiences.

So what do I eat? This is the most common question I get, even though the ‘healthy plate’ we teach the students does not consist of just meat and dairy. However, it does take a change in the way I think about cooking. It means changing a few of the staples in my cupboard and swapping some items. I now have a lot more lentils and beans in my pantry. I have swapped to non-dairy cheese, butter and am also well-informed on ‘accidentally vegan’ products.

I bought several vegan recipe books and tried out a few new recipes. Although, I had lots of my own recipes. Before being vegan I was mostly vegetarian at home, so I could make a few switches and carry on as before. Often making pastas, risotto and rice dishes with a mixture of vegetables and sauces. I have also used The Vegan Kind Online Supermarket and followed lots of vegan social media groups. All these have been so useful to find out lots of tricks and tips.

The one thing I miss is pizza, but there are even alternatives for that.  Due to this being Veganuary lots of restaurants have been making adjustments to their menus. I am able to order pizza from Zizzi’s or Pizza Express. I can even have them delivered with the help from Deliveroo.

Other cuisines have also adapted. Top of the media headlines has been Greggs, who introduced a vegan sausage roll. Which I found almost too strangely close to the real thing. I hope the availability of plant-based foods continues as Veganuary becomes a memory and the rest of the year takes form in this mental world.

 

To teach or not to teach? That is the question.

I am often told, ‘Teaching is a calling’ and to some extent I agree. You do not get into teaching for the money, that is for sure. The hours are long and the pressure can be high. You can be shouted, sworn and even spat at sometimes, by students and sometimes by parents. My pay is dependent on students results and it does add an extra pressure.

However, it is a steady income, above average salary, with long and frequent holidays. You can see students learn, progress and achieve. I have helped students though bereavement, abuse, physical and mental illnesses and more. Support them as they deal with learning difficulties. Inspire them to enjoy my subject, history.

Every job has its highs and lows. In teaching this can frequently happen in just one day. I understand the demands of the job. The emotional ties to wanting the best for your students. Leading to late hours of planning lessons, researching new ideas, preparing resources and marking, marking, marking. It is no surprise that media headlines show that teachers are leaving the profession at the highest rate ever recorded (Huffington Post).

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I went into teaching to help students who might be having a similar childhood to mine. Even when I told a teacher what my home life was like, I was not believed. My mother worked at my school and she was very well liked. Do you believe the angsty teenager or the parent, who is also a friend? Behind closed doors she was different; emotional abuse, gas-lighting and neglect. I was made the family scapegoat and bullied by my siblings too. I did not know all the terms then, but I knew it was wrong. Although I believed it was all my fault.

As a teacher I want to save all those unheard ‘child Becky’s’ out there, yet I never can. I was programmed to be our family resucer and I can help and support my students. But I have had to accept that I can not save them from their lives. I can; report what I see to social services when needed, I can teach healthy lives and relationships, provide emotional support, teach resilience, model survival, recommend counselling and even make recommendations to parents. I am a pastoral manager within the school to be more involved in doing all these things. But I cannot save them.

Not only due to the fact I am not their parent, but also the restrictions on social services and the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services. Both overworked and understaffed, so they are putting out fires. They have to prioritise physical and high urgency cases. So the mental or emotional are left dropping down the list. I am sure this is not the whole picture and I have simplified their struggles, but I do know this is how it feels to me.

I say I have to accept this but I am struggling, I find this so difficult. This failure to save them all then triggers my childhood feelings of worthlessness and not ever being enough. Their stories set off memories of my own. I empathise and relate to their lives as they happen. I wish I could do more for each one but I am not their parent or from social services.

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Currently I am suffering with depression. I can not seem to shake it and have had to have two different periods of time of school/work. No single case has caused this but an accumulation of seven years of teaching and supporting young people and feeling like I have not saved one. I am not even sure what I mean by ‘saved’.

I am now re-evaluating my life and my choices. Do I keep teaching? Is it just the pastoral side, do I just drop the management role? Is it our catchment of high social care needs? Do I try a different school? Do I teach private or sixth form only? Do I do something completely different? Is this the time to decide? So many thoughts, going around and around in my head. Who do I turn to for advice?

I have started researching the options out there, knowledge is power. Should I start to apply? Then anxiety hits; interviews, meeting people, telling my Headteacher, letting people down, abandoning my current students, new curriculum, new friends, new students, moving house and so much more. Can I go through it? Will it help?

I keep thinking ‘what would I do if money was no object?’, apart from the luxury holiday I would take. I think about writing, getting into publishing, retraining as a counsellor, doing my Masters and so many other options. Then reality kicks in and I know I have bills to pay. I need a good regular income as I do not have anyone to lean upon. I having no partner or family to support me and nor would I expect this from someone. I have great friends, but none are rich and I would not expect support like this from them.

Today I have no answers, I will continue to research my options and maybe I will apply for a few. I will keep going through these thoughts and hopefully I will find some answers. Hopefully I will make a decision about my life in this mental world.

Magic and Hope

I have loved the idea of magic for as long as I can remember. My favorite of Roald Dahl’s novels was Matilda and I devoured the Harry Potter series. I then progressed onto Sabrina the Teenage Witch and then Charmed. Even at university as a historian the history of witches appealed. Recently the Witches of Eastwick and Sabrina Spellman caught my mind and now the A Discovery of Witches.

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So why am I so obsessed by witchcraft? Sometimes I wonder if it is laziness. I could conjure a cup of tea without moving, dress with a click of my fingers and travel in a blink of an eye. I could enchant objects to do all my housework. It would make the mundane parts of life so much easier.

However, I think it is more than that. I think I love the idea of being magical. Being special and having a unique power that few have. Throughout my life I felt unworthy, unloved and insignificant. As a child, I also had little to no control over my life. I was being emotionally abused by my mother and was the scapegoat in my family.

I think my love of magic was because it would be a way out. A magically door to a land of happiness. I could escape to a land that felt almost possible. It is not like these lands do not feel almost believable. Each story shows how the magic can be hidden to the ‘muggles’ or non-magical people.

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Through the eyes of my nieces, I also see the innocent joy of belief in magic. Eyes lighting up at the sight of Father Christmas at a supermarket or shopping mall. Gasps of wonder at what the naughty elves have got up to overnight. I would love to go back to that innocent times, wouldn’t you?

Each story I read or watch about magic brings me a little of that feeling. The hope that it is possible for magic to happen. That is it, hope. Things will get better, life will be great and who knows what might be possible. We all need hope in our lives in this mental world.

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I’ve no love for the Drama Triangle

I am trying to escape from a triangle, it is known as the Karpman Drama Triangle or the Dreaded Drama Triangle. The triangle has it’s three points; Rescuer, Persecutor and Victim. It is a social model conceived by Stephen Karpham in 1968.

The Dreaded Drama Triangle consists of three roles: Victim, Persecutor, and Rescuer
The Drama Triangle (powerofted.com)

In my family this triangle has been playing out without me knowing it. My mother often played the Victim and she lives the mentality of a victim, however she was a persecutor to me. I am the victim of her abuses and so I should be the victim. However, as her scapegoat I was not allowed to be the victim and so I became everyone’s Rescuer.

This leaves me running to the rescue of my family, no matter how big or small the problem. I do not know when this started but an instance that comes to mind was when my Granddad died.

I was fourteen and I remember going to the hospital to see, the once stocky veteran of the Second World War, a man who wore braces to hold his trousers up over this enlarged beer belly. He was now a tortoise like creature, without his shell wrapped in the clean white sheeted bed. He had pancreatic cancer and he died.

After his death I remember everyone else’s tears and thinking ‘I have to be the strong one’. I refused to cry and stayed strong for everyone. No one specifically told me this but I felt this belief like this was my role. It was like a rule I had to follow and I am a stringent rule follower. I remember, I was able to not cry until I was in his funeral, two weeks later.

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My role was cemented, Rescuer I was and Rescuer I am. Today anyone has a problem I am your girl. I will suggest solutions and support its implementation. I am at my best in this mode of operandi. Maybe I even crave it, I became a teacher to save children who might be in the situation similar to the one I was in as a child.

My therapist alerted me to the Drama Triangle in one of our sessions. We were discussing a nightmare I had experienced a few nights before. I now know I need to stop rescuing my family. Then I break the triangle and take back control, then they can no longer persecute me and make me a victim.

Easier said than done, of course. I want to help and the urge is fierce. Also, I like the fact I am a nice, helpful, generous person. I have to tackle with the idea of saying no against a key part of my identity. I need to gently remind myself that things are not black and white, I can say no and still be the kind, generous, helpful person I want to be.

It is a true self-care to say ‘No’ at times like this, because if I give into it and rescue it always bites back. My family members are unable to be grateful, they believe it is to be expected and so cannot be sincerely thankful. I am then hurt and feel unfulfilled by the process. If I cannot find a solution then I feel ashamed and a complete failure.

So anyway I play the game I seem to be burnt at the end. Therefore, I need to break the cycle of this triangle and be free of the pain it brings. However, in the short-term holding it in affects my health and increases my pain. In the long-term it will make things better, I hope.

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I am finding holding back hard at the moment. My sister-in-law is struggling and I want to be there for her, I am. The issue is not this but the fact some of their issues are my brother and I want to fix him to help. I want to tell him some truths he won’t like. But I know doing this is my Rescuer wanting to help my sister-in-law and protect my nieces and nephew. Would it help? The short answer is no.

With narcissistic traits, like my mother, he would not hear me. He would resent the fact comments came from me, the family scapegoat. His ego would be wounded and so he would lash out at me and probably his wife, maybe even his children. So I know I need to stay out of it, I need to walk away.

I will help my sister-in-law but I need to listen and support her. I do not need to be her rescuer. She does not expect me to find and implement solutions. But to be her friend, her sister in this mental world.

Letting Myself Cry

Dear teenage Becky,

I know things are hard. It seems like no one loves you or cares about you. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders before you should. Your mother is mean and yells, she tells you that you are not worthy. Your siblings and father call you ‘cry baby’, ‘lemon head’ or ‘melon head’ as you cry a lot. But you have every reason to cry and be sad.

Crying is absolutely fine. Cry away the sorrow of your childhood. The abuses and bullying you have to endure. Cry for the people you lost; loosing Nan and Granddad, when you were 14 and 15, was tough. Nan was the one person who seemed to understand your plight and then she died. It is ok to be sad about that, it is not blaming her. She had to go she was sick, you gave her permission to go, to gain relief from all her pain. But you have no relief from your pain.

You held back tears when people died believing you had to be strong for the family. You hold the family up, like the adults should. It is honourable, but you also have to look after your own feelings. Let out the tears. Bottling them up leads to pain, causing some of the migraines you suffer with and flaring up your fibromyalgia.

Crying lets out toxins and relieves stress. It is a natural bodily function that you should have and do. It expresses so many emotions from happiness to sadness (Wikihow – Cry and Let It All Out).

I know you do cry a few tears, for others and for happy occasions. You well-up at a wedding, when a baby is born or watching a romantic film. But you should also cry for you. Let out the pain and hurt from your own life story. You have suffered, and people have hurt you. You deserve those tears for you.

As an adult, I find crying almost impossible. I wish I was there when you started to hold back the tears to tell you “It is ok, let them out”. To counter the bullying and stand up for you. To come up with a witty comeback to the names they called you. I mean really ‘melon head’ what does that even mean? They were not the most intelligent of names.

Finally, also know that if you cry you are not your mother. I know she cries at every whim, at every argument and that she uses it to emotionally blackmail everyone. But when you cry you are not doing it with malicious intent, your tears are pure. Crying does not mean you are her. I know becoming her is your deepest fear, but you never could be her. You will come to learn and accept this in therapy.

With all the love and support you should have had.

Adult Becky

(Still no tears but I am working on it, in this mental world)

Worrying about Worrying

It seems like an oxymoron to say “I am worrying about worrying people”. I know the people who care about me will worry about me. I know it is normal for them to worry about me, as they love me. I would and do worry about them. But that does not mean I do not try to mitigate the amount of worry they have about me.

I keep the deep and dark thoughts to myself. When struggling with my mental health or unwell physically, I hide away from the world. Look after myself, in my world. Usually under my duvet with my puppy keeping me company (he is currently next to me, dreaming).

My Sleeping Puppy
Toby asleep – always a cutie

Does everyone else feel this way? I know I find it hard to ask for help. I am used to being the strong independent type. I am used to relying on just me. Being single and not always having a supportive family has left me posing as super woman. I have great friends, the absolute best, but in the past friends have left. So, it is hard to say with 100% confidence that they would to stay through the worst of a person.

If I was to say “I need help”, I would feel I am admitting that I am not the strong independent woman everyone thought. I am weak and helpless. I know it is not as black and white as this, logically I do. But then in these recent times, I actually feel weak and helpless. So maybe, I am not the strong independant woman I thought I was and want to be.

I also feel that when I am asking people for support, I am asking people to care about me. This brings me back into the ‘I am not worthy of love’ cyclone of thoughts. Leading to my belief that I am not worthy of the support and so I shouldn’t be asking in the first place.

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How can I feel worthy of someones worry? What is even on the criteria for that?

It gets even harder when I know a friend is also going through a hard time. Adding to someone else’s burden is even more difficult. I feel I should be the support beam, not the earthquake that could make it all collapse. My own problems should be pushed down the priority and others needs are to be put ahead of my own.

These are the circling thoughts in my mind. No answer, no solution just problems. Here are my thoughts, just trying to find the logic within the chaos of my life in this mental world.

Dealing with criticism

When you feel like you are never enough, dealing with criticisms can be difficult. Any suggestion of a fault can be hard to handle. Corrective suggestions about my grammar recently sent me into a tornado of emotions.

Throughout my childhood and early adult life my mother told me, over and over, that I was never enough and not worthy of her love. This has left me with a hole in my soul which I am trying to repair. I have sticky notes around my house telling me; I am enough, I am worthy, I deserve love, and more. Four years of therapy have helped me to realise my mother was wrong.

However, one person’s opinion can still throw me back to the 1990s and my world as a worthless child. No one intends to trigger me, I know that. It is not their fault it makes me feel this way. But I do.

I need to learn my triggers and try not to let it not happen. But this is harder than it sounds. Especially when someone close to me, someone I care about, is the one giving me feedback. I want them to think the best of me, so I have to not show weakness or imperfection. Or they might not love me, like my mum.

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It might not seem logical, it isn’t, but to me not being perfect is a slippery slope to people leaving me as I am not enough. People leave. People decide they do not like me or love me anymore. They find out that thing my mum saw from the beginning. The thing that stopped her being able to love me as she should.

In this case I felt I was trying to help. Swooping in on my white horse in rescuer mode, helping when someone asked. Instead of feeling appreciated I felt deflated as my work was criticised. They had every right to make suggestions for corrections, it wasn’t really a criticism. Yet it felt so personal to me.

Of course, in therapy I have addressed this. My mind knows my premise is not true, I am not defective, I do not need to be perfect. However, in the moment my brain goes haywire first. How do you control those impulses? When will my mind learn? How do you stop being a perfectionist? Just because we have gone through it int herapy does not mean I truely believe it, yet.

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This I think is one of the biggest problems with childhood abuse, it programs your brain differently from such a young age. Scientists tell us that the brain is malleable and it can create new pathways. So, there is hope for my brain and yours, but trust me this is hard to do. I will keep working on it, to keep myself sane in this mental world.

The Best of Intentions

Should we assume in life that everyone has the best intentions. Are we all just trying to do our best?

You can do everything possible to predict the many outcomes but you can have an unknown wider impact. Each action is like a stone dropping into water, sending ripples to places you couldn’t even see. People can be hurt or negatively affected in ways we cannot see.

I often tell my students you have to be aware of the possible outcomes of your actions and take responsibility for them. They throw some-thing and it unintentionally hurts someone then you are responsible for that outcome. If you are play fighting and someone gets hurt you are responsible. Can you tell I am Assistant Head of Year 8? Puberty has landed and the boys are learning the boundaries of physical behaviours. Taking responsibility for taking the risk of a bad outcome.

But my question actually came from a TV show, Madam Secretary. I missed this show when it came out in 2014 and I am now catching up (binge watching), thanks to Now TV. Recently, deep into season two, war with Russia was adverted but lives were lost in the process. As a history teacher I know my wars, causes, long-term effects, short-term effects, casualty figures and wars causing wars. I ponder the possibilities of IF things could have been different but have to accept what happened as it is the facts.

However, I believe these issues not only can be seen on the world-wide political stage but they play out on a smaller theatre in our lives. The choices we make impact the people around us. Everyday small choices and the big ones. I know my seeking help with my therapist has sent a ripple through my family. I caused this ripple and will have to ride out the waves it makes.

In therapy we have discussed responsibility, blame and forgiveness a lot. All words associated with these ideas. Do I blame any member of my family for my childhood? The impact it still has on me? Do I need to or want to forgive them for the abuses against me?

My therapist says it is not about forgiveness but about compassion. To understand people’s intent and believe they always tried their best in their circumstances. We are living in a web of history, relationships, and family dilemmas. To me a family tree is a web of stories woven together more like a tapestry.

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I also believe we are a product of our upbringing; a combination of family, friends, society, culture, religion and many other influences. These determine our choices. I have chosen therapy and am seeing some of the consequences as I have found my voice.

For example, My mum had a really tough upbringing; an alcoholic abusive father and an addicted to gambling mother who was sent to prison for fraud. She always tries to be her best self but is hampered by herself and her past. This resulted in her treating me as her scapegoat, emotionally abusing me through my childhood and adolescents, even my early adult years.

So here is my dilemma: How responsible are we for the unforeseen, if everyone is just trying to do their best? I know my mother never intend to abuse me emotionally, she just couldn’t help it. Should I still expect an apology, a recognition of her effect? My sibing’s bullied me, but they were brought up in a household where that treatment of me was condoned by the adults. They were not taught this was not okay, so can they be held responsible?

I have had to accept that I cannot change the past. I cannot demand anything from anyone. But I do live with the consequences and I have learnt to not accept abuse now. As an adult I can call them out for their behaviour now.

The past is just that, set in stone. It is my perspective I have had to learn to change. To understand every parent does their best, even when they fail spectacularly.

I find this so hard to accept. As a teacher I have cried and had my heart-broken by stories of child abuse I would not repeat. Were these people really doing the best they can? It feels like acceptance of these actions if I agree but it isn’t. Acceptance is still fighting for change but living in the present. It is letting people, who experience these things, know they did not deserve it but accepting it happened. Giving people back their worth and giving them their own strength.

I teach students about all of Hitler’s qualities: the painter, animal lover, vegetarian and lover of his mother. I teach them about his childhood and traumas he experienced as a soldier in WWI. Not because I want to justify any of his actions, far from it. But maybe, in understanding others are a product of their experiences, we can accept that so are we. Then maybe we can learn to forgive and have compassion for ourselves.

Compassion for others actions comes more easily to me. To understand their actions, not to agree with the behaviours or just let them go. To hope, I would have done things differently in their situation and in future situations I face. But to also hope people I have hurt along the way show me the same compassion. Compassion for myself I find harder and I am working on it, with the best intentions, of course.

Written with compassion from my life in this mad world.

 

Toes dipped in or am I deep in the ocean’s waves?

I have been on anti-depressant tablets since late October. Lately I have been feeling blue again. Overcome by moments of overwhelming bleakness that wash over me without warning. It takes my breath away, while making me want to hide from the world under my duvet forever.

I know I find this time of year tough; it is cold, dark, wet, damp and the sun is hiding away. Everyone’s vitamin D drops and some even have SAD. Then you add in family, financial January and school pressures. It is a hard time of year, or is it just me?

I have been trying to use my coping strategies to help. I am meditating (almost) daily, blogging on here and trying to enjoy nature on dog walks at the weekends. I am trying to savour company with my puppy and taking in the mindfulness of a cup of tea. But none of it has been working…

I have ideas to help my students but cannot get up the energy to have any enthusiasm. I am acting ‘happy teacher’ at the front of my classroom. I am finding noises particularly annoying and frustrating. Children’s chatter, adverts on the radio and even my dogs barking at the postman/neighbour/bird. I feel heavy and achy. My feet feel like they are burning.

One big sign for me, is that I am tearful. This might not mean much to many but for me this is huge. I do not cry, well rarely and when I do it is a few tears. I am like Amanda Woods, the Cameron Diaz character in the film The Holiday. Sat trying to make myself cry, making wailing noises in hope for just one tear.

My lack of tears are from being bullied by my family for years. As a child apparently I cried a lot so much I was teased for it. Called a ‘cry-baby’, ‘melon head’ or ‘lemon head’ repeatedly and frequently. I was an emotional child but learnt not to cry, hold in the emotion. Now, I am emotional. I just can’t express it on the outside.

So, how do I know when I am having a bit of a bad patch or if I need help through a higher medication dose? When is self-help not enough? My natural instinct is to sort it out myself, to be independent and not complain. As a child I was given a list of chores whenever I was off sick. I had to look after myself when I was ill. Now I find it hard to rely on others and ask for that help. It makes me feel like a hypochondriac or being seen as someone moaning.

But how do I know when it is more than I can cope with, when to ask for help? How long do I leave it? A week, two, more? When is it ok to moan, groan and complain? When does it become too much to bare alone?

Last time I waited months and waited until I was broken and curled up in a ball. I am trying not to get back there but sometimes I do not know if I am on the brink of the cliff…